Lilly refused to blink lest she miss the terrible events as they unfolded.
Emily was doing a great job of both clinging to her coat and Strudel. Maybe the girl could swim. Yes, the lake was better than the rocks. Even if Emily couldn’t swim they could save her. At least, Tristian could save her.
Emily gave a sudden shriek.
Lilly’s heart squeezed to a stop and then started up again, much too quickly.
The girl and the dog launched into the air for a moment and then plunged down into the icy loveliness of the alpine lake.
A surge of joy rushed through Lilly for the briefest moment.
And then the snow ran out.
Lilly launched over a small dip, achieving a brief moment of actual flight before gravity snatched hold once more. She dropped with a downward lurch and hit the water, hard. Lilly skidded across the icy water, bouncing a few times on the surface before she sank beneath the gorgeous turquoise waves. She screamed and icy liquid filled her mouth. Cold and choking and heavy, the lake surrounded her. Lilly let go of her coat and thrashed and flopped and gasped. Where was the air? Where was Emily and her dog and the air!
Why hadn’t she braved swim lessons at the Y when she’d had the chance so many years before? Lilly thrashed with greater intensity and caught a glimpse of something purple. She wrapped her arms around Emily’s middle and heaved up. Perhaps she could save the girl before succumbing to the icy waves herself.
Someone shrieked and splashed down beside her…laughing? That same someone patted her on the head and tugged on her arm. After a moment, Emily’s face appeared underwater beside her. The girl blinked her eyes under the water, as though adjusting herself to the frigid liquid. Then she smiled and pointed up. What? Another tug and Lilly finally understood. She slid her feet beneath her and stood.
Ah yes, they had skidded across the water a fair distance, thus softening their sudden stop. But the water was quite shallow, not requiring swimming from anyone except…Strudel!
Lilly stared at Emily. She was smiling, unhurt. But where was Strudel?
Lilly spun in the water. A black and white rat floated on the lake near her shoulder. No, not a rat. A dog. A very wet, very limp little dog. She dove for him but Emily snatched him up first.
“Oh, Miss Park. I think he hit his head. On that last bump I felt this terrible crack against my chin. I…I killed your doggy!” With that declaration Emily burst into tears, flung Strudel into Lilly’s arms and plunged into the lake swimming like a very upset, but speedy and determined, mermaid for the far shore.
Lilly stared at the dog in her arms. His little ribcage rose and fell in a slow steady rhythm. A splash behind her made Lilly jump. When Tristian appeared at her shoulder, she gulped down the lump in her throat and set the little dog gently in his arms. Lilly sloshed to the shore, alone. Tristian would care for her poor Strudel. But Lilly had to find Emily. If the indifference of a ridiculous boy had brought the girl so much trauma earlier, an imagined homicide would crush her.
21
Hypothermia And A Horde of Doggy Jackets
Lilly’s exercise shoes squelched across the dirt path as she searched for Emily. Her jeans rubbed against her wet frame, feeling about as comfortable as a thick, slimy snakeskin. A snakeskin with a pleasing pattern of rhinestones bedazzling the back pockets to be sure, but still pretty nasty. Not that Lilly had ever worn a snake skin. Of course not. But the weight of the material, as she slugged along, made her think of a visit she had taken to the reptile zoo as a girl. The anaconda’s cage had featured a crawl space beneath it. This allowed determined snake lovers and tired toddlers to scootch beneath the large glass tank and gaze up at the monstrous snake within. The jeans gave her a very similar shuddering sensation. The freezing cold didn’t help, either.
Lilly glanced behind her and saw that she need not fear becoming lost as she was leaving a handy trail of muddy water. Of course, if the search took much longer, she supposed that the water might dry. She increased the volume of her shouts, and peered beneath the spreading branches of a hawthorn bush. No Emily.
Something made a crack just above and Lilly screamed. A small dry branch landed on her head and bounced to the forest floor. Just a branch. There, see. Lilly picked up a brittle bit of wood covered in soft, green lichen. Nothing to worry about. Lilly glanced up and screamed again.
