They hugged again, and this time Fiona tried to convey some of her feelings through their closeness. She ran her hands along Roz’s strong muscles and shoulder blades, the back of Roz’s shirt damp and clinging to her skin. She smelled of pine and earth and fresh air with a hint of something else—her sweat, probably, but appealing, nevertheless. Fiona had a flash of self-consciousness, remembering that she hadn’t worn deodorant in days, but Roz was holding her so closely, so warmly, she obviously didn’t care. They moved as one into a long, lingering kiss, Fiona rising slightly on the balls of her feet to meet the taller woman’s lips. She dropped down again when Roz released her, her stomach fluttering.
“Jill would say we’re being moony,” Roz said, voice thick.
Fiona grinned at her. “And she’d be right.”
“Let’s get moving again. We can be as moony as we like once we’re in our hotel room tonight.”
“I thought you said all we’d do is sleep.”
Roz barked a single laugh. “Yeah, right.”
They began their zigzag path again, hands clasped, moving at a clip just short of a trot. Fiona occasionally had to jog a few steps to keep up with Roz’s longer legs, but for the most part, their pace was just at the top of her peak walking speed. Long, flat stretches would give her hope, only for them to start, once again, on a steep descent. It was much too early in the day to expect that they would be nearing the highway, but she couldn’t help it. Every time they walked for more than ten or twenty minutes without a hill, her heart would start to speed up again, only for her hopes to fade with the next decline.
Time ran like a sieve. She knew it was passing as the day heated and the sun rose high in the sky. They’d crossed the river an hour or so before noon, and at least two hours had passed since they left Jill. To occupy the time and keep her mind off her fears, she occasionally tried to count the minutes away, but something always distracted her, and she lost track of where she’d been.
She and Roz were moving too quickly for much small talk, though one or the other would occasionally remark on the woods around them, planning their next path forward around some obstacle. Still, even if they’d been walking slower, Fiona didn’t think they would talk much. Too much was happening, and discussion would only lead them back to the things she didn’t want to think about—her friends, the murderous people from the woods, Jill, the lost men and horses, hot food, showers—all of it was there, threatening to overwhelm her, and Roz had to feel the same way. Better to focus on the now, the only thing they had any control over. She had to keep pretending. If they made it back to safety, everything would be all right again.
They were trying to be careful with the water, but on their next quick break, she heard air pockets in Roz’s sip.
“Damn,” Roz said, dropping the mouth valve.
“That’s it? That’s all we had?”
Roz nodded, her eyes downcast and worried. It was remarkably hot now. Fiona couldn’t remember a time she’d been so warm this high in the mountains. She could only imagine how rough it was in town. If she’d been home, she would be sitting under her swamp cooler, trying not to move, sipping a beer maybe, watching her dog play outside in the paddling pool. The image was so clear in her mind she could almost taste the hops and smell wet dog.
“We have a long way to go,” Roz said. “Probably at least another two or three hours.”
“We’ve seen some standing water a few times,” Fiona suggested. “Maybe we’ll run into more.”
Neither of them mentioned the obvious. The water they’d seen here in this part of the woods wasn’t drinkable. They’d seen perhaps three or four ponds, all muddy and skimmed with scum and algae.
Roz gestured at the pack. “I was going to suggest we eat something, but it will just make us thirstier. Let’s skip it and keep going.”
Their new situation seemed to drain the remaining enthusiasm from the day. Roz was still walking quickly, setting a hard but manageable pace, but she seemed dejected, downcast next to her, shoulders slightly stooped and her eyes down and introspective. Not having any water was a big problem, but it seemed to have struck Roz hard, almost as if it had broken her. She was still moving forward, still bringing them closer and closer to home, but her heart didn’t seem to be in it anymore. As if she knew, suddenly, that this was a lost cause.
Fiona shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. She was projecting. Roz might just be hot, like she was, and struggling to stay hopeful in the blistering heat.
