If We Make It Home

by Christina Suzann Nelson

Ireland giggles. It’s a sound I haven’t heard from her since college.

  “You’re awake too?” I say as quietly as I can, while still being loud enough to be heard over the racket.

  “I am, but I don’t know how. Every part of my body is exhausted, except my brain.”

  “We made a mistake, didn’t we?”

  “No. We’ve gone on an adventure. Every journey holds pain. From pain comes healing.”

  “From God … comes healing.” Vicky’s voice is so sticky I wonder if she’s still asleep and controlling the situation from her dreams.

  “That’s fine for you, Vicky. It’s just not what works for me.” Ireland clears her throat.

  I bite at the fingernail on my pinky, already down to the quick. “Don’t say that, Ireland.”

  “Why not? It’s the truth. God didn’t do me any favors. I’m not tied down by religion. God is not one big thing with a hand on all the little happenings of the world. That’s just something we say to ourselves when we need to feel better. I don’t need to feel better.”

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Nothing. I just grew up, is all.”

  Vicky props herself up on one elbow, her pale face visible in the moonlight. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

  “Why in the world not? Listen, I don’t tell you not to believe in God. How about you don’t tell me that I have to believe?”

  “You always believed.” Vicky wipes a hand over her eyes. “You were the one who had the genuine faith. I saw it. You can’t deny what truly was.”

  Ireland doesn’t respond, but I can tell by her breathing that she hasn’t gone to sleep. It’s ragged, like the girl I once knew. The girl who never wanted anyone to know when she cried.

  The tears flow from my eyes. I swallow. Suddenly, there are bigger fears out here in the dark than woman-hungry cougars. We’re twenty-five years older. With twenty-five years of hurt and disappointments, twenty-five years of joys and celebrations, grief and sorrow. All I know is my own jagged wounds. I have no idea where life has taken my friends.

  I’m awake to see the pink hues grow as the sun rises. It’s like the light is pressing up into our camp, forcing a new day on us. Or maybe like God himself is waking the earth. I’m stunned as I push the bedroll back and climb to my knees.

  Glenda is up, stirring the fire and the beans. Her hair hangs in newly braided ropes that trail down her back. She seems comfortable in her element, so much different than when we met at the coffee shop.

  I lean forward, getting my feet beneath me, and stand. Every single muscle in my body screams and throbs. Looking at the boots I once again have to stuff my feet into, I can already feel the agony of my broken and bloody blister. If the sky weren’t transforming into a brilliant painting right before my eyes, I’d snuggle back into the shelter and have a good long cry.

  Glenda picks up a stick and clanks it on the side of the bean pan. The noise echoes in my head. “Rise and shine. Survival requires action.”

  Vicky moans and rolls over, taking Ireland’s covers with her.

  One eye opens and Ireland sweeps her hand behind her head until her fingers find her glasses. She crams them on her face and sits up, yawning. Somehow, I expected she’d be up and taking in the beauty of nature, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she staggers to the fire.

  “You put the jerky in the beans?” She’s awake now and her voice hits an octave that brings even Vicky around.

  “Relax, Granola. I put your precious and pure breakfast in your bowl before I added any flesh.” Glenda shakes her head. “You’re not going to keep this up. I guarantee it. But if you want to try, be my guest.”

  Ireland’s chest rises and falls. She presses her palms together and breathes in and out again. “Thank you. I appreciate your consideration.” The words hold about as much emphasis as a robot’s. Picking up the bowl of beans Glenda is pointing to, Ireland walks to the edge of the clearing, visibly shivers, then comes back to the fire.

  “Breakfast is served, ladies.” Glenda pours coffee that smells as strong as industrial cleaner into four tin cups, squats on a rock, then digs her fork into the pot, pulling out a large chunk of meat and stirring up a hearty scent.

  It’s not like the rich herby smells I’m used to producing in my kitchen at home, but I’m so starved my stomach growls with eagerness. I snatch a fork and pull out my own chunk of rehydrated jerky.

  It goes down well enough.

