Survive the Journey (EMP

by Grace Hamilton

She smacked him playfully on the back of the head. “Of course, I’m joking. I would never name a kid Spider. I much prefer Pinecone.”

  “Little Piney,” Marion said, joining the fun. “Yeah, I can see it.”

  Greg couldn’t join them. He just didn’t have it in him to joke and laugh. There was too much weighing on him, and too much to worry about, but he was glad to hear his family laughing and having fun. The months in the cave had been dour and unhappy. All of this smiling and joking around was like a glimpse of normal life. Maybe once they settled in at the cabin they could find something approaching normalcy again. That would be worth the loss of so many of their possessions, even the loss of some of the cattle along the way.

  Sadly, the joking around didn’t last long. After an hour of slowly winding up the switchbacks, walled in on either side by tall trees, the terrain started to get rougher and more difficult to navigate. The trail was rocky, eaten away in places, and uneven. Finally, the big draft horses began to really struggle. The one carrying Marion and Justine had the heavier travois, and the poor mare began to fall behind, despite Darryl’s best effort to keep her moving forward.

  With the trees on either side, it was impossible to tell how much farther they had to go to reach the valley on the other side of the mountain, but Greg could feel a difference in the air. At one point, they turned a corner and got a glimpse of the land behind them through a break in the trees. He saw the great forest stretching out a couple hundred meters below.

  “We’ll have to give the horses a break,” he said, coming up alongside Tabitha and Horace. “We don’t want to push them much harder than we already have. We are entirely dependent on them.”

  “Do you hear that?” Marion said, cupping a hand to her right ear.

  Greg tilted his head to one side and thought he heard a faint roar of water muffled down among the trees. He couldn’t tell how far away it was. “A stream,” he said. “That would be perfect. Can’t tell which direction it’s coming from.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s straight ahead,” Marion said, pointing up the trail.

  The trail ahead curved up the side of the rocky slope, crested a rise, then disappeared around a bend. It was maybe another twenty or thirty meters to the top, but Marion and Justine’s horse was struggling to keep going.

  “Let me run on ahead and see what’s up there,” Greg said.

  “I’ll go with you, Dad,” Emma said.

  “No, stay with the horses,” he replied. “Keep them moving.”

  Though he was already sweating and out of breath, he ran past the horses and hurried up the slope, pulling his toque off as he went. His hair was plastered against his skull with sweat. Next, the gloves came off. He shoved them in his pocket and jogged up the path to the top of the rise. The sound of rushing water got louder, and when he reached the top, he saw it: sunlight gleaming like silver on rough water.

  Beyond the top of the rise, the land actually dropped back down to a low, rocky ravine between mountains. A stream poured out of the dense trees to his right and rushed down the rocks to meet a mountain river, flowing in the ravine. At its widest point, the water was perhaps five meters across, churning with quite a bit of strength.

  The trail forked here, following the river in either direction, the right trail disappearing into the trees, the left trail heading down into the ravine. Greg knelt at the water’s edge to catch his breath. The view into the ravine was beautiful, full of boulders and green trees, beautiful fresh water, and then the peaks on the other side rising up like points on a crown. He had an old plastic water bottle in a side pocket of his backpack, and he pulled it out now. He took a few deep swigs, then refilled it in the stream. The water was starkly cold—clearly, it was mostly melted snow from the peaks. Then he twisted the cap back on and shoved it back in its pocket.

  Afterward, he found a large rock and sat down to wait for the others. A few minutes later, he heard the clop of hooves, and soon the horses appeared at the top of the rise, led by Darryl and Emma.

  “Let’s give the animals a break,” Greg said. “We can afford a few minutes here.”

  He helped Tabitha and Horace dismount. Darryl helped Marion, but Justine opted to remain in the saddle. Then they unharnessed the travois and walked the horses to the river’s edge. They bent down to drink, gulping water thirstily. Greg took the line of the lead cow and brought her to the river as well, and soon the rest of the herd joined her, fanning out along the river, drinking and nibbling at the plants. Looking at all the people and animals gathered by the river, Greg was impressed that they made it this far. A couple of cows appeared late, strolling over the rise a few minutes after all the others.

