From the Woods

by Charlotte Greene

  Carol nodded. She seemed small, shrunken somehow, that strong, muscular goddess from the brewery all those months ago diminished by her pain. Most of this was an illusion brought on by Carol’s uncharacteristic vulnerability, but it gave Fiona a sick, cold, sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. If a woman like this could be brought so low, what did it mean for the rest of them?

  “I wish we could elevate that leg more,” Roz said, shaking her head. “I don’t like that it’s below the rest of you like that.”

  No one responded. A litter would allow her leg to be higher than the rest of her, but that simply wasn’t possible until they made some miles. Maybe on the last stretch of the trail, when they could leave some more of their things, like the tents and sleeping bags, they could switch to a litter. For now, this was the only option.

  “We’ll take lots of breaks,” Roz finally said, as if trying to talk herself into this plan.

  “How long do you think it will take to get back?” Jill asked.

  “There’s no way to know right now. I can estimate when we stop for the day, based on how far we make it. I’m hoping for at least ten miles today. If we can do more, then we might make it by tomorrow evening if we start early enough in the morning. But that’s the best-case scenario. If I had to guess, we’ll do maybe eight to ten today, fifteen at most tomorrow, which would leave the rest for Wednesday morning.”

  Again, no one replied. Some part of her knew it would take longer than the best-case scenario, and she was pretty sure the others did, too. They’d practiced with the travois here in camp, where the ground was flat and relatively clear of debris, but the trail wasn’t like that. It would be hard going most of the way. No one had even mentioned the rock scramble. Already, the sun was nearly overhead—close to noon, if Fiona was reading it correctly. They’d be lucky to make much distance at all before they’d have to stop.

  Roz insisted on the first shift with the travois, and the three of them helped lower it onto her shoulders. She grimaced as the weight of it hit her, and initially she had to plant her feet wide apart to hold it. Fiona helped move the fleece blanket around on her shoulders until the folds were smoothed out, and Roz finally let out a little breath of relief.

  “It’s okay now. Let’s get going. I’ll have to lead, whether I’m doing this or carrying a backpack.”

  They waited as Roz started forward, back the way they’d come. Sarah fell in line behind her, then Jill, with Fiona taking the rear. She was certain she’d spend the whole day back here, regardless of who was carrying the travois. She couldn’t offer anything beyond carrying the heavier pack.

  Things fell apart almost at once. The pace was excruciatingly slow. Even with Sarah, Jill, and Fiona helping Roz navigate over some of the larger stones and branches, either pushing or pulling parts of the travois to help, they couldn’t move more quickly. The density of the forest slowed every step. Now and then, they would hit a surprisingly clear, wide passage, only to be blocked by two or more trees that grew too closely together. This meant backing up a few feet and then looking for a clearer way around. Fiona spent most of this time simply watching the others struggle, frustration with herself and the situation growing into something like anger as more time passed.

  “I need a break,” Roz finally said. This was after a tortuously slow maneuver around a grove of aspens. On their path around, they had encountered mud and boulders and thick, twisted bushes. Ten or fifteen minutes had passed, and they’d made it perhaps that many feet.

  Sarah and Jill immediately leapt forward, lifting the travois off Roz’s shoulders and swinging it to lean against a tree. Roz was breathing heavily, sweat streaming down her scarlet face. Fiona glanced behind them and was certain she could see something metal gleaming in the woods—something they’d left behind in the camp. It had been nearly an hour, and she could probably walk back in less than five minutes.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Carol said from the travois. “It’s taking too long.”

  Jill and Sarah immediately started to reassure her, but Fiona noticed that Roz didn’t comment. She’d been the one doing the work, and her silence was telling. Fiona had been thinking the same thing. Roz made eye contact with her, and Fiona nodded slightly. She got it.

  “Carol’s right,” Roz said, loud enough that the others stopped speaking.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sarah demanded.

