by Angela Scott
I’d never felt more terrified.
But when I’d finished the last verse of the song, I swallowed back the emotions that threatened to overcome me and sang the song all over again.
Chapter 16
Callie’s incessant cries and sharp claws on the tender skin of my arm jolted me awake. My eyes flew open. I jerked forward, instantly regretting that instinctive move. My broken ribs stole my breath. For a moment, I thought one of them had stabbed through something darn important inside my body because the pain — oh, the pain — was incredible.
Small breaths. Small breaths. I tried to calm myself.
Slowly my breathing returned to normal. With it came the realization I had fallen asleep some time during the night and that I no longer held Marco’s hand.
Marco.
I didn’t have to look. I didn’t.
I knew.
I could feel the heaviness of the air encircling me, like a thick wall pressing at me from all sides. The aloneness of the silent fallen trees, the grayness of the sky that implied a sunless day to come, the small wisps of smoke that swirled upward, disappearing only a few feet above the smoldering ashes of the once mighty bon fire, it all hinted he was gone.
I didn’t need to look to know, but I looked anyway.
Because I had experienced so much horrific death since the world collapsed, I expected Marco’s death to look the same — terrible, frightening, and awful.
Only, it didn’t.
His eyes opened wide in a sense of awe, staring above the tree branches at something apparently marvelous in his last moments. Peacefulness coated his features. Softness lined his slightly parted lips. A partial smile turned the corners of his mouth upward. His eyes held no terror or fear. Nothing at all like the bodies I’d come across before.
I couldn’t help but turn my gaze in the same direction. I saw nothing more than branches and a gray, uninviting sky. Whatever he had seen had long since gone. I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointment.
Callie’s increasing meows filled the silence and she rubbed against me, demanding attention I wasn’t ready to give. Didn’t she realize that I wasn’t ready to do the things that being alive demanded? Not yet.
She could wait. I ignored her and knelt next to Marco, taking his hand in mine once more. Cold, stiff. I held it anyway.
I should’ve said something, a respectful goodbye, some sort of eulogy, something, but my mouth remained closed. I had no idea what to say, so I said nothing. I laid his hand on his chest like I’d seen done in movies, though I had no idea why.
In the movies, they always drew the eyelids closed, too, but I couldn’t do it. Maybe if having his eyes opened looked terrifying I would have, maybe, but there was something amazing in his gaze, and I didn’t want to disturb it. I couldn’t.
A thick sigh pressed through my lips as I sat on the ground and turned my back to him. It was over, yet I stared at the dying fire, feeling very much in limbo.
What was I supposed to do now?
Marco was gone. No one was coming. Forcing myself to get up and start moving, leaving him behind, didn’t feel right even though staying was pointless.
Callie dug her claws into my arm, kneading her painful paws into my skin. I batted her away and snatched my arm to my chest, not giving her another opportunity to scratch me. She let out a long, angry meow.
She didn’t want to be ignored.
“Fine.” I shifted a little, giving her my attention. “You can’t even give me a few minutes to mourn my friend because the world revolves around you. Is that it?” My friend? I supposed he was.
She sat on her behind, lifted a paw, and licked it. She kept her eyes on me the whole time as if to say, “I have the ability to murder you in your sleep.” Finished, she meowed again.
“I see how it is.” I slid my backpack closer, unzipped it, and dug around inside, hoping to find something that might calm her down. I didn’t have much cat-friendly food, but she didn’t seem to care anymore. Starvation tended to do that. With a small piece of jerky, a bit of runny mashed potatoes made with lukewarm water, and some water for drinking, she quieted down.
With no meowing to fill in the silence or a cat needing my attention, I had time to think. I didn’t have a plan, but I needed one. As much as I tried to stay positive—because I was alive after all and I had to figure this all out one way or another—it became harder and harder.
I had no idea where I was or which direction I should go. Dad and Toby were most likely dead, and I was stuck on a very big mountain. Every option that popped into my mind didn’t seem all that great.
I’d already gone through something similar and it really pissed me off that I would have to do it all over again. I was only seventeen, damn it! I hardly knew how the regular world functioned let alone how to survive in this truly screwed up one.
That was it. I tipped my head back, forgot about my physical pain and allowed my mental pain to have its moment, yelling at the sky above me. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” I pounded the ground at my sides with both fists.
No words, nothing coherent or profound, just a gut reaction for a really crappy horrible situation.
Callie didn’t even bother looking up from her meal.
Finished with my screaming fit, I sank back against the fallen tree and sighed. What now? That was all I could do — think about now, the “right in the very moment” moment. I couldn’t think about what I was going to do in an hour, or that night, or even what tomorrow would bring. The weight of thinking beyond a few seconds of time was too heavy a burden to bear.
Focus on food and shelter, Tess. Food and shelter.
Clear words came as if Cole were sitting next to me, whispering in my ear.
I sat up, grabbing my aching chest as I looked around. What the hell?
Food and shelter. Start there.
The same words. Same clarity. Same annoyingly wonderful voice.
Only he wasn’t there, just me and my unfazed cat, like always.