She clamped her hands over her mouth and forced a few calm breaths through her lungs. There was Emily, but she was not weeping underneath a fragrant bush as Lilly had imagined. Nope, the girl clung to the side of a towering fir, dry-eyed but pale as a sheet of un-used scratch paper at a math competition. The girl had managed to climb about seventy-five feet up into the tree, but did not seem capable of descending.
“Emily, Strudel is fine. I think he’s just knocked out!” Lilly shouted up at the trembling girl, far, far above. “Please climb down right now. But not too fast! Descend in a calm and precise manner and everything should be fine.”
Lilly plopped down at the base of the tree and averted her eyes. She couldn’t watch. This was terrifying. How did Tristian do this all the time? She was pretty sure that rather than returning to school refreshed after the long weekend, she would crawl into her classroom and proceed to kiss her desk, carpet, and dry erase markers before standing catatonic before the whiteboard for the foreseeable future. Such was the consequence of surviving the shock of raw nature attacking her with its full and unadulterated powers for four whole days. Presuming, of course, that they did indeed survive.
Another twig fell, smacking her on the leg. Lilly risked a glance up. Emily didn’t seem any closer than before, but her trembling had increased. In fact, Lilly was a bit shaky herself, just looking all the way up at the girl. She slammed her eyes shut. “Are you about done? I think we should get back to the rest of the group. See if Strudel has regained consciousness yet.”
“Miss Park?” Emily’s voice was wobbly and her question morphed into a long, long silence.
“Yes, Emily.”
“I’m stuck.”
“Oh, my. Um, yes. I’ll just zip on back and get Mr. Calvert shall I?”
“No!” Emily screeched. There was more than a hint of panic in the girl’s tone.
Lilly stayed rooted at the bottom of the tree. Emily did indeed sound quite upset. Now what?
“Wouldn’t you rather have him? I bet he’s climbed many trees in his lifetime and could properly advise you concerning your descent.”
“I’m shaking really hard and my fingers won’t work. Please help me down?”
“OK, then. Grasp a thick branch at the base near the trunk and now slowly allow one foot to descend until you have found a branch that is sufficient to hold your weight.”
“I’m shaking too hard. Please, please come up here. If I can see you I think I’ll be OK.”
Lilly had never climbed a tree in her life, but she didn’t think that now was an ideal time to reveal that fact to Emily. She knew the theory of tree climbing, of course. She had read a very thorough article about the advantage of allowing children to stretch their limits through outdoor frolics and climbs. But putting that knowledge to practical use had never occurred to her.
Lilly stood. Her pants squeaked and her shirt clung to her back, soaking and cold. She braced her foot against the rough bark of the trunk and seized a branch in her hands. That was when Lilly noticed that she too was shaking uncontrollably. What was wrong with her? Was she this afraid of a measly little tree climb? Something that countless kindergarteners could easily accomplish? Yes, yes, I am. And then she heaved herself up to the lowest branch and reached above her head for another.
Finally, Lilly eased onto a branch that put her eye-level with Emily’s sturdy hiking boots. “All right, there’s a nice sturdy branch eight inches below your left foot and five inches to the right.” Lilly gulped down a choking breath and took one hand off the tree. No, she couldn’t. Of its own volition, her hand gripped the branch once more, this time hard enough to make her knuckle
s white. “You must lower yourself slightly and reach out your foot for this branch.” There was a long and terrible pause before Lilly forced herself to continue. “I’ll guide you.”
Why was she saying these crazy things? Slowly, oh, so slowly, she uncurled her trembling fingers from the branch and gripped the heel of Emily’s shoe. The girl struggled for a moment, not wanting to move from the branch any more than Lilly. “Pray, pray with me, Emily.” Another silence slid around them, cool and wild and as fresh as the rolling storm that raged above. Lilly tugged at the hiking boot again and this time, the girl complied. Branch by terrible branch, the math teacher and her student descended the swaying pine.