  Roz took a deep breath, sighing. “It means exactly that. This is not the way to do this. It seemed like a good idea, but it isn’t working. Better to stop now than waste any more time.”

  “How can you say that? We’ve barely started.”

  Roz shook her head. “I’m telling you—it’s not working.”

  “So what are we supposed to do now?” Jill asked.

  “What you should have done to begin with,” Carol said. “Leave me here and go get help.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Sarah said, her voice so low and dark she was barely audible. “No one is staying here. Especially you.”

  Carol stared up at her wife. Leaned against the tree this way, her seat was hardly off the ground. She still looked small, vulnerable, and yet, Fiona saw, her expression was relaxed, determined, as if she no longer doubted something. Her fear had gone.

  Carol’s face hardened with determination. “Could you guys give me and my wife a few minutes? We need to talk.”

  “We’re not leaving you here,” Jill said.

  “Jill, please.” Carol spoke without pleading, without any inflection at all. She expected Jill to listen.

  “Come on,” Fiona said, grabbing Jill’s hand. She glanced at Roz, and the three of them walked back toward last night’s camp, stopping when they could no longer hear the others, some fifty yards away. Neither Sarah nor Carol had raised her voice yet. They seemed calm, but Fiona expected an argument was on the way.

  Fiona slipped the heavy pack off her back and leaned it upright against a tree next to Jill’s. Jill was staring back at the others, her arms clenched across her chest, clearly upset. Fiona approached, making Jill spin around, her face a mask of pure rage.

  “How can you go along with this?” Jill asked.

  “With what?”

  “With whatever cocked-up idea this woman has for us?”

  “This woman,” Fiona said, pointing at Roz, “is the only reason we’re alive right now.”

  Jill made a face. “How on earth do you believe that?”

  “Gee, let me think,” Fiona said, becoming angry now despite herself. She started counting off on her fingers. “For one thing, the guys are gone—probably abducted or worse. When did that happen? When she wasn’t there to protect them. Two, she knew what to do with Carol—”

  “Oh, don’t give me that shit. She was ready to leave her behind before, and now she has an excuse.”

  “Three,” Fiona said, as if she hadn’t been cut off, “she’s the only fucking person with any ideas here and the only person who knows how to get us out of here. You tell me, Jill. Do you honestly think we’re getting anywhere today with Carol in that thing? Maybe we’ll make it what, two, three miles before dark? How can that make any sense? We’ll starve to death before we get anywhere.”

  “Why are you siding with her?” Jill was almost screaming now, her face inches away. “Just because you have a thing for her—”

  Fiona pushed her, hard, and Jill reeled back, barely catching herself from a fall. When she’d caught her balance, she looked shocked, her eyes brimming with tears.

  Roz had stayed silent throughout this exchange, standing a few feet away. She moved forward now, between them.

  “Stop this right now, both of you,” she said. Her voice was even, calm, but with a hint of dark anger. “Fighting each other won’t do anything. You’re wasting time. All we did yesterday was fight, and see where it got us.”

  Jill still had that startled, hurt expression, but she’d dropped her hands to her side. Her cheeks were red and splotchy with emotio
n. She seemed frightened now, rather than angry, but Fiona didn’t feel in the least bit bad for what she’d done. Still, she kept her mouth closed rather than goad her.

  “Jill—face the facts,” Roz said. “There is no fucking way we’re getting Carol home in that thing. I’m the strongest person here, and I know my limits. It’s not going to happen. We have to go back to the original plan. Two of us will go for help, and the others will wait here.”

  Jill stood up straighter, her face hardening again. “Well, I don’t give a shit what you think. I’m not leaving my friend out here, no matter what.”

  Fiona didn’t understand why this had become so important to Jill. A couple of hours ago, before she’d found the bandanas, Jill had been keen to leave everyone else behind, including Carol. Fiona wanted to believe that this was some newly discovered altruism on her part, some new determination to help her friend at all costs, but that wasn’t Jill. Fiona didn’t think her attitude had much to do with self-sacrifice at all, regardless of what she’d said earlier. No—Jill was being stubborn. She’d gotten something into her head, and she wouldn’t back down.

