by Kay Bratt
Sadie was going to have to summon up all her strength and courage if they were ever to get out of this mess.
“Let’s try the phone,” she said.
She dug in the bag and came out with the phone. After she held down the power button for what felt like an eternity, the screen flashed on for a split second and then went dark.
“It’s dead,” she said, swearing under her breath. “Or still waterlogged.”
She tossed Lauren’s phone back in the bag. As expected, Lauren looked crushed. “It’s ruined, and we’re never going to find our way out of here.”
“Yes, we will, Lauren,” Sadie said, her tone strict. “But we have to think. This time we can’t just go floundering along.”
Lauren shot her a look that said she knew she’d been the cause of the floundering.
Sadie ignored it and looked around, recognizing nothing. Only more trees with scatterings of rocks here and there. She swatted at a particularly plump mosquito feasting on her wrist.
“You have no idea where we might be?” she asked Lauren.
Lauren turned her head slowly, tilting it to one side.
“I really can’t tell, but maybe we’re near Tuolumne Meadows,” she said, her voice sounding tentative.
“See, that’s good. You might be getting your bearings. Do you think we need to keep going this way or turn?”
“I just don’t know, Mom,” Lauren whispered. “Now that I think about it, we couldn’t have gone as far as the meadow. There’s no way we’ve gone ten miles, right? Listen, I feel like I need to close my eyes just for a minute or two. Can I lay down here?”
“No, Lauren,” Sadie said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “I know you’re tired and in pain, but you cannot go to sleep. You may have a concussion. It’s going to get dark soon. We have to find our way back up to Olmsted or to somewhere there are other hikers.”
“But I don’t know which way to go,” Lauren said, sounding frustrated now. “This might come as a revelation, Mom, but running for your life with a bear on your heels tends to make you lose all sense of direction.”
Sadie held her hands up, trying to stop the onslaught of sarcasm. They needed to work together, not against one another. “Okay, okay. Just wait a second. Let’s think.”
Lauren nodded through her ragged breaths, appearing relieved to have Sadie take over.
“Okay.”
“Did you tell anyone we’d be here this afternoon?”
Sadie’s heart sank as Lauren shook her head. “I didn’t even tell Cooper where I was going. He doesn’t even know you’re here.”
Her words were shaky. Filled with alarm. Then she looked hopeful. “Did you text Dad in the car? Tell him we were going to Olmsted Point?”
“No, I didn’t,” Sadie said. “He’s camping, and I didn’t want to bother him.”
At least that was part of the truth. But no matter why she hadn’t told him, the end result was that no one knew where they were. That meant no one would look for them.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, Sadie thought again.
They had another problem too. Sadie had noticed the sun was beginning to disappear, warning them that night was coming. She estimated that it could be close to six o’clock, and if so, they only had a bit over an hour before sunset.
Sadie felt another flash of anger at herself. She knew better—Tom would even tell her that. No one should ever hike without letting someone know where they were. But she couldn’t think of that now. Tom would be methodical. He’d say she couldn’t rewind the day, but she could plan for the night.
Sadie would’ve argued with him. Being in the wilderness after dark wasn’t an option. Were bears nocturnal? She wasn’t even going to ask Lauren. She didn’t want to plant a visual in her daughter’s head of them being stalked through the darkness.
“Come on—let’s keep going this way,” she said. She picked up the backpack she’d laid at Lauren’s feet and got it into place, then leaned down to help Lauren.
Lauren groaned, but she clumsily stood, holding on to Sadie for balance.
“Maybe I should try to walk on it,” she said, looking down at her foot.
“Just try to put a tiny bit of weight on it, and see what happens.”
Gingerly, Lauren extended her foot, letting it touch the ground.
Sadie knew by her immediate wince that the ankle wasn’t ready. They needed to get it wrapped and elevated. She prayed it wasn’t broken.
“Sit back down.” She guided Lauren back onto the log.