By the time Lilly had talked Emily down from the tree, their trunk was surrounded. Eight children, Tristian, and Strudel cheered. Well, Strudel yipped, as Lilly clutched Emily’s hand and lowered her down the last few feet into Tristian’s waiting arms.
He hustled her away to the tents.
Yes, the group had had sufficient time to set up camp. They all urged Emily to change clothes and drink several cups of hot chocolate.
Lilly was shaking quite badly now and rather than dive from her perch, she clung to the trunk with her cheek pressed against the rough bark. Maybe she would dry out if she just waited here for the mountain wind to warm her. Lilly shuddered and closed her eyes.
“It’s a good thing you both took your packs off to get into that cave. Otherwise you wouldn’t have any dry clothes.” Tristian was silent for a moment. “Lilly? Can you get down?”
She tried to say something, but all she could manage was the chattering sound one’s teeth made when one is trembling uncontrollably.
“Here, just let go. I’ll catch you.”
Lilly looked down.
Tristian was standing with his arms stretched up toward her. He seemed terribly small and far away. But what was her other option? Stay in the tree forever? Her hands were certainly not working properly for the return climb. After an awkward pause, Lilly nodded and pried her fingers away from the bark. She gulped down a deep breath and fell.
True to his word, Tristian caught her. When he felt her trembling, he settled Lilly against his chest and simply carried her to the campsite. Tristian set her down on a bleached-out log by the cook stove and retrieved her pack. “Here, let me get you some dry clothes. I’m sorry I can’t start a fire for you. There’s a burn ban on everything but camp stoves.” His eyes were a very dark blue as he held her gaze for a moment before squeezing her hand and rushing off toward the tents.
After a moment of searching, Tristian’s concerned face appeared before her. “The only outfits you have are covered in honey and a good half of your clothing consists of little doggy jackets. Why so many doggy coats, Lilly? What if you fell in a lake?”
Ha ha, very funny. Lilly shuddered and attempted to tell Tristian his wit was lacking. More sounds of teeth chattering and a small groan were all she could manage. Could she wear the doggy jackets, if she put on enough of them?
“Come on. Eat this granola bar while I figure something out. You’ve got a touch of hypothermia. We can’t mess around with this. You have to get warm. I think I have an extra flannel. I’ll see what I can scrounge up. Stay here, eat this.” He unwrapped a yoghurt covered granola bar and shoved it into her shaking hand. Lilly folded her fingers around it and continued to shake. Why, why, why had she presumed she could do this? She was a math teacher, not a survival guide. Lilly took a bite out of the granola bar and almost choked. She was shaking so hard her whole body was a constant wash of shudders. She lay down on the carpet of pine needles and rested her cheek against the ground while she slowly, methodically, attempted to chew.
22
Never Hike With Untrained Explorers Wielding Ice Axes
Lilly fell asleep with the granola bar still in her mouth. She started as someone scooped her up into a pair of strong arms. Her head settled against Tristian’s chest and she caught the scent of flannel and hot cocoa.
Tristian carried her across the campsite and then knelt, depositing her at the mouth of her tent. “The girls set it up for you. Come on, you can do this, Lilly. Crawl inside. I’ve got some warm clothes.”
At the word “warm” Lilly wriggled forward into the tent. In the corner was a thin, but dry, towel and a neatly stacked pile of clothes. She fumbled with the zipper on the tent.
“Here, I’ll do it. But first you need a helper.”
Emily crawled into the tent and Tristian zipped it up after her.
Lilly’s hands were trembling and refused to grasp anything. She snatched at the buttons on her shirt, but it felt as though she had paws instead of fingers. Lilly stared down at the evil buttons. Who would have known that something so innocuous would be her doom?
“Here.” Emily took care of the buttons in short order and then held out the towel before turning her back. “He said you might have trouble. I guess that is one of the symptoms of hypothermia. Not being able to use your fingers.”
“Tristian?” Even Lilly’s voice sounded cold to her, all chattering and hoarse.
“Yeah. And we had to make a belt out of this old baling twine that we found in the bottom of your pack. The clothes are from all of us, and you know they won’t exactly fit.”
Emily was right.
