The Journey Home

by Brandon Wallace

  “Taylor!” he yelled over and over again, his throat growing hoarse.

  He’s running out of air, whispered a panicked voice in his mind. He won’t last long. . . .

  Jake smothered the voice, forced himself to think clearly. He racked his brain, and another thought came to him. What if he was swept past me?

  He whirled to look down the slope for his brother. There was no sign of Taylor, but a figure was emerging from the house they’d seen before. It was a girl, around his age. She had long black hair tied back and was dressed for the cold. The avalanche had pushed him a lot closer to the house.

  “Help!” he hollered, waving madly. “Help!”

  She cupped her hands to her mouth. “You okay?”

  “My brother’s buried in the snow!”

  The girl sprinted back into the house. Seconds later she emerged with a mop and a broom, and hurried up the slope toward Jake.

  “Did you see where he went down?” the girl shouted as she approached.

  “Somewhere here!” Jake waved at where Cody was running back and forth.

  “Here,” the girl said, thrusting the broom into Jake’s hands. “You take that side, I’ll take this. We’ll track across the snowfield and stick the broom handles down into the snow until we find him. Got it?”

  The pair of them began crisscrossing the snowfield, jabbing, moving, jabbing again. Jake wished he had the girl’s steady confidence.

  On their second pass the girl hit something hard, and Jake’s heart leaped into his throat, hoping it was Taylor. They quickly dug down to find Taylor’s backpack—but no Taylor.

  “We’ve got to find him!” Jake yelled, plunging the broomstick into the snow.

  “Hey!” the girl said, narrowing her eyes. “Keep it together and carry on searching, okay? If he’s got an air pocket to breathe in, he’ll be fine.”

  If, Jake thought. He drove the broom handle into the snow again and again. But what if he doesn’t? Hi, Mom, glad you’re still alive, but unfortunately I got Taylor killed.

  Suddenly Cody began barking thirty feet up the slope.

  “Over there!” Jake shouted.

  They scrambled up to find the terrier digging into a deep snowdrift. Jake and the girl dove in to help. Jake plunged his hand into the snow and felt something—a leg!

  “We got him!” Jake shouted. Together they dug down to Taylor’s waist and grabbed a leg each.

  “On three,” the girl ordered. “One, two . . .”

  With a heave they dragged Taylor out. He wasn’t moving. Jake fell to his knees next to him.

  “Taylor, come on, it’s going to be okay. We got you. Taylor, wake up, please!”

  But Taylor didn’t reply. His skin had turned waxen and his eyes were closed.

  The girl leaned over Taylor. “Let’s get him back to the house, now!”

  Jake put Taylor over his shoulder, fireman style, took a few steps, and collapsed under the weight.

  “Let me help,” the girl said. They each took one of Taylor’s arms and tried dragging him, but it was slow going as his body sank into the snow. If only they had a sled . . .

  Jake suddenly had an idea. He pulled out the poncho from Taylor’s pack and spread it on the snow.

  “Can you help me get him onto that?” Jake asked. Working together, he and the girl maneuvered Taylor onto the poncho. Then, each taking hold of the poncho, they pulled. Jake held his breath—would it work?

  It did! The poncho glided easily over the snow, and in no time they slid Taylor down the slope, all the way to the front door.

  They carried him inside and lay him down next to a woodstove in the living room. The girl knelt down and felt for Taylor’s pulse.

  “He’s still breathing,” she said. “And his pulse is pretty good.”

  “Taylor, can you hear me?”

  Nothing happened at first. They were the longest minutes of Jake’s life, as he gnawed his lip and prayed that his brother would wake up. Then, just when Jake had begun to give up hope, Taylor’s green eyes fluttered open, and a loud hacking cough rumbled from his chest.

  “Taylor, are you all right?” Jake shouted, feeling the relief course through him.

  Taylor swallowed and muttered, “Wh-why are you yelling? I’m right here, you idiot.”

  The girl laughed and looked across to Jake. “He sounds all right to me!”

  A half hour later Taylor sat in a chair next to the woodstove, two blankets wrapped around him, a cup of hot cocoa in his hands. Jake perched in a chair next to him, only taking his eyes off his brother to glance at the room around them.