Because of the rain, the knot Sadie had tied in her sweater had tightened, keeping it in place even as she’d run for her life. The material was still damp, and Sadie worked at the knot, finally pulling it free.
“What are you doing?” Lauren asked.
“I’m going to wrap your ankle with this.” She took the sweater and stretched it out on the log beside Lauren, spreading the arms straight out. She started at the bottom and rolled it up until it looked like a chunky rope. When finished, she had almost five feet of material to use as a wrap.
She bent in front of Lauren.
“Are you going to try to take my boot off?” Lauren asked, alarm evident across her face.
Sadie shook her head. “Not right now. If we do, it might swell worse. I’m just going to try to keep it stabilized more.”
Starting over the boot, she wrapped the sweater round and round Lauren’s ankle, then tied it securely. When she looked up to see how Lauren was taking it, her daughter’s face was pinched with pain, eyes closed and mouth tight.
“I’m sorry,” Sadie said, patting Lauren’s knee. “Maybe that will help, though.”
She gave her another quick sip of water, noting that now there were only about two inches left in the bottle, then tucked it away and stood. She swallowed, trying to find moisture in her own mouth and failing. She felt the dampness in her shoes, the rain having soaked through them.
She considered yelling out again, but instinct kept her quiet. “All right, Lauren. We need to get moving.”
“I’m not moving until you drink the last of the water,” Lauren said.
Sadie stared down at her. “I’m fine. You are using more effort to get around. I want to save it for you.” She held her arm down to help Lauren up.
Lauren looked away stubbornly.
“Fine, Lauren,” Sadie said. She retrieved the bottle and took the tiniest sip, then screwed the cap back on it.
“All of it, Mom,” Lauren said.
If stubbornness were the color red, Lauren would be blooming like a rose. Sadie opened the water bottle again and held it to Lauren.
“One drink for you, and one for me,” she said.
Lauren took it from her and sipped, then watched Sadie as she finished it.
“Now, let’s go,” Sadie said. She helped Lauren up again and held her arm, waiting until she was steady.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch,” Lauren said, mostly under her breath. However, she was moving, and that was better than nothing.
“You can do this,” Sadie said, encouraging her as she tried to take more of Lauren’s weight.
“Easy for you to say.”
“Yeah, I do say. Remember that time you told me you wanted to quit swim team because you couldn’t get up there and compete? That you only liked the practices because hardly anyone was there to watch?”
Lauren didn’t respond.
“I told you then you could do it—that you would do it—and what did you come away with at your first meet?”
“Second place,” Lauren said sardonically. “I guess it would’ve been first if that bear was behind me doing that breaststroke too.”
Sadie laughed, glad to lighten the moment. She’d made her point, though, because Lauren stopped complaining and kept walking.
“You never missed a practice or a meet,” Lauren said quietly after they’d gone a few feet. “Even when half the other moms didn’t show, I could always find you sitting in the stands.”
“Of c
ourse you could,” Sadie replied. “I had to be some sort of magician, considering how good I was at finding ways to switch my schedule at work to accommodate everything you did.”
“I’m really sorry for what I said back there.”
Lauren’s apology surprised Sadie; then she reminded herself that her daughter was really becoming an adult.
“Don’t think another thing about it,” she said, squeezing Lauren’s middle even as she supported her weight.
They walked on for another half hour or so before they came to a small creek. They stopped and rested.
“Should we cross it?” Lauren said, looking unsure.
They could see the bottom, and it wasn’t deep. Sadie hesitated, wanting to make the right decision but just not sure. They hadn’t crossed a stream on the way in; she knew that. But could it lead to another path or way out?
“It could cut off our scent from the bear,” Lauren said.
“Let’s do it, then.”
Sadie put her arm firmly around Lauren’s waist, and together they stepped into the swirling water. She instantly felt the water rush around her ankles and gush into her shoes, soaking her feet. It was shocking how cold the water was, and she supposed it was winter runoff, making its way down to the bigger streams and waterfalls somewhere.
