Wicked River

by Jenny Milchman

  The farther she walked, the more such an outcome seemed likely. This wasn’t hiking like Mia had done at camp or during school field trips to Bear Mountain. This was hard-core, requiring all the equipment the two girls had been lugging along and then some. The hills climbed so steeply that Mia was tempted to get down on all fours and crawl, then dropped at even sharper angles—although how could that be?—so that she really did sit on her bottom and slide along the wet ground, hoping her pants were in fact waterproof. She’d never gotten a chance to test them at camp.

  The borrowed poncho helped keep Mia dry, but between its hood and the rain, she was finding it hard to see. When she reached a part of the trail that hugged a cliff, she got seriously scared. If you took too wide a step here, you’d fall into a canyon. Like the Grand Canyon almost, except with trees filling up all the open space. And even after Mia had managed to navigate the winding path without falling to her death and was in the woods again, the leaves grew so thickly, it was hard to spot trail markers pinned to the trees. All in all, Mia was nothing but relieved when she spied another hiker, the first person she’d come to in what seemed like forever. He looked even less prepared than she was for the woods, wearing a button-down flannel shirt and pants, like a lumberjack or something. He didn’t have a pack and was standing a ways off the trail, parting the branches of a tree with one hand so he could study its trunk.

  Mia hesitated. The other hiker hadn’t seen her yet, and Mia had gone far enough by now to conclude that it’d be smartest just to turn around and reverse her steps. The thought of taking those hills and dips again made her want to cry—never mind having to maneuver past that tricky cliff face—but she still knew better than to flag down some stranger in the wilderness.

  Except that the rules among hikers seemed to be different. Look how those girls had helped her out, even given Mia some of their stuff.

  The thing that decided her was the sight of the man himself. Far from appearing frightening in any way, it actually looked like he was the one who was scared. Wet and scruffy, but those things were practically hiker chic. He had begun walking—almost running—from tree to tree and pulling back their branches. It was clear he was looking for one of the blue metal trail markers, and Mia knew how to find one.

  “Hey!” she called, waving one arm. “Are you lost? The trail’s actually over here.”

  He looked up, blinking rain out of his eyes, and when he caught sight of Mia, the expression on his face was so relieved that she almost laughed out loud.

  “You’re on the trail? A real one? You sure?” the man called back.

  At that Mia did laugh. “A real one. I promise. It’s called Turtle Ridge.”

  The man came hurrying through the trees, shaking rain from his head like a dog and smiling along with her. “Oh thank God,” he said. “I never meant to be out here at all—my car broke down, and I thought I would take a shortcut through the woods—well, some shortcut that turned out to be. I’ve been walking for days.”

  All of which explained his strange attire and lack of gear.

  “You made it,” Mia said, and pointed. “If you go back that way, it won’t be very far to the trailhead. Even if it feels like it,” she added. “Far, that is.”

  “Thank God,” the man said again. Then he paused to look at her. “Are you okay out here? I mean, I can tell you know what you’re doing. But the rain’s gotta suck.”

  Mia looked down at her dripping poncho. “You can tell I know what I’m doing?” she said. “Welcome to a party of one.”

  The man gave her a look of understanding. “I hated being… What are you, thirteen?”

  No one ever guessed her age right. Mia nodded.

  “That was the worst,” the man said. “Nobody thinks you can do anything, even though thirteen was probably the smartest I ever was. After that, I started trying too hard to please everybody.”

  “I already do that,” Mia said.

  “Well, don’t,” the man replied. He took a step onto the trail so that he was standing beside her. He smelled piney, like the trees. “You’re fine as you are. Better than fine. You practically saved my life.”

  “You would’ve been okay,” Mia said, taking a slight step away, but only so no one would think it was weird that they were standing so close. She actually liked being next to this man. He made her feel protected, even though he hadn’t done anything besides need help. “You’re probably a lot better in the woods than I am.”

  The man gave a shake of his head. Rain flew off his hair and beard in droplets. His beard was pretty thick, probably from being out in the woods so long. “I doubt that. But thanks for being nice.”

  He seemed insecure, kind of like Mia herself. She wanted to tell him to act like he knew what he was doing—then one day the act might become reality.

  He lifted his hand, giving her a wave before turning. “This way you said, right?”

  Mia hid her smile. “It’s actually that way.” She reached out to touch the man on his arm, pointing to show him.

  “Oh shit,” he said. His face turned red beneath its coating of rain. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Mia said, a shrug in her tone. “I curse all the time.” That sounded stupid, like she was the type to call all her friends bitches and go around swearing. It was her turn to blush.

  “It’s just…” The man peered around Mia, studying the trail ahead. “I can’t go that way. You’re lucky you’re hiking in, not out.”

  “What do you mean?” Mia asked. “I actually was planning on turning around now myself. Hiking back too.”

  “You were?” The man gave a regretful shake of his head. “You can’t. Not yet anyway.”

  Mia grew suddenly chilled beneath her poncho. A second ago, these woods had been massive; now they felt claustrophobic, as if she were trapped. She reached up to scrub rain out of her eyes, and her hand came away freezing. “Why not?”

