by Paul Greci
We repeat the process for all the packs, and I hear Brooke splashing behind me as I give Derrick the last pack. My whole body is feeling fresh from the cold-water submersion, but I’m starting to get chilled, too. Brooke’s hand brushes my hip underwater, but I resist the urge to turn around. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t trying to get my attention—that it was just an accidental touch—but it still sends a zing through my body.
Shannon has the last pack in her hands and is carrying it toward shore, and Derrick is walking out of the water right behind her. I keep moving forward and soon am standing next to my pack.
Brooke splashes out of the water, and I turn my face away as she walks toward her pack, wanting to give her the privacy we’re all entitled to. The mosquitoes find us almost instantly, and now we’re racing to put our rain gear back on. I decide to leave my underwear, which is still dry, in my pack. I don’t know what everyone else is doing, but I’m not into making this a discussion.
“That worked,” Shannon says. She’s the first one finished with re-dressing.
“How’d you do that so fast?” Derrick says.
“I pulled my rain gear on right over my boots,” Shannon says. She points at Derrick’s monstrous feet. “You don’t have that option.”
“Us tall guys,” Derrick says, “we’re always getting screwed.”
I’m retying my un-shoe, and I can already feel my sock getting wet from the soaked blue foam and stuff sack. Shannon must’ve kept her socks in her pack and is wearing her boots barefoot. I don’t have that option since my sock is what holds the blue foam in place.
I glance over at Brooke. She’s tying her boots, and I can see the skin of her ankles, so she’s not wearing her socks either. She finishes up, looks over at me, and then stands up.
Derrick says, “Okay, now, let’s go find that green thing.”
I slap at some mosquitoes trying to make a meal out of my neck, and shoulder my pack. My stomach is still full of water, but hunger is starting to pour in around the edges.
Brooke groans as she picks up her pack. She looks in the direction Derrick is starting to head and says, “Oh no. Not uphill again.”
She sounds genuinely surprised, which surprises me, since we’ve been staring at our route all day now. I say, “It’s the only way to go from here unless you follow the creek downstream.”
“I get it,” Brooke says. “It’s just that I’m so tired.”
“We all are,” Shannon responds.
“How come I’m always the only one saying it?” Brooke asks.
“I’m just trying to put my energy into what we have to do,” Shannon says, “and not use it up by focusing on things I can’t change.”
“When things get hard,” Brooke explains, “sometimes I just need to vent. Getting it all out actually gives me more energy because I’m not trying to hold it all in.”
Shannon nods. “We’ve all got our ways of dealing with difficulties. Your way is kind of like my mom’s.” She smiles and then starts walking in Derrick’s direction, and Brooke falls in behind her.
I follow Brooke. My first few steps with my un-shoe go okay, but then the stuff sack snags in a particularly nasty clump of wild rose. I set my bear spray aside, reach down with both hands, and try to pry the branches away without getting totally scratched up by the thousands of tiny thorns.
I twist my foot around so I’m facing the creek, thinking maybe I’ll have better luck with a different angle, and that’s when I hear Derrick shout, “Yo. People. I think I found something.”
CHAPTER 52
“WE CAN’T CARRY IT WITH us,” Brooke says. “And even if we could, what good would it do?”
“Don’t you see? Someone packed this up and tried to conceal it.” Derrick points down at the waterproof gray bag the size of a washing machine. It holds a parachute and had been mostly covered with spruce boughs someone had cut to camouflage it. “They’ll be coming back for it.”
“It is the best sign we’ve had so far,” Shannon says, “even if it’s nothing conclusive. The boughs aren’t green. Either they cut up a dead tree to cover the parachute, or they were cut green and have since dried up.”
“What do you mean, not conclusive?” Derrick says. “We still haven’t even gotten to the spot where I saw that green thing.” He huffs. “They have to be related.”
“It could be a low priority now,” I say, “with the quake and all.”
“Why is this bag even here?” Brooke asks.
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Derrick says, “up there.” He points. “Where I saw the—”
“I know, I know,” Brooke says, “where you saw the green thing.” She says ‘green thing’ in this high-pitched, singsong voice.
It’s still hard to believe the green thing wasn’t just a tree, I think but don’t say. Instead, I say, “Let’s leave the chute and keep going. If nothing else, the sooner we get out of the trees and brush and back on the tundra, the easier the walking will be, and the easier it’ll be to get spotted by a plane or a helicopter.”
Shannon takes off her pack and pulls out her journal. “I’ll leave a note on the parachute saying who we are, where we’re from, and where we are going, on the outside chance that after we walk away from this thing the owner will come along.”
We all wave our arms to keep the mosquitoes away as Shannon writes. When she’s finished, she reads us what she’s written, and then she tucks the note just inside the gray bag.
She looks at Derrick. “Okay, Frank. Lead on.”
Derrick smirks at her. “You can thank me later.”
The uphill climb through the spruce forest would be hard enough given our lack of energy, but when you add in the thick brush, it brings us to a much higher level of punishment.
