by Jo Treggiari
Del adjusted her bow and quiver across her back. Then, casting one of her arched-eyebrow, curved-lip smiles at Lucy, she walked out onto the bridge.
Walked wasn’t really the correct word. She danced her way across before Lucy had even begun to summon up the courage to move forward. Quick, sure-footed, and agile.
Lucy told her feet to move. They ignored her.
In the end, it was Del who provided the impetus. She stood on the other side with her arms folded across her chest, the hood of Lucy’s sweatshirt pushed back so that her triumphant face was visible. In another minute she would start prancing back across, just to show how easy it was. Lucy longed to strike Del across her smug mouth.
Lucy tightened her grip on the spear, shrugged her shoulders to center her backpack, and stepped out onto the first wooden slat. After she’d successfully negotiated the jagged hole that had almost killed her the first time, it was just a matter of moving forward. The darkness actually made it a little easier since she couldn’t see the sharp rocks thirty feet below her, and Aidan’s presence was comforting. Her breathing calmed, and the panic released her from its grip. She began to relax.
Halfway across, Lucy tripped over a protruding nail and would have fallen if not for Aidan’s hand, which shot out and caught the collar of her leather jacket. He pulled her backward with a force that rattled her teeth and squashed her throat. She cracked her hip against a wooden support, bruising the bone against the hard metal knob of her knife as she clutched at the rope. The rough hemp burned her palm and she felt the old wound burst open again. The bridge swayed back and forth, shimmying. Twenty feet away on solid ground, Del watched, her mouth hanging open.
“Lucy!” Aidan yelled, transferring his grip to her arm.
She raised tear-filled eyes. “I’m okay. I just tripped. Bashed my hip. Stupid,” she said.
“Didn’t drop your spear, though,” he said.
“There is that,” she agreed. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on her feet for the rest of the way. Aidan’s hand remained on her arm.
“Way to jack up the excitement, Lucy-loo,” said Del with a sneer.
“It’s an adventure, right?” said Lucy, feeling so much better for the hard earth beneath her boots. “It wouldn’t be worth much without the terror-fraught moments.”
Del laughed.
As soon as Lucy had caught her breath and unzipped her collar from the tender skin of her neck, she removed her knife and scabbard and slipped it into the inside pocket of her jacket. She pressed her fingers against her bruised hip and sucked in a breath. Ouch!
“Okay to go on?” Aidan asked her, passing around the water. He winced. Lucy noticed he held his left arm against his body. He must have hurt it when he stopped her from falling.
“Don’t be a moron,” she said sharply, trying to conceal her concern. His smile lit up his eyes, and the crooked smirk was back, curling his lips. She wondered what it would be like to kiss it off his mouth. Snap out of it, Lucy! she told herself. Stupid notions like this are why you almost took a header off a bridge a moment ago.
“Is your arm okay?” she asked as they crossed the plateau, moving faster now that the going was relatively easy.
“A little sore,” he admitted. “You could come over and make it better.”
Del frowned.
Lucy turned away from his grin and checked out the terrain ahead of them.
She walked to the edge of the plateau, using the end of her spear to test how crumbly the ground was. The rain and the unusual heat of the last few weeks seemed to have solidified it into hard clay. It would get rockier and looser the farther down they climbed. She tried to remember how many gorges she’d crossed on the way here. It had seemed like dozens.
Aidan pointed a few degrees to the right. “That’s the easiest way. The way I go.” She considered. Easiest but it would take them pretty far out of their way. She could see the thin grove of trees at the crown of the hill where she had first rested beyond the reach of the giant wave. Just out of sight was the meandering rough path the deer used to go down to the water. Before that, though, were several miles of treacherous ground split by crevasses. Slabs of gray granite glimmered in the starlight among deep pockets of shadow where the earth had sunk or cracked. Lucy took a long breath. It would be better once they were in it. The vertigo that seized her at the top of a tree or on a swaying bridge didn’t affect her when she was climbing, using her fingers to pull herself up a sharp slope or to steady herself down a hill.
“We going to move, then?” said Del impatiently. She toyed with her slingshot. The pouch of Lucy’s sweatshirt gaped with the weight of the pebbles that filled it. Del’s face looked even paler in the dim light, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead.
“Just figuring out the fastest way down,” Lucy said easily, wondering why Del looked so sick and nervous now, when she’d been almost giddy just a few minutes before.
Aidan peered down the slope and whistled softly. “Faster. Definitely.”
Del pushed her hair back and looked over her right shoulder, away from what was left of the city, away from the scree-covered slopes, and Roosevelt Island. North. Lucy wondered if the sky was bigger there. It looked bigger, and the stars clustered more thickly, bleaching a wide ribbon of sky that wreathed above the mountaintops.
“Don’t you ever just feel like saying ‘forget it’?” Del said. “There’s just too much… responsibility,” she said finally. Her mouth clenched around the word. She looked at Lucy, then at Aidan. Her eyes gleamed. “I mean, we’re teenagers, right? Aren’t we supposed to be getting ourselves into trouble? Having a good time? Sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll! Isn’t that what it’s supposed to be like?” Her voice lowered and softened until she sounded like a little girl. Wistful and sad.
Del stared across the Wilds with such an expression of rage on her face that it stopped Lucy’s breath in her throat. She yelled—it was more of a howl, really—throwing her head back. A clatter of stones rolled beneath her feet and bounced over the rim.
Aidan reached out his hand. “You’re standing too close to the edge.”
She looked at him. “Isn’t that my MO?” Del kicked at the ground viciously with her blunt-toed boots and sent another torrent of rock over. “Let’s go. This way, right?” she asked, throwing a backward glance at Lucy.
For the next few hours, no one could spare the energy for conversation. Lucy went first, followed by Del, and then Aidan. She used her spear for added balance and to prod the earth on the steeper slopes. It seemed that every step caused a mini avalanche. Sometimes Del crowded her, her forward momentum throwing her against Lucy’s heels, and Lucy angrily gestured the girl back. Slowly, they made it past the upheaval of old highways and the chunks of tarmac. There was no sound but the crunch of rock, the patter of crumbling soil, and their breathing. Del was oddly quiet except for the occasional cry as she slipped or stumbled. Lucy couldn’t help noticing that she wasn’t as agile on the uneven ground as she’d been on the bridge. Rocks rolled under her boots; chunks of dirt slid away, shooting past Lucy; and her balance was off. She was stiff and didn’t seem to know what to do with her arms.
Lucy paused on a granite outcrop, as if to catch her breath. Aidan had stopped some way back to retie his boot laces. Without looking at Del, she said in a low voice, “Don’t stare down at your feet. Look just ahead so your brain can note the slopes and the changes in the ground. Use your hands to grip and for balance. And bend your knees a little.”
There was silence.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Del bite her lip. She braced herself for the volley of swear words that was sure to come.
“Thanks,” Del said finally. She leaned against the cliff wall and pushed her ponytail into the collar of her sweatshirt. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. “I like being up in the air. But all these sheer walls and deep crevices make me feel like I’m being crushed alive.”
“Really?” said Lucy. “I feel safer. There are th
ings to grab hold of, to dig my heels into.”
Del scanned her face. “We’re so different.”
“Yeah, we are.”
Del paused. “Where is Aidan?” she said in one of her lightning-quick changes of mood.
Lucy looked around. Aidan was still behind a short distance, crouched down and hunched over something. It was too far to see what he was doing. She shrugged. “We’re not going anywhere for a minute or two. Catch your breath.”
“So, which way next?”
Lucy pointed with her spear. “See the big patches of gray up ahead? It’s the beginning of the next plateau. Granite, grass, and earth, and no more of this crumbling cement and blacktop. It’ll be easier.”
She spun on her heel, considering the best path down. She’d come straight up the hill through the grove, which lay a few hundred yards to their right. It was a narrow, twisting, ankle-jarring deer track filled with ruts and rocks, and at the end of its sinuous length it would leave them a couple miles out of their way. Lucy dropped to her belly and hunched over to the steepest edge of the escarpment. It dropped about fifty feet at a sharp, almost 45 degree angle. The granite face was wind-roughened and scraped her fingers like sandpaper. She sat up and crossed her legs, considering their options. Her boots were chafing her ankle bones. She untied them and pulled her slouchy socks back up, retied the long laces, and double-knotted them.
