Distress Signal

by Mary E. Lambert

  “Then we walk that way,” Lavender said, pointing back in the direction of the tree. “We need to go that way until we find a way out of the canyon.”

  “Then what?” John asked.

  “We walk back along the canyon’s ledge in the direction of our class. They’ll be there, looking for us.”

  The other three exchanged looks.

  “Fine,” huffed Rachelle. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m getting hungry, and you are pretty much the last people I want to be stranded in the wilderness with.”

  “Hey,” Marisol said.

  “You know that I’m not talking about you,” Rachelle said. She marched away from the blockage, away from the last place they’d seen their teachers and friends. The wet sand and gravel squelched under their feet as they picked their way between puddles. Lavender tried not to wonder what the chances were that another flood would come or that the natural dam of leaves and branches and rocks would break. Would more water come roaring toward them, this time without any notice? She sped up her footsteps.

  As the sun sank steadily lower on the horizon, the huge, distant clouds from earlier in the day broke into smaller puffballs. A slight breeze rustled its way through the slender branches of desert brush that dotted the canyon floor.

  Rachelle complained that her new hiking shoes were being destroyed by all the muck left behind from the flood, and Marisol made a few sympathetic noises, but otherwise they walked in silence.

  The poufy clouds on the mountainous horizon had turned different shades of pink and gold by the time they came to a section of the wash where the ravine walls were less severe. There was even a series of natural divots that Lavender thought looked like some sort of primitive path.

  “What about here?” Lavender said, but there was an unexpected echo. Marisol had said the exact same thing at the exact same time. They must have both spotted the same crumbling, unmarked trail within milliseconds of each other.

  “Whoa,” John said, looking back and forth between them. “That was weird.”

  Lavender smiled. She and Marisol often had the same ideas: It had happened before. They could even finish each other’s sentences. “Great minds …” Lavender said, hoping that Marisol would finish the phrase, but instead of saying “think alike,” Marisol said, “So are we climbing out here or not?”

  “Yes.” Rachelle breezed past. “Get me out of this death trap. And I’m not going last this time!”

  She started pulling herself up the sides of the steep slope. Lavender followed, ungracefully hopping from one boulder to another. At one point, Rachelle slipped, sending a spray of loose gravel trickling down behind her and falling into the wash. “Hey, watch it,” Lavender yelled up at her.

  Once she reached the last boulder and left the ravine behind forever, Lavender felt her worries melting away. Now they just had to follow the edge of the canyon. They would catch up to the rest of their class in no time. Everyone had survived the flood—and with a rush of warmth, Lavender remembered that was because of her. Thanks to her radio. Rachelle could never make fun of her “nerdy” hobbies ever again. Everyone would finish the hike—together—and when the entire class was back at camp, eating a warm meal around the fire, they would probably give Lavender a standing ovation. She would be the hero. Again.

  She was going to be the most popular kid in class, way more popular than Rachelle. And once Marisol had time to realize that Lavender had risked her own life to save her, Marisol would apologize for abandoning Lavender. She and Marisol would be best friends like they were meant to be. Everything would be all right.

  A sharp slapping sound grabbed Lavender’s attention. She turned to see Marisol and Rachelle sharing a high five. Wanting to join in their celebration, Lavender shouted out, “We did it!” She held her two fists in the air over her head and smiled like she didn’t have a care in the world. If her legs weren’t sore and cramped from perching in the tree and climbing the canyon, she would have jumped up and down.

  Her shout echoed off the rocks and repeated through the wilderness. It was returned with an answering cry, a faint, high wail. At first, Lavender thought it was human, probably someone from their class who was looking for the four of them. Then the noise sounded again, clearer this time: an eerie howl.

  “Wh-what’s that?” Marisol asked.

  A hush followed. Then more howling. From every direction.

  “Coyotes.” John said it in a whisper, as if the animals might hear and attack. Another howl sounded—this one a loud, long cry that made shivers run up and down Lavender’s arms.

  “They sound really close.” Rachelle shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  “Maybe they’re looking for their pack,” Marisol said. “Didn’t Mr. Bob say something about coyotes sleeping in packs?”

  “Like I paid attention to him,” Rachelle said. “He talked forever.”

  “They could be looking for their pack,” said John. “Or my dad said they hunt big prey in groups sometimes.”

  Lavender wished she’d listened more closely to Mr. Bob. Coyotes. What were you supposed to do when you were lost in the wilderness and surrounded by coyotes? Other than panic? Was this one of those throw-rocks-and-yell scenarios?

  Rachelle’s feet gritted against the dirt as she tensed. Something about her posture reminded Lavender of a runner about to get in position for a race.

  “Hunting big prey? Like humans?” Marisol asked. She looked as nervous as Rachelle. Lavender had to fight back her instinct to hold Marisol’s hand or give her a hug. After all, Marisol was afraid of dogs. A Rottweiler had bitten her when she was in first grade, and she’d had to get stitches. There was still a faint scar on her arm.

  More howls echoed from every direction. They were surrounded. This time, the goose bumps weren’t only on her arms; Lavender could feel the chills going the length of her spine.

  “We have to get out of here,” Marisol said. She danced a little in place.

  John shook his head. “It’s more dangerous to run. Remember what Mr. Bob said? They’ll chase if you—”

  He was cut off by a particularly loud howl, followed by a series of yips. At least one of the animals was closing in on them. Lavender almost expected to see it leaping through the air toward them.

  “GO!” Rachelle’s voice was so piercing that Lavender jumped about a foot in the air. Meanwhile, Rachelle pushed John aside, snagged Marisol’s wrist, and sprinted away from the group. Without making a conscious decision, Lavender found she was running through the wilderness, too.

  She could hear yips right behind her. Was a coyote following them? She put on an extra burst of speed. John was shouting something as he broke into a run with the rest of them. And then Lavender could hear only her own breath as she fought to pull enough oxygen into her lungs.

  They did not run in a straight line. No, each time a new howl sounded, Rachelle would yank Marisol in a new direction, twisting and turning in an effort to get as far from the source of the sound as possible. Lavender thought her heart would pound out of her chest as she raced alongside them. She ran between pines and leapt over small rocks. Her arm scraped against some sort of yucca, but she ignored the stinging sensation as blind fear sent her zigzagging after Rachelle.

  Lavender kept gasping for breath—her lungs empty of all air, her side a stabbing pain, and through the fog of panic, she finally registered what John was saying: “Stop! Stop!”

  Rachelle and Marisol slowed and came to a rest. Lavender halted right behind them and leaned with one hand against a pine tree, taking great big gulping breaths.

  “You shouldn’t run from wild animals!” John was calling as he caught up to them. “They’ll only chase you, and if you think you can outrun a coyote, you’re living in a dream world.”

  “Whatever,” said Rachelle. “It worked, didn’t it? I don’t hear the coyotes anymore, do you?”

  Marisol shook her head. “Do you think we’re safe? Do you think more are coming?”

  S
till panting and breathless, Lavender listened. No more howls. No sound of footsteps. As oxygen returned to her lungs and her mind cleared, Lavender straightened. She looked in every direction.

  Not a single coyote in sight.

  But no ravine, either.

  They had left their only guidepost far behind them.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  All three of the others snapped their attention to Lavender.

  “Look around.” Lavender swept her arm in a wide arc.

  The others scanned the wilderness. Rocks. Pines. Cacti. Yucca. Rocks. Hills and mountains. Every direction the same. There was no path. No visible footