Bad Call

by Stephen Wallenfels

  She says, “Almost here, Colin.”

  Then Grahame says, “Oh SHIT!”

  A second later a tree from upstream slams into the log. Colin looks at Ellie, eyes wide in disbelief. He twists, reaches out for a branch that isn’t there.

  His right leg slips off the log.

  He falls into the current.

  The water is so damn cold. I struggle to breathe as the current presses against my back and rushes over me. I’m holding on to a branch that’s slightly above the surface. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. My fingers are numb. The current is pulling at my legs, trying to suck me under the tree and away. If there’s a bottom down there, I can’t feel it.

  Grahame is yelling my name.

  I look at them through the water streaming across my face.

  Ellie is leaning out at an impossible angle, her body over the water. One arm is tied to Grahame’s coat. It increases her reach by three feet. In her other hand is the ax. She’s holding it out to me and having problems keeping it up. It’s too heavy.

  Grahame screams, “Grab the ax. Colin! Do it!”

  It’s just beyond my reach. To get there means letting go of the branch. If I do that, the current will take me under, and that’s it for me. For a moment I think that might be a better result. Ellie is risking her life, and so is Grahame. If I let go, they’re safe. But then Ellie would be left alone with Grahame. I can’t let that happen. My strength is fading fast.

  She screams, “Colin! Now!”

  I let go of the branch. The current is on me like some huge underwater beast. It’s clawing at my legs, pulling me down. I dig my fingernails into the bark with my right hand, reach out with my left. Slide forward an inch, then another. My fingers touch the ax. It’s wet. They slip off at first, then with a final stretch, they wrap around the head of the blade. I feel another pull. But it isn’t the current. It’s Grahame and Ellie, hauling me to shore.

  His arms grab mine. I feel rocks and ground below my legs. Something solid to stand on. I collapse back onto the snow. Ellie is beside me, coughing.

  Grahame beams down at me.

  “Dat was a hell of a ting, mon!”

  He raises his arms in triumph.

  I wrap my arms around Ellie. Close my eyes. She’s crying.

  Then I hear a short, sharp yell.

  Look up.

  The place where Grahame was standing is no longer white. The snow gave way below him. It was smooth rock underneath. I scan downstream. Spot an arm, his hat.

  I scream, “GRAHAME! GRAHAME!”

  The current is too fast.

  He’s around the bend and gone.

  She sits beside him in the snow, up high with their backs against a tree, away from that awful sound of water thundering over rocks.

  He’s soaked and shaking with no way to get dry. Everything is cold. Every part of her.

  Their packs are on the other side, taunting them. The log that slammed into their bridge knocked it loose. The closest end to them isn’t reachable without swimming into the current. They’d be swept away, just like Grahame. They have no food, no way to make a fire. All they have is Grahame’s jacket. It’s wrapped around their shoulders, offering little comfort against the rain, which has somehow gotten worse. And now there’s a wind. It is blowing from across the valley, biting into the rest of whatever life they have left. They’ve seen a few flakes mixed in. Snow is coming. Colin said a minute ago that they should build a shelter. But he couldn’t even stand. And she can’t walk ten feet without going into a coughing fit that ends with her spitting up blood.

  He breaks their silence by saying through chattering teeth, “I’m sorry, Ellie. This is all so…so…”

  “Messed up?”

  “Grahame would use a stronger word.”

  “He came back for us.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “You were right about him.”

  “We were both right,” he says.

  They shiver in silence. Then she hears what could be a laugh. “What’s so funny?”

  “So we’re at a gas station. It’s night. It’s pouring rain. We’re out of gas. Out of money. She says, ‘I have a—’”

  “‘Credit card.’”

  Colin says in a slightly lower voice, “‘You have a credit card?’”

  Ellie elevates her voice, “‘Yes, but—’” She coughs hard, spits. “‘My father told me to only use it in case of an emergency.’”

  And she says with him, “‘Well, maybe one will come up.’”

  A jealous wind carries their laughter away.

  Ellie says, “Your Cusack needs some work, buster.”

  “Maybe…that’s because…my lips…are blue.”

  “Well, I thought my Daphne Zuniga was quite excellent.”