  When Vicky finally joins us, she has a bandana tied over her bleachblond hair. A few rogue waves stick out, but she’s done better than I would have guessed in this environment. I run a hand over my own head and find one side of my hair smashed flat while the other shoots out. I comb it with my fingers then dig an old baseball cap of Calvin’s out of my backpack. That’s as much primping as I’ll be doing. Not much different than most days at home, really.

  The air warms quickly as the sun moves higher in the sky. “Time to pack up,” Glenda says.

  “Where are we going?” Vicky pulls her lipstick from her jacket pocket and does a run around her lips. “What’s wrong with where we are?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with it, it’s just not where we’re headed. There’s a waterfall a few miles from here. It’ll be worth the hike.”

  Ireland nods. This news seems to have brought back her enthusiasm. “A waterfall sounds wonderful. I’m sure that’s just what we need.”

  Vicky wrinkles her nose. “What I need is a good hot shower and coffee you don’t have to chew.”

  My legs begin to shake and my lungs won’t draw in a full breath. I can’t keep up another day. I really couldn’t yesterday, and that was on fresh legs. What if I actually have a heart attack or a stroke out here. Mark was right. I’m in no condition to hike through the mountains.

  VICKY

  We’ve been up an hour, and we’re only just getting on the trail. There’s little organization, order, or rhythm among the four of us. The worst is this woman we call our leader. She’s a real piece of work. She refers to us by anything but our actual God-given names. I don’t think she has all her eggs in her basket. And someone, I don’t remember who, thought it was a good idea to put our lives in this woman’s hands.

  Well, Daniel will certainly be worried, and for good reason. Or maybe he won’t even notice when I don’t come home? Will he take the time to find out where I’ve gone? Or will he settle in with that woman, enjoying a good laugh or whatever while I’m off in the wild, dangerous, and unpredictable mountains?

  My stomach burns with fear and acidic coffee.

  Though I exercise each day for an hour, my body is still not prepared for this kind of activity. The straps of my backpack dig into my shoulders. The muscles have rebelled and formed tight lumps in order to compensate. Lord, please heal my aching.

  At the front of the line, Glenda slows, looking up at the sky. She touches her fingers to her lips.

  “Vick, you’re falling behind,” Ireland snaps back at me.

  “If you wouldn’t rush, I wouldn’t be lagging.”

  Ireland turns, putting both palms together in that infernal way she has like she’s about to go all yoga on us. “Even Jenna is managing.”

  That halts Jenna’s feet fast. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t take it like that,” Ireland says. “You just don’t take very good care of your body. This is bound to challenge you more than others.”

  “And now I’m supposed to feel better?” Jenna plants her feet and leans forward.

  Ireland stands on the incline, making her easily a foot taller. “Relax. Seems like you’re more concerned with what I think than with your own health.”

  Even Glenda’s eyes grow wide now.

  Jenna takes a step closer.

  I can see this going into a middle-aged throwdown any minute. We must manage a way to maintain some dignity, even out here. I come up behind Jenna and start to reach for her shoulder.

  She turns like a flash and we collide, her elbow con
necting hard with my clavicle.

  I reach for the pain as I try to regain my balance, but I can’t get my feet to stay under me with the weight of my pack pulling me back. One step. Two. Three, Four. The ground beneath me slopes, and I can’t stop the fall. I tumble to the ground, rolling. Thorns, sticks, and rocks cut, scrape, and bruise me, and I only roll faster. I claw for an anchor, my fingernails biting at anything I touch, but I can’t get a grip anywhere. Then the thud. I hear it before I feel the pain. My body is stopped by the giant trunk of a Douglas fir.

  The world still spins even as my body is finally stilled. This is surely not the kind of death I’d planned. Will they even bother to carry my corpse out of this wooded prison? Or will I be wolf meat?

  Crashing sounds make me open eyes I didn’t realize I held closed. My vision is blurred with tears, but I see someone coming, sliding down the hill, arms waving. It’s a short someone. Jenna.

  “Are you okay?” She’s still twenty feet up the hill. “Vicky. Please say something.”

  I manage a moan and wave.

