At five yards the big one stopped, lowered his head at me, and curled his lips back, revealing a row of pearly teeth, the longer, crescent-shaped canines reminding me of daggers. The others stayed behind him, and I was strangely relieved to see all four. That meant they hadn’t found Isaac and Chloe. Just us.
“Emma? Climb up now!”
“I can’t.” I flipped the blade open. It wasn’t much, but right now I was grateful for something to hold on to, no matter how small.
The big wolf took another slow step, head still low, but he was no longer growling. He seemed to look through me; he cocked his head, his attention trained into the thick brush behind me. He snuffled deeply, his lips still pulled back in a hungry smile. His tongue moved across his muzzle, anticipating.
Branches rustled and snapped overhead. “I’m coming down!”
And before I could reply, Oscar was on the ground in front of me, somersaulting sideways onto his shoulder a second after landing. He swore once in pain, but popped up instantly only a few yards from the big wolf. I jumped forward, grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and pulled him back against me, horrified and thrilled. “What are you doing?”
“Something really stupid,” he replied weakly. “That wolf looks a lot bigger than it did from the tree.”
“No kidding.”
Pine bark grated against my shoulder blades. Again I reached up, but a spasm of bright pain shot through my shoulder, making me yelp and see stars. Every breath hurt; every inhalation was a stab in my lungs.
So this is it. This is how it ends. Of all the ways to go (and I had thought a lot about that in the past year), I had never imagined this. But of course it would be this way. It’s always something you never expect, never plan for. It figures.
Halfway down, my swallow got stuck in my throat. I closed my eyes with the effort and held on to Oscar. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much. I hope it’s fast.
Something swelled behind me, rolling forward in the dark. I could feel it rise up, and even with my eyes closed my neck hairs rose. Something big. Something coming this way. My eyes snapped back open; the wolves were still crouched low, but they didn’t move.
What are they waiting for?
The animal burst past us with such speed and bulk, the breeze of it tilted me sideways. As it hurtled into the circle of wolves, then cleared the waiting pack, it bellowed a moan that sent electric tremors up my legs. A moose! That’s what they had been tracking. That’s the animal that had come into our camp. And now it disappeared into the trees like a runaway bulldozer, still booming, cracking tree limbs as it ran.
The wolves turned as one, snarling in synchronicity, ready to give chase.
Day 13
Dawn
We waited at the pine tree until the sky had a lime-green edge on the horizon, and the view around us was a dim landscape of shadows. Then we started walking.
I gave the whistle two sharp tweets and waited. Silence. We walked another hundred yards, and I tried again. Nothing. On the third try I heard a tinny sound, the clang of a rock against metal.
I blew three more times. Short. Short. Long.
Three bangs echoed back, and I had to smile.
Chloe.
“C’mon.” I grabbed Oscar’s hand. “We’re close. This way!”
Once the campsite came into view, we saw Chloe running toward us. “Did you find water?”
“No,” I said, suddenly exhausted with failure. “Sorry.”
She shook her head, undaunted. “I found some.”
“You did?” Oscar asked. “Where?”
“It was just a dirty puddle, barely enough to swallow,” she said. “But it was better than nothing.”
“Oh.” I exhaled, trying not to sound how I felt. “Where’s Isaac?”
“There.”
He was propped against the trunk of a pine tree, his sleeping bag draped around him so only his head showed. Even from this distance I saw the pale, sickly sweat shine on his face.
“He doesn’t look too good,” I suggested.
“He has a fever,” Chloe said dully.
I glanced at Oscar; he looked wan and sick too. Fever meant infection, I knew that much.
“I heard the plane. Then I heard your whistle. I wasn’t sure what to think.”
“That plane buzzed over us so fast we barely saw it,” Oscar said.
I nodded, dejected. “I think it was going to the lake.” Had it been my idea to leave? Isaac’s? I guess it didn’t matter anymore. Here we were.