“I’m surprised we haven’t had any rain this whole time,” Fiona said.
Roz glanced at her and nodded. “It’s definitely weird. This is the only time of year you can actually expect rain up here.”
They both looked upward at the crystalline, cloudless sky. The trees were dense and thick enough in most places to give them shade, but it was still almost blindingly bright out. A drip of sweat ran down Fiona’s forehead, and she blinked it painfully out of her eyes.
“Do you think—”
Roz grabbed her injured arm, yanking her backward, and Fiona let out of little yelp of pain and fright. Roz clutched her, fingers dug into her skin, her face a pallid white.
“What the—”
“Shhhh!” Roz said, and pointed.
Fiona followed the direction of her finger, and her blood froze in her veins. There, not fifty feet away, were three trees with geometric patterns cut into them. They stood in a ring together, no different from any other cluster of trees she could see except for the telltale markings. The trees were directly in front of them, exactly where they were now headed.
“I don’t understand,” Roz said, shaking her head. “I’ve been leading us around, trying to avoid one specific direction for too long. How could this happen? I figured we would lose a mile or two if we wandered a little but still make it to the road, and it would be safer. How could they know where we’d end up? How could they anticipate our next move? There’s no path, no plan for them to follow and get ahead of us. How did they do it? What does it mean?”
Fiona could hear the panic in her voice, and she forced Roz’s fingers off her arm, squaring herself in front of her. Roz was still talking, occasionally pausing to rub her mouth before starting again, repeating herself now and clearly trying to figure them out. Roz peered around wildly, her head jerking every few seconds to a new direction. She hadn’t noticed Fiona watching her.
Fiona took a deep breath and grabbed Roz’s hand, crushing her fingers to get her attention.
“Roz, look at me.”
Roz shook her head, eyes still almost rolling.
“Damn it, look at me!” she shouted.
Roz flinched, and Fiona was relieved to see her face gain a little color, whether from surprise or anger, she didn’t care. Her eyes were steadying again, calmer.
“Okay,” Fiona said, “we assumed all morning that they were watching us. Then, when we crossed the river, we also decided a few of them were probably on this side, or the group that shot at us would have followed.”
Roz nodded eagerly.
Fiona lifted her shoulders. “So how is this any different? How is this new? These bastards have been one step ahead of us all along, and they still are.”
“Yes, but the whole point of crossing over here was to give them the slip.”
Fiona nodded. “Yep. And it didn’t work. Who cares? We’re still here, right? We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
Roz’s brows lowered with apparent confusion. “But how does that help us?”
Fiona smiled. “Except for being alive, it doesn’t help at all. But we can refuse to let them rattle us, startle us. That’s what they want. They want us to panic and make poor choices. I, for one, won’t let them do it anymore. I say we keep going and pretend we don’t see those trees. Who knows—maybe it’s just one guy over here? Or maybe there’s a few of them, but they’re too busy with these damn trees to do anything else. Otherwise, why aren’t they chasing us?”
Roz opened her mouth as if read
y to argue, but it snapped shut soon after. She kept her eyes on the ground, clearly reflecting on what Fiona had said, but Fiona knew where she’d end up. She didn’t know why she was so calm about all this, but she wasn’t scared anymore. She’d hit the end of her terror, apparently, and rather than shut down and give up, she’d come out the other side, almost unafraid. She refused to let them control her emotions. After all, it was just a few trees, for God’s sake. If those weirdos were nearby, close enough to actually see them, they’d be shooting at them.
Roz took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and then let it out in a long, shaky exhale. She did it again, steadier this time, and then once more. When she opened her eyes, she almost seemed like herself again, eyes steely, jaw clenched.
“I’m sorry, Fiona. I lost it there for a minute.”
“It’s okay. We’ve all been there at least once the last few days.”
Roz shook her head, her expression dark, and Fiona suspected she was angry with herself.