  When she reaches me, she touches my cheek first, then runs her hands over my arms, legs, and head. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere.” I do a mental inventory of my pains. It’s mainly superficial kinds of injuries. I’m sure I’m actually fine, but this really is the last straw. I’m going home. “I’m okay.”

  I scoot up and rest my back against the tree. My jeans, brand new the day before I left on this crazy trip, are torn down the side of my right leg. The exposed flesh is raw and scraped, but not the kind of thing that won’t heal.

  Jenna leans in and pulls a twig from my hair.

  I run a hand over it and find she’s only released one of the larger pieces. My bandana is somewhere between the trail and my resting spot, and I’ve picked up every loose object between here and there.

  Above us, Glenda and Ireland seem to be arguing. Ireland shakes her hands above her head like the homeless man who sits on the street near my gym, ranting and raving to no one in particular. I can’t make out their words, but a chill runs over my skin. Can we get back to the pickup tonight?

  I try to stand up, but the ground beneath me spins, forcing me back down. A throbbing has begun behind my eyes. It beats a rhythm in my head that matches the thudding of my heart. What did I think I could prove by coming here? Did I think my husband would fall in love with me again if he thought I was an adventurer? Or did I think his protective side would kick in when he figured out I’d disappeared?

  There’s nothing glamorous here.

  Jenna strips off her fleece jacket. “I think you should stay still.” She scrunches up the fabric and presses it hard onto the side of my head.

  A new shock of pain courses through me, turning my stomach and making lights flash in my vision. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “You cut yourself. I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems.”

  I’m stunned but somehow more aware than I was a moment ago. Warm and wet, the fleece could be holding my brain in place for all I can see. With that thought the light starts to fade and my vision narrows.

  IRELAND

  “We’re going down there, one way or another.”

  “So, there’s a bit of spunk in you after all, Granola.” Glenda looks up at the sky, her features stretched in concentration.

  The air chills my skin. It’s dropped from balmy to icy in thirty minutes. Dark clouds cover the sun and take away the comfort of light.

  Glenda rubs a thumb along her jawline. “They’re way down there. A good seventy feet or so. We only have twenty feet of rope.”

  My heart starts to pound. I look down at Jenna and Vicky. Jenna sits with her back against the tree that stopped Vicky’s fall. She’s holding Vicky’s head in her lap with her jacket pressed to its side. From here, I can’t even tell if Vicky is conscious. Or even alive.

  “We can drop down to them, then we’ll have to hike around to find a better way back out.” She bites her bottom lip and looks back to the sky.

  The tops of the trees sway like they are dancing to the rhythm of the wind. The tempo picks up.

  Glenda ties the end of the rope to a small tree trunk. “Wrap this around your waist and lower yourself down backwards until you run out of rope.” She gives me a quick demonstration, then hands me the rough woven cable.

  “What happens when I get to the end?”

  “You sit down and wait. Do not move until I say. Get going.” Her voice is insistent and unusually rushed.

  My heart takes another lurch. I swing the rope around me and clasp it together with the other end. Step-by-step, I move down the hill, letting my lifeline slip through my hands enough to allow the descent while keeping me anchored to safety. My feet scuff over tiny seedlings, though I do my best to keep from damaging any of the young plants. Too soon, the rope’s end appears. I turn, sitting myself firmly onto the steep slope. The rope slides up the hill, and I hear Glenda behind me.

  I turn only my head to watch Glenda, keeping my palms and heels firmly dug into the rocky earth. She makes the descent on her backside, like Jenna, but with a level of control and patience that Jenna lacked. When she reaches me, she hands me one end of the rope again, then shimmies to the side and ties off to another tree, this one barely thicker than the rope but the only one within reach.

  I work my way down the hillside again, forcing myself not to watch the tree that holds my safety in its tender hands, but I’m thankful to the Earth for providing it. It’s getting steeper here, almost dropping off. Where the rope ends is the worst of the slope.

  One of my heels presses through the earth that holds me in place and my leg shoots out straight. My body slips to the side and I slide the rest of the way down the hill, nearly missing Vicky and Jenna with my growing momentum.

