If We Make It Home

by Christina Suzann Nelson

  I start to jog, puffing for air. I need this water more than I need to breathe. Or as much.

  The sound is so loud now. I crave it like I crave my past. Crave the babies that are grown and gone. Crave the feeling of being needed by someone. By anyone.

  The trail takes a gentle turn, and now I smell the water. Actually smell water in the air. It crashes, roars. I pick up speed until it’s there. Right in front of me, more water than my body will ever need in this lifetime tumbles over a cliff and pours into a pond then rushes away in a gurgling stream.

  I push myself forward, feeling the mist as it sprays my skin. At the edge, I drop to my knees, plunging my face into the cold, almost icy waters. I suck it in, pulling it through my mouth and down my throat, gulping like an animal until my lungs scream for air.

  Coming up, my eyes are blurred by drops on my lashes. I swipe them away just in time to see something, someone disappear through the brush. Standing, I blink, my heart in a race for life. A person, I know it was a person. If there’s someone here, they can help us. They can save us.

  I stumble forward, my legs not moving as fast as the thoughts in my desperate brain. “Wait.” I try to yell after him, but the sound is rough, raspy. “Please. Wait.” I don’t evaluate my next move, only fly forward on pure instinct, crashing through the bushes in the direction I saw the figure.

  Branches and berry vines grab for me, but I shove through, whipping my head from side to side. Where has he gone? Why won’t he stop? I’m lost now, no idea which direction he’s taken. No idea how to find our only hope somewhere in this endless wilderness.

  There’s a rustle off to the side. It’s breathing, panting. He’s watching me. My gut goes sour, but I need this man to help us. “I hear you in there. Listen, my friends and I are lost. We don’t want anything from you, just help getting out of here.” I’m reminded of Grizzly Adams. He lived in the wilderness with a bear for a companion because he’d been wrongly accused of a crime. Maybe this guy is in a similar situation. Maybe he has a bear.

  “Please. We won’t tell anyone about you, if you like.” Grizzly Adams always helped out, even at his own risk. I step closer to where I hear him. Maybe if he gets a good look at me. I’m harmless. All of five foot four.

  I pull back branches and there are eyes meeting mine. Low eyes. Cat eyes.

  My heart slams against my chest as I take three strides back. Adrenaline buzzes down my arms. I can’t pull oxygen through my clamped throat. This isn’t the way I want to go.

  The eyes follow me. Edging forward, he comes into the light. Soft, sleek fur shines against taut muscles. He crouches, his gaze intense on mine, his tail twitching with anticipation. The anticipation of the attack. The attack on me.

  I can’t run, can’t even move. I’m paralyzed with the fear of the thing I can’t stop.

  He pumps his back legs, his ears standing up straight. I watch every tiny action, knowing it will be my last observation.

  With movements ever so slight, his weight shifts, and it’s time, he’s preparing to lunge. I cover my face with my arms, watching through the crack between them.

  He pulls back, tightening his springs.

  The air echoes and cracks. My ears ring. There’s another shot. This time I turn and see Vicky, her eyes closed, her hands wrapped around a gun.

  My chest pounds. I look back to the cougar, expecting him to lie dead in the dirt, but he’s not. His eyes blaze as if the bullets only made him rage. There’s a jagged roar, and I fumble back as he bounds, claws forward, down on me.

  VICKY

  My arms buzz like my veins are filled with bees. I’ve missed. Twice. The gun is heavy in my hand. I can’t lift it to try again. My legs collapse and I’m in the dirt.

  Ireland grabs my elbow, ripping the gun from my grip.

  I wrap my arms over my head, squeezing my eyes tight.

  Two more shots ring out, but I can’t look. I can’t face what’s happening. I wish the bullet would have pierced my heart. My screams block out all other sounds. Over and over I hear my own desperate voice crying out, and I can’t rein it back. My body tumbles onto the ground. I’m done.

  “Why am I not dead?” Jenna yells.

  It’s the last voice I expected to hear. In my mind, she’s already gone.

  I lift myself up on an elbow and pull my hands from my eyes. They’re covered in muddy tears. The trembling is too much. I can barely sit, forget ever standing again.