Roz met her eyes. “It’s not just the trees. Before we saw them, I’d almost given up already. I was thinking about how we don’t have any water, worried we wouldn’t make it even after all that’s happened the last few days. But I wanted to be strong for you. I see now that I was fooling myself. You can take it. You can take anything.”
Fiona almost laughed. “Me? I’m a little ’fraidy cat. You must mean someone else.”
Roz shook her head. “No. Ever since we left camp yesterday—and before, really—you’ve shown me your true self, Fiona. With your friends, you showed me true courage, standing up for Jill when I wanted to club her one, helping Carol in any way you could, and basically being the only one of them to have any good ideas.”
“That was all you, though—”
Roz grabbed her hand. “It wasn’t. It was you. I might have gone through with a few things on my own, but you convinced me to try. You’re the real hero here, Fiona. Not me. What’s incredible to me is that you can’t see it in yourself.”
Fiona flushed with warmth. Roz was just being nice, all of what she’d said flattery of the highest kind, but she couldn’t help the pride rising in her chest. She had made it this far, after all. Just last night, she’d thought they’d be dead by now.
They didn’t say anything else, both turning back toward the marked trees and walking toward them, hands linked. They passed the trees without incident, Fiona barely glancing at them again. What she’d told Roz was true. The only thing they could control was how they reacted to things, as much as possible, anyway, and fear, while useful, could also be debilitating. She could be afraid and in control. She’d learned that about herself, at any rate, and it had only taken a life-and-death situation.
She heard screeching metal and a loud SNAP before Roz collapsed next to her, all at once and in a heap. Her hand was yanked from Fiona’s, almost dragging her down, and Fiona reeled backward, arms spinning to catch her balance. When she finally made herself look, she almost screamed.
Chapter Twenty-two
Roz sprawled on the ground, her leg held by the bear trap, howling in pain. The trap had snapped closed just above her boot on the top of her wool sock on the lowest part of her calf. Fiona dropped down, desperately looking for the release mechanism. She had no idea what to do.
“Roz. Roz! How do I get this thing off?”
Roz moaned again, blinked back tears, but finally leaned forward, clasping her leg just above the wound. She whimpered a few times and then smeared dirt and blood through her tears with her filthy hands. Fiona saw her clench her teeth and swallow a few times, choking back sobs.
“You have to—agggh!” Roz’s eyes snapped shut on her moan.
“Have to what, damn it?”
“You have to—have to push down on both sides.” She pointed and continued sobbing.
“Here?” Fiona asked.
“No! There and there.”
Fiona tried, but the trap didn’t move, still stuck on Roz and piercing her skin. There were, she could see now, two curved spring mechanisms on either side of the trap, both shaped like a little arc. She stood up, centering herself directly above the trap, and pushed down with all her might. The trap moved slightly, and she pushed harder, her back and shoulders protesting with the effort. It finally opened a fraction of an inch, and Fiona could almost see the end of the barbs pulling out of Roz’s leg. She was afraid now that if she tried to move to a better position for more leverage, the trap would snap closed again and hurt Roz even more. She leaned forward almost in half, the top of her head sweeping the ground, pushing, pushing. A groan of effort escaped her lips, and she tried one more time, pushing toward the ground and letting gravity help her. She heard a squealing grind as the trap finally gave, opening far enough for Roz to pull free. Leg clear, Fiona let go, and the trap closed with a loud clang.
She moved over to Roz, who was hunched up, rolling around on the ground and clutching her leg and wound between her fingers. Fiona stopped her by grabbing one shoulder, finally getting Roz’s attention by shouting at her. Roz whimpered again, tears spilling down her cheeks, and Fiona gave her forehead a quick, desperate kiss. She helped Roz sit upright, and the two of them directed their gaze to Roz’s leg. She was still clutching her wound, and Fiona forced her fingers away to see underneath. There was surprisingly little blood. In fact, only three of the barbs had pierced the skin, only one with any depth. All six of those that had touched her skin had left huge, angry welts already coloring into a purplish blue. Fiona put Roz’s hands back on the wound, dismissing the dirt and filth for now, and then pulled the backpack off her, one arm at a time.