There were two pairs of pants, but Lilly put on both. First was a child-sized pair of yoga pants with a pattern of the Milky Way galaxy sparkling across the spandex. Next she pulled up a pair of monstrous, red jogging pants. They must have been Tristian’s and required the use of the bailing twine. Next, a long john shirt in a kitty cat print and a Read-A-Thon T-shirt in purple tie-dye. Finally, Lilly donned a pair of tall, chartreuse toe socks.
“Here, your slippers made it.” Emily crammed the puffy slippers onto Lilly’s feet and unzipped the tent. Still shivering, Lilly crawled out and hobbled over toward the cook stove.
Tristian indicated a folding camp chair and handed her a steaming mug of cocoa when she sat. Then he plopped a furry little dog into her lap.
Strudel seemed to have retained all his energy, despite his concussion. He’d even gained a few new pine needles in his coat.
Lilly slurped down a melting marshmallow as the heat from Strudel’s warm body seeped into her. He was alive. She was alive. They had made it down the glacier and everyone was still alive.
“Now, don’t worry about tomorrow. It’s only nine miles to Holden Village, but we’ll set up camp earlier, at Lower Lyman Lake. The day after we’ll hike into Holden Village. They have a cafeteria with homemade soups and fresh bread, even an ice cream parlor.” Tristian smiled and patted her shoulder, as though the mention of fresh bread would suddenly warm and heal her.
Eating fresh bread, maybe, but only talking about fresh bread didn’t seem to have any affect. And Lilly wasn’t exactly dreaming of a scoop of ice cream at that moment, although homemade soup sounded like ambrosia.
“Get some sleep. Everything will look better in the morning.”
Better than what? Lilly didn’t ask. What if Tristian expected the next day to be better than typhoid fever, a category 5 hurricane, or a plague of rats?
The following morning, Lilly certainly felt warmer. Much, much warmer. The hike to lower Lyman Lake that Tristian described as “a few miles” the day before, turned out to actually consist of mile upon terrible mile of very brushy territory that was rife with large biting flies.
However, the trip had improved greatly for Strudel. Now that the little dog was no longer a stowaway, he zipped down the path barking at squirrels and chasing insects.
All nine of the children offered to watch him and proceeded to hover over Strudel’s every prancing step, even going so far as to tackle him (gently) if he shot off into the foliage after a squirrel.
With so many devout Strudel-sitters on duty, Lilly simply concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other and swatting flies as they dined upon her flesh with wild abandon.
Mason walked between her and Tristian swinging
an ice ax to the beat of whatever was playing on his earphones.
“Don’t you think there should be some kind of training program or Boy Scout patch required before you let them borrow your ice ax?”
“Fret not, fair Lilly. Why don’t you have another granola bar?” Tristian tossed a yoghurt covered snack over Mason’s head so that it would land in Lilly’s hand.
At least she hoped that was his intention. What actually happened was that the snack hit her in the eye and made her catch her toe on a root and stumble off the path where a small army of wild roses caught her fall and filled her palms with prickles. Muttering stern words under her breath, Lilly extricated herself from the shrubberies and hastened after their fearless leader. Men. Grrr… She rounded the corner.
Mason was now quite close behind Tristian.
Should she warn the boy, he looked pretty distracted?
The music must have really been fabulous, for Mason gave a little skip and swung the ice ax with gusto. The ax slid forward.
Tristian let out a shocked cry of pain.
Lilly broke into a run.
Mason stood silent and pale in the center of the trail, staring down at Tristian’s leg.
Tristian promptly fell to his knees and then slowly sank forward onto the path. He lay prone, with his face mashed into the dirt, apparently attempting not to writhe, but having a difficult time of it.
The long, thin pick on the non-ax end of the tool had sliced neatly into the back of Tristian’s thigh. Five or six inches of the sharpened tool were buried deep in the man’s leg and blood seeped in small rivulets around the metal and across his tanned skin.
Lilly shot up a prayer as she lurched to a stop, staring at their strong and adventurous leader where he lay immobilized upon the forest floor. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God!
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