Distress Signal

by Mary E. Lambert

  John snorted. “And maybe the Phoenix Suns will win the NBA Finals.”

  “Since when did you learn Morse code?” Marisol asked Lavender, ignoring John.

  “I don’t actually know it other than SOS, because it’s so famous.” She turned back to John. “Here, give me the light. I’ll show you.”

  “What’s the point?” John said. “We’re never getting off this mountain anyway.”

  Even though Lavender had been feeling the same way, hearing someone else say it out loud made her realize that she wasn’t ready to give up.

  “You can do whatever you want,” Lavender said. “But I’m making a fire. If we’re lucky, someone will see it and come investigate. If we’re unlucky, at least we won’t freeze as we die. Now give me your lighter.”

  “Get the lighter yourself,” he said. “You know where my backpack is.”

  “I will,” she said to John. Then she turned to Marisol. “Do you want to clear a space for the fire while I get the lighter?”

  Marisol nodded and went to work while Lavender opened John’s backpack, wishing it was a magical Mary Poppins bag. She imagined reaching inside to find a hot meal, a working radio, sleeping bags and coats for everyone, and gallons of water.

  Instead, the first thing she saw was an empty water bottle. Then his jacket. Then maps, three of them, including one of Mexico, and also a Greyhound bus schedule. She shook her head. Surely, he’d had his fill of being on his own and had changed his mind about running away by now. If they got back—no, when they got back—she would help him come up with a better solution to his family problems than running away. There was nothing else in the main compartment. The lighter must have been in the front pocket of the bag.

  Lavender unzipped it and immediately spotted the lighter. She took it out, but next to the lighter, she saw something unexpected. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

  “Not the front pocket.” John had suddenly sat up as if he’d realized something. He was yelling even though he was only a few feet away. “I’ll get it. Don’t look in the front pocket.”

  He was too late.

  Lavender had already pulled out the crumpled envelope full of cash. She recognized the handwriting on that envelope. It was their teacher’s, and it was clearly marked $ for our telescope!

  It took a moment for Lavender to understand what she held in her hand. At first, it simply would not compute. She could read the words on the envelope. She could feel the wad of cash inside. Logically, Lavender knew there was only one reasonable explanation. But she could not make herself understand it. She didn’t want to.

  $ for our telescope!

  This was the cash that had gone missing after the bake sale.

  $ for our telescope!

  John had the money.

  $ for our telescope!

  John was the thief. She didn’t want to believe it. Only a handful of seconds had ticked by since she’d discovered the money, but it felt like hours. She felt betrayed. Lavender had trusted John. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized that, somewhere in the wilderness, she had really, truly started to think of him as a friend.

  He’d left the safety of the class to help her get Rachelle and Marisol. He’d stayed calm when it felt like everything else was crashing down around them. He’d magically provided solutions: a flashlight, a sweatshirt, a pocketknife, a lighter. He’d gotten the splinter out of her hand. He’d shared the last of his water. And he’d confided in her, told her about the problems at home. Lavender had thought that he trusted her as much as she trusted him.

  As all this raced through Lavender’s mind, John finally put down his flashlight and sprinted over. When he saw what was in her hand, he came to a complete stop, his face ashen.

  “I can ex—” he started to say.

  But Lavender didn’t want to hear any of it.

  “No, don’t. Just don’t. I’m just going to—”

  Lavender was going to shove the envelope back to the bottom of his bag and forget about it. Maybe forever. Maybe just until they got home. If they ever got home … She only knew one thing for certain: It wouldn’t do anyone any good to talk about it now. They had other, bigger problems to solve. Like staying alive.

  Before she could make it disappear, she heard footsteps behind her. If possible, John’s eyes grew even wider. And then the envelope was snatched out of her hand.

  Lavender whirled around. What she saw was even more terrifying than an angry bear. Rachelle stood there, leaves and sticks stuck in her hopelessly tangled curls. Fresh dirt was smudged along one cheek. Her eyes were red and puffy, but there were no tear tracks running down her face.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  Lavender did not answer. She was pretty confident that—having read the envelope—Rachelle knew exactly what it was.

  “It’s—it’s—” John tried to answer.

  “I know what it is!” Rachelle said, her voice shrill. “The real question is how did it get here?”

  From the corner of her eye, Lavender could see Marisol inching closer.

  “I …” John trailed off. He was having trouble forming words.

  “What’s going on?” Marisol asked, her voice quiet and even.

  “We’re gonna die! We’re lost and stranded and we’re going to die with these—with these jerks!” Rachelle stormed over to Marisol and waved the envelope in front of her face.

  John stared at the ground, unable to make eye contact. His shoulders were slumped. Lavender thought that she had never seen someone look so defeated and beaten down.

  “He took the money our class raised for the telescope! He’s a thief.”

  “Rachelle,” Marisol said. “Calm down.”

  Lavender held a hand up to her temple. Her headache was coming back.

  “You want me to calm down? I said we’re going to die if you haven’t noticed.”

