by Taylor Dean
No, it wasn’t. Luke wanted to make Troy feel better, but he couldn’t. Nothing he said could fix it. “Hey, Troy?”
“What?”
“Thanks for takin’ care of me.”
Troy continued to stare into the fire, his eyes angry. “Should I bury my dad?”
“No. I think your mom will want him buried close by.”
“He did a good job landing the plane. The snow was too slippery. He couldn’t stop. I didn’t see the cliff coming.”
“I didn’t either. He saved us, Troy. He saved our lives.”
“Yeah,” Troy said, but he didn’t sound happy. Silent tears dripped down his face, yet he didn’t allow himself to sob out loud.
The night was miserable. In spite of all Troy’s efforts, they couldn’t seem to get warm. They may not have been comfortable, but at least they weren’t freezing to death. They were alive and shivering, which was better than frozen and dead. Troy stoked the fire several times in the night and every time Luke awoke the fire blazed next to him.
“That’s okay, Troy, I got your light.”
Troy’s father’s words echoed through his mind. When Luke peeled his eyes open, he could’ve sworn he saw Troy standing next to the fire, staring at him intently while saying, “That’s okay, Luke, I got your light.”
Troy kept the fire burning bright—the fire that was saving his life, his light.
No, that’s not right. It was Troy’s bedroom light. Wait, how did the story go again? He felt confused. And when he looked around, Troy wasn’t standing there anymore. He was snoring right next to him as he lay on his makeshift bed.
By morning, Luke felt dizzy and nauseated. His leg throbbed with never-ending pain. Even though he was cold, sweat beaded on his forehead. Opening his eyes seemed like a monumental task. He awoke to Troy handing him two Tylenol and making him drink more warm water. He slept fitfully to the sounds of the finger saw cutting away at branches and the fire crackling and popping next to him.
He was positive he heard Troy say, “That’s okay, Luke, I got your light.”
The pile of firewood grew throughout the morning. Troy was still keeping himself busy. Luke never once caught him simply sitting. He spent the afternoon spelling out the word “HELP” in huge letters in the snow. He used whatever he could find: rocks, pinecones, and bunches of pine needles.
“Luke! Luke! You gotta wake up and eat.”
It was dark again and the day had been a blur.
“You’ve gotta fever, Luke. You’re blazing hot.” Troy’s hand felt like ice against his brow.
Luke tried to eat another energy bar, but was only able to down half of it. He drank more warm water and it seemed to ease his nausea. “It’ssssss night already?”
“Yeah. No one came today, Luke. No rescuers. No planes overhead. I don’t think the transmitter thing is workin’.”
“You gottttt my lightttttt, Troy?”
“What? Luke, you’re not making any sense.”
Luke drifted off again, feeling as though he was floating outside of his body. He couldn’t quite grasp onto a thought and hold it in his brain. The world seemed to be spinning through space and he longed to reach out and hold onto something that would ground him. A violent shaking of his shoulder momentarily brought him out of his dreamlike state.
“Luke, Luke, do you hear that? Wolves, Luke. I hear wolves.” Troy sounded frantic and Luke could hear the pure terror in his voice.
Howling echoed in the distance, sounding hopeless, as if it were the battle cry of his impending death. The sound rumbled through his brain, making his ears ring. He wanted to tell Troy to stay calm and don’t panic, even while fighting the rising fear gathering in his gut. He tried, but nothing came out. He wanted to get up off his deathbed and help Troy defend them from wild animals. Only his body wouldn’t respond to the command and he knew it was useless to try. Every time he pried his eyes open, he saw Troy sitting next to the fire while holding a brightly burning branch, his wild eyes scanning the darkness as he jumped at every snap and crackle of the fire.
As near as Luke could tell, Troy didn’t sleep that night. He kept watch, trying to keep them safe from the hungry wolves. Luke dreamt a wolf had once again taken hold of his leg, refusing to let go, growling with rage as he protected his food source.
