by Stacie Ramey
“You okay?” Sophie asks.
“Yeah. Fine. Just a headache.”
“Time to take your vitamin I.” She points to my pack.
“Yeah.” I pull the bottle from my pack, and I pretend to take the pills since there’s no way I need them as much as she does. “How far are we from Rain Man? I can’t keep it all straight.”
“Well, we’re at Deep Gap.” She draws a line in the dirt. “Which is twenty-two miles to Sassafras Gap. His wife blue-blazed from there, so I’m not sure how much farther he’ll be in the woods.”
“So, about three days at eight miles a day,” I say even though I know Sophie can’t do that.
Sophie nods.
“Let’s get some sleep. It always looks better in the morning,” I say.
Mom used to tell me that. She’d say no matter how mad or sad you were, you’d feel better in the morning. Only that wasn’t true after Dad died. That first day, it was like my body and mind forgot. For a second, I felt almost normal. But then what happened came back in a rush, and the pain felt ten times worse than when I first heard Dad died. It was screaming pain. Skin-on-fire pain. Heart-ripping-open pain. Mom said he died from a heart attack. Arrhythmia. Nobody could have known.
But I’d been listening to my dad’s heart for years. I knew, or I should have known.
“Dylan?”
“Sorry. What?”
“I said, good night.”
“Yeah. Good night, Sophie.”
Sophie climbs into her tent and zips it closed. Suddenly, all I can picture is the body bag zipping closed over Rain Man’s wife. Over Dad. Oh God. I start to sweat. Dizziness assaults me like a swarm of insects. I throw myself on top of my sleeping bag, wishing like mad that I had sprayed my bug spray, but Sophie’s listening. I’m about to close my eyes and focus on the sounds of invading insects might make (two points, times two, Emily. Double play, girl!), when I hear Sophie.
“Hey, Dylan? You wanna share?”
Hell to the yeah, I do. I’m up and out of my tent and in hers in seconds flat.
“No playing around though, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I just sleep better when you’re here.”
“Me too,” I say. “Me too.”
Chapter 20
I’m pretty sure Sophie’s running a fever. She’s shivering, even with me wrapped up around her. I put my hand on her forehead. She feels pretty hot.
“Hey,” I shake her as she goes into full blown nightmare mode. “Hey, Soph. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
She wakes up and turns over. “Ahhh.”
“Your leg?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me see.”
I unzip the tent to let the light in. Sophie sits up and pulls her foot out of the sleeping bag, wincing. I scoot out of the tent to give her room and she pivots around, holding her calf.
Her foot is still really swollen and bruised.
“Can I touch it?”
“Just be careful.”
I gently lay my hand on her foot. It’s not hotter than the rest of her. “We should get you to a doctor.”
“After we find Rain Man.”
“You can’t hike like this.”
“You can help me.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, Sophie.”
“I’ve got to see Rain Man. I have to talk with him. I want to tell him…”
Sophie’s got that look that means there’s no way to talk her out of this. “I think your foot is too constrained in your boot. So maybe you wear a sock. I’ve got bigger ones than yours.”
“That’s a good idea. We have almost no food, so a bag of chips each and we can be on our way.” She pauses. “Except I gotta go…”
“I can help you out there and prop you up, sort of…and…” I’m gesturing all over the place, which makes her laugh. “Come on. Before I fireman carry you out to the woods.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Never dare a Taggart!” I flip her onto my back and she squeals. Then she starts beating on my back.
I put her down and she crawls away, retching.
“Oh my God, Soph. I’m sorry.”
I pat her on her back as she pukes. Then dry heaves. God, I’m an idiot.
When she’s done, I hand her my water bottle and a bag of chips. “You need to eat. The salt will make you feel better.”
She puts a chips in her mouth and chews slowly. My stomach growls.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” She holds out the bag.
“Maybe later.”
She doesn’t argue. Just drinks some water. Chokes a little, then drinks again.