The sky lightened, clouded blue. Would it be sunny today? Would the watch-compass work? We should get going. We would have to figure out how to carry Isaac. We still needed to find water. We needed to keep going.
* * *
“I feel like I haven’t slept all night,” Chloe said. “I just need to rest.” She looked over at me. Her eyes had lost their gleam. They were dull, empty. “The Zippo’s done for.” She held Isaac’s lighter in her hand, turning over the metal cube like a coin she was going to flip. “Then I used up the matches, but I couldn’t keep the fire going with the wind. It just died.”
“We should go then,” I said, noticing how bloodshot her eyes were.
“Okay, but I need to rest a bit,” Oscar said. “Isaac can’t really walk, and he’s kind of heavy to carry.”
“I need to rest too.” Chloe yawned and lay down, closing her eyes. “I don’t think I can carry Isaac right now. I’m so tired.” She rolled over onto her side.
“Okay, we’ll rest a little.” Their fatigue was contagious, and I sank down on the leaves.
Oscar lay down next to me. “Wake me in an hour,” he mumbled into my arm.
I nodded, my head still foggy. “Okay, I will,” I promised. “In an hour.”
Sleep. That’s a good idea. Just go to sleep.
I closed my eyes and drifted.
* * *
A buzz. A puttering hum. A mosquito in my ear? I slapped my cheek. The buzz returned.
Through slitted eyes I saw dirt. A leaf. An ant on a leaf. The sunlight slanted through the trees, late-afternoon gold. The light went away with a gust of wind, and I rolled over onto my back, forcing my eyes all the way open. The clouds were everywhere, heavy-looking. Another damp gust of wind sent shivers through my back. Will it rain? The clouds were definitely full; I opened my mouth when a flicker of something hit my nose. But it wasn’t rain. Another splotch dissolved on my tongue. Snow.
The storm. It was here.
I pushed myself up in shock, and my head throbbed, protesting the sudden motion, but when the ache subsided, I saw everyone was in the same position.
We looked like a crime scene. We looked like dead bodies.
“Oscar? Chloe?”
No answer.
Another buzz. Not a mosquito. It was way too cold for that. What is it?
“Oscar?” It sounded like I was being strangled.
“Mmm?”
“Oscar, we need to get up. I hear something.”
“Okay,” he sighed, but didn’t move.
I crawled over to Isaac, and his eyelids fluttered when I said his name, but they didn’t open, not entirely. His shirt was darkened with sweat, and his face was bright, smoothed over with a waxy sheen like a mannequin. His chest rose and fell with the shallow speed of a bird’s, heat shuddering off him in fevered bursts. “Isaac?”
“Mmm,” he muttered, not really awake. “What do you want?”
“I hear something. We need to go find it.”
“Go find it,” he murmured blankly. Suddenly his eyes snapped open, wild and unseeing. “I would have left you!”
“Isaac, it’s me . . .”
“I would have left all of you!”
He’s crazy, I thought. Or maybe he’s dying. Maybe this is how it goes. I grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “You didn’t leave us.”
“Please don’t!” he whimpered. “Please don’t hurt me!”
“Isaac, what are you talking about?”
“Stop it, Dad!
Please stop it! Don’t hurt me!”
I froze. Dear Jesus, that’s who put those cigarette burns there. “Isaac, it’s all right. It’s me, Emma. I’m right here. No one’s going to hurt you. No one’s going to leave you.”
Something in my voice seemed to clear his head; the wild look in his eyes subsided. “I was going to leave!” he protested, almost crying.
“But you didn’t.”
“Too chicken, I guess,” he sniffed, and held his hand over his eyes.
“Actually, I think it means the opposite.” Even through his shirt I could feel the heat blazing off him. I remembered a picture in Dr. Nguyen’s office, one of those framed inspirational prints. “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”
He choked out a weird cry. “Sounds like a bunch of hippie bullshit.”
“From a poster in my shrink’s office.”
“Shrink, huh? You don’t seem like the type.”
“Eventually, I think we’re all that type.”