  “What do you think, Dad?” Emma said, moving up beside him. “We’re not half bad as cowboys, after all. We only lost one. Maybe they’ll invite us to the Calgary Stampede next year.”

  “Don’t count on it,” he replied, patting her on the back. “But, yeah, we did okay.”

  He saw Tabitha sitting on a rock, leaning her shoulder against a tree and gazing intently at the water below. He moved up beside her.

  “Anything look familiar here?” he asked.

  “Yeah, this river is a sight for sore eyes,” she said. “I know this place. The left trail is the shorter route by far. It leads right to the cabin. It’s pretty much a straight shot from here.”

  He looked down the slope. Actually, the left trail seemed somewhat treacherous. In places, it followed so closely to the river’s edge, that the water had eroded it. The ground was even rockier, and the steep downhill slope seemed dangerous. He didn’t like the look of it.

  “Is the left trail our only option?” he asked.

  “No,” Tabitha replied. “The right trail leads there as well, but it takes a very long, roundabout way. It may be safer, but it’s definitely the scenic route, meandering through the mountains to find the most beautiful views. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  Greg looked in both directions. The shortest way wouldn’t be the safest way if one of the horses got injured. Still, the thought of taking a roundabout way to the cabin was exhausting. Tabitha was giving him a questioning look, clearly waiting for him to make the choice. Normally, he would have simply made a decision, but he caught himself. Turning, he watched the rest of his family. They were standing together with the horses. Justine was still sitting in the saddle, sipping from a water bottle, and for once, she had pushed her hood back, revealing her entire face and her long black hair.

  Greg caught Marion’s eye and beckoned her.

  “Marion, Darryl, come here,” he said. “I want your opinion. Let’s make this decision together.”

  6

  From his place atop a large boulder beside the river, Greg thought the two trails couldn’t have been more different. On the right, the trail looked smooth and sturdy, cutting a relatively straight course into the trees. On the left, it was steep and crumbling, eaten away by the water, as it sank down into the ravine.

  “How much farther is the right fork?” he asked. “You called it the scenic route, but what does that mean in terms of actual distance?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Tabitha said. “Based on experience, at the speed we’re traveling, it would take us at least another day or two to reach the cabin. At least. It follows a meandering ridgeline for a while, heads upstream, then cuts across at a place where the river flows underground. The views are lovely along the way, I will say.”

  Darryl and Marion were standing beside him, surveying the visible sections of both trails.

  “I mean, the left fork doesn’t look that bad,” Darryl said, after a moment, pointing down into the ravine. “It follows right alongside the river. Personally, I’d rather take the faster road. This journey isn’t easy on Justine. The sooner we can get to the cabin, the better.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Tabitha agreed. “After another kilometer or two, the land opens up, and it becomes a lot easier. We can handle it.”

  Greg turned and looked at th
e horses. Currently, Emma was trying to wrangle another calf that had tried to wander off. She managed to circle around it and encourage it back toward the water’s edge. Horace was seated on a rock beside the river, his prosthetic legs removed and standing nearby. The old guy looked thoroughly uncomfortable, hunched over and frowning at the churning water. However, it was Justine that drew his attention. She was holding her belly in both hands and looked like she was on the verge of puking.

  “I prefer a safe road,” Marion said. “Even if it takes longer. What we’re attempting to do here, driving cattle and dragging our personal possessions, is already a huge risk. Why add to the danger?”

  “Time itself is a risk,” Darryl said. As he said it, he looked back toward Justine. She noticed and waved him over. “I say we take the faster road. It’ll be easier on Justine. She’s due soon, you know. Hang on. I’ll be right back.” And with that, he approached Justine.