  Jenna is on her back, the cougar sprawled across her lap, one claw clinging to her sweater. He twitches, then he’s still.

  Jenna’s gaze swings from the dead animal to Ireland and back to the beast on top of her. She wriggles her legs free and scoots on her bottom until she’s put ten feet between the animal and herself. There are four blood-streaked lines trailing down her neck.

  “Where’d you get that?” Jenna points at the gun in Ireland’s hand.

  Ireland’s narrowed eyes are drilling into me. She doesn’t have to ask.

  “It was Glenda’s. I thought it might come in handy.” I bite my lower lip, hard.

  “You were carrying a weapon, and you didn’t think you should tell us?” Ireland holds the gun out in front of her, flicks open the cylinder and spins it, then clicks it back into place. “Looks like there’s one bullet left.” She shoves the pistol into the back of her pants.

  Jenna climbs to her feet. “Good shot. Thanks.”

  Ireland doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even take her gaze away from me. I’m sitting squarely in her judgment seat.

  My face goes numb, and my stomach pitches. On my hands and knees I lunge for the brush where I heave the nothing from my stomach.

  There’s a hand on my back, rubbing gentle circles. “It’s going to be okay,” Ireland says. “No one died. But the way you shoot, it’s amazing Jenna’s still here. You’re more of a hazard than that mountain lion ever thought to be.”

  I push up onto my knees. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you had it?” Ireland grabs my hand and pulls me to standing.

  She’s talking to me like a child. I wipe my palm across my mouth. “I was afraid you’d take it away, just like you did. I don’t want to die out here, and I don’t care what you think about gun control.”

  Ireland crosses her arms. “A lot you know. I have a revolver like this at home, but mine’s a twenty-two. This is a thirty-eight. Don’t make judgments based on societal stereotypes. You don’t have to be an every-Sunday churchgoing Republican to appreciate the right to bear arms. You could have killed Jenna.”

  “She would have been killed if I hadn’t shot.” The fire is returning to my gut, and I relish the empowerment of its flame.

  “Hello there.” Jenna waves her hands over her head. “I just faced death, and the two of you are fighting over your stupid pride. Get over yourselves. Ireland carries the gun from here out. If I’m going to die on this trip, I don’t want it to be because I was shot by the people who are supposed to be my friends.”

  She stomps away, grumbling something I can’t quite make out.

  Chapter 14

  IRELAND

  Twenty years of moving in the crowd that strives to protect animal rights, gone. Living on the brink of my own ruin has my mind spinning with confusion. This beautiful animal, who simply wanted to feed herself in the only way she knew, is dead at my feet. And I took her life.

  I run my hand over her silky fur. So beautiful. She’s a majestic queen even in death. I’m sick we’ve come into her territory and taken her very breath. We have no business being here. No business hiding from our problems in the wilderness. No business bringing our issues into a place that’s still clean of human contamination.

  But here we are, and there doesn’t seem to be any way out.

  The gun is cool against my skin. I hate how it makes me feel empowered to have the metal snuggled against me. Never in my life have I considered using a gun on an animal. A human, yes. But never an animal. They don’t come after peo
ple with the intention of causing pain. That cougar, she just wanted dinner. Not really much different from what I’m feeling now.

  “We need the meat.” Jenna’s face doesn’t reflect relief or disgust, only fact.

  I shake my head. “I can’t do that.”

  “What choice do we have?” Vicky says. “I’m so weak, I can’t make it much farther without some protein.”

  I reach down and pull Vicky to standing. The three of us loom over our catch. A beautiful cat. No, this is not the way I turn my back on my morals. No way. “I can’t do it.”

  “Then he dies for nothing.” Jenna’s words sting.

  I kneel down, running my palm from the crown of her head along her back. She’s massive, so much like the nature I claim to worship. Her tail lays thick and long, still in the dust. Your life needs to mean something. Thank you for sharing it with us. My eyes water, but I blink hard and pull back my focus. “I can’t be here. You’ll have to do this on your own.”

  “I’ve cut up Mark’s deer. It can’t be that different. We’ll need a section of the rope and a knife.”