They stumbled more than once, and Sadie prayed Lauren wouldn’t lose her balance. She had already been having a hard time trying to keep her weight on one foot without the running water and slippery slope they now traversed.
Only inches from the other side, Sadie felt a rock skid out from underneath her foot, causing her to slip. She dropped her hold on Lauren and tried to regain her balance, her arms out as though she were surfing.
“Mom!” Lauren called out, instinctively leaning forward to help.
She grabbed on to Sadie’s waistband, stabilizing them both.
Sadie was dizzy with adrenalin, sure she’d missed a body slam and dunking by only a fraction of an inch.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, then got back into position as the one doing the supporting. Together they hobbled to the bank and climbed out.
“That was close,” Lauren said.
“Are your feet wet in those boots?” Sadie asked, looking down to see how much damage was done. Her own shoes were a mess and her feet bitter cold.
“Not yet,” Lauren said.
“Let’s keep moving, then.”
They let the conversation end, choosing instead to concentrate on weaving between the trees and over obstacles. Sadie listened intently as they went, and she studied the ground, trying to make out a trail under the rain-soaked leaves and brush. But if there was a trail there, it was completely invisible to the human eye. With no evident path and no sign of other hikers, she felt a sense of doom.
About an hour later, they sat on the ground, leaning against the trunk of the tree, Sadie’s eyes on Lauren, her outline shadowy in the dim light. Sadie hadn’t said anything, but she was glad to rest. She could feel blisters rubbing raw on the backs of her heels. The damp socks and shoes had made a mess of her skin. The blisters hurt, but that was the least of her problems.
They were truly in a fix now. The afternoon had given way to early evening, and that made Sadie very afraid. The menacing clouds had moved on, which was one positive, but the two of them were out of water and isolated in the middle of a national park with absolutely no idea where they were. Their clothes were still damp and their shoes wet, and the temperature was dropping fast.
Despite their crossing the stream, a bear could be right behind them. Maybe even a mountain lion.
Not to mention the mosquitos, which were eating them alive. What did mosquitos eat when there were no humans around? Were she and Lauren really that fragrant? That tasty? What about them attracted the droves of bloodsuckers? It wasn’t like they were sweating—the evening air had chilled, and if anything, Sadie was fighting goose bumps.
She thought of something and struggled out of the backpack straps, setting the bag on her lap and unzipping it.
“Lauren, what all do you have in here? Is there anything that would attract the bear to keep following us?”
“Crackers,” Lauren said, panic entering her voice again. “I forgot about the crackers.”
“We have to get rid of them.” Sadie turned the bag upside down, dumping the contents onto the ground between her and Lauren. First thing she saw was a crumpled juice box, the skinny straw protruding from it at a bent angle. She shook it.
Empty.
She spotted a paperback book titled The Yosemite with a photograph of one of the giant granite walls gracing the cover. Under it was a journal-like notebook with a pen shoved into the spiral that held the pages. The phone was there—a useless piece of metal at this point—and a half-eaten baggie of granola glittered in the light. She found the open pack of crackers and set it aside. The bag of pot was there, too, but she chose to pretend it didn’t exist.
“What’s this?” she asked, picking up a small zippered canvas bag.
“That’s a botany dissection kit. Cooper and I use it when we go on hikes.”
Sadie set it aside without looking in it. She didn’t know what a botany kit was, but she was only concerned with anything edible.
Lauren sifted through the contents, first finding a cherry-flavored ChapStick and handing it to Sadie, then picked up the pack of crackers.
“What do we do with these?” she said.
Sadie hesitated, rolling the lip balm in her fingers. In every lost-in-the-wilderness story she’d ever heard, the ones who survived were the ones who rationed the food they had. But had those survivors also had a bear on their trail?
And she and Lauren were not going to be there long. They would find their way out at first light. They needed to keep the wild animals away, and that meant ridding themselves of anything that could attract them.