When it was morning, the world turned fuzzy and when he tried to open his eyes, everything looked like a reflection in a funhouse mirror. A distorted Troy stared at him with wide unblinking eyes, his entire body seeming to shiver in the frosty air. “You still alive, Luke?”
“Yeah,” was all he could manage. Luke knew his light was fading. And fast.
Time seemed to stand still and he felt as though he’d been on the mountain top for days on end. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of his surroundings. Troy was always busy doing something while mumbling under his breath, his words meant for no one in particular. Luke couldn’t understand a word he said.
In the next moment of consciousness, he realized Troy was moving him. He didn’t have the strength to respond or ask him what he was doing. He couldn’t even shout when the pain became unbearable.
Then he was traveling, constantly moving forward and being jostled this way and that. Every once in awhile he swore he heard the low grumble of an angry wolf. Troy’s fury would then rattle through his head, “Leave us alone!”
The world tumbled and shook, a constant and steady never-ending rumble. His entire body was shaking and shuddering, pitching backwards and forwards. The pain in his leg almost brought a scream to his lips, but never quite made it into the air. It was a constant silent scream, loudly vibrating through his entire body.
Then there were voices. Lots of voices. Red flashing lights swirled through the air, hurting his eyes.
And then blackness.
Nothingness.
17
Luke and Jill
April 2003
Present Day
“Troy saved you. He saved your life,” Jill said, her voice cracking with emotion. Tears wandered down her cheeks and landed on her lap. She didn’t bother wiping them away.
“He did. While I slept, ravaged with fever, he built a platform out of branches and cord. He put me on it and he dragged me down the mountain, walking through thick snow. It took him around ten hours.”
Jill gasped. “Ten hours? I don’t know how either one of you survived it.”
“I slept through it and don’t remember much. Just motion and pain and cold and fear.”
“Were there really wolves surrounding you?”
“Just one. A lone wolf. It was tracking us.”
“Did it attack?”
“No, Troy somehow managed to scare it away.”
“What happened next?” Jill asked while contemplating the terror such an experience would evoke.
“Troy stumbled across a remote cabin. It was like finding a needle in the proverbial haystack. The man who lived there called for help.”
Jill felt utterly impressed with the actions of a twelve year old boy. “Troy did that for you. That’s incredible.”
Luke’s expression was grave. “If he hadn’t done it, I would’ve died on that mountain.”
Jill absorbed this knowledge with all it implied. “It explains so much. I always wondered why you stood by Troy’s side when he was so . . .”
“Unpleasant?”
“Well, yeah. I understand now. I’m glad you told me.”
“I can’t abandon him. I won’t abandon him.”
“No, of course not.” Luke’s loyalty was inspiring. “After all that, it’s so sad that Troy was injured later while he and his dad built the tree hou . . .” Jill stopped short.
Luke shook his head in the negative.
Jill’s eyebrows knit. “His dad died in the plane accident. Wait, I don’t understand. Troy said he hurt his legs after a chainsaw accident while building the tree house with his dad. How’s that possible?”
“The tree house was built by Troy and his dad, an
d me and my dad, when Troy and I were about nine years old. That’s not how Troy hurt his legs. That’s just what he tells people. It’s always been what he tells people.”
“Then how . . .” Realization dawned on Jill. “Oh no.”
Luke closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. He continued with his story, his expression haunted and his voice low.
18
Luke and Troy
December 1987
Fifteen Years Earlier
“Lucas? Lucas? Wake up now, sweetheart. Open your eyes, son. You can do it.”
He knew that voice. It was his mom. His mom? How could she be here? He and Troy, they were stuck on a mountain, waiting for a rescue plane. Except he didn’t feel cold anymore, he felt warm. Was he dreaming? Luke forced his eyes open, which seemed like an amazing accomplishment.
“Mom? Dad?”
“Yes, Luke.”
His mom was crying, almost sobbing, and his dad wiped away a tear too.
“You’re in the hospital, son. Your leg is broken, but you’re going to be all right.” His dad’s voice sounded like the best thing he’d ever heard.