I screamed at the stupid sky again — damn it, damn it, damn it — and then leaned back against the tree when I couldn’t yell anymore, my throat sore and my voice hoarse. This is so stupid!
I heard him — twice. Even though the advice he gave was solid and spot on, it came when I realized I was losing my damn mind! I was undiagnosed schizophrenic. I had to be.
Maybe the only way I would survive any of this was to give into my crazy, to embrace it and make it my own. If I insisted on being sane, viewing all of this as normal, I was pretty sure I would shrivel up and die, sitting right next to Marco’s dead body.
Honestly, I didn’t know which option was worse.
After watching the fire go out and Callie, oblivious to everything but her own selfish needs, I did the impossible—I inched my fingers toward my backpack. I pulled it to me, and then I reached for Marco’s.
Ever painfully slow, I consolidated the two.
I needed to find the knife and then I could leave. I had chucked it, chucked it hard, when Marco wanted to dissect himself out from under the trapped tree. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest move, but at the time, it seemed like the only move to make.
I traipsed over the branches and pushed aside the foot-tall grasses, looking for the knife. I knew this was the direction I’d tossed it, but I’d underestimated my anger and my ability to throw. It took several more yards of walking and a lot of looking before the shiny blade sticking out of a downed tree caught my eye.
I wrapped my hand around the handle and yanked it free.
It felt heavy in my hands, not as much as when Marco and I had argued, but still heavy. As I held it, I couldn’t help but wonder. Logically, I knew it wouldn’t have given him other options, but that didn’t stop my brain from trying to find one.
My pack was ready to go, and I had the last piece that kept me here in my hand. I had no more reason to stay, but my walk back to where Marco lay, where my cat was tied to a tree, and the fire smoldered, barley clinging to life, felt like the lon
gest and most painful walk I’d ever experienced.
This was it. It was time to go.
I slipped the knife through my belt loop, letting the blade slap against my thigh. I heaved my backpack onto my sore, painful shoulders. I untied Callie, holding the end of her rope in one hand as I touched my other to Marco’s.
“Goodbye, Marco.”
In the beginning, he’d annoyed me. To be fair, in the middle he’d annoyed me, too. But in the end, he’d become my friend.
I hated leaving him, but I knew he’d want me to go.
I took several steps and then several more. When I looked back over my shoulder, I couldn’t see Marco or our little campsite any longer.
Chapter 17
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Sure enough, the X I carved in the tree the second time I passed it mocked me. I had been walking in circles.
How? How was that even possible?
I ran my fingertips over the X and turned slightly, looking around for some type of logical explanation. The same trees, the same large rocks, the same tall grasses — all of it. I’d walked for hours only to end up back where started, not once, but twice. Two times! It didn’t make sense.
What is going on here?
I dropped my hands to my sides, my shoulders slumped, my breathing rough, as I kept my budding panic in check. This wasn’t going well. Not at all.
I thought I had a pretty good sense of direction — follow the river off the mountain and stay aware of the sun’s position above me. I’d kept the river in sight, always to my left, as I walked along its edges, so I could stop and filter water when I needed it. It didn’t take much knowledge to realize two things: I had to have water to drink if I wanted to live, and rivers run down mountains, down them. That was how nature worked. Following the river should’ve led me off the mountain. Maybe not today, but I should’ve at least made progress.
I hadn’t.
How had I spent most of the day walking only to end up where I’d started? How? For that to make any sense, I would have had to cross the river at some point, but I hadn’t. I hadn’t crossed any rivers! Nothing. Walking in a circle two times was impossible.
I pulled my backpack from my shoulders and dug around inside for the compass. Callie, who’d been content to ride all this time, didn’t even seem to mind me thrusting my hand into her sleeping space. She stared at me from inside the bag and refused to be of any help, like jumping out of my pack and allowing me to get a better look. Instead, I had to search for the compass around a lazy, yawning cat. Argh, more cat hair everywhere again. Not the biggest of my problems by far, but still a pain in the butt.
I finally found it, blew off the cat hair, and placed the plastic contraption in the palm of my hand. I waited for it to miraculously point me in the right direction, for it to do its thing. I’d never used one before. I wasn’t quite sure it’d be all that helpful if I could figure it out, but anything had to be better than what I’d been doing for most of the day. Come on … North, South, East, West … just tell me how to get off the freaking mountain! That was all I wanted.
The tiny spindle spun inside the plastic contraption, first one direction and then another. It slowed down for a moment as if trying to get its bearing, but it sped up again, faster until it was nothing but a blur. It spun with no signs of stopping. Seriously? I tossed the compass on the ground, frustrated.
Now what? I ran my hands through my stringy hair, trying to work out what I should do.
Rivers didn’t flow in circles. They just didn’t. My mind struggled to find understanding, yet here I was, proof that none of this made sense. Following the river wasn’t getting me anywhere but leaving it would be suicidal. If I ran out of water, where would I get more?
I ran my hands through my hair again. If I had any chance of getting off the mountain, I had to do something different. Something radical. Something insane.
And if I ended up back here, by the tree with the carved X, one more time, I’d set it on fire. I would. I really would.