In some spots, the brush is so tall that it hangs down the slope, so instead of just having to step through it, we now have to deal with it being at eye level. In these places I use my arms, swimming the breaststroke uphill to keep the thorns off my face. I start to sweat, which makes my rain gear stick to me, and any cleanliness I felt after being submerged in the creek is replaced with the same old stink I’ve been exuding since the earthquake.
We hit a level spot and stop to rest. I pull out my water bottle and take a long drink.
“If we find another clearing,” Brooke says, “like the one we discovered earlier, can we stop for a rest?”
“You mean, can we set up the tents?” I ask, looking at her.
Before she can answer, Derrick says, “Brooke, I’d really like to see this thing through. To find whatever it was I saw. What if there’re people there now, but we set up our tents and miss them by a day?”
“We can always take a vote if we need to,” Shannon offers. “That is, if we find a clearing.”
Brooke sighs. “Whatever. I’ll just try to keep up. I got this.”
The old Brooke, the just-after-the-earthquake Brooke, would have fought like a cornered cat to get her way. It’s like the old Brooke asked for the break and the new Brooke accepted the answer.
Derrick leads on through the level area, and then we start our next uphill climb. Even though I’m used to beating my way through brush, that doesn’t make it any easier, especially with a stuff sack for one shoe.
We hit a spot where the trees are markedly taller and wider. Derrick stops and turns a complete circle, quietly searching. The three of us just stand there, waiting.
Finally, Derrick says, “Anyone want to volunteer to climb one of these trees and have a look around? I get the feeling that we’re close.”
CHAPTER 53
“SCARED OF HEIGHTS?” I ASK. “Really?”
Derrick nods. “It’s just one of those things. I deal with it when I have to. Like if no one volunteers to climb I’d give it a try for sure, but I probably wouldn’t make it as high as anyone else here.”
“I’ll do it,” I say.
“How are you going to climb with one shoe?” Brooke asks.
“Actually,�
�� Shannon says, “it might be easier to climb barefoot. Shoes with rigid soles aren’t that great for climbing.”
“Ms. Rhodes Scholar, how do you know all this?” Derrick makes a fake microphone out of his hand and thrusts it toward Shannon.
Shannon shrugs. “I watched a tree-climbing documentary with my mom and her now ex-boyfriend.”
“Do you want to give it a try?” Derrick asks, pointing up a tall spruce tree.
“I think Josh is a good candidate,” Shannon says. “With all the running he does he’s easily got the strongest legs out of all of us. You need strong legs to climb. Plus, because of my height, my reach would be a limiting factor. So would Brooke’s.”
“I don’t think I should go barefoot since I’ve got to be able to walk once I come down,” I say. “If I injure one of my feet, I’m screwed.”
“See if you can squeeze into my boots for the climb,” Brooke says.
She sits on her pack, unties her boots, and takes them off.
I put my pack next to hers, sit on it, and take my shoe and my un-shoe off. Next, I take the laces out of Brooke’s boots and hand them to her, knowing that the only chance I have of getting my feet into her boots is to have the openings be as big as possible.
I stick my right foot into her boot, move it side to side, and at the same time keep working my foot forward, and finally, it’s jammed in there. I do the same with the other boot and stand up. “Definitely only for climbing,” I say. “If I were walking, I’d have blisters after ten steps.”
We pick out the tallest spruce tree in the grove. Derrick puts two hands together to give me a leg up. I put my foot in his hands, and he lifts. At the same time, I feel Shannon’s and Brooke’s hands on my butt and thighs pushing me upward, and soon I’m reaching for a branch that’s at least nine or ten feet off the ground.
I grab it with both hands and wrap my legs around the tree.
“Now what?” I say through gritted teeth.
Shannon responds, “Try to work yourself onto a branch with your hands and then work your feet up to it. Then you can reach for another branch with one arm while keeping the other one wrapped around the trunk. Ideally, you want three different points of contact at all times.” She pauses. “That won’t always be possible, but that’s what you want to shoot for.”
I take in what she’s just said, scoot my legs up the trunk, and then shift my torso upward, and that gives me the leverage to get one elbow over the tree branch I was hanging on to.
“That’s the way,” Derrick shouts.
I repeat the process two more times, and now I’m straddling the branch and hugging the trunk.
“Once you stand on that branch,” Shannon yells, “you’ll be able to keep going.”
“Okay,” I say, “I’ve got this.” But I can feel my legs and arms shaking. Derrick may not be the only one scared of heights.
I reach as high as I can with both arms, wrap them around the trunk, and then carefully swing one of my legs up so my knee is resting on the branch. My heart is beating a hole in my raincoat, and I’m only getting started.
I press my hips into the trunk of the tree and get up on one knee, which hurts like hell pressed against the branch. Then I pull myself higher with my arms and put my other knee on the branch. I quickly get one foot and then the other under me, and I stand up.
I’m hugging the trunk like I’ve just found my true love. I take a breath. The next part of the climb is relatively easy because there are several branches staircasing upward that are spaced in such a way that I don’t have to fully extend myself to get from one to the other. Now I’m about as high as I can go because the trunk is narrowing, and just above me it splits in two.
