Wasp Canyon

by Danielle McCrory

  The anger drained from Jessica’s face. Tears welled up in her eyes, turning their green hue to a shimmering aquamarine. “I just . . . I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

  “Me neither, honey,” Andrea said as she tried to hold back her own tears. “I think this running is a wonderful idea. And if you want to exercise alone then I think that is what you should do. I just worry about you all alone out there in the desert.”

  “Mom, you always worry too much. There’s nothing out there to worry about. And I promise to stick to well-known hiking trails. The worst thing I could come across is a snake, and Dad taught me what to do if I ever saw one of those. There’s nothing out there to be scared of.”

  Andrea smiled, dabbing quickly at her eyes. It was true—she had never come across anything dangerous during her countless hours spent on hiking trails with her husband during the course of their marriage. And Roger trained Jessica well; she knew how to handle herself in the desert. “Ok hon, you’re right. There’s nothing out there to be scared of. But please, promise me anyway, that you will be careful.”

  “I promise, Mom. I will be perfectly safe out there.”

  Chapter 5

  Wasp Canyon Trail was set back near the base of the Santa Catalina mountain range. Tucson was surrounded by mountains on all four sides, with the Santa Catalinas located on the northeast side of town. The trailhead was located at the end of Wasp Canyon Road—a road known more for its wealthy residents than for its hiking trails. As Jessica drove down Wasp Canyon Road the houses steadily grew in size, each set further back from the road than the one before. The houses eventually disappeared altogether, the only indication of their existence being tall, adobe walls with iron-clad gates stretched across well-kept driveways. By the time Jessica reached the parking lot for Wasp Canyon Trail, she could no longer see any of the houses at all.

  Wasp Canyon Road came to a dead end at the entrance to a small parking lot that overlooked the city of Tucson. All those mansions I passed must overlook the city lights at night, Jessica thought as she pulled into one of the parking spaces. The lot was surrounded by prickly pear cacti and palo verde trees, some of their green branches reaching over the pavement and close enough to brush against the windows of cars that parked on the perimeter. The parking lot had room for two dozen cars, however no other cars were parked in the lot.

  “Huh,” Jessica muttered as she climbed out of the Camry and stretched her legs, “I thought there would be more people.”

  She surveyed the parking lot and found the trailhead at the east end. The trail was ten feet across, a slightly crooked wooden post sticking out of the hard earth on the left-hand side. A well-worn path stretched out beyond the post, narrowing as it headed in the direction of the mountains. The path’s edges were lined with various cacti. Jessica walked over to the trail and stepped off the asphalt to the soil below. She eyed the faded metal map attached to the wooden post.

  Wasp Canyon Trail wound along the desert floor as it headed east. There was a rise midway along the trail that was labeled as Wasp Hill. Eventually the trail straightened out as it entered Wasp Canyon. Jessica traced her finger along the red line that indicated the path. Once in the canyon the trail continued for what appeared to be a great distance before abruptly ending at some unknown point. Perhaps a canyon wall? Or a vista? Or maybe The Lost World, equipped with dinosaurs and an aging Jeff Goldblum?

  Jessica scanned the rest of the map but there wasn’t much else to see. Most of the map was the topography of the Santa Catalinas, with Wasp Canyon Trail snuggly tucked between two of the mountain peaks. There didn’t appear to be any other trails that met up with Wasp Canyon, and the path itself was an in-and-out trail. She would have to turn around and head back the same trail when she was ready to leave. Jessica thought that loop trails were more interesting, at least she wouldn’t have to backtrack if the trail was a loop. But oh well, she thought, I’m already here.

  Jessica squatted down to make sure her sneakers were securely fastened. As she fiddled with the laces she noticed the quiet for the first time. Away from the roads and shopping centers and bustling city life, the quiet of the desert was startling. She could hear a gentle whisper of wind coming from the direction of the mountains, probably originating from inside the canyon. She could hear birds chirping as they bounced from one cactus arm to another. And she could hear the buzzing of some sort of insect, hopefully not a wasp welcoming her to Wasp Canyon.