  Vicky’s eyes round. “Do one of you have Glenda’s knife?”

  Jenna and I shake our heads.

  “Then it’s …”

  I finish the sentence for her. “Buried with Glenda.”

  There’s blood on Jenna when they return to the pond. Blood on her clothes, on her skin, and covering our only cutting device, the hatchet.

  Vicky carries the metal canister that used to contain our beans and jerky. She holds it away from her body, like a bomb ready to explode. There’s not a drop of blood on Vicky.

  No words are spoken about what just happened. I heard the sound of the blows over the rush of water cascading down the cliff. That’s enough for me forever. Vicky tucks the canister into the shade and joins us at the water.

  We sit at the edge of the pond, Jenna facing away from the water, her eyes intent on the brush. Our stomachs are filled with the sweet liquid, and the throbbing in my head has lessened. I strip off my layers, placing the gun on the dirt, and dunk the clothes into the water, swirling them around. The days of sweat and dirt fade away. I wring out my t-shirt and lay it on the rock next to me.

  The sun is high overhead, but it isn’t as hot as yesterday. Maybe it’s the icy water cooling the air here. Maybe it’s the new fears that have settled into our veins.

  I plunge my pants in and out of the pond, then stretch them flat on another rock.

  The water cuts into me as I step in. It steals my breath and stills my movement. Prickles of pain give way to hardening numbness. I cup water in my hands and run it over the raw flesh on my inner thigh.

  “What happened?” Jenna kneels at the water’s edge.

  “Just some rubbing from my pants. It’s fine.” I draw in air, then dip under the water. It rushes over me, freezing, refreshing. Lifting my head into the open, it’s warmer now. I feel … alive. And I smile. The sun shines down on my face, blessing me with the kiss of her warmth. With both hands, I push water around my body. “You should come in. It’s an amazing feeling to be weightless and clean.”

  Jenna takes another hard look at the brush.

  “Don’t worry. We’ve made so much noise, there’s probably not an animal for miles.”

  Jenna steps in without taking off her clothes. She holds tight to a tree limb like she’s afraid she’ll wash away in the four feet of water. Blood clears from her skin, mixing with the crystal clear liquid.

  I step farther away.

  Vicky hasn’t said anything in twenty minutes. She stares down at her feet, gone away from where we are.

  “Isn’t that better?” I ask.

  Jenna shivers. Her teeth chatter. “Yes. So. Much. Better.”

  I laugh as she rubs her arms vigorously and her shirt floats around her chest. It’s enough to crack a smile on her face.

  Cold water sprays me. She’s actually splashed me. I jump back, flatten my palm, and smack the surface, sending droplets all over Jenna’s head.

  She squeals and sounds like the girl I knew again. Her mouth tightens. Her eyes dart from me to Vicky, nodding with a smile barely contained.

  I get the message and we both sneak up behind.

  “Vicky?” Jenna says.

  Vicky turns, confusion evident on her face.

  Then Jenna covers her with water.

  Vicky screams, jumping to her feet. “What did you do that for?”

  “You seemed like you needed cooling off, and I owe you one.” She splashes again.

  Vicky’s eyes soften. She glances around as if she doesn’t want to embarrass herself, then runs full force into the water, dipping under the surface. When she breaks free and stands, even scratched and bruised, she’s like a mermaid, water dripping from her blond hair and lashes. This is why so many women worship her and seek her wisdom. Vicky is stunning. She’s the kind of woman we all want to look like. She’s the one every guy stares at, and who is never without a date. Even at our age, I’m sure she gets plenty of attention.

  I don’t think a man has considered me that way, with no strings attached, maybe ever. That’s not true. Skye looked at me like that. I lift myself onto the hot rock and watch the water roll off my body, turning the stone’s light gray to dark.

  “Did I scare you out?” Vicky investigates me with her one good eye.

  “No. Just needed some warm air. You’re beautiful, you know.” I have no idea why I’m telling her this, there’s just this nagging feeling that she needs to hear it.