  The man took a few paces forward, nodding as he returned, like he’d just confirmed something. “I came from that direction a few minutes ago. I was too stupid to realize I was on a trail.”

  Mia offered him a tremulous smile and a headshake, contradicting the stupid. God, this guy was even worse with the hating on yourself than she was.

  He smiled his thanks, although the smile didn’t look too genuine.

  “So what’s the problem?” Mia asked after a moment.

  “You remember that steep area? Where there’s a cliff?”

  Mia nodded. Of course she remembered that. Who knew trees could grow as sharp as daggers until you’d pictured falling on top of like a zillion of them?

  “Well, it’s all slid out,” the man said. “The rain must’ve loosened the earth. No way to get past until the people who maintain the trails come through with their equipment. And who knows when that will be?”

  The memory of that pitch, a sheer drop to a canyon, made Mia start shivering even more than the rain. The trail had been narrow as it was—unimaginable if a slice of it had fallen away. And without a path of some sort, there would be no way to make it out to the trailhead. She and this man were prisoners. Mia’s parents were probably panicking right now. This was the stupidest thing she had ever done.

  “Hey,” the man said, taking a step forward. “Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not like you did anything wrong.”

  Mia looked up at him through a glimmer of rain.

  “I bet we can figure something out,” the man went on. “Maybe find a way to get around the pass through the woods?” He gestured toward dense forest. “Then we’ll loop back to the trail where it starts running smooth again.”

  Mia took a look into the woods, crowded with trees. It looked almost as impassable as that canyon. She shook her head, doubtful. This man had been lost when she came upon him, after all. Following him out couldn’t be a good idea.

  “Or you could just keep hiking in the
direction you were going,” the man said. “Me, I’ll take my chances in those woods. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

  “I do too,” Mia said.

  He looked to his right. “It’s not that bad, really. I was just in there. Want to try?”

  Mia hesitated, then took a step off the trail. It felt like she was leaving behind more than just the cleared path, abandoning solid ground to enter another realm.

  The man reached in front of her to hold back a branch.

  Mia thanked him.

  “Hey, by the way,” the man said, and she twisted around to look.

  “My name’s Kurt.”

  • • •

  Hiking was easier with Kurt there to break off branches and go first to mat down clumps of soil with his boots. His boots were good ones, really well broken in. Kind of weird footwear to wear for the drive he’d been taking when he got lost, but Mia was grateful for his choice when he kicked aside a rock she’d been about to trip over.

  The rain had finally stopped falling, or else the leaf cover from the trees was too thick to let much through, and the whole world seemed to be drying out. Mia shucked off her poncho, balling it up and stuffing it in her pack. She took a drink, noting that the water really did flow easily from the pouch into her straw, then sidestepped a log, its fleshy interior open to the elements and alive with insects. She shuddered.

  “Gross,” Kurt said.

  She laughed that he’d said it aloud. “Think we can head back to the trail now?” she asked. “I mean, it feels like we’ve gone pretty far.”

  Kurt took the idea seriously, getting his bearings and looking around. “Not quite yet, I wouldn’t say,” he told her. “Let’s allow for a little extra before swinging back.”

  Mia tilted her head. She thought she could hear the rushing course of a river somewhere not too far off. How long had they been walking? The endless rows of trees, the sameness of the landscape, had a way of making time morph. It suddenly felt a lot later than it had been. She was hungry, like she’d missed a meal.

  There also hadn’t been a river anywhere near the trail, if Mia was remembering correctly from the map on the brochure she’d looked at. “I really think we should go back,” she said. “Things have dried up. I bet the trail is more solid.”

  “Solid won’t matter if it’s all been lost to a rock or a mudslide,” Kurt said, walking forward and indicating that she should move on as well.

  She didn’t like how he was acting. Like he no longer thought Mia could make her own choices, decide things for herself.

  “Look,” she said. “We don’t want to wind up lost like you were before. I’m going back, even if I have to go on my own.” Let him try and stop her.

  Kurt nodded sagely at that, taking her point, and Mia had time to regret her temporary change of heart. He wasn’t like all the other grown-ups in her life. Kurt and she were more equals, kind of how Mia was with Aunt Nat.

  Still, he spoke with authority when he said, “I think we should do it the way I’m suggesting, Mia.”

  Cold air laced through her. She hadn’t mentioned her name after Kurt had told her his. She knew she hadn’t, because she had been heeding the warning she’d heard in her head from her mom—don’t tell a stranger your name—then spent the whole hike trying to figure out a non-awkward way to get in the introduction.

  “Come on,” Kurt said, waiting.

  “Like I’d listen to you,” Mia responded, immediately regretting her words, or at least her tone, the one that always got her mother so upset. Something that hadn’t been there just a few seconds ago told Mia she shouldn’t jeer at this man.

  But Kurt didn’t get mad. He bent over, lowering his hands to the ground.

  Mia tracked his movements, looking to see if his boots were untied or something. “What are you doing?”

  Kurt straightened up, holding a good-sized rock in his palms, and jogging it up and down a little, as if testing its weight. Then he lifted it into the air.