  “I agree. Hawking up the phlegm really nailed it.”

  They fall into another silence. She notes that they get longer each time. It takes too much effort to talk. Or think. She wonders how long it will take for the final silence to find them. The rain seems to have fallen off a bit, but not the wind. Ellie looks to her left, sees thick streaks of white mixing in. Flakes begin sticking to her wet pants. She coughs and says, “I heard it might snow today.”

  “Nah. That’s just crazy talk.”

  She feels another silence coming on. Colin leans forward, pulls the coat a little tighter around them. A square bump rubs against her right arm. It’s in a hidden pocket inside the lining.

  Ellie finds the zipper, can barely manage the tab with numb fingers.

  She pulls out…an iPhone.

  They stare at it, not believing what she’s holding in her hand. The face is covered with smears of dried blood.

  “That’s Ceo’s,” Colin says. “Please tell me it works.”

  Ellie pushes the home button. Nothing happens.

  “Maybe it’s turned off,” Colin says.

  Ellie finds and presses the power button. They stare in silence at the black face, hope fading with each passing second.

  Colin says, “I guess we can toss—” and stops. The Apple symbol appears, then resolves into the home screen.

  “Oh my God! It worked!” She kisses Colin on the cheek. “Two bars.”

  Colin laughs. “Like I told you. Ceo’s a force of nature.”

  ALTA BATES SUMMIT MEDICAL CENTER BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA

  3 BACKPACKERS STRANDED BY STORM RESCUED, 1 DIES IN TRAGIC FALL

  YOSEMITE, Calif.—A group of four backpackers, three from Los Angeles and one from San Rafael, California, were stranded in the wilderness for three nights by recent storms that hammered Northern California with 60 mph winds, record-breaking rain and up to two feet of snow at higher elevations. Yosemite Search and Rescue spokesperson Amanda Wilkes stated that the backpackers were reported missing by a friend in San Rafael Sunday night after one of the hikers missed her return flight from Fresno. High winds and near-zero visibility prevented rescue efforts until late Monday morning. Efforts were further hampered because the group filled out a wilderness permit for Lower Merced Pass Lake, but due to fires in that region, changed to the backcountry around Mount Watkins but failed to turn in a revised permit. Three of the four (Colin Tritt, 17, Ellie Boyer, 17, Ceo DeVrees, 18) were medevaced to a hospital in San Francisco, where they were treated for hypothermia and frostbite. DeVrees, who also suffered severe facial trauma, has been transferred to a hospital in Los Angeles. The fourth member of the party, Grahame Marcell, 18, was caught in a flash flood while attempting to cross Snow Creek and was swept over Snow Creek Falls. His body was recovered Monday night. An autopsy is pending.

  SON OF MOVIE STUDIO EXEC SURVIVES AX BLOW TO HEAD IN WILDERNESS ORDEAL

  BERKELEY, Calif.—Ceo DeVrees, 18, son of Christian R. DeVrees, CEO of Continental Development, Inc., and founder of Dancing Hippo Studios, was accidentally struck in the head with an ax by fellow hiker Grahame Marcell, 18, during a backpacking trip in Yosemite National Park. Believing the blow to be fatal, Marcell left DeVrees in a recor
d-setting blizzard that dumped 6 inches of rain on San Francisco in 24 hours and up to 2 feet of snow in the Sierras. DeVrees managed to find the Snow Creek Cabin, which was occupied by a trail-maintenance crew weathering the storm. Marcell died the following day while attempting to cross Snow Creek in flash-flood conditions due to the storm. Park Ranger Nathan Row stated, “What this young man [DeVrees] did under those extreme conditions is a testimony to the sheer human will to

  “‘…survive. What’s unfortunate in this—’”

  “Please make it stop,” Ceo says. “I’ve heard enough.”

  “Did you know about that cabin?”

  “I read about it in the trail guide.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I wasn’t sure which side of Watkins it was on. I didn’t want to risk all of us trying to find it.”

  “So it was luck?”

  “Pretty much. Except for the part where I got face-planted with a freaking ax.”

  The nurse told me I get ten minutes, then she needs to change his bandages. Hopefully, that gives me enough time to hear what I need to hear.

