Somehow, I would have to crawl up the hill. It was too steep to walk. The top of the cliff was clearer now, almost vertically above me. I would have to pull myself up, hanging onto bushes, and try very hard not to slide back down.
Briefly I thought of going down instead of up. Gravity-wise it would be easier, but once I reached the water there was hardly any shore, only rocks and a few scraggly trees. I couldn’t walk on the rocks, they were too round and bumpy, and the water would be icy. Hypothermia would come that much faster.
Okay, then, up we go. I grabbed the nearest bush and pulled myself about two inches. On my knees. They hurt from that first tumble, and would hurt a lot worse after a few steps like this. But infinitely better than dying there in the woods.
Once again, I dragged myself. Only an inch that time. I stopped and panted. I felt so weak, half dead. Something had happened to make me this way and it wasn’t only from being tossed down the hill. Something before I was put in the trunk. Something that got me into a condition to be put there, and then blotted out my memory.
I tried to dig my fingers into the ground. It was nothing but loose leaves. I pushed them aside and there was bare ground, hard packed and full of rocks that tore at my knees.
Keep going. Don’t think. Don’t think about what you’re doing, just do it. Be a machine.
I thought about Hank instead. I was doing this for him. I had to get to him before Evan did. Or whoever shot him. Who else would it be but Evan?
Another giant heave. I was pulling on the hard ground. Crawling on my knees. For Hank.
I thought of how he looked when I last saw him, his face so thin and tight.
Half dead. Just like me. Thin and tight. And cold. Really cold. I wished I could rest for just a few seconds. Again I put my head down on my hands. The leaves themselves were much too cold.
Cold air. All around me.
I was running.
Running through the woods, like before. But this time it was real. I could run all the way home, now that I’d gotten onto my feet. I never thought how easy it would be. When I looked down, I couldn’t see the river. There were trees in the way, and leaves. A lot of leaves. They swished under my feet.
The woods faded. I ran in the dark.
Then I wasn’t running any more. I was back in the leaves. A rock jabbed into my hip. I raised my head and saw the steep hill above me. All the way above me. I hadn’t made any progress at all.
I had to get to Hank before Evan did. Again I got up onto my knees. How was it I could run so lightly, so easily, and now this? Painfully, I took another knee-step. It didn’t hold, and I slipped.
Chapter Seventeen
Once again I got up. Third time was a charm. I had to believe that. And I was running.
This time I absolutely knew it was real. I could hear twigs crunching under my feet. I hadn’t heard that before.
On and on, through the trees. I had no idea where I was going and didn’t care. All I knew was I was free, with the sun shining above me.
And so cold. Why didn’t the sun warm me up? I shivered.
And woke.
I was lying on the ground, on wet, cold leaves, and only my killer knew it. Only he could find me, and he wanted me dead.
Okay, I was dead. Or as good as. I hoped Evan was happy now.
I couldn’t feel anything. Not anger. Not sorrow that my life had ended. I thought of Rhoda, Daddy, and Ben. They would miss me but they’d get over it. Life would go on. Cree had saved my life, just for this. To die in the woods of hypothermia. And bruises. I wasn’t bleeding, only cold. Can you die of bruises?
My eyes wanted to close. That was a sign, wasn’t it? Freezing to death. Not a bad way to go. You would be cold, unbearably cold, and then you went to sleep and never woke up.
My brain had frozen. I tried to remember how I got here.
A car, that was it. Evan’s yellow car. In the trunk.
That didn’t seem right. It didn’t feel like Evan. Or smell like his car. It was older. Rotten.
I jolted awake. There had been somebody there. Not Evan.
But who else? It had to be Evan.
The sky was lighter now. Almost daybreak. How did that happen? Time went on without me as I lay shivering in damp leaves.
Shivering. That meant I wasn’t dead yet. I still couldn’t remember how it happened. When I looked up, all I could see was leaves and bushes and a few small trees. All the way up. To the top of Mount Everest.
This was a holiday week. Did we have it already?
I couldn’t remember. Would they have Thanksgiving without me? Maybe I was there.
Maybe not. I remembered being at school . . .
We had our meeting. I’d told them what I learned about Paula.
And Evan. Did I really talk about Evan? He must have heard me and that was why he did this.
It wasn’t Evan.
It must have been Evan.
Something about coffee. I’d had coffee and now I had to pee.
What a dumb, dopey situation. With all my other troubles, I had to pee. But if you have to, you have to.
I was out in the open, but alone. The sun hadn’t quite come up yet so it wasn’t all the way light. Might as well get it over with. The cold only made it worse.
I sat up. Gravity tried to pull me into the river. Balancing carefully, I stood on my knees and fumbled with my zipper. I didn’t want any of it to run down my legs, soaking my jeans and making me colder. It was the only time in my whole life that I thought men had the advantage. But I still didn’t want to be one. I grabbed a sapling to hold myself steady, and let loose.
Then I reached into my pocket for a tissue. I always carry a tissue, especially in cold weather because the cold makes my nose ran.
I found one. And something else, too. Something rigid. Metallic. And cold. I ran my thumb along its edge.
Oh, thank God! Thank God!