I’d burn the whole mountain down.
I almost left the broken compass where it was, but my conscience got the better of me, so I knelt, scooped the piece of crap up, and shoved it back into my pack.
I’d set the forest on fire if I had to, but littering? I just couldn’t do it.
Callie’s leash dangled from my fingers. She’d walked at my side for almost an hour without any incident—no pulling or tugging, no trying to run up a tree, no stopping to sniff things or lick her feet. She traipsed along easily enough almost like a dog, climbing over steep rocks and hillsides as if it were second nature. My own tiny bobcat.
It helped that I moved slowly myself, making it easy for her. I had no need to force her along. My body ached, and my chest hurt to breathe, so together we took our time. Besides, I really enjoyed not carrying her extra weight on my shoulders, and if I had to shuffle along to keep her happy and out of my backpack, I’d do it.
The tree with the carved X hadn’t reappeared, thank goodness because I really didn’t want to burn a mountain down. I had yet to come across another source of water. Knowing my water bottle and the one I took from Marco only had a few ounces left scared me. I’d tried to be smart about it, sipping the least amount I could, but the abnormal humidity and all the walking made it hard.
By morning, the bottles would be empty. Callie and I would be screwed. Really screwed.
We climbed up ridges and down hills. We meandered our way through a maze of trees and snagged ourselves on prickly bushes and thick overgrowth. We fought for every step. It was our new norm. When we climbed part way down an aspen-covered hill and found ourselves looking at the wooden structure off to the side of a trail — a real trail — I stopped and stared as if a golden elephant had magically appeared on our path.
I figured I was walking a part of the world no other human had ever walked before, blazing my own way since nothing, nothing at all, hinted to the existence of people. We saw no trails, no paths, no cabins — nothing. To see the hut, the trail, and the hiking sign, calling the place Black Sap Camp, brought a smile to my lips.
I scooped Callie in to my arms and gave her a gentle squeeze. “We’re getting closer.”
She didn’t appreciate my excitement and wiggled free, jumping to the ground to get away from me and my affection.
For me, it was more than just some logs tacked together. It was a building, a human-made structure. Not an awesome structure, but a real shelter regardless. This was huge!
“We needed this, Callie. We really needed this.” Everything about my situation sucked, but a smile curved my lips and stayed there. Soon I’d be off the godforsaken mountain, and I wouldn’t have to look at another tree or hill again. Never. Ever.
The hut stood a good two feet off the ground on cement footings. It had three sides made from large logs and a metal roof, but the fourth side remained completely open to the elements. No door. No wall. A fire pit lined with rocks had been dug approximately ten feet from the opening. Benches, which I assumed many hikers used as they passed through, were no longer functional. Cobwebs hung in the upper corners. Dried leaves and pine needles that the wind had blown in littered the floor.
It looked perfect.
I tied the end of Callie’s leash to a small tree and tossed my backpack into the log hut. Sure, a few more hours of daylight remained but, without a tent, walking away from this amazing find would be a dumb move.
I looked around, listening. Usually, near a hut and a trail there would be water. I couldn’t hear anything and definitely couldn’t see anything. I walked a little way from the campsite, always keeping it within my vision.
I circled the area for any sign of water but found nothing. If there was water, it had to be farther than I was willing to venture.
Shoot.
No water meant that beyond being thirsty, we’d eat granola and nuts again tonight.
I walked back to the hut, climbed up onto the platform, and sat on the edge with
my legs hanging over the sides. I’d never heard of Black Sap Camp. In all honesty, I had no idea which side of the stupid mountain I was on. Walking in circles and heading away from the river had me turned around and then turned me around some more.
Not that it mattered, really. Nothing was right anymore.
Dad was gone, Toby was gone — most likely dead. My home, the one I’d grown up in, had been destroyed when the first meteors fell. The entire town and surrounding areas for miles and miles had been demolished.
I had nothing left. Literally, nothing except a cat, a backpack, and the clothes I wore.
My finger plucked at the hole in my pants, poking inside and touching my skin. Yeah, at least I have the clothes on my back.
No, it didn’t matter what side of the mountain I was on. I had nothing more to lose. I’d already lost everything that mattered.
Exhaustion took hold of me and dragged me into such a deep sleep that the rhythmic ping, ping, ping on the metal roof barely stirred me. The floorboards were hard, my sleeping bag thin and uncomfortable, but somehow, I’d slept peacefully for hours. What the difference a roof over my head made.
The ping, ping, ping grew louder, more intense. As much as I wanted to stay in my sleeping bag with my cat curled up beside me and my eyes closed, it became impossible. The ping, ping, ping came faster and louder.
With a great deal of reluctance, I opened my eyes. I blinked several times and slowly sat up.
Oh. My. Gosh.
Rainwater ran off the roof, falling across the wide opening of the hut like a waterfall display at a fancy restaurant—a complete curtain of water.
It took me only a second to clamber out of my bag. Callie stared at the wall of water, looked at me, and then laid back down. I let go of her leash. No need to tie her to anything, because I knew my cat. She hated water, and that was a lot of water coming down the roof. No way was she jumping through that.