  “Do you want these?” I show him the two clippings.

  “What do you think?”

  “I thought so….” And I wad them up, toss them in the wastebasket under the TV. I settle back into the leather recliner next to his bed and force myself to look at him. To see if the Ceo I know is in this room. What I’m looking at is someone else. An IV is buried in his left arm. A gauze bandage is wrapped around the center of his head, covering his nose and cheeks, leaving the nostril holes open. One eye’s swollen shut, the other’s watery and discolored. A second bandage extends from his temple down to the jawline on the right side of his face. Any exposed skin from the neck up is puffy and varying shades of red, purple, and black. This is the first time I’ve seen him since the trip. Coach and Rhody visited him earlier today. Rhody said his face looks like he was dragged behind a train, then his remains were gnawed on by a pack of wolverines. I’d say for once Rhody didn’t exaggerate.

  I ask, “How long will you be Mummy Man?”

  “They won’t start the surgery until the swelling goes down. Then they’ll slap on a chunk of flesh from my thigh. I’m going to be Franken-Ceo for a while. But my dad is flying in a face doc from Germany. My agent says I have a very bright future modeling hockey masks.” He nods at my crutches leaning against the chair. “How long are you on those?”

  “Three weeks. Then I switch to a boot.”

  “Rhody told me you lost two toes.”

  “Actually only one. I don’t consider the little guy a toe.”

  “Maybe this will solve your foot faulting problem.”

  “Yeah. But wearing flip-flops will be problematic.”

  “Right. Sorry about that.”

  I pause and say, “We all lost something.”

  His eye blinks. He swallows. A soft groan tells me pain is involved. A lot.

  Ceo says, “When are you going back to school?”

  “Monday. Coach got a hotel room about five blocks from here. I’m staying with him through the weekend. Rhody went back this morning. Ellie offered to let me stay at her house. We both decided that would be a little awkward.”

  Another pause. He asks, “How is she?”

  I know Ellie hasn’t been here to visit him. She says she has to work through some issues at home and in her head before that can happen. But she promised to visit before he leaves. I say, “She’s good. Her lungs are clear. No digits lost. They released her two days ago.”

  “Tell her thanks for the card. It’s by the TV, next to the Scarface DVD.”

  “Scarface? That sounds like Rhody.”

  “Worst get-well gift ever.” Ceo smiles. At least I think it’s a smile.

  The nurse pokes her head in. “Five minutes to fresh bandage time.” She winks at Ceo and closes the door.

  “Her name is Claudia,” Ceo says. “I call her Gauze-zilla.”

  It’s time to put this conversation on a different course. I lean forward and say, “Your father told me you don’t remember what happened.”

  He seems surprised at my question. I get a careful nod.

  “Is that true?” I ask.

  The eye narrows.

  There’s the Ceo I know.

  He says, “I feel my memory coming back.”

  “Grahame told me it was an accident.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  “Was it?”

  “Before I answer your question, can you give me some water?”

  There’s a cup with a straw on his bedside stand, next to a pitcher of water. I fill the cup, give it to him. He takes a long pull through the straw, winces on the swallow. Then he closes his eye and says, “We were looking for the wood for your lean-to. Grahame kept chipping on me that all this is my fault. How stupid I was, how I lied to them. And he wouldn’t stop going on about the GPS. Meanwhile you guys are freezing to death. I tell him to shut the hell up. He gets in my face. Says he knows that this whole trip is a setup. He knows about the kittens in the blender.” His eye opens, focuses on me. “Did you tell him?”

  “I didn’t. He heard us when we were talking in the fog.”

  Ceo frowns at this piece of news. “I should’ve known he’d be skulking around. Anyway, I tell him we’ll settle this later. He says, You can fuckin’ count on it. A few minutes after that we find a log. It needs to be trimmed. I take a couple hacks at it. Grahame says this will take forever. He says give me the ax. So I give it to him. He tells me to stand behind him. I figure why not? It’s gotta be safer than standing anywhere else. Then he takes this big swing at the branches. But he misses. I pull my head back just as the blade comes around.”

  Ceo takes a long pull on the straw. Says, “Dude, I need to stop talking. I’ve got a headache the size of Cuba.”