  “Well, this isn’t helping,” Lavender said. She tried to copy Marisol’s rational tone, but the words came out sounding sarcastic.

  “This is just great!” Rachelle threw her hands in the air. The envelope flew out of them, showering cash everywhere. The ones, fives, and tens rained down on the foursome, and a little breeze blew the money in different directions, scattering the paper across the stone. No one moved to pick it up. “I can’t believe I’m going to die with the two of you.” She pointed at John. “A thief!” She pointed at Lavender. “And a liar!”

  “Don’t call Lavender names,” said Marisol. “It’s not her fault John messed up.”

  Those were the words Lavender had been desperate to hear. Ever since the concert, she’d wondered if she’d lost her best friend forever. Now, at the absolute lowest and worst possible time, Marisol was finally defending her. When Lavender didn’t deserve it at all. Her chest felt like it was cracking in two. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. Lavender knew she’d made a mistake. A big one. Possibly beyond repair.

  “I’m not talking about the money,” said Rachelle.

  “Let’s just all get some wood and start the fire,” Lavender said, desperate to change the subject. “It’s getting cold.”

  “You don’t even know,” Rachelle said to Marisol. “You still think she’s your friend.”

  “And water,” said Lavender, holding out her hands toward Rachelle, begging her to drop the subject. “We should try to come up with a plan to find water.”

  Rachelle ignored Lavender’s plea.

  “It’s Lavender’s fault we’re stuck out here. It’s her fault we’re lost.”

  “No, it’s not,” Marisol said. “She saved us, and you know it. Lavender and John, they saved us from the flood.”

  “We never would have been separated from the rest of the group if Lavender hadn’t lied.”

  “About what?” Marisol wanted to know.

  “Ask her.”

  Marisol turned to Lavender, and there was a question on Marisol’s face. More than anything, Lavender wanted to deny what Rachelle said, but
she couldn’t. It would only make everything worse if she lied again, if she lied about this.

  “What is she talking about?” asked Marisol.

  “I didn’t know there was going to be a flash flood.” Lavender looked down, trying to find the right words to explain. “I never would have—”

  “Tell her,” Rachelle interrupted. “Tell her how you wanted to get back at me because you were jealous that Marisol had another friend. You’re too selfish to let Marisol be friends with anyone else. So you tried to make us look like a couple of losers, hiding when no one was looking for us.”

  “You did what?” Marisol asked.

  “It was so stupid. It was just supposed to be a prank,” Lavender said.

  “There wasn’t really a game of sardines?”

  Slowly, Lavender shook her head.

  Marisol took a step back.

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” said Lavender. Her head felt like a vise was tightening around it. She tried to ignore the pain.

  Marisol said, “I thought it was all my fault that we were stranded out here. Rachelle and I were so far away from the rest of the group because of where I wanted to hide, but you—you—” She took another step away. Lavender reached out a hand to stop her. Marisol flinched. “Don’t. I just need a few minutes.”

  “Wait,” said Lavender. “Let me explain.”

  “Not now. I can’t even look at you.” And Marisol darted off toward the bushes where John had been digging for water. Lavender started to go after her. She would explain. Marisol would listen. She had to.

  Rachelle stepped in front of Lavender. “Leave her alone.”

  “Get out of my way,” said Lavender.

  “Just leave us alone,” Rachelle said.

  “No, I really want to explain.” Lavender didn’t know how, but she had to make things right.

  Rachelle shook her head, and then she said, “If you really want to help, why don’t you build that fire and then … I don’t know, pray that we get rescued, because otherwise we’re all goners.”

  Lavender stayed rooted in place and watched Rachelle follow after Marisol. She wanted to cry, but that would take entirely too much energy and would probably only make her headache worse. Instead, she started slowly picking up the dollar bills that were scattered all over the mountaintop. She wondered how they would taste. A kid in her fourth-grade class used to eat paper sometimes, but Lavender didn’t think it could have much nutritional value. It would probably just make her sick. Maybe she could use them for kindling if they were having trouble starting the fire.

  When she’d gathered up the money, she looked at the bills again. She’d never held so much cash in her life. It wouldn’t do her any good now. At home, Lavender could have bought enough food and water for three weeks. Out here, money was absolutely useless. In the wilderness, it didn’t matter how much money you had—or didn’t have—everyone was equal. They were all just fighting to stay alive.

  Lavender shoved the cash in her back pocket.

  The breeze picked up, and a shiver ran down Lavender’s spine. With every second, the sun sank lower and the temperature dropped. It was only as she walked over to the fire ring, lighter in hand, that she realized she was truly alone. John was gone.

  “John!” she called. Her voice echoed off the stone, but there was no reply.

  Lavender cupped her hands to make her voice go farther.

  “John!” she called again.

  Still no answer.

  She ran back and forth around the mountaintop, shouting his name in every direction without any success. Even the short distance left her exhausted and panting for breath. Lavender could hardly think straight.

  John couldn’t have gone that far … He could probably hear her but was just too stubborn or too upset by all the fighting to answer back.