  Her shoelaces secure, Jessica stood and took a final survey of the empty parking lot. She expected to see at least a few other cars parked there, owned by hikers she would come across along the trail. Well at least no one would hear her struggling to breathe as she tried to run for the first time since high school PE class. If someone heard that, they might feel compelled to call for emergency medical care on her behalf.

  Jessica took a couple steps forward, her feet crunching on the thin layer of soil that covered the hard caliche below. Her father had taught her about desert soils when she was younger, and about how the cement-like substance called caliche was so tough that Tucson homes did not have basements because the caliche was too difficult to dig through. Under her feet, it felt like concrete.

  Almost forgot, she thought, bringing her left arm up so she could see her wrist. The QuikFit was there, its purple band tightened to its tightest rung to keep it in place on her frail wrist.

  Jessica had tinkered with the fitness tracker back at home to make sure it worked. Once she removed it from the box, she charged the gadget as indicated per the instructions. Then there was the painful process of linking it through Bluetooth to her phone. She could now access all her health stats via an app on her phone, such as her heart rate, speed, distance covered, and elevation. Or she could use the watch’s little speaker and play music from her phone. Super cool stuff if you cared about any of it, which she didn’t.

  The QuikFit had been Dr. Wyatt’s idea anyway. She said that if Jessica had a way to track her progress she would feel like she was accomplishing something, no matter how small. If over the course of a month she was able to complete her run faster, or improve her heart rate, she would feel like she moved forward. And making progress—even if it meant taking thirty seconds less to run a mile—was at least something. Something positive in her life, or so Dr. Wyatt said.

  Jessica poked at the watch’s touch screen until she was able to bring up Activity. From there she followed the menu to Cardio and eventually to Running. She hovered her finger over Begin. Here we go, she thought. She pressed down and the menu disappeared. The watch began counting off seconds like a stopwatch. Jessica stood motionless, hearing the wind as it swept through the canyon, and watched the screen of the QuikFit. She saw that she could customize the front screen and choose what she would like visible during her run. The time was at the top, followed by her distance, speed, and elevation. Eh, I don’t care about elevation, she thought. She poked at the screen a few more times. There we go. Now she had her time, distance, speed, and heart rate illuminated on the device.

  It had apparently taken her one minute and forty-two seconds to program the QuikFit to her liking. Distance: 0.0. Speed: 0.0. Heart rate: 72 bpm. Well, better restart this little sucker, she thought as she pushed the Finish button. The watch showed her a final tally and then went dark. She hit the Home button and went through the menu again to start a new run. Well, no matter what happens right now, I will be able to say I made progress from my first run of 0.0 miles to my next run. And any progress is moving forward, right? Jessica smiled at the thought, and began to run.

  ☼ ☼ ☼

  Eight minutes later Jessica was hunched over on the trail with her hands on her knees, gasping in great mouthfuls of air. Holy mother of God, she thought, a fucking infant is more physically fit than I am. She could hear her heart pounding monstrously in her head, the sound of the canyon wind drowned out by the blood pulsing in her temples. She thought the blood might just start squirting out of her ears in great red bursts, in sync wit
h her rapid heart rate.

  Jessica tried to look at the specs on her watch; however, her arm was shaking too badly for her to read any of the numbers on the small screen. She looked up at the cloudless sky, took in another deep breath, and let it out in a slow, shaky whoosh. Her heart rate seemed to be slowing to some realm of normalcy, and the dizziness started to subside. Again, she tried to look at her QuikFit.

  Miles: 0.4

  Speed: 0.0 mph

  Time: 8 minutes

  Heart rate: 168 bpm

  Jesus, this is embarrassing. Jessica glanced around to see if anyone was around to witness her pathetic attempt at physical fitness. The trail was deserted. She could hear tiny twigs snapping and leaves ruffling as lizards crawled away from her through the low shrubs. She watched a desert spiny lizard make a hasty retreat, away from the wheezing monster in stretchy purple yoga pants.