Water pours down her chin and tiny pieces of chips coat her lips. I put my hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ll take you easy this time.”
“No, I’ve got it.”
I pack up our stuff as she limps away. Then I make my own forest run. I listen for Sophie as she limps back to camp, and my gut falls when I see her. Face pale. Lips gray. She sees me and forces a smile. I smile back and give her my best stiff wave. There’s no way that Sophie should be hiking, but I’ve got no idea how to stop her.
• • •
It’s hot and muggy. and I’m amazed how much the weather can change in just a few weeks. Hunger gnaws at my insides and I feel like I could eat my fist. My caffeine depravation headache is a demonic heartbeat in my ears, which mixes with Sophie’s little cries as she keeps hiking.
“Give me your pack.”
She doesn’t argue. I’ve got mine on my back and strap hers across my stomach. She balances with that homemade crutch. Each step feels elongated, like an extra blip on a heart monitor. I try to hear the drums in my head. I replace Sophie’s little whimpers with the sounds of nature track, which neither of us can listen to because my cell battery is dead. It’s the only way to get through this.
Up the hill. Down again. The only way through is forward. Part of me wonders if I should deal with Sophie first, just march her into town and make her go to the hospital, then go after Rain Man.
We stop in front of the sign for Sassafras Gap, but Sophie shakes her head. “That’s not the right one. The one we need is in Georgia.”
I make Sophie drink some water and feed her the chips. Her mouth doesn’t move much, like it’s stiff or something, and I worry about what that means.
“We should stop,” I say. “It’s getting late.”
“No. We gotta get to the Georgia border at least.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just…” she starts to cry. “I think I can make it all the way if we make it there.”
I think about how I could stop her if I tried, but there’s no way I can think of. Sophie is like me in that way. Once she makes her mind up, there’s no deterring her.
“Okay. We’ll keep going. But we camp right after.”
She nods. I put her pack on the ground and roll it up as much as I can. Since we’re pretty much out of food, I can squish her pack in mine. I slide on my pack and then put my arm around her. “Hold on.”
“Okay.”
“We can do this.” I tell her this because she needs to hear it, and I need to say it. “Do you want to tell me about your mom?”
“She was always doing things.”
“What kinds of things?”
“It didn’t matter. Just things. Like cleaning or organizing or reading. She played the cello in an orchestra.”
“That’s pretty cool. Do you play?”
Sophie scoffs. “Nah. I was never very good at the cello. I play the piano a little.”
“Can you sing me one of your favorite pieces?”
Sophie starts humming and it seems familiar, but I don’t want to interrupt her to ask. My brain searches my vast musical inventory, and it lands on Bach’s Cel
lo Suite no. 1, which would make sense.
We limp along, as she hums and I keep my eyes ahead of us. The air chills, and I know sundown is coming. My neck is sore from supporting Sophie, and my heart and my head are thumping, and my stomach is growling, then I start hallucinating the smells of cooking, the sound of people talking and laughing, and of fire crackling.
Except Sophie must hear it too. Her face brightens. “Trail magic!”
“Wild Thing!” comes a call.
At first I think it is Rain Man and I’m so fucking elated, but as we get closer, I notice the long-ass beards, much longer than my own trail scruff, and the goofy smiles.
“Gator!” I yell back. “We need help! She’s hurt.”
“Hey guys, come on…it’s Wild Thing and his friend is hurt.” Gator calls. Chairs empty and guys start coming toward us. I’ve never been so happy to see people in my life.
Sophie’s exhausted. I can tell by the way her body feels, limp and heavy. “Hey, Soph,” I whisper. “Hey. We’ve got help. We’re going to be okay.”
She doesn’t answer. Her body is draped over mine, all of it, and I wonder when she stopped participating. When she passed out. I hoist her body higher and lift her legs so I’m cradling her now. “It’s okay, Sophie. You’re going to be okay.”
She barely stirs, and my stomach bottoms out. Is it too late?
Chapter 21
The boys come to help me. Gator. Emerson. Pepsi. Or whatever his trail name is. All I care about is helping Sophie.