“I say we eat them now,” she finally said. “And we toss this.” She flung the lip balm as far as she could in the opposite direction from where they had come.
Lauren didn’t waste any time. She handed two of the crackers to Sadie, then bit into one of the two she still held.
Sadie offered one back. “You eat three. I only need one.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mom. We split them. You’ve been straining yourself under my weight, so I know you have to be exhausted. You need to keep up your strength.”
What strength? Sadie wanted to say, but it was a mom’s job to think of her child first, even if that child was now an adult. She listened in the dark for a moment, imagining the bear just beyond them, watching and waiting. Then she ate half of a cracker in one bite.
It tasted delicious. She moved the crumbs around her mouth, chewing slowly as her senses enveloped the sensation. Her stomach growled loudly, begging for more. Sadie swallowed and took another bite, smaller this time.
“Eat it slowly, Lauren,” she said. “It might take us a few hours to walk out of here in the morning.”
“We should’ve drank from the stream,” Lauren said.
They were too far from it to go back now, though Sadie couldn’t help silently agreeing with her on that one.
She heard a rustle in brush next to them. “What was that?”
Lauren turned, then jumped when she saw some sort of creature waddle out and sit upright, tilting its head at them. “Be still,” she whispered excitedly. “It’s a marmot.”
“A what?” Sadie hadn’t moved, and she held the cracker in midair, inches from her mouth.
“It’s a yellow-bellied marmot, just one of the many species of rodents here. If we scare him, he’ll whistle to warn his family.”
“Then by all means, scare him,” Sadie said. “I don’t want a rodent family reunion lining up to share our food.”
“If he whistles, they’ll all come running. He won’t hurt us. He’s just curious.” Lauren let out a quiet laugh as the creature returned to all fours and scurried back into the brush. “That was awesome.”
“If you s
ay so,” Sadie said. The chubby, furry creature hadn’t quite looked like a rat, but if Lauren said it was a rodent, then that was close enough. The only upside to this was that Lauren had momentarily forgotten their dire circumstances.
She noticed that Lauren’s crackers were gone.
“Here, I really can’t eat this,” she lied, putting the other cracker in Lauren’s hand. “My stomach is cramping.”
“Then you need to put something in it,” Lauren said.
“Well, I’m not going to, so one of us needs to get rid of it.” Her tone was final, and she was relieved to hear the sound of a crunch as her daughter chewed the cracker.
They ate the granola, too, passing the bag back and forth. Sadie only took a morsel at a time, making sure Lauren got the bulk of it. When it was gone, she put a few pebbles in the baggie and then tossed it as far as she could, feeling guilty that she was littering. But seeing how there wasn’t a trash bin in sight, what did the rangers expect them to do?
Oh, probably stay on the designated trails, she mused.
“We need to bury that, Mom,” Lauren said.
Sadie turned back to Lauren, raising her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
Lauren nodded, and Sadie got up and retrieved the bag. To prevent another argument, she quickly dug an inch or so into the soil and pushed the baggie into it, then covered it.
“Happy?” she asked, though secretly she was pleased that Lauren cared so much about the environment.
“I’m so thirsty,” Lauren replied.
“I am too. Try not to think about it.” Sadie sighed, knowing not thinking about it was next to impossible when you were really thirsty. Her eyes lingered on the pile of stuff, then fell on the empty juice box. “Wait a minute.”
She tucked the straw into her back pocket and took the box, unfolding the top, tearing it open until she could peer into the box.
“What are you doing?” Lauren asked.
“There’s fresh rainwater all around us,” Sadie said. She considered the runoff of rain under their feet in places, but something told her it wasn’t a good idea. “We just have to collect it from a safe source.”
She stood and began looking through the trees, scrutinizing the leaves. It was hard to find in the dwindling light, but finally, she found one that was big enough and in the right position to cradle a tiny puddle of water. She took out the straw and held it to the leaf, sucking at the droplets. It was enough to wet her mouth but not much more.