“You’ve been sleeping for three days and I thought you’d never wake up,” his mom sobbed, leaning down and kissing his forehead several times. He didn’t really like it when his mom got all mushy with her hugs and kisses, but he felt so happy to see her, he didn’t mind just this once.
Luke looked down and saw his leg wrapped in a heavy cast, from his thigh down to his foot. He felt weak, like moving his body took so much effort.
“You lost a lot of blood, that’s why you feel so weak. You also developed an infection. Once the doctors got some antibiotics pumping into you, you responded quickly, thank goodness,” his dad told him.
His mom was still crying. She held his hand in hers and squeezed it now and then. “You had surgery. You have some pins holding the bones in your leg together. Don’t fret, your leg will be as good as new real soon, sweetheart.”
Confusion overwhelmed him. It was so much to take in at once. His memories started to return and he asked, “Where’s Troy?” His tongue felt like cotton.
His dad looked uncomfortable. “He’s here too, son. He’s recovering from a concussion. He hit his head pretty hard. He’s going to be . . . o-okay.”
“Okay? What do you mean, just okay?” His mom and dad exchanged a weird look between them and Luke knew something was wrong. Very wrong. “What’s wrong? Tell me. Tell me right now.”
“Calm down, son, calm down.” His dad patted his shoulder and sat down at his bedside. With his mom and dad on either side of him, he felt safe and protected. After what he’d been through, it felt amazing.
“Troy’s dad?” Luke asked.
“They found the wreckage of the plane. The Emergency Transmitter had malfunctioned. Search parties had been out looking for you guys since the moment the crash was reported. They found . . . Mr. Kelley.” His dad paused and swallowed as if his throat was very dry. “His funeral will be held in a few days when . . .”
“When what?”
“When Troy is doing better.”
“What’s wrong with Troy?” Luke asked. “He was fine. I mean, he hurt his head, but that’s all.”
His dad breathed in and out heavily as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “How much do you remember, Luke?”
“It’s kinda blurry. Troy put me on something and he dragged me around till he found help. The pain in my leg, it was real bad and I kept passing out. I don’t remember much.”
“That’s just as well. Troy constructed a bed made of branches and cord. He saved your life, Luke. He tied you to it and dragged you out, pulling you all the way.”
“It didn’t take him long. He’s fast.”
“It took him around ten hours, Luke.”
“Ten hours? It was that long?”
“Thank your lucky stars you were unconscious for most of it.” His mom pulled out a tissue and blew her nose. “Thank goodness for Troy. He saved your life. And kept you safe from a hungry wolf.”
“The wolf was real?” Luke remembered the chilling sound of a low growl. He’d wondered if he’d been hallucinating.
“Yes, son. According to Troy, it was traveling alone. It must have separated from the pack somehow. He stalked you and Troy, but never had the courage to attack.”
“I remember Troy yelling at it.”
“He was very brave.” His dad went on, as if in a hurry to change the subject. “The snow was quite deep and the temperature was below freezing . . .”
“But Troy’s okay, right? You just said he’ll be doing better real soon.”
“Luke . . . he was only wearing tennis shoes . . .”
“So. They were his running shoes. They’re really good shoes.” Troy could run like the wind in his running shoes. Luke had never been as fast as him.
“Yes, they’re good shoes, but they don’t protect against the cold and he was walking in the snow for hours and hours . . .” His dad didn’t seem to be able to say the words.
“He has frostbite, Luke,” his mother blurted. “He lost his toes and part of his heels.”
“He lost them?” What did that mean? His toes were lost and they had to go back and find them?
His dad found his voice. “They had to amputate his toes, son. And parts of his heels.”
The doctors cut off Troy’s toes? And heels? They cut them off? They’re gone? Forever? WHAT?
Luke leaned over the bed and retched horribly. There wasn’t anything in his stomach to come up.
He needed to see Troy. He needed to see him right now. Troy was going to be so upset . . . and mad and devastated.
“They’ll make him special shoes and he’ll be able to walk again. He’ll probably limp, but he will walk.”