“What are you thinking?” Del asked. She was unable to keep the nervousness out of her voice. She picked at the raw skin around her thumbnail, and Lucy wanted to slap her hand away as if she were a little kid with her fingers in her mouth. “A little payback for teasing you on the bridge?” Her chin came up and she looked mulish.
Lucy couldn’t get the image of a little kid out of her head. It fit Del perfectly. Her mood swings, her temper, her wanting the whole cake for herself. Lucy disregarded the last statement, noting the frown that appeared when Del didn’t get her fight. That was the trick: Ignore the most outlandish remarks. Refuse to play the game. Lucy felt pleased with herself. It would probably drive Del crazy!
“I’m trying to figure out the fastest way. We want to get to the tower while it’s still dark, right? Here there are lots of tree roots to grab on to and the slope is gentler after about twenty yards, although if you fall it’ll take some skin off. It’s the quickest. So follow me. But not too closely, okay?”
Del nodded.
Aidan jogged up. “Thirsty?” he asked, uncapping the bottle of water. He took a sip and passed it to Del, who drank as if she was parched.
When she’d finished drinking, she held the bottle up to Lucy, who shook her head. “No thanks,” she said politely.
“Where to next?” Aidan asked.
“Down,” Lucy replied. He immediately sat. She giggled, ignoring Del’s over-the-top eye-rolling.
“No, I mean we’re going that way.” She pointed down the hill.
He peered over the edge. “Looks doable.” He shot a glance at Del and then a questioning look at Lucy, who quickly nodded her head.
Del wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “What were you up to?” she asked.
He took his hand out of his sweatshirt pouch. His fist was full of small-and medium-size gray and white pebbles. “Making trail markers. So when we come back it’ll be easier to find our way.”
“I thought you were just lagging, couldn’t keep up.” Del had pulled her boots off. Her socks were even worse than Lucy’s. The heels were riddled with holes. Del peeled them away from her feet. She had two good blisters going. The skin was rubbed raw, and bubbles were forming. “Eww,” she muttered, digging in her pack for a spare pair of socks.
Lucy felt a sympathetic twinge and turned her attention back to Aidan.
“So, a trail of bread crumbs?” she said.
“A little more permanent.” He kneeled down by the edge of the slope and carefully piled two stones, one on top of the other. Lucy sat beside him.
“This identifies a trail.” He placed another stone to the right of the pile. “This means turn to the right.” He placed a third stone on top of the heap. “And this would be a warning.”
“Pretty cool.” She bent forward over the stones. “Where’d you learn it?”
“When I was a kid, Sammy and I used to leave each other messages on the road between the foster home and school. But we used tin cans and empty cigarette packs and stuff like that instead of rocks and sticks.” Lucy danced her fingers over to where his hand lay. She held her breath.
He brushed her hair away from her cheek and lingered there, and she looked up at him.
Del groaned. Her head was down, her fingers tightening the ties of her backpack with what seemed to be unnecessary force. It might have been the blisters, or it might have been her way of expressing her opinion. In any case, Lucy and Aidan broke apart.
Aidan’s eyes twinkled at her as he shouldered his bow.
Casting a quick glance to make sure Del looked ready, Lucy set off down the hill. For a while she was able to step down on a diagonal, zigzagging back and forth. When she reached the sharpest point of the incline, she carefully tossed her spear ahead, flipping it lengthwise and aiming for a patch of grass so as not to blunt the point. She turned to face the pitted rock wall. There were plenty of crannies to fit her fingers into, and the stone was rough enough for her boot soles to grip. The rock face was still warm from the day’s sun, and she leaned into it, feeling the heat seep through her clothes. She hadn’t realized how chilled she was. The night was not cold, but it was damp and it sank into her bones.
“I don’t like this,” Del said, just above her. Her boots scrabbled for a hold. A fine spray of dirt was knocked loose and floated into Lucy’s eyes. She scrubbed the grit away. Del’s limbs were extended like a starfish. She was frozen in place, holding on by determination alone. Aidan was about ten feet above her, but Lucy signaled to him to stay where he was.