  “Mom, what do you remember about the leftward path?” Marion asked.

  Tabitha had taken a seat, and she was fanning her face with her hands. She was drenched with sweat, and her complexion didn’t look great.

  “Like I’ve said, it’s been years since we went to the cabin,” she replied, “but I remember that the left path follows the river for a while, then cuts through the trees and passes by the cabin near the bottom of a rocky ravine. It’s steep in places, but passable, even with the travois.”

  Greg was torn. His personality made him want to take the leftward path. A faster, straighter course to the objective was always more attractive to him. But they had struggled to make it up the switchback trail to the river. Indeed, as he was contemplating their options, Darryl summoned them.

  “Mom, Dad, would you help?” he asked.

  Greg realized he was trying to help Justine down from the saddle and having trouble. He’d reached up to help her, but when she tipped to one side, she gasped and grabbed at her back. Marion dashed on ahead to help, arriving before Greg got there.

  “My back hurts really bad,” Justine said.

  Marion and Darryl grabbed her leg. Greg wasn’t sure what they intended to do, but as soon as they lifted her leg, Justine gasped and leaned forward, grabbing her knee.

  “No, no, don’t do that,” she said. “My feet are so swollen. They hurt. Oh, God, this is the worst.” She brushed tears off her face and pulled her hood back up, tugging it forward to hide her face.

  “Hang on, guys,” Greg said. “We’ll get her down from there.”

  He walked back to the travois, which had been unhooked from the horses. He picked through the lashed supplies until he found a small step ladder, which he’d tucked in between two large crates. It took a moment to work it free without untying the ropes. He brought it back, unfolded it, and set it on the ground beside the horse. He started step up on the ladder, but Darryl brushed him back.

  “Let me, Dad,” he said. “Please.”

  Greg stepped back and motioned him ahead. It was his place, after all. He was quite proud of his son for always taking initiative to help Justine. He made a great partner for the girl, and he was going to be a great dad.

  Better than I was, Greg thought. Better than Tuck. Maybe he’ll break the family curse.

  Yet Greg had to remind himself that his time wasn’t over. He was still a husband and father, and he still bore tremendous responsibility. There was plenty of time to do right by them. Darryl climbed the foot ladder and slid his arms under Justine, lifting her from the saddle delicately. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his shoulder.

  “Just lay me down somewhere soft,” she said. “I have to take these damned boots off.”

  Darryl carried her over to a soft patch of grass to one side of the road, kicking a large fallen branch into place to act as a makeshift pillow. Then he gently laid her down, positioned her as comfortably as possible, and helped her rest her head on the branch.

  “Thanks,” she said, in a breathless voice. “I guess I’m not cut out to be a cowgirl.”

  “It was a long road,” Darryl replied, as he tugged off her boots one after the other.

  Greg looked from Justine to Horace to Tabitha. His mother was huddled on a rock beside the river, dabbing her forehead with a handkerchief. He couldn’t decide which of the three looked more miserable.

  “I think we’re going to be here for a little while,” he said to Marion, as she folded the foot ladder and returned it to the travois. “Our people need to rest as much as the animals.”

  “That’s fine,” Marion replied. “Even if we have to camp here for the night, it’s fine. It’s better than pushing everyone to the breaking point.”

  “Let’s give it an hour or so and see how they’re feeling then,” he said.

  His daughter strolled up then. She had that look on her face—eyes narrowed, eyebrows knitted, lips pressed tightly together—that she got when she was deep in thought, dreaming up solutions.

  “Dad, the rightward path leads into the woods,” she said. “I was thinking that maybe I could find some nettles or dandelions along the path. It might be too early in the season for them, but you never know. Nettle or dandelion tea would help bring down the swelling in Justine’s feet.”

  “How thoughtful of you,” Marion said, giving her daughter a hug.

  “That’s fine, but don’t go far,” Greg said. “If you don’t find anything within a couple hundred meters, turn around. Don’t keep going.”