  Her smile flattens. “Not so much anymore. Not without all the help I can get from cosmetics and lotions.” She brings her hand down her face. “I’ve been thinking about surgery.”

  “Why?” Jenna asks.

  “It’s not so easy getting older when you have a camera in your face all the time. Everyone is waiting to see me fall. There’s no shortage of women ready to take my place.”

  “But you work in a Christian ministry.” Jenna sits on the bank, dangling her feet in the water. “It’s not about how you look.”

  Vicky’s smile is sarcastic. “You’d be surprised.”

  “You’ve got Daniel, and I’m sure he loves you even with a wrinkle or two,” I say. “Really, Vick, you’re gorgeous. But that’s not all that matters.”

  “Daniel doesn’t find me attractive anymore. Apparently, my thirty-year-old assistant is more to his liking.” She dips her head back into the water, emerges, and wipes the drips away with her hands. I wonder how much of the liquid is from tears.

  Jenna slips back into the water and wades toward Vicky. “That can’t be true. I’ve seen your family on television. You look genuinely happy, and you must be the perfect wife.”

  Vicky shakes her head, but doesn’t add anything.

  VICKY

  I’m exposed. Raw. My failures open for Jenna and Ireland to see. And it feels more like I’m home than I’ve felt in Texas for at least ten years. Even if this is the end, and I could go to my grave without anyone knowing I screwed up my marriage and my husband no longer loves me, I’m glad Jenna and Ireland know. It’s not everything, but there’s a weight lifted.

  We’re filling our jug and canteens with water, then we’ll leave the waterfall and pool behind for the night. Ireland pointed out tracks from various kinds of animals. We don’t want to be camped where they all converge.

  I have three sets of clothes, and I’ve worn all of them. Two sets I washed in the pond and laid out to dry. The cleanest, I’m wearing. Tomorrow we’ll come back and I’ll wash the other set.

  Pulling my t-shirt from the branch it’s been hanging on, I notice little hand prints in the moist soil. It looks like a baby was here, pressing her fingers in and leaving a stamp. My gaze follows them to the rocks beside the water. It’s there. “No.” It’s meant to be a scream, but my voice only manages a whisper.

  Jenna and Ireland look up.

  I point to the creature on the rocks, his eyes behind a dark mask.

  His paw
s are in my pack.

  “It’s a raccoon,” Ireland says.

  I want to thump her for stating the obvious. “Yes, but what do we do? Should we shoot it?”

  “Are you crazy?” Ireland turns to me.

  Jenna steps closer to him. “We’re not going to kill you, little guy. We just want you to leave Vicky’s stuff alone, okay?”

  The raccoon tilts his head and runs a hand over his mouth, then reaches in my pack again. He pulls out the survival book, tipping it one way then the other.

  “No.” I hold my palm out like a stop sign. “That’s not for you.”

  With both paws, he grips the book and pulls it tight to his chest, then sniffs the binding.

  I step back. “He’s going to take the book.”

  “Just stay calm.” Ireland crouches down. She pulls a bag with a half handful of seed out of her pack. Where did she get that? I thought we were sharing our food.

  The raccoon sets the book down, half on the rock and the other half hanging over the water. My stomach tightens into a stone.

  He eyes Ireland and the seeds.

  She tosses one near him.

  Easing to the edge of the rock, he looks down at the food, sits on his back legs, and stretches his body tall.

  Ireland tosses a few more. One lands beside him.

  The raccoon picks it up and presses it into his mouth. Then rubs his hands together. All at once, he jumps down, knocking my pack and the book into the water.

  We all lunge forward. Jenna yanks my bag out, but the book hits the current and tumbles away from us down the creek. I splash into the water, staggering after it. Pages separate and sail away. I grab for every paper my hand can snag, but more escape than are saved.

  Rocks roll under my feet. I trudge through. I can’t see where they’ve gone. My foot lands in a hole, sending me toppling under the surface. I gasp before my face comes back out. Water burns my airway. I choke and cough, sputtering for breath until my breathing becomes hard sobs.

  That book was the only thing that gave me hope. I need to have answers. What will we do now? My thoughts flash to my cell phone inside my pack. No. Not that too.