Gator tries to take her from me, but I won’t let her go, because I can’t watch her limp body being carried off. “It’s okay, Dylan. Bring her here.”
Someone’s pulled his sleeping bag out of his tent and opened it all the way. I lower Sophie onto it.
“What happened to her?”
“She hurt her foot. Then a bear ate all of our food.”
Gator makes a face. Puts his ear to her chest. Listens. “How long have you been without food?”
Suddenly I can’t remember what day it is. “I don’t know. We’ve had some chips and peanuts, but that’s it for a couple of days.”
Emerson grabs a bottle of water and a bandanna. He wets it and starts wiping her face. “Sweetheart?” He taps her cheeks. “Hey. Sweetheart. Dylan says you might be hungry.”
She sort of groans but any sound is music to my ears.
“Look. We’ve got to call this in. Get her help,” Gator says to me. “You get that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s get Dylan some food,” Gator says and Emerson jumps up. “There’s a guy here who used to be a medic, I think. He can look at Ghost.”
“Sophie.”
“Huh?”
“Her name is Sophie.”
I lean down and put my face next to hers. “Soph. We’re at the border, okay?”
She stirs. “Dylan?”
“Yeah. I’m here. You hungry?”
Two plates of food appear in front of us. Sloppy joes and hot dogs never smelled so good, but Sophie’s not moving.
“Can I help you sit up?” I ask.
Her eyelids flitter. Then close. “Hmmm.”
A guy pushes by me. “Hey. I’m a paramedic. How long since she hurt her foot? How long since she ate or drank?”
The plate of food sits in front of me. Flies land on it, and I don’t pay attention to the buzzing or try to shoo them away. “I don’t know. It’s been a few days since she hurt her foot. We ran out of food the other day. We’ve had potato chips. Crackers. A candy bar. She drank. I made sure of that.”
“You did good, Wild Thing,” Gator pats me on the shoulder.
I watch, helpless as the paramedic lifts her eyelids and shines a light in her eyes. To me he asks, “What’s her name?”
“Sophie. Her name’s Sophie.”
“Come on, Sophie. Wake up,” he taps her cheek and I lean forward waiting for her to respond. She just murmurs again.
The man turns to me. “She’s dehydrated and weak. It’s a good thing you unwrapped her foot. We need to get her to a hospital. Immediately.”
Hospital. Immediately. Those words loop in my head. I nod. She didn’t want to stop going, but I had to do the right thing and let her go.
Gator pulls me aside. “I know this is hard, man, but you gotta get out of here.”
“What?” It’s not that I don’t understand what he says. The words are simple. The syntax is easy. But my body sure doesn’t seem to be understanding, because I press myself stubbornly against her side. “I’ll wait with her,” I say.
“You can’t stay. The rangers will help her, but they’re also looking for you.” He thrusts a copy of the same missing child poster Sophie showed me in my hand. “They were asking about you in town too.”
I hang my head. “It’s my family. They’re looking for me.” I pause. “I’m not eighteen yet. I’ve got a few months.” I run my hand across my scrappy beard. I sigh. “I’m a runaway.”
Gator smacks Emerson on the arm. “We figured. You ready to go back?”
“Not yet. We. Sophie and me. We were looking for Rain Man.”
“Why?” Emerson asks.
“We are worried about him. About it being…”
“The anniversary of his wife’s death?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ve been watching him. But when someone decides something like that…”
“So you think he’s going to…”
Gator pipes in. “We don’t know. Probably not. He’s probably going to just punish himself a little. Go off into the woods and deprive himself of food and water. Make him feel what she felt.”
“But why? What will that do?” I ask.
“Nothing. Not one thing,” Emerson says.
“Look, Rain Man isn’t talking to anyone right now. We’ve all tried,” Gator says. “But he won’t. Except, for some reason, you and Sophie. We’d go after him ourselves, but I don’t think he’d listen. Maybe, whatever he’s thinking, he’ll talk to you.”