  “Jill, come on,” Fiona said.

  Jill held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, so shut the hell up. You just pushed me. You have no say in anything of this, as far as I’m concerned.” She shook her head. “How could you be so selfish?”

  “Me?”

  Jill shook her head again and stormed off, back toward Carol and Sarah. Fiona took a step forward to follow her, but Roz stopped her with a light hand on her arm. She shook her head.

  “I wouldn’t.”

  Fiona sighed and nodded. “Yeah—I know. But she’s being a complete dick. I’m sorry about what she said earlier. And I meant what I said. You’re the only one here that has any good ideas.”

  “Seems like Carol knows that, too.”

  “But how do we convince the others?”

  “Maybe she will. Obviously, I don’t think she should stay here on her own, but I can’t imagine anyone except her going along with that possibility, anyway. Sarah will stay with her. She was right earlier, too. Another person needs to be here with them in case I don’t come back.”

  Fiona sighed. “That means me, I guess.”

  Roz shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not with Jill feeling like she does now. And I know it’s not fair, I know she feels bad about everything yesterday, but I don’t trust her to have my back, not after what’s happened. We need to get everyone back to camp, and then you and I will leave. We’ll use the daypacks and move quickly. We won’t make it back to the road tonight, not unless we hike in the dark, but we could make it by tomorrow afternoon.”

  Fiona was pleasantly surprised. She’d convinced herself she was staying behind and was more than pleased that she wasn’t. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way, that she was, at best, being selfish, at worst cowardly, but she couldn’t help it.

  Trying to hide her shameful joy, she said, “Okay. Let’s go talk to them.” She turned to do that, but Roz grabbed her hand again, holding it this time rather than letting go.

  “Before we do, I wanted to say thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For standing up for me like that. For saying all those things about me to Jill. I almost believed you myself.”

  “I meant it. I think Jill knows it, too. She’s just being stubborn.”

  “Well, thanks anyway. I’ve been doubting myself a lot the last twenty-four hours. I’m glad to know at least one person has some confidence in me.”

  Despite everything, Fiona’s face heated with embarrassed happiness. Their hands were still locked, and Roz’s eyes were set on hers, so she must have seen her reaction, but she didn’t say anything about the blush.

  “I do,” Fiona said. “Have confidence in you, I mean. I trust you.”

  Roz nodded, her expression serious. “Good. You should. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Unlike when Jill had said something like this, Fiona believed her, and her relief was so overwhelming, she felt as if she might cry. Before she could say anything in response, Roz had let go of her hand and started walking toward the others. Fiona ran forward to catch up.

  Chapter Eleven

  As far as Fiona could tell, it was early afternoon. She sat with her feet in the stream, the alpine water so frigid they’d long gone numb. Here in this cove, the water was diverted into two streams around a large boulder, roiling, nearly river-strength on the far side, calm and pooling here in a small eddy, almost peaceful. The water was crystalline, enough current keeping the mud and debris from gathering in this little pool. She could see minnows darting around, magnified with the refracted water.

  They’d made it back to camp perhaps an hour ago. Getting back had been a little faster than going the other way. The travois had made tracks in some parts of the trail that made it easier to drag back. Everyone remembered the parts they needed to avoid, so that saved them even more time. What had taken perhaps an hour in one direction was reduced to maybe half of that. Fifty feet from camp, they’d abandoned the travois, and Sarah and Jill had simply carried Carol back to her old seat on a log in the center of camp. Tense, no one spoke, probably all afraid they’d start fighting again. As Jill and Sarah set up the tents again, unpacking what had taken an hour to pack, Roz excused herself to plan for their journey.