“Will he run? Will he be able to run?” Luke asked. Running meant the world to Troy. It was all he talked about, all he lived for. He wanted to run track like his dad did in high school. He wanted to jump hurdles. He wanted to win trophies.
His dad shook his head sorrowfully. “No, Luke. He won’t be able to run.”
“Ever?”
“Ever. All that matters is that he is alive and he’s going to be fine.”
“No, Dad, no. That’s not all that matters.”
His dad patted his shoulder again in an attempt to console him.
“I need to see Troy. Can I go see him? Please?”
“Maybe in a day or two.”
“No, right now. I need to see him right now. He’s gonna be so upset. You don’t understand.”
They didn’t let him go see Troy. Not until the next day. They transferred him to a wheelchair and wheeled him down a long corridor. Irate shouting met his ears as they approached Troy’s room.
“No. I don’t wanna talk to anybody! Go away and leave me alone!” he heard Troy yell. He sounded mad and Luke felt sick.
Troy’s mom stood outside of his room, talking to a reporter and his cameraman.
“Please, ma’am. We’d like to feature your son on the evening news. We understand he’s a hero. We’d love to share his story.”
“I’m sorry. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now. Please leave us alone. We need some time to ourselves to recover. Please respect our wishes.” Troy’s mom dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
A determined looking nurse approached with a security guard in tow.
“Those two. They refuse to leave,” the nurse spouted.
An overbearing security guard took over. “Gonna have to ask you gentlemen to leave.” The security guard escorted them out of the building while the men complained about freedom of speech.
“Oh, Madelaine,” Mrs. Kelley exclaimed as she hugged his mom tightly while they both cried. Luke’s dad rubbed his mom’s back.
Luke grabbed the wheels of the wheelchair and rolled himself in. Troy lay on the bed, both of his feet propped up and heavily bandaged. “Troy?”
Troy opened his eyes and turned a hard gaze on him.
His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. He looked angry, real angry. Like so-mad-he-was-about-to-explode angry.
“You okay?” Luke asked.
Troy didn’t answer, but his chest moved up and down like he was breathing fast.
“I’m sorry ‘bout your feet.”
Troy frowned and said nothing.
“Thanks for getting me off that mountain.”
Troy scoffed.
Luke knew Troy was very, very upset and he wasn’t really sure what to say. “I don’t remember much, except you were taking care of me.”
Troy’s mouth puckered into a tight frown like he was trying real hard to not cry or something.
“I remember being real cold, but you kept the fire going and I felt warm. Thanks for that.”
Troy’s eyes shot daggers at him and Luke didn’t know how to respond.
Finally, he asked again, “You okay?”
“Do I look okay?” Troy hit the bed with his fist. “I’m never gonna run again. I’m not even gonna walk normal. I’m gonna be a freak. Like I-could-be-in-the-circus kind of freak.”
“No you’re not, Troy. You’re a hero. You saved my life, you . . .”
Troy’s head whipped toward him, his eyes glaring and fierce. He seemed out of breath, as if he’d just run one of his races, and his nostrils flared. Luke had never seen Troy look like that. “You know what, Luke? If I had known what would happen to me, if I had known I would become a freak, I wouldn’t have done it,” he said through gritted teeth.
Luke felt his blood rush to his head.
“Do you hear me? I would NOT have done it!” Troy rasped.
Luke swallowed, feeling as though someone had just hit him in the head with a hammer. Troy had saved him, and in so doing he’d lost his toes and his heels. How do you lose your heels? Luke’s stomach churned. Troy was right, it was gross and freaky. And now Troy wished he hadn’t saved him. “Troy, you don’t mean that. Don’t say that.”
“I should have left you on that mountain,” Troy said, his face scrunched up and mean. “I could’ve hiked down real fast. My feet would’ve been fine.”
“Troy, please . . .”
“Don’t tell anyone, Luke. I don’t want anyone to know about my feet. I don’t want anyone to know about my toes. Promise!” Troy’s tone was harsh and demanding.