  The house was about twice the size of Abe’s cabin, and much more modern. It also had more conveniences, including running water, a refrigerator, and electric lights—powered by a gas generator, Jake guessed. The whole setup seemed luxurious compared to what the boys were used to.

  “Here you go.” The girl handed Jake his own cup of cocoa and pulled up a chair next to Taylor. She wore a T-shirt and jeans embellished with sequins. “How’re you feeling, Taylor?”

  “Better.” Taylor smiled through a cocoa mustache. “I’m finally getting warm.”

  “That’s good. It might take a while. I’m Kim, by the way.”

  “You live here by yourself?” Taylor asked.

  Kim shook her head and laughed. “Mom’s out visiting the cousins. She won’t be back till later. So, Taylor, Cody, and . . .”

  “Jake,” said Jake.

  “You two are brothers, right? I can see it in your faces.”

  “Yeah, we are. So what?”

  Kim gave a low whistle. “Whoa! Easy, there.”

  “Sorry.” Jake fidgeted uneasily. He knew he was acting like someone with something to hide, and the girl clearly knew it too. He’d gone outside and retrieved Taylor’s backpack as well as the snowboard, but he hadn’t thought up a cover story.

  With a broad grin she asked, “Sooo, what brings you guys out here on your own, miles from town, just after a giant snowstorm?”

  “We’re snowboarders,” Jake answered, saying the first thing that came into his head.

  “Snowboarders!” she echoed. “With only one board between you. So do you, like, take turns?”

  “I dropped mine in the avalanche!” Jake protested.

  Kim made a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh. “We don’t get many snowboarders around here. You do know you’re on the Wind River Reservation, don’t you?”

  The question left Jake tongue-tied, but Taylor stepped in. “We kind of got lost. When we saw your house, we decided to come and ask for directions.”

  At least that part’s true, Jake thought.

  Kim just shrugged. “Whatever. It’s my mom’s job to look after this part of the reservation. I couldn’t care less what you guys are up to, but she’ll definitely want to know.”

  A question came to Jake’s lips then, as he noticed what was missing from the house, but he bit it back. Kim must have guessed what was on his mind, though, because she said, “Dad doesn’t live with us. Not anymore.”

  “Our parents split up too,” Taylor said.

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?” Kim said with a wry twist of the mouth.

  Jake relaxed a little. Now that they had something in common, maybe she’d stop with the questions.

  “So, who do you need to call?” said Kim, standing up. “Your mom, or your dad? You’ll want to tell them you’re safe, I bet.”

  Or maybe she’ll just ask us more questions. Jake avoided her eyes. “We, uh . . .”

  “I’ll get the phone. What’s your phone number?”

  Jake and Taylor glanced at each other.

  “We don’t, uh, know,” Jake said.

  Kim burst out laughing. “Oh, give me a break! You don’t know your phone number? You’re out here alone, with a bunch of camping gear and a single freakin’ snowboard, and now you’ve got amnesia, too?”

  A sound came from outside—a vehicle was approaching the house.

  “That’ll be Mom,�
�� Kim said. “I’d tell her you are my guests . . . if I knew who the hell you two really were. But maybe you’ll tell her yourselves.”

  “You want the truth?” Jake erupted. “Fine. We’ve run away from our dad, and we’re trying to get to our mom. She’s in trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Big trouble. The kind that could get her killed,” Taylor said. “She nearly died once already.”

  Jake sighed. Geez, Taylor. Tell her everything, why don’t you.

  Kim stared at the two of them. Outside, boots crunched on the ice, coming closer to the door.

  “I knew you were runaways,” Kim said, sounding satisfied. “Sorry, guys, but my mom needs to know.”

  “Don’t!” Jake pleaded. “We can’t go back to Dad. Our mom needs us. Please!”

  Kim gave him a calculating look. She seemed to be weighing her options. Jake gripped the arms of his chair, sick with dread.

  A key turned in the door. It swung inward.

  There was a pause. Then a worried-sounding voice called: “Kim? Is someone here with you?”