  Jenna lunges for me, grabbing hold of my jacket.

  I bump to a stop, laid flat on the sloped ground, Jenna splayed on her belly behind me.

  By the time the four of us are together again, the sky has gone from warning to outright alarm. Dark clouds are nearly black, and there’s a rumble rolling over the mountains with the clouds.

  Glenda wipes sweat from her forehead. “We’ll need to work ourselves down the hill a ways. Can you see where the ground evens out some?”

  We all nod. My stomach is sick with the thought of getting us all farther down the mountain and farther from the trail. But looking back up the hill, there’s no way we can retrace our steps. The only way out of here now is down.

  Chapter 10

  JENNA

  Every inch of my chubby body burns and aches. I thought that was how I felt this morning when I woke up on the hard ground, but now I know the truth. That pain was nothing. Not even a twinge.

  Lucy and Ethel had it easy on their camping episode. I need an Ethel right now. That show was luxury compared to this event. Why didn’t I ever watch that survival guy, Bear Grylls, with Calvin? That’s the kind of television prep course I could really put to use.

  Vicky sits against a massive rock here at the bottom of some kind of canyon. Her shirt is lifted, exposing her skin to the chilly air. I’ve been dabbing some kind of herbal goo onto her scrapes and bruises for the last twenty minutes. There are tons. She’s stick-thin and her skin so white, it’s nearly translucent.

  I run my finger through Ireland’s tin again. The smell is like death. Maybe it’s meant to scare away the pain. Or cause the patient to lose consciousness until they’re healed.

  “That’s it.” I twist the top back on the stink. This stuff is actually called Big Gun. I almost laugh. Our peace-wielding friend totes her own can of Big Gun.

  “Thanks.” Vicky pulls her shirt back down and threads her arms into her jacket. “It’s freezing.”

  I turn to Glenda. “Should we get the fire going?”

  She’s staring up into the eerie sky then shakes her head, but doesn’t look at me. “We need to find a spot that’s a little higher and flat.”

  “I can’t.
” Vicky eases herself up. “I can’t go another step tonight. Please, can we just stop and hike out in the morning?”

  “Not here.” Glenda lifts her pack onto her back. She passes us, grabbing Vicky’s bag as she goes. “Come on. There isn’t a lot of time to chat about this.”

  Ireland offers Vicky an arm, which she swiftly refuses.

  We start walking, my heart already hammering away at my rib cage. I try to play a game with myself to keep my mind distracted from the fear I saw in our leader’s eyes. Television theme songs from the eighties. I search for the tune from Family Ties, but all I can hear is Gilligan’s Island. Oh no. That was supposed to be a mere three-hour tour. Look what happened to those people. And it all started with a storm.

  The wind is no longer a strong breeze. We walk against gusts that want to use my coat as a sail and knock me over. I duck my head and push on. Fear moves me faster than I managed even our first leg of the journey.

  I look back to check on Vicky. Her face is pale and her mouth is wide open. The bump above her right eye has begun to bruise already, but the bleeding has stopped. What if she’s hurt worse than she’s saying? Maybe this is the time to call in help.

  “Glenda, we do have some kind of emergency equipment to contact help, right?”

  She pats her vest pocket. “I got a satellite phone right here, but let’s not jump the gun.”

  I expect Vicky to announce her departure, but she doesn’t say anything, and that gets me really scared. “Come on. I think we’re in trouble. Shouldn’t we at least try to let them know where we are? That we’re off the path?”

  Glenda turns to me, and her eyes are soft. “I can’t get a signal out in this canyon. I already tried. But there’s nothing to worry about. First thing in the morning, we’ll find a way back up, and I’ll call out so they can get a location on us. What you need to know about survival is never panic. Panic is your worst enemy.”

  Great. I feel my enemy knocking at the door.

  Vicky’s face goes from pale to ashen. Even her lips have lost color. I put my hand around hers and give it a squeeze. She leans into me. Then, as if she’s stuck her finger in a light socket, her spine goes straight and she pulls away.