Gator goes back to his tent. Grabs his pack. Starts taking things out at a frightening pace. His filter. His wallet. His food, which he puts in a pile. “Eat your hot dog and your sloppy joe, then hit the trail. Take this. I’ll go to the hospital with Sophie and make sure she’s okay.”
“Why?”
“Trail magic, baby. I’ve been a recipient for years. Now it’s time to give back.”
I throw the LUNA Bars, pasta with sauce packets, and oatmeal bags into my pack. I sit next to Sophie and grab her hand, which is really cold, despite the blankets someone put on her. “Soph. You gotta listen to me, okay? You need help. These people are going to take you to the hospital. I am going to find Rain Man. I’ll bring him to see you. Then you can ask him whatever you like. Okay?” I kiss her cheek.
Red lights flash from down the mountain.
“You gotta go, Wild Thing.” Emerson throws me my pack.
Gator takes his headlamp off and puts it on my head. “Wait until you’re on the trail for a bit before turning this on, okay?”
“Thanks.”
Emerson hands me the hot dog. “Go, man. I’m serious. Don’t get us in trouble for helping you.”
I glom the hot dog and get it down in two bites, my stomach cramping as I barely chew and swallow, like a champion hot dog–eating challenger. Then I take off, looking over my shoulder at Sophie, whose eyes remain closed. My heart is falling and I’m tripping through the brush. The leaves blur in front of me. I have to get to Rain Man. The faster I get there, the faster I can get back to Sophie.
I’m walking at a fast clip, my hands aching, but my head and heart hurting more. When I’m a few yards onto the trail, and I can’t hear the people at the campsite, I stop to rest on a log. I’m sobbing. How did I get here? So enamored with this girl I abandoned. So determined to save
this man I barely know. I think of all the things they said about me. How I don’t show compassion or interest in others. How’s this misery for fucking interest? I think about Emily. God I miss her. I miss Dad too, but I miss her even more, because I could see her if I just went home.
I push off again. I pass signs for Rich Cove Gap, but I keep going. Uphill. Downhill. The headlamp illuminates the path before me, bobbing with each step. I can’t stop. I don’t want to.
My stride lengthens. I charge forward as if that will let me reverse time. I tell myself that if I just keep walking, I’ll get to Rain Man in time. I didn’t with Max. I didn’t with Dad. Maybe not even with Sophie. But I am going to get to Rain Man.
It starts to rain. The droplets stream down my face, but they can’t wash away all of the hurt inside me. Despite how tired I am, I keep hiking. I lose myself in the repetition of one foot following the next. Time may not go backward, but it starts to fade with darkness. It gets completely dark. Then the sky lightens. I keep walking. Like I must have walked all night. Walking is the only way this gets better.
• • •
It’s mostly downhill on this part of the trail, and I slip a few times. Panic makes my heart pump faster and I steady myself on a rock. I take a big drink of water and eat a trail bar. I don’t feel like cranking up my stove to make one of the packets, and I’m fairly certain it’s almost out of fuel anyway. I stop to drink and eat, then get back to walking. The sun is almost all the way up and it’s gorgeous. Birds are all around, chattering from high in the trees. I wonder if any of these are the birds Sophie’s mom liked. If it wasn’t for all that’s going on, I know I’d enjoy it a more. A little while later, I come to a big stone with Dicks Creek Gap on it and an arrow pointing north and south.
Without Sophie to navigate, I pull out my trail map to see where I am. I wipe my forehead with the bandanna Sophie wrapped around my hand. I put my finger on the entry for Dicks Creek Gap. Then scan for Sassafras Gap. Sweat pours off me, dripping onto the trail book, wetting the area I need to see. My fingers are muddy and bloody and some of that smears on the page. I seem to be six miles from Sassafras Gap, six miles from where I hope to find Rain Man. I hear voices and back off the trail, hiding behind a big boulder, just like when I first spied on Sophie burying her notes.