  Jake sat, bracing himself for Kim’s answer, waiting for the worst. . . .

  10 The woman standing in the doorway had Kim’s round face and deep-set eyes. She wore a richly colored wool overcoat that hung almost to her knees, with designs of moose and other animals woven into it.

  “This is Jake, and this is Taylor,” Kim said. “They’re in the school wilderness club. We were going to go fishing together, but we, um, played in the snow instead. We had to dig Taylor out of a snowdrift.”

  Jake exhaled loudly. He suddenly realized he’d been holding his breath.

  Kim’s mom sighed, shut the door, and hung up her coat. “Kimama, why don’t you ever tell me when you’ve invited your friends over? We’ll have to have the salmon tonight, and you know I was saving it.”

  “Mom, don’t—”

  “Your friends are always welcome, but I need to know in advance. Last time, I came home to your rock band rehearsing in my own living room! Would it kill you to ask permission once in a while?”

  Kim rolled her eyes. “I did tell you! I told you last week, remember?”

  “Huh?”

  “You were on the phone. You probably didn’t hear.”

  There was something a little disturbing about how easily Kim was lying to her mom, Jake thought. She’d clearly had a lot of practice.

  “We don’t want to be any trouble,” he said, feeling guilty.

  “It’s no trouble,” the woman said, looking right through him. “Jake, you said? Kim’s never mentioned you before.”

  “Um, we only moved here recently,” Jake said helplessly.

  “Mom, give them a break,” Kim said, sounding weary. “Is it okay if Jake and Taylor sleep over?”

  For the first time the woman smiled at Jake. “I’m Haiwee. Of course you’re welcome to stay the night. As long as your parents are okay with it.”

  “They already called their mom and asked for permission,” Kim said quickly.

  “Great. Best not to go out in this weather,” said Haiwee, “especially after getting stuck in the snow. Tomorrow, once the plow’s opened the roads back up, I’ll drive you straight down to Riverton.”

  “Thanks!” Taylor beamed. “So . . . can we still go fishing tomorrow?”

  Jake just laughed and rolled his eyes at Kim.

  The boys awoke the next morning to a fog of heavenly smells—frying bacon, eggs, toasting bread.

  And fried potatoes? Jake asked himself, still lying on the floor in his sleeping bag. He opened his eyes and sat up.

  Haiwee glanced over from a small propane range next to the sink. “You’re awake,” she said cheerfully. “Did you get some rest?”

  “Yeah,” Jake muttered, rubbing his eyes. Taylor also stirred next to him, but Cody sat over by the range, keeping a careful eye on Haiwee’s cooking.

  Kim burst through the front door carrying half a dozen pieces of firewood. “Here you go, Mom. I split the logs. Is breakfast ready?”

  She began to enter the room, but Haiwee snapped, “Those boots are caked with snow! Go clean them off!”

  Kim rolled her eyes. “It must have snowed another six inches last night,” she said as she stomped her boots free of snow.

  Haiwee tutted. “If that’s true, that plow might not get the road open today after all.”

  “That’s okay,” Kim said, leaning on the table. “Jake, Taylor, and Cody can just stay an extra night, right?”

  “Hmm,” Haiwee answered. “Maybe. But first things first. Who’s hungry?”

  Taylor sat up suddenly, like an electric jolt had passed through him. “I am!”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Yes, well, the cold mountain air can give you an appetite,” Haiwee told him.

  Jake wasn’t sure if it was the avalanche, or months of eating lean meat and roots, but he and Taylor ate so much, they thought they might burst.

  “You look like you haven’t eaten in about a year,” Kim said, and laughed.

  “We’ve eaten,” Taylor said. “Just nothing as good as this.”

  Haiwee said, “You can thank me by cleaning up.”

  Jake kept his eyes trained on Haiwee’s face. She clearly had something on her mind, but for now she was keeping it to herself.

  “Seeing as how you’re stuck here with us, why don’t we go fishing like we were going to yesterday?” Kim asked. “It’ll get us out of this house, at least.”

  Jake didn’t want to hang around—they were meant to be getting back to their mom as quickly as possible—but Kim gave him a look that told him he didn’t have any choice.