I said it aloud. “Thank you, God.”
Now I remembered putting it in my pocket as a reminder that it needed recharging.
I hoped it still had some charge in it. Enough to make a call. I mustn’t waste it.
Call 911? My family? They wouldn’t be up yet and it had to be someone who wouldn’t need a lot of explanation. I knew there wasn’t enough juice for that.
They could trace me through the signal even though I didn’t know where I was. I clicked the on button and waited, hoping it would light up. When it did, I impulsively skipped 911 and went to my speed dial. Probably a bad idea. So many of my ideas were bad.
I pressed the number I thought would work best, and waited. Four rings. Then voicemail.
Damn voicemail. I tried to leave a message. All I got was static. I could only hope it went through and would be audible at the other end. I kept talking until the static ended and the phone went dead. Exhausted, I collapsed again with my face in the leaves.
They weren’t new leaves. They were left from last year, under the new ones, and they smelled old and rotted. I lay thinking it’s no wonder people die. They just give up. Is it worth the struggle? I had always thought it must be. Now that I was there, I wasn’t so sure.
I thought of the snows that would come and bury me. No one would find me until spring, if even then. I’d be nothing but bones. Would they know who I was? By the clothes, maybe. The few rags that would still be there, and the DNA. We learned in biology that you could get DNA from bone marrow.
I thought I heard voices. If he was coming back, he had brought someone with him. Someone to help him finish killing me.
More likely I was hallucinating. What was I dying of? I tried to remember. Something I ate. Or drank.
The black curtains came again and wrapped themselves around me.
Chapter Eighteen
The curtains changed into something sloppy on my face. I turned my head but it followed me. I must have been asleep and didn’t know it.
I reached up my hand to push the sloppy thing away, and felt fur. I opened my eyes.
&nbs
p; “Pumpkin?”
It couldn’t be. I had no idea where I was, or why. Only that I was outdoors, on the ground, and Pumpkin was licking my face.
I grabbed her to keep the dream from getting away. At the top of the hill, I thought I heard voices. I heard Ben say, “There she is! I knew they could do it.”
Another voice. “How’d she get down there?” It sounded like Rick Falco. How could it be? It must have been part of my hallucination.
I kept my hold on Pumpkin and again turned my head. Sunlight blinded me, shining through bare branches. It was so blinding, this time I felt sure it was real.
“I’ve got it,” said Rick’s voice. “You wait here.”
“You might need help.” Ben always had a mind of his own.
I heard leaves rustling. And Rick again. “No sense us all landing in the crick.”
More leaves. Pumpkin lay down beside me. She wasn’t going to abandon me. Ever.
Rick: “Damn, this is steep.”
And Ben: “How’re we going to get her up?”
“This is crazy.”
I closed my eyes and held tight to Pumpkin.
* * *
When I opened them again, a pair of green ones looked into mine. His lips moved.
The green eyes came closer until I couldn’t see them anymore. He kissed my forehead.
Pulling back, Rick looked down at me and said, “Oh boy.”
Ben, coming up behind him, also looked down. “What the hell?”
“Evan,” I said in a hoarse croak.
“Evan did this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not. I can’t remember.”
“We’ll get some answers later.” Falco looked up at what loomed above us. “What we need is a funicular railroad.”
“Well,” said Ben, ever practical, “there isn’t one.”
“I tried to pull myself up,” I told them. “Pulling on bushes. I got a little way.” I still couldn’t believe this was real. That they were actually here and talking to me.
“Should have brought a rope,” Falco said.
Ben said, “I could go home and get one.”
Falco took out his cell phone. “You know who’s got ropes? The fire department.”
Several firemen answered his call. They brought not only a rope, but also a ladder.
They kept asking how I got down there. I started to tell them “Evan,” but I couldn’t pin it on him when I wasn’t sure. I would be letting the real perpetrator get away.
I’d thought I was sure, but something flickered in a corner of my mind. Each time I tried to catch it, it darted away, then flickered again. Something had happened just before I found myself in the car trunk.
They tied me to the ladder as though it were a stretcher. Then several of them together pulled on it from above. Others had to stay by the ladder and guide it because it kept catching on rocks and bushes. Little Pumpkin did her best to keep up. Even though she had four legs and better balance than the people, it was a struggle for her. Petey came down and probably wished he hadn’t. It was a struggle for him, too.
Finally we all reached the top. I counted four fireman, as well as Rick and Ben. And two dogs. Not to mention ropes and ladder. It was no wonder I couldn’t do it myself.
Ben petted the dogs. “Good guys. You found her!”
The firemen reeled in their equipment and drove away. Several cars had stopped with people wanting to find out what was going on with a fire truck in the middle of nowhere.
It wasn’t quite nowhere. There were houses along Fremont but nothing right there in that meadow. No one would have heard me if I’d yelled.
They put me in Falco’s back seat along with the dogs. Now that we were aboveground, I could see where I was. A couple of miles down Fremont from where the road came up from the bridge.
Ben and Falco discussed taking me to a doctor. Nobody asked me what I wanted, so I told them. “I’m okay. I’m all bashed up but I don’t think anything’s broken. I just want to go home.”