They were down to just a few small pieces of the hammock, the rest left wrapped in pieces around Jill’s leg. The legs to their pants were still in there, however, and Fiona removed the bandanas from her shoulder, wrapping the first and then the second around Roz’s leg, and tied both into knots underneath the other. She fastened strips of hammock and pants over these and managed to wrap the strips around both bandana bandages three times. The result was an ugly, brutal gathering of mismatched material, and she could tell that it would need tending often as Roz moved. Besides the two remaining food bars, nothing was left in the backpack but their little trowel, and Fiona tossed the entire thing aside, extending her hands to Roz.
“Come on. We need to see how bad it is.”
She helped the taller woman stand up on her one good foot, and Roz kept her injured leg dangling in the air for a moment before gingerly putting some weight on it. She hissed and jerked her foot up again.
“That bad?” Fiona asked.
Roz nodded, her lips peeled back in pain.
“I don’t think anything’s broken, and you’re not bleeding too bad, just some bruising. Let me look around and see if I can find something for you to lean on.”
She turned, scanning the woods around her, and spotted a slender, tall branch stuck under some bushes near a tree. She dashed over, managed to pull it free from the mud, and came back, holding it out as if offering a scepter.
Roz had hopped over to a tree and was leaning on it, looking pale and weary. She gave Fiona a weak smile and took the branch from her, resting it against the tree.
“What are you doing?” Fiona said. “We have to keep going. We have to—”
Roz shook her head, still smiling. “You know what has to happen now, Fiona. How many people have we left in these woods, injured just like this? I’m the third. That’s all. It’s that simple. We left Carol, then Jill, and now you have to leave me. These people out here really know what they’re doing, hobbling us all like this. Very effective way to keep someone from running away. They obviously planned it this way. You have to go, now, before they do the same to you.”
Fiona was already crying. “No, no—I won’t, I can’t do it, Roz. I can’t do this without you.”
Roz laughed, the sound bitter. “Of course you can. What did I tell you not ten minutes ago? I just said that you were the hero, Fiona. Now it’s time for you to keep
being the hero. Save me, save us all. You’re our only hope.”
Fiona sobbed, and Roz pulled her into her chest. She was leaning against the tree to keep her leg off the ground, and Fiona put her hand on the trunk to stop herself from putting too much of her weight on Roz. She wanted to just stand here crying in Roz’s arms. How on earth could she keep going after all this? Roz’s chin was on the top of her head, and her body was warm—tender and strong at the same time.
“We’re maybe as far as eight miles from the highway, possibly less, six or seven, if you go straight there. That’s maybe two, three hours.”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say anything more. I won’t leave you here, goddamn it. You can’t make me leave you.”
“All you have to do is keep the sun in front of you, slightly to the right. It’s past the zenith now, so it should be easier and easier to navigate with, as long as it’s daytime. If the sun sets—”
“Stop talking, damn it!” She shrieked, moving back and away. “I’m not listening to you!”
She’d pinched her eyes closed and turned away from Roz. Angry, hot tears coursed down her cheeks. The blood was pounding in her ears with her fury. She’d never been so angry. Roz touched her shoulder, and she spun toward her, almost ready to slap, kick, or punch her. Seeing Roz there, deflated, pale, and injured, she felt her anger evaporate as if it had never existed. She burst into tears again, grabbing Roz around the middle and burying her face in her damp shirt.
Roz started to lead them gently down to the ground together, gasping with pain, and that was enough to snap Fiona out of her sorrow for a moment to help her. Despite a stab of agony from her shoulder, she managed to get Roz into a sitting position against the tree. Peering down at her, she was reminded of Jill’s wan face back there by the river, and she almost started crying again. Roz gestured for her to kneel next to her.
“Listen to me now,” Roz said. “You can do this.”
“What if I can’t? What if you die out here?”
From the Woods Page 22