  To get away from them all, Fiona decided she would fetch some water to leave for the others and top off the bladders she and Roz would carry in their daypacks. She’d filtered water into the Nalgene bottles and bladders and then managed a quick, cold shower-like bath by kneeling in the little pool here and splashing water onto the back of her neck and arms. She was careful to keep it off the cut on her face. The last thing she needed was giardia on top of everything else.

  Now she sat, almost cold despite the heat, still slightly damp. She didn’t know exactly how long she’d been gone, but the others knew where she was, and no one had come looking for her yet. Carrying the empty and near-empty water bottles and bladders had been easy enough, but she could never bring them all back to camp on her own, not in one trip anyway. She didn’t know if she wanted help or if she was just lonely. She felt sick about Jill, her words and the push, but she wasn’t exactly sorry, either. She regretted that it had come to that, necessary as it had been. She also didn’t expect an apology, and she wouldn’t offer one herself, but she didn’t want things to end like this between them before she and Roz left. Letting this fight hang between them might mean the end of their friendship altogether.

  Part of her, a dark part, wondered if perhaps that wasn’t a good thing. Jill was a bully—everyone knew that, even Roz, who’d just met her. Some of Fiona’s other friends had long ago made it clear they wouldn’t see her if Jill was going to be there. Fiona nearly disappeared in the shadow of Jill’s personality. She was more herself when Jill wasn’t around. What made her so reluctant to drop her? Right now, it was hard to remember anything good about their friendship.

  She heard footsteps long before someone spoke.

  “That looks nice,” Sarah said.

  Fiona turned to her, smiling. “It is. You should try it.”

  “Maybe later. I need to get back. I came to see if you need any help.”

  Fiona sighed and nodded. “Yes, thanks. They’ll fit in the backpack, but it would be too heavy to carry them all at once.”

  Sarah started stuffing the water bottles into the backpack as Fiona dried her feet and put her boots back on. It would be foolish to start hiking until her skin was completely dry—that was a recipe for blisters. Still, she didn’t regret the little dip in the water. She felt better, more awake now. Some of her anxious jitters had dissolved during this long, solitary break, replaced by something like certainty, reassurance. She had a clear task to accomplish, and all she could do was try to finish it.

  “I can carry this much,” Sarah said, hoisting the backpack. “Can you bring the rest by hand?”

 
“Sure. Thanks again.”

  “Don’t stay here too long. Roz was almost ready to leave when I headed this way.”

  “All right. I’ll come back with you.”

  If Sarah heard Fiona’s reluctance, she didn’t say anything about it. Fiona was grateful for her tact. Clearly the fight was between her and Jill, no one else. Everyone but Jill seemed to have accepted the situation, but even that wouldn’t convince Jill that she’d been wrong. Jill rarely came to a decision through any influence beyond her own.

  They’d forged a new trail to the stream yesterday to avoid the traps, but their progress was still slow as they fought their way through the undergrowth here. It took almost ten minutes to reach camp again, and by the time they got there, Fiona’s dip in the water was long forgotten. She was sweating heavily, and her damp feet were chafing inside her boots.

  Jill was conspicuously absent. Whether she was hiding in her tent or somewhere else, Fiona tried not to care. They would either hash this out now, or it would fester between them until they were safe again, if not forever. If Jill was too much of a coward to address this situation now, Fiona was almost convinced that she was better off without her.

  She sat down on one of the logs near Carol and took off her boots again, letting her feet air-dry. They were still soft and wrinkled from their time in the water, and she needed them as near to normal as possible before she started hiking again. She blotted at them with a little camp towel, the pink skin supersensitive.

  Roz was leaning over the map, her back to them, two little daypacks on the ground near her feet. Finally, as if satisfied with something, she turned around, smiling at Fiona.

  “You’re back,” she said, walking closer. She set the daypacks down on the ground, leaning one on Fiona’s makeshift seat.

  “Yep.”

  “You ready?”

  Fiona peered down at her feet. “Give me five more minutes.”

  “That’s fine. I want to talk to the others first, anyway.”