They were doubtful. I had to promise we could go later if anything seemed to be wrong.
For a while I had thought I would never see home again. The rhododendron bushes. The front door with its diamond-shaped window. The entryway that had the vase with Rhoda’s autumn leaves. They were drying up but still there. It meant my note about Evan was, too.
Rick carried me inside even though I was sure I could walk. He took me into the living room, with the dogs following.
Ben pointed to the sofa. “Just drop her there,” and picked up the phone to call our parents.
Once I was on the sofa, Rick patted me down. He was not in uniform. He wore his brown corduroy pants and leather jacket.
“Sorry,” he said. “Not trying to get fresh. You were on damp ground. I had to see how wet you are, if you need a change of clothes, and who’s going to do it.”
“I can do it myself,” I told him weakly. “Is this Friday?”
“Wednesday. The day before Thanksgiving. We have a lot to be thankful for.” He looked over at Ben, whose back was turned, then bent and gave me a quick kiss.
His second kiss in less than an hour.
“Why did I think it was Friday?” I said.
Our meeting. We’d had the newspaper meeting early because of the holiday. “Isn’t there school today? Why isn’t Ben in school?”
“He was,” Rick said. “He went to see if you were there, after you didn’t come home all night. When he found you weren’t, he came back here in case you showed up, and here’s where I found him.”
“You mean my call got through?”
“Enough so I knew it was you. I couldn’t figure out what you said, but at the beginning it gave the time. I knew it had to be some kind of emergency. Unfortunately, and I hope you’ll forgive me for this, I didn’t get the message until morning.”
“I turn mine off at night, too,” I said.
“Last time I’m going to do that.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re here. I was just afraid my cell would die before I got to say anything.”
Ben hung up the phone. “Rhoda’s on her way. She can’t stay long. She’ll call Dad.” He found a crocheted afghan, which Rick put over me. He decided I wasn’t wet enough to need a clothes change.
Then he sat on the floor beside me. “Tell us what happened.”
“I wish I could,” I said.
That was not satisfactory. But I did know more than they did.
I tried to think. “We had our meeting. For the newspaper. I remember telling them about my research on Paula Welbourne. About...”
The black curtain was still there, not wrapped around my head, but hovering so I couldn’t see beyond it.
“I talked about Evan. Did I say that? I found out he was Paula’s stepbrother.”
“You told me that,” said Ben.
“Me, too,” said Rick.
“I told the newspaper staff, just because I thought it was interesting. I wasn’t going to print it. Mr. Geyer—he’s our faculty advisor—he thought I shouldn’t print anything about her. He said it would upset her family. I told him it was so long ago.”
I was getting mixed up between then and now. It seemed long ago, but some of it was only yesterday. “He put his hand on my back.”
“Geyer did?” asked Ben.
“He wanted to talk to me.”
Rick said, “That’s it?”
“It’s all I remember.”
“Don’t push it.”
I couldn’t help pushing a little. Or rather, it nagged at me. “There was something about coffee. I remember going downstairs . . .”
“Where do they serve coffee in that school?” Ben asked.
“That’s what I said. Downstairs. He needed—he said—he wanted to talk.”
“That’s a good one,” muttered Ben.
“He didn’t try anything. I mean, not like you’re thinking. He talked about Paula. He wanted me—not to write— I must have fallen asleep, or got knocked out. I woke
up in the trunk of a car.”
Falco stopped me. Out came the cell phone again.
“Ernie,” he said to whoever answered. “Get someone over to the high school immediately. If anybody’s cleaning the teachers’ lounge, make them stop. Right now.” He looked at his watch and said, “Probably too late.”
“They usually clean at night,” said Ben.
“Yep. We’re probably too late. But we can try.”
They seemed to know what they were talking about. My own head still felt hazy. “Am I missing something?”
Falco said into the phone, “I’ll explain later. Just don’t let anybody go in the teachers’ lounge.”
He disconnected and said to me, “You’re missing a block of time. You mentioned coffee and that’s all you remember. You could have been drugged.”
“But why?”
The front door flew open. My mother rushed in and grabbed me in a smothering hug.
Then she held me away, her fingers digging into my shoulder. “Where were you? Why didn’t you call?”
“She couldn’t,” said Ben. “We’re getting the full story now. Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“It can’t be the full story,” I said. “Because of that gap.”
Falco had been taking notes. He could do it almost inconspicuously.
I had trouble catching up to myself. “You think I was drugged?”
“It’s starting to look that way. Let’s hope they haven’t tossed out those coffee cups.”
I could see it more clearly now, the coffeemaker next to the sink. And the cupboard with its row of white institutional mugs.
“If you’re thinking Styrofoam,” I said, “they don’t use it. It’s not biodegradable.”
“You mean they’re washable? Ceramic? Shi—” He glanced at my mom and stopped. “I want to know what he gave you.”
Then he stood up and paced the room. “So you went to the teachers’ lounge.”
“I guess we must have, but I don’t actually remember.”
“You and who else?”
“I don’t remember that either.”
“Geyer,” said Ben. Falco shushed him. It had to come from my memory, not Ben’s guesswork.
The Long Sleep Page 15