  Jessica looked up from where the lizard vanished and surveyed her surroundings. A few man-made structures were in the distance—probably the mansions that were set back from the road. She could make out a few adobe walls, a few wrought iron fence posts, the shimmering of some millionaire’s oasis pool. Only half a mile down the trail, she was probably still alongside someone’s property. Eventually, the trail would descend into the canyon, leaving all human structures behind.

  People are strange, she thought. They keep trying to get closer to nature, but all they really do is push it further away. She turned away from the mansions. She wanted to get away from them, from people, and from all things man-made. She looked at the canyon up ahead. That’s where she wanted to be.

  Wasp Canyon Trail had narrowed a bit, however it was still wide enough to be comfortable and the plant life remained at a respectable distance. Birds continued to chirp and hoo as they pecked at seeds and balanced on narrow tree branches. The landscape was littered with desert shrubs, saguaros, mesquite and palo verde trees, and many forms of cacti that Jessica chose to ignore. All the vegetation was fairly sparse, allowing her to see a great deal into the distance.

  Jessica walked along the trail, forgoing running for at least the next few minutes. She had planned to run two miles in, take a break, and then turn and run back. Four miles originally sounded like a good starting off point, however after 0.4 miles of hovering on the edge of consciousness, Jessica thought she might have set the bar a bit high.

  Ok, I will walk to the one mile mark, turn around, and then see how far I can run during the return trip. Maybe 0.5 miles instead of 0.4. That would be progress, wouldn’t it?

  She walked at a leisurely pace, watching the nearby birds and listening to the serene quiet of the desert. The steady sound of wind coming from the canyon was mesmerizing, almost like it was beckoning for her to come inside. Someday I will make it that far, she thought. Someday I will run all the way into that canyon without stopping. But that sure as hell ain’t gonna happen today.

  She glanced at her QuikFit. She had been strolling along the trail for nearly fifteen minutes and was now 0.9 miles in. Wow, time really does fly when you don’t feel like you are actively dying, she thought. She realized that she was surprised by just how beautiful the desert was—somewhere along the way in her young life she must have forgotten. She hated to admit it, but Dr. Wyatt might actually have something with this whole running thing—or at least the getting outside in nature part of it, anyway.

  At one mile, Jessica stopped walking and took in a final view of the desert. A large crop of jumping cholla stood next to the trail on the right side, its spiny boughs bursting with cream-colored daggers. The jumping cholla was the most feared of all the chollas—their boughs broke off easily, almost like they were jumping at you. Even a strong breeze could knock one off and send it on a collision course with your bare ankle. Once, as a child, Jessica ended up with one embedded in her skin after playing in the backyard. Her mom had to use kitchen tongs to pluck the chunks of cholla out of her leg. Oh, how she had wailed!

  Thankfully, these chollas were set back a few feet from the trail—hopefully far enough to not be a danger on a windy day. Ok then, the jumping chollas are my one mile marker, Jessica thought. She turned, took a deep breath, and began running back the way she had come.

  The agony did not take long to arrive, as she knew it wouldn’t. The opening in her throat seemed to narrow, the blood once again throbbed in her ears, and her side began to cramp. But she kept pushing, kept running. I said I could make it half a mile without stopping. And I’m going to fucking make it half a mile without stopping.

  Her quadriceps trembled with overexertion, and dizziness once again crept into the sides of her mind. But she kept running, checking her watch every few seconds until it reached 1.5 miles. As soon as the mile counter hit 1.5, Jessica staggered to a stop in the middle of the trail, bent forward with her hands on her knees. She stared at the blurry desert floor, waiting for the dizziness to subside and for everything to come back into focus. Once it did, she stood up, took a deep breath, and walked the remaining half mile to the parking lot. I did it. I ran 0.1 mile further during my second try. I made progress. I did better.

  It wasn’t until Jessica got into her car that she realized she had not thought about cancer—or her father’s death—even once during her first run through the desert.