  I’d like to let him stop, but I’m not done yet. “He said he slipped. That’s why he missed the tree.”

  “He didn’t slip.”

  “Are you sure? All that snow?”

  His voice goes hard. “He didn’t slip.”

  I take a moment before saying, “What are you telling me, Ceo?”

  “I’m telling you that if it were not for my catlike reflexes, he would’ve gone Game of Thrones on my skull.”

  This isn’t making sense. The pieces aren’t fitting right.

  “If he was really trying to kill you,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “then why didn’t he finish the job?”

  “I was thinking the same thing. So I faked a convulsion and acted like I was dead. There was so much blood in my mouth, that wasn’t hard to do.”

  “What happened next?”

  “He went through my pockets. Took my phone. Then he left.”

  “Did he feel for your pulse?”

  “I honestly don’t remember.” Ceo takes a final sip, drains the glass, hands it to me. “I must’ve passed out after that. When I open my eyes, I’m covered with snow. It’s almost dark. I have no clue where I am or what happened. I start walking and trying to call for help. It’s kinda hard because my jaw is just a hanging flap of flesh. Eventually I see a light through the snow. You know how it rolls from there.”

  Neither one of us speaks. I stare at the IV bag, not wanting to think about what I just heard. I feel Ceo’s eyes on me, even the one I can’t see. There are muffled sounds outside the door.

  I say, “There’s one more question I have to ask.”

  “It better be short.”

  “If you’re so sure Grahame wanted to kill you…why did you tell the police it was an accident?”

  The door opens. The nurse sweeps into the room. She opens a drawer, pulls out a stack of bandages, some miscellaneous tubes and tape. She gives me the all-business glare, says it’s time to go. I stand on my good foot, the one with five toes instead of three, and reach for my crutches.

  Ceo says, “Q, I hear Grahame saved your life.”

  “He did,” I say.

  “That an
swers your question.”

  The nurse leans over Ceo’s face. Peers down at him. Gently touches his skin with a gloved finger. He winces. She reaches behind his head, starts to unwrap the gauze. Says, “So a little bird told me your dad is in the movie business….”

  Yup, time to go. I heard what I came to hear, but I’m not sure it helped. I work my way across the room. Pause to look out the window at the city. As I reach for the door, Ceo says, “Hey, Q?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I told Coach.”

  “Told him what?”

  My phone buzzes with a text, reminding me I have another place to be.

  He says, “You made the right call. I cheated you out of that match.”

  I turn to face him. “When did you tell him?”

  “That’s the text I was sending when you guys picked me up in the parking lot at school. You’re still number two. Your scholarship is reinstated.”

  Coach told me yesterday that I was funded through the end of the year. But he didn’t say why. I thought it was because of the tragic change in our lineup. I like this reason better.

  The nurse has a pair of tweezers in her hands. She says, “No more talking.” Then slowly pulls back a quarter inch of gauze.

  In the hallway, with Ceo’s pain muffled by a closed door, I pull out my phone.

  ELLIE

  How is the force of nature?

  COLIN

  The same but with scars.

  ELLIE

  Did you hear what you needed?

  Yes. How are the exploding heads?

  I walk down the hall, stop at the elevator, press the down arrow.

  Recovering. Where RU?

  On my way down.

  Shake a leg crutch boy. I don’t want to miss the previews!

  The elevator door opens. A nurse holding a cup of coffee in each hand smiles at me. I hobble in, thinking about who’s waiting for me in the parking lot.

  COLIN

  Are the judges happy?

  As the elevator door closes…

  ELLIE

  ☺

  I would like to thank my critique group for their bottomless patience and helpful feedback while I worked my way through the drafts. I’d like to thank my brother, Mike, for his extensive knowledge of hiking the backcountry of Yosemite. I’d like to thank Julie Rosenberg for seeing my vision and picking me. I’d like to thank my representation team, Doug Stewart and Chris George, for their unwavering support despite it all. And I’d like to thank my wife, Teresa, and son, Michael, for listening to my irrational concerns for four teenagers lost in an early snowstorm in Yosemite, one of my favorite places on the planet.