  Lavender trudged in a circle around the perimeter of the mountain, looking for a clue. There had to be something to tell her which way he’d gone. On the steepest side of the mountain, where there were boulders piled up like children’s blocks, she could see imprints in the dirt from all their feet. No wonder they were so drained. They had to have come up the mountain by the most difficult route possible.

  Lavender didn’t think John would have tried to climb down that way. She kept looking, and on the far side of the peak, she found a few footprints in the dust. He was walking east.

  She didn’t know why, and she didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish, but the footprints in the dirt had to be his. Holding her head in her hands, Lavender walked a few yards, calling his name, and scanning the area. If only she could focus. If only she’d brought her binoculars or something. She found no trace of him other than the fuzzy outline of his sneakers’ soles.

  “John!’ ”

  She tried calling his name a few more times. Lavender was as irritated as she was exhausted. They didn’t have the time or energy to go stumbling after John, but she also knew in her heart that it was wrong to split up. If they were going to find a way to survive, they had to work together, and they had to find John.

  She jogged back to camp as quickly as she could, which wasn’t very quick at all.

  “Rachelle! Marisol!” she called out. “Get out here. We have to go!”

  There was a rustle, and Rachelle emerged from the shrubs. “What do you want?” she said.

  “Hurry up! We have to keep going.”

  “What? Why?” asked Rachelle. “Is there a bear?”

  “We have to catch up with John if we’re going to find him before dark.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “John. He left. Ran off. We have to catch up with him.”

  Rachelle rolled her swollen red eyes. “I thought there was an emergency.”

  “This is an emergency. We have to stop him from going off on his own. Before he gets attacked by animals or—or—”

  “If you want to find him, go for it.”

  “We have to stick together,” Lavender said slowly and clearly. “What happened to leave no man behind?”

  “He left us. It’s different.”

  “But we all need each other. We’ve helped each other so many times.”

  Rachelle snorted. “Last time I checked, we’re still stranded in the middle of nowhere without any water. So I don’t think we’ve actually helped each other all that much.”

  Rachelle trounced back into the bushes. Lavender took a few steps after her. She would drag Rachelle and Marisol out of there if it killed her—or them—but then Lavender hesitated. She didn’t want to hurt Marisol. Not again.

  For a moment, the mountaintop was perfectly quiet, perfectly still. There was only silence. Lavender looked off into the distance. The world was beautiful. Dramatic gray-blue skies stretched endlessly into purple mountains. She could see trees and mountains and the “Wonderland of Rocks” stretching in their endless columns, making this one of most the incredible sights that Lavender had ever encountered.

  But she could also see the sun low on the western horizon, and she could feel the chill in the air as a breeze picked up again, reminding her of nightfall, when temperatures would plummet and they were exposed on a mountain with no shelter.

  She couldn’t leave John to face the night alone, and there wasn’t any more time to argue with Rachelle or to try and coax Marisol out of hiding. Every minute she hesitated was a minute farther that John could get. Lavender had to catch up with him and talk him into returning. He had voluntarily helped her when the flash flood came, and now it was her turn to help him … when he really needed it.

  She wished she could leave a note. Lavender would have liked to give Marisol and Rachelle details: which direction she was going and when she’d be back and how long they should wait before coming after her. But since she had no real answers and nothing to write with, she settled for cupping her hands and shouting in their direction.

  “I’m going to get John. Be right back!”

  Lavender waited, hoping for a reply. When none
came, she walked east and started following the footprints that led away from camp. She went slowly, because she didn’t have the energy to go fast, and also because a little part of her was hoping that Marisol and Rachelle would run after her.

  She did hear some scuffling, and then loud voices. But no one called for her. Lavender continued a few more steps in the direction of John’s footsteps. They were harder to trace than she’d thought they would be—unclear in the dirt and patchy. It didn’t help that her muscles ached and her head throbbed.

  Lavender wished that she’d been trained how to track animals. She had seen television shows where expert hunters or survivalists knew how to identify animals by their prints and then follow them. Lavender knelt by one series of footprints on the dusty mountain peak and tried to read the story there.

  This particular patch of ground zigzagged with sneakers that seemed to be facing toward camp and other prints that looked headed in the exact opposite direction. To her, it looked like John had almost turned around.

  If she was right, he was having doubts. Maybe John had run off because, like Marisol, he needed a few minutes alone. He was exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and upset. He was clearly not in his right frame of mind. None of them were. If he was unsure … if he didn’t actually want to be separated … she should be able to catch up with him. She stood and started to walk after him.

  “John!” she shouted. “John, come back!”

  There was no reply.

  She tried again. “John! Answer me!”

  This time, Lavender did hear a returning cry. Her call was followed by a shrill, piercing shriek, but it wasn’t John. It was Marisol.

  Lavender spun around and sprinted back to the mountaintop, past the pile of firewood, past the stone fire ring, and then into the shrubs where Marisol and Rachelle had disappeared.