  Chapter 6

  Lindy’s Eatery was a single-story brick building on the northwest side of town. It was set back from the road, its undecorated entrance not even visible to passersby. Only a small wooden sign with chipped paint alerted drivers to its whereabouts. The building itself was surrounded by an expanse of dirt parking lot, one that was mostly vacant during the day and always strewn with cars in the evening. The lack of midday patrons was probably due to the fact that Lindy’s Eatery had stopped serving food nearly two decades ago—something none of the bar’s regulars seemed to mind. What Lindy’s lacked in mediocre bar food, it made up for in liquid refreshment, which was what most of the locals were interested in, anyway. As one ambled up to the building, dirt from the unpaved lot crunching underfoot, he or she could hear the sound of country music drifting out into the night. Inside, the dusty concrete floor was rarely swept and the overhead lights didn’t quite do their job of adequately lighting the pool tables and dance floor. The bar itself was much better lit, the well-worn wood of the bar top glowing under the warm incandescent bulbs that hung from the ceiling.

  It was obvious that Lindy’s Eatery was a dive bar that had seen better days, but the college kids and blue collar workers seemed to like it all the same. It had a welcoming atmosphere that the trendy nightclubs down by the college seemed to lack. And the construction crews and other outdoor working-types never had to worry about getting dust from their work boots on the floor. Rarely did visitors or snowbirds (just another version of visitors, except they chose to stay for extended periods of time and only during the agreeable winter months) ever ventured into the dusty tavern, and if they did they would politely get one beer at the bar, finish quickly, and then turn tail to find a more respectable establishment.

  Jessica and Claire sat at two of the coveted bar top stools, seats that filled early on a Friday evening and didn’t turn up empty until closing time. Most of Lindy’s patrons ended up standing by the pool tables watching their friends play a game of nine ball, dancing on the just-dim-enough dance floor, or sitting out on the patio smoking cigarettes and playing cornhole. Jessica and Claire almost always found themselves a seat up at the bar—a little gift from Lindy’s owner, Howard Dunlap. Howie was an old friend of Claire’s family, even attending some of Claire’s childhood birthday parties where the drink of choice was lemonade instead of Dragoon IPA. Howie always kept a couple of stools tucked under the bar for his top patrons, pulling them out only when one of these special few arrived so they had a place to sit and shoot the shit with him. Howie considered Claire something like a daughter, which often landed her and Jessica at the end of the bar sitting on Howie’s specially reserved stools.

  “Hey Howie! Us ladies would l
ove a second round if you feel so inclined!” Claire called across the bar.

  Howie looked up from the tap, one large hand holding a half-full glass of golden beer, the other holding the handle for Lagunitas IPA. He was a burly man of sixty, always with a five o'clock shadow on his face and receding white hair that was in need of combing. He wore a plaid button-up shirt, the buttons taught over his considerable midsection. “Be right with ya, darlin’,” Howie called back.

  Claire smiled and lowered herself back onto her barstool. She was a petite brunette, her almond-shaped eyes always lined with black eyeliner, causing them to stand out dramatically against her fair complexion. Her dark hair was often streaked with one color or another from her latest salon trip. Tonight red highlights weaved in and out of her shoulder-length waves. Claire crossed her arms and rested them on the bar, her low-cut tank top showing off her ample cleavage. This warranted many glances toward the end of the bar as young men—and some not so young—worked their way to and from the patio.

  Jessica took no notice of the lingering stares cast in their direction; instead she stared at her phone with growing frustration. “Stupid freaking thing. Why won’t you work?” Jessica muttered as she jabbed at the screen, hitting various buttons. The phone went dark. “Fuck.” She dropped the phone onto the bar and looked up at a couple of thirty-something guys that were ogling Claire from across the way.

  “What’s going on, girl? You’ve been staring at that thing all night.” Claire looked away from the thirty-something guys and down at Jessica’s phone.

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I’m just trying to open this stupid app for my QuikFit and I can’t get it to load. Stupid thing.”

  Claire reached across the bar and grabbed Jessica’s phone. “You really are getting into this running thing, huh?”