He laughed; it sounded more like a gurgle, and I saw his teeth were pink, filmed with a thin sheen of blood. I looked down and squeezed his shoulder once more. There was nothing I could do now.
“Oh God.” I stood up when I heard the buzz again. “It sounds close.”
“Go find it, Emma,” Isaac whispered, and closed his eyes. “Just go find it.”
“I will.” I jerked forward, my arms out for balance, as though I was learning to walk for the first time.
Just find the noise.
I tilted forward, trying to keep my eyes open. The light was so bright it hurt. The ground moved away, and I almost fell forward. Downhill. The trail was going downhill. The noise was louder there. I shifted my weight back on my heels, letting gravity do the work.
Is this a trail? It looked like one. Wide and beaten down, dusty from use. I went faster.
Down. Down. Down.
A turn. A switchback. A huge aspen. Then blue and glittering silver, the color of water.
A lake.
Not just any lake. It was enormous. Steely blue, studded with whitecaps.
Lake Superior? I squinted, making out a dark smudge of trees on the far side. No. Not Lake Superior. But it was a lake. A large lake.
I stumbled down to the shoreline, studded with boulders the size of small cars. Gusts of cold wet air hit my face, and in my desperation to get to the water, I tripped on a slick rock and banged my knee, then my elbow. I didn’t care; I was so numb I barely felt it. I stuck my head in the water, gulping at it like an animal. I didn’t care about anything, only that it was wet and I could drink it.
The buzz made me lift my head and turn. About a half mile up the shoreline, on a thin crescent-moon inlet, was a dock. And next to the dock was a bright white floatplane. The buzz I’d heard was the engine; the propellers whirled until they blurred with speed.
A plane.
And it was leaving.
“No!” I waved my arms, shrieking as the pain pierced my back, but the plane taxied away from the dock, humming forward like a giant steel dragonfly, turning out a frothy wake as it gathered momentum.
“No! Wait!” I ran into the water, and when it reached my knees I fell forward. “Stop!”
I chopped through the water with sharp, quick strokes, ignoring every spasm and kicking fiercely. My clothes pulled at me. My boots dragged my feet down. I kicked harder.
I have to make them see me!
The water was icy; I gasped with each breath.
Get out there! Swim faster!
I lifted my head up to see the plane facing the opposite direction from me. Was it going to turn? Which way would it take off?
The cold burned my hands and face, pushing me forward.
Stroke. Stroke. Kick. Kick. Breathe.
Kick. Kick. Breathe.
Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Stop! Wait! Don’t go! See me!
I looked up, but the plane wasn’t turning.
No! Wait! Turn around!
Stroke. Stroke. Kick. Kick. Breathe. Choke. Cough.
The wake hit me in the face, rolling me to the side.
Stop! Come back! Please come back.
I floated on my back, watching the bright flash of white lift off, lofted up into the gathering clouds, before banking sharply over the tree line. The snow was falling faster now, like someone shaking down from a ripped pillow. The storm. Soon it might turn into a whiteout.
But I was alone, drifting along like an empty beer can.
What do I do now?
Just float. It’ll be okay. Just wait a while and you’ll see.
I did. After a minute the water didn’t seem so cold. It felt nice. I felt nice. Numb and comfortable. My arms and legs were forgotten; I couldn’t really move them much. I just floated.
Come back, Emma.
What? Who is that?
It’s me, Emma. It’s Lucy.
Lucy? Where are you? I don’t see you.
I’m down here.
With some effort I rolled over and put my face in the water, seeing nothing but gray.
Where? It’s too dark.
I know. But the dark is okay.
I tried to find you, Lucy. I did find you.
I know.
I was supposed to save you.
I know, Emma. It’s okay.
It’s not okay!
Oh, Emma, don’t you see?
I can’t see anything.
It doesn’t matter. I’m okay.
It matters to me. What do I do now?
Save them.
How? I can’t. It’s too late.
It’s easy, Emma. Just save yourself.