  Taylor stuffed one final forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Awesome.”

  “Just try not to start any avalanches, okay?” Kim laughed.

  Jake and Taylor looked at each other sheepishly.

  “Oh, no,” Haiwee said. “You two can go, but Taylor can stay right here. I’m not about to let him go out into the cold again. He’s looking pale, and I want to keep an eye on him.”

  “Aw, I feel great, though. Especially after that breakfast!”

  “I’m sorry, young man. The answer is no.”

  Taylor sighed. “Okay. Jake probably wants some time alone with Kim anyhow.”

  Jake kicked him under the table. Taylor scowled but knew enough to keep his mouth shut.

  Outside the house, Jake waited, hopping from one foot to the other. From behind him he heard the roar of an engine. He spun around to see Kim, driving up on a large snowmobile, a big grin on her face. She stopped next to him.

  “Hey there, runaway. Want a lift?”

  Jake climbed on board behind her. “Not so loud! What if your mom hears?”

  “She won’t. Not over this.” Kim revved the engine a couple of times. “Sweet ride, huh?”

  “Is it yours?”

  “Course it is. In case you hadn’t noticed, we do live in Wyoming. How else do you think we get anywhere in the winter?”

  Kim hit the throttle. Jake’s face froze with the wind whipping over him, but he didn’t mind. It felt like freedom.

  “Dad wouldn’t let us have one of these,” he called to Kim over the noise of the engine.

  She laughed. “So how do you get around? On a horse?”

  “We walk.”

  “Seriously? Man, even the Amish have horses. Your dad must be a real hard-ass.”

  He is, Jake thought. “It’s kind of primitive, I guess,” he admitted. “We don’t even have electricity in our place, not like you guys.”

  “You have toilet paper, though, right? Actually, no, don’t tell me. I’d rather not know.”

  Jake’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He felt a stab of jealousy too. Kim and Haiwee were living out in the wild, but they weren’t isolated like Abe. Kim even got to go to school and have friends. She was in a band. Meanwhile, Jake and Taylor got to boil up balsamroot.

  As they rode, Jake could feel new anger boiling up inside at how rigi
d and uncompromising their dad had been.

  Abe had talked about how glad he’d been that the boys had come to find him. But the truth was, he hadn’t adapted his Spartan lifestyle in any way to accommodate Jake’s and Taylor’s needs. As far as Jake’s dad was concerned, it was his way or the highway. How selfish can you get, thought Jake.

  Kim drove through a rugged canyon until they reached a pond about the size of a football field.

  “There’s fish in here?” Jake asked, getting off the snowmobile.

  “A ton of ’em,” said Kim. “The tribe dammed up the little spring-fed creek here to provide water for cattle, sheep, and wildlife, but they also stock it with rainbow trout. Lots of the reservation kids fish and swim out here. We’re lucky it didn’t totally freeze over with this storm.”

  Jake saw that ice skirted the edge of the pond but only stretched out about fifteen feet. After that, it was cold, clear water.

  Perfect, he thought.

  Kim laid their poles on top of the snowmobile and opened her tackle box. “You know how to rig a fishing pole?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sorry if I was out of line back there, with the joking and all. I guess your dad must be pretty mean, for you to be running away.”

  Jake shook his head. “He’s not mean. It’s just . . . complicated.”

  Kim laid a hand on his arm and made him flinch. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she said.

  “He’s just so stubborn,” Jake sighed. “You can’t change his mind, you know? It’s like he’s in a cult or something. A cult with only one member.”

  While they rigged up the fishing poles, he told Kim all about the last five months. He talked her through the whole journey to Wyoming to find their dad, only leaving out the part where Bull was killed.

  “You should have heard how my mom sounded on the phone,” he said. “She was terrified. We couldn’t stay with Dad, not after that.”

  Kim nodded slowly. “So you’re heading to Pennsylvania on foot. Sticking to the back roads . . . staying out of sight. Reminds me of something.”

  “Outlaws?”

  “No. I was thinking more of hobbits? You and Taylor are like Frodo and Sam.”