  Mia didn’t have time to scream before he brought it back down.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  The trek back to camp with Brad felt far shorter than the journey out had been. It was another inexplicable paradox of wilderness life—distances didn’t stay constant; they mutated. Different factors could change them: Conditions. Type of terrain. Knowledge of the area condensed miles, while sheer, unchecked need expanded them past all reckoning.

  Natalie recognized certain features—a series of deep trenches in the ground, the thickening of the forest that seemed to beckon her through steadfast gates—and used them to mark their passage. They had to be drawing near, hours passing despite the fast clip at which they were hiking, the midday sun starting to droop in the sky. Natalie pictured her husband, alone and in pain—oh God, how she hoped he was alone—and sent a mental message. Hold on, honey. We’re coming.

  She continually referred to her map, which felt by now like an old friend, although Brad chose to use his GPS. They seemed to be on track; the ground felt known to her feet. But as they began to approach the creek, Natalie wondered if she’d been wrong all along, the familiarity of the landscape just one more wilderness illusion, which seemed designed to trick and deter the wanderer, almost with intention.

  The creek that served as informal border to Kurt’s camp was essentially a babbling brook. Studded with boulders in places, which sped up the current or made for pools, but not much fiercer than a stream. Whereas whatever Natalie was hearing sounded like a river, and a fast one.

  Brad’s rapid pace didn’t falter—he didn’t know this land, had no expectations, and so it didn’t feel suddenly foreign and mistaken to him as it did to Natalie. She spied the water for a second, a quick slivery flash, before it was stolen away behind a macramé of leaves. Natalie’s feet slowed; she paused to tilt her head and listen.

  The white-noise rush of water grew louder, and the explanation occurred to Natalie just as she felt the soil change abruptly, turn cushiony and moist beneath her Norlanders. Rain had caused the volume of water to swell.

  She began to hurry along again, confident that at least they were in the right place. The confines of Kurt’s camp, its stick structures and clearings, should become visible soon after they crossed the creek. At that moment, the rushing of the water turned into a roar, filling Natalie’s ears, making it hard to hear anything else, including her own startled yelp as a gully appeared before her.

  The transformed creek had the strength and power of a silverback gorilla, muscles rippling as it raced along. Natalie’s cry of fear was lost beneath its churning. The riverbank reared up, and Natalie realized she was headed straight for it. She fought to dig her shoes into the ground, but they started to skid; she wasn’t going to be able to stop, would be washed away, downstream of Doug, wasting valuable time, and that was presuming she was able to climb out at all—

  Brad grabbed a twist of her shirt, pulling Natalie up short.

  A trail of rocks and dirt went skittering down in her wake and were lost amidst the thrashing water. She bent over, panting.

  Brad used the pause to take a drink from his water bottle.

  “Thank you,” Natalie said once she could speak.

  He inclined his head, then pointed. “We can make it across over there.”

  Natalie looked. The boulder that had presented such an obstacle before now protruded a mere foot or so above the surface of the water. It could be used as a bridge. She and Brad would leap from the riverbank to the top of the boulder, then from there to the opposite side. Natalie took the lead, crossing in a trio of nimble steps, and allowing herself just a few seconds to get oriented on dry ground.

  Kurt’s series of traps began here.

  • • •

  Natalie used the same method she and Doug had, back when they’d possessed the hope of escaping together and making it out unscathed.
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  Brad looked doubtful when Natalie found a long, sturdy stick and placed it in his hand, demonstrating with her own branch how to poke the ground. She proceeded cautiously enough that she feared Brad would grow impatient, following along behind her. Instead, when she turned, he was standing in place and staring downward.

  “You see something?” Natalie called. They’d gotten separated by a few yards. She headed back toward him, tapping the ground with her stick.

  “Yes,” Brad said. “But I don’t think it’s what you were expecting me to see.”

  Natalie frowned, also peering down. She couldn’t make out anything besides the usual surface of the forest floor, leaf matter and debris, rotting evidence of last year’s flora becoming one with the earth.

  Brad used his stick to indicate a spot on the ground. “That’s a boot print.”

  Natalie squinted, but still didn’t see anything. Brad traced an outline in the air, just a few inches above the shape he’d claimed to see, and the faint impression of a heel swam into view, all but concealed by the swampy soil.

  “How did you spot that?” Natalie marveled.

  Brad studied the ground silently, intent on finding the next.

  “They must be close,” Natalie told him, dropping her voice. Steve, maybe that policeman too, were somewhere up ahead. Had Doug been rescued? Where was Kurt? The air felt suddenly charged, electric, as if the rain might’ve been only temporarily resting, gathering force for the real storm to come.

  Brad walked forward. He continued to stab at the ground with his stick, but in a perfunctory manner, his real focus clearly on identifying footprints.

  Natalie took the lead, then cut suddenly in front of him, swift and precise as a knife blade. “Stop,” she hissed.

  Brad halted. “What?” He looked down. “Another footprint?”

  Natalie edged Brad a safe distance aside before raising her stick and pointing.