The last thing Lucy needed was Del landing on her head. She forced her voice to be calm. “Tree root just past your right foot. If you feel dizzy, press against the wall for two or three breaths, but don’t stop moving.”
Del inched her foot sideways.
“Okay. Move your hands over, feel that bulge in the rock. You can hold on to that. Now reach down with your left foot. There’s a ledge about two feet below you. Good. Grab the tree root. Now below the ledge is a thick patch of ivy. It’s like climbing a rope ladder. You’re doing great.”
Lucy watched to make sure Del followed her instructions, and then climbed down the last twenty feet. From below she directed the other girl until she stood beside her on the grass. Del collapsed onto her back, her chest heaving, her fingers clutching the ground as if she would never let go.
“I feel like I just got my butt royally kicked,” she groaned.
“It’s easier going up,” Lucy promised, watching Aidan.
Del rolled over onto her stomach. “Oh no. I’m not going back that way. Plus, we’ll have the kids with us. We’ll go the long way around.” She raised her head. “The kids are the important thing.” She said this with force.
“Of course,” said Lucy, a bit surprised.
Aidan jumped down, brushing his hands on his jeans.
Lucy picked up her spear, checked to make sure the point hadn’t been damaged in the fall. It was still sharp enough to draw blood from the pad of her thumb. Then she walked a dozen feet to where the next part of the hill sloped down gently. She caught her breath. Her shortcut had taken them in a straighter line than she’d expected.
Below them and only a mile away was what had once been Lucy’s home. If she hadn’t known exactly where she was—the southern face of the Great Hill with the giant stone needle, tilted now, and pointing at them like an accusatory finger—she wouldn’t have recognized it. Mud was what it was mostly. An ocean of dry mud, strangely smooth and sculpted into drifts by wind and water. Edged with a white salt crust, like the frosting on a birthday cake. And in places were great troughs and gouges in the earth, whe
re trees had been hurled like javelins by the wall of water. Broken limbs and bushes were tumbled together into rough fences, marking the highest points of the wave. There was an overpowering smell of brine and the stink of organic matter rotting in the sun.
Lake Harlem gleamed in the distance, and on the other side, flanking the land, pressing up against it, the Hudson Sea. Lucy shivered and drew her jacket close. She had never been scared of the water before. She’d loved it. It had fed her and it had offered her protection on two sides, but now she knew it was a huge living thing, and it could be merciless and unpredictable.
She was hardly aware of Aidan and Del as she made her way quickly down the long slope. Stumbling a little, bracing herself with her spear, she slid on the silted, sandy soil unfamiliar to her feet because it was fresh-laid, rootless, and as smooth as a cotton sheet. She stepped over a sodden mess of leaves, disturbing a cloud of small blackflies. This was where her doorway had stood. Two of Lucy’s trees had been uprooted and flung far away. Of the two remaining, one leaned over almost flush with the ground, still alive, though, with fresh green growth along the horizontal length of the branch. And miraculously, the calendar tree was still standing. Its bark was blackened and scoured. The small crown of leaves at the top was curled and shriveled. She ran her fingers over the notches carved in the trunk, counting them silently. Thirteen. It had seemed much longer. Caught in the exposed roots and the drifts of earth she found a few of her pots and pans, dented and crushed.
“Smells like dead fish,” Del said, kicking a saucepan lid.
Aidan shushed her.
“What?” she said, then followed his gaze to Lucy. “Oh.”
Lucy took one more look around, patted the tree trunk, and faced the lake. They moved faster now, and no longer in single file but spread out. Their boots crunched through the crusty mud and the dried leaves. A low-lying mist wreathed their feet. The hulk of the Alice statue looked black under the stars. The water lapped just below the stiff bronze lace of her petticoats. They skirted the grove of trees where Lucy had first met Aidan. The only indication that the sea had reached this far was the curving tide line of pine needles and the residue of salt. A few of the smaller saplings lay tumbled like pick-up sticks. Lucy felt a chill run up her spine and realized she was braced for the sound of dogs howling, the quick thud of their paws. But it was quiet except for the skittering of small animals in the brush and the constant sound of water. They began the long trek across the mudflats.