I glance down and feel my stomach press up against my Adam’s apple. I immediately jam my eyes closed while hugging the tree trunk closer.
“See anything?” Derrick yells.
I’ve been so busy being scared out of my mind climbing that I forgot to even look. I open my eyes, take a breath, and then twist myself around to search.
I start with what’s right in front of me and slowly move my eyes up the forested land. The trees are uniform big spruce trees like the one I’m perched in, and the land is like a giant staircase. Big flat forested areas alternating with steep slopes. I think about the hike to get here from the creek, and that’s how it was.
Steep and then level.
Steep and then level.
Repeating itself.
When my eyes hit the fourth leveled area, I pause. The land there, although still forested, seems a little sparser, like there are fewer trees growing so close together, like there could be a few cleared areas. And above the leveled area, a quarter way up the fourth slope—the slope that leads to the ridgetop—I see the green thing.
CHAPTER 54
“WE’VE STILL GOT SOME SERIOUS brush to bash through,” I say, “and some steep hills to climb. But I saw it, and it’s definitely not natural.” I squeeze my feet out of Brooke’s boots and hand them to her. “Thanks.”
She smiles. “Sure thing.”
“The other thing I noticed,” I say as I work the sock with the blue foam onto my foot while Brooke laces up her boots, “is that there might be a clearing just below the hillside where the green thing is. It seemed like maybe the trees weren’t as thick right there. And it was a flat spot.”
“Maybe there’s a little camp for the scientists for whatever they’re studying,” Derrick suggests.
Everyone seems to have more energy now that there’s actually something we’re walking toward. Not that we didn’t all want to believe Derrick when he saw the green thing the first time. But he saw it disappear and then he couldn’t find it again. No one could. I’m guessing where I saw it is where it stays until they raise it for whatever reason. Maybe it takes air samples or something. I don’t really care what it does. I’m just happy that we might be on the verge of getting some help.
The group lets me take the lead since I’m the one who last saw the green thing. I tell everyone that right now we’re in a flat area, and the next climb will be the first of four before we get to the level area below the green thing.
“Four climbs,” I repeat, “remember that.”
My mind drifts back to the parachute we found. I still can’t figure out what that was doing there and how anyone would be able to find it again. Unless whoever left it marked the coordinates on a GPS.
We hit the first of four slopes, but I just push forward, maintaining my pace. I keep waiting for Brooke to ask to stop and rest but she doesn’t. When we reach the next flat area, I stop. I pull out my water bottle and take a drink, and everyone does the same.
“Do you think they’ll have a clean water source up there?” Brooke points in the direction we’re heading.
Shannon says, “If anyone’s there, they probably do.” She takes a drink and then says, “I’m just having a hard time picturing a field camp in the middle of all this. How would anyone access it? Josh didn’t see a landing strip or a big lake to land a floatplane on, or a cleared area to land a helicopter—just a green pipe-shaped object flush with the trees.”
“Someone went through some trouble to put the green thing there,” Derrick says. “And we found that parachute down below.”
“But it was in a heavy-duty waterproof bag,” Shannon says. “It could’ve spent a couple of winters there, or more.”
Regardless of what Shannon thinks, she still can’t explain away the green thing. And we did walk through what looked like a human-made clearing on the other side of the creek. And we did find a large piece of black plastic. So, however inhospitable this endless brush country is, someone took some energy to do something here, and maybe they’re still around.
A few hours later we’re climbing through the brush on the fourth steep slope. I’m a wet rat, marinating in my own sweat beneath my rain gear. My un-shoe is cooperating as long as I retie it as soon as I feel it starting to loosen. If I wait too long, the whole thing gets twisted and I
have to take the stuff sacks off, straighten the sock and blue foam, and then put it all back together.
The land starts to level out, and I stop and wait for everyone to catch up. Then I say, “This is the flat spot below the green thing. There might be a clearing somewhere on this level.”
The woods look just as thick here as they have all day, but I remember what I saw from up in the trees—a hint of an opening. A possible break in the trees.
We talk a little more and decide to keep going single file. It’s the same old story—thick brush, tall trees. But at least we’ve come this far. And even if the green thing is all on its own, I know from my tree climb that the forest will turn to tundra if we keep going up, and the walking will be easier if we need to keep going.
The ground starts to get bumpy, and the trees get smaller and are growing closer together, almost forming a wall. I turn us to the left, and we work our way along the line of small trees for a couple hundred yards until they give way to bigger trees.
I angle us back through the big trees, trying to pick up from where I turned us when we hit the small trees. The more I angle us back, the more the brush thins. And then up ahead the land rises in a big mound, maybe forty feet long and eight feet tall at its highest point. Small trees grow all over the mound. Instead of walking up on the mound, I decide to go around it where the brush looks thinner.
I’m on the far side of the mound, nearing the spot where the land starts rising. I know that slope in front of me has the green thing on it somewhere. In my mind, I picture what I saw from the tree, and I think that maybe the place where I’m now standing is the clearing I spotted. That the short trees growing close together on this mound are what caused the appearance of a break in the landscape.