“Lucy!” I screamed into the water. Some primitive part of my brain forced me to breathe, and I rolled over again, back to the surface, treading water. I reached into my pocket. The knife was still there. I pulled it out, opened the blade, and held it up in front of my face, watching it flash and glint when the sun slid from behind a wall of clouds. I turned it over and over between my numb fingers. He said it was special. He said it saved his life. But it was just a knife, and there was nothing special about it. My numb hands fumbled; the shine from the steel glinted so bright it hurt my eyes. It spun again, once more, before it slipped from my fingers, dropping like a glimmering stone to the bottom. I drifted on. Soon enough the sun began to fade. But it was okay. I didn’t mind anymore.
* * *
“Jesus, Cal, you were right! That flash? It was a person! Good Lord, Mary, Jesus, and Joseph! Hey there! Hey! Hang on! We’re coming!
Waves rose and fell, lifting and lowering me, rocking me in a frosty cradle.
“Nice and easy, now. Real slow. I’m gonna lift you up here. Good. Hang on, there you go. Cal, throw me that blanket. Holy Christ, kid, where did you come from? Can you talk? Christ, Cal, her lips are white. All right, all right. You just hang on. Cal, get on the radio to Ely. Rescue dispatch. Hang on, kid! We’re going to get you outta here.”
“No.”
“What was that, kid? Did you say something?”
“No.”
“We got to get you to a hospital, kid.”
“No. Three.” My teeth knocked together so hard I bit my tongue.
“Three what?”
I grabbed my own chin with my hand to get the words out. He had to understand me. I had to make myself be understood.
“There are three more.”
“Three more? People?”
I made my head nod using my hand. “In the woods.”
“Hey, Cal! Hang on a minute!” He took off his aviators, waved his hand, a sign to kill the motor.
“Okay, kid.”
“My name is Emma Dodd.”
“Okay, Emma Dodd. Can you tell me where they are?”
I forced my chin up and down, then gathered the strength to speak. “I can show you.”
Epilogue
Beep. Beat. Inhale. Exhale.
The buzz of the
machine was a low drone, much better than the high-pitched whine of insects, and I shuddered under my thermal blanket, clicking my teeth. If I never see another mosquito, it will be too soon.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” Pause. “Or is it Snow White?”
“How about Frostbite?”
“I don’t know that princess.”
I rolled over. “I’m awake, but you can still kiss me if you want.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Oscar stood in the doorway, his hospital gown hanging crooked over his shoulder, revealing the deep line of his scapula. He gripped an IV pole and pushed it through the doorway. I had my own IV, attached to my wrist, giving me heated fluids, on account of what they were calling “moderate hypothermia.”
“Are you supposed to be walking around?”
“Shh,” he said. “Don’t tell.” He eased himself down on the bed next to me, and I couldn’t decide if he looked like a very small child or someone who was a hundred years old.
“They’re on their way?” I asked.
“Soon,” he said, then nodded.
We’d only been here at the hospital for a few hours. After the pilot and copilot (both biologists with the DNR who’d been checking in on a wolf pack) pulled me out of the water, they called in the dispatch, and a helicopter had arrived. When the rescue crew saw Isaac’s wound, they evacuated us directly to Duluth.
“So what’s it feel like to be the hero?” Oscar studied my warming blankets, my IV drip.
“I’m not.”
“You saved us all by doing what you did.”
“I didn’t think I was going to make it myself.”
“But you did.”
“Lucky for me.”
“Lucky for me, too.”
We sat there awhile like that, his warm hand in my cold one, listening to the machines, the movements in the building, people outside in the halls, nurses and doctors and staff, the squeak of sneakers on shiny, disinfected floors. The hum of electricity. I could turn on a light with a finger flick, turn up the heat by twirling a dial, get a drink of water by pushing a handle. The ease of meeting our needs was nothing short of staggering.
“I guess I feel even,” I said finally. I didn’t tell him what I’d seen in my dream, and then again what I saw in the water. Some things, I knew now, were simply beyond telling.
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