  She gave him a little salute and headed up the path, passing through the milling herd of cattle, which were furiously munching any plant in sight.

  “I mean it,” Greg called after her. “No more than a hundred meters or so.”

  She gave him a thumbs-up without looking back and continued up the rightward path. At least she wore a bright pink coat. That made her highly visible from a distance. Still, Greg did have a moment of doubt. Was it wise to let anyone go off alone, and, furthermore, could he trust Emma to not keep going? The last time she’d gone off alone, she’d been kidnapped by Eustace Simpson and his goons. Still, that was in their past, and they had no enemies here in the mountains.

  “She’ll be okay,” Marion said, patting him on the chest. “She needs something useful to do right now. Let her go.”

  He wasn’t going to fight the point. After all, maybe the tea would help. They could use any advantage right now. When he turned to check on his mother, he found Tabitha bent almost all the way forward, her face practically resting on her knees. She alternated between sipping water and dabbing her face. Her gray hair was soaking wet, as if she’d jumped in the river. He’d expected the trip to be hard on her, but she seemed a lot more drained than he’d expected, especially for someone who’d been sitting in a saddle all day.

  “I think we should take the fastest route,” he said, turning to Marion. “This trip is a lot harder on some of our people than I anticipated.” He turned to check on Justine. Darryl was massaging her feet. Though she was wearing thick, wool socks, Greg thought that her feet did, indeed, look noticeably swollen. Justine was quietly crying.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Marion replied. “I’m worried about the river. With the melting snow, it’s going to be unpredictable, and the water looks like it runs really close to the trail in some places. Then again, maybe I’m worried about nothing. What we can see of the leftward trail doesn’t look that bad.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. “I trust your judgment.”

  “No, no, don’t do that,” he said, pulling her hand away and holding it between both of his. “I want us to make this decision together.”

  “Then go ask Tabitha,” Marion said. “If she agrees with you, then that’s what we’ll do.”

  He nodded and went to his mother’s side. She screwed the cap onto her water bottle and tossed it onto the ground beside her. At that moment, she looked about a hundred years old, all shriveled up and melting. Feeling uneasy, Greg knelt beside her, but she only noticed him after a moment.

  “I’m
fine,” she said, clearly reading the look on his face. “Give me a few more minutes, and I’ll be ready to go. Don’t count me out.”

  “I would never count you out, Mom,” he replied. “Level with me. Which way do you think we should go?” He pointed down the right path, then the left.”

  “I’m fine with whatever you decide,” she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

  “So you don’t lean in either direction?” he asked. “Not even a little bit?”

  She dabbed her forehead and cheeks again with the handkerchief. “Well, I suppose I’d prefer to get to the cabin sooner rather than later. There are plenty of rooms and plenty of beds there. The mattresses might be filthy, but after a little cleaning, I would love to just lie down for a while on a real bed.”

  “I think our young mother might agree with you,” he said, gesturing at Justine. “It’s decided then. We take the quicker route and hope for the best.”

  “If it all goes to hell, don’t blame me,” Tabitha said.

  “Nope, we made the decision together,” he replied, “and we’ll accept responsibility for the outcome together.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “Well, look at you. Mr. Team Player. That doesn’t run in our family, you know.”

  “Oh, I know. Believe me, I know.”

  7

  Nettle tea didn’t smell all that appetizing, and Darryl was worried that Justine would refuse it. She had become very sensitive to strong smells and strange flavors, and it didn’t take much to get her puking like a fountain these days. He watched his sister brewing the tea on the little camp stove with a fair amount of trepidation, but when she finally poured the steaming, brown liquid into an enamelware cup and presented it, Justine received it with both hands.

  “Smells better than that raspberry leaf tea,” she noted.

  This comment caused Emma to wince. She’d served Justine plenty of red raspberry leaf tea over the winter. Justine held the cup in her hands for a moment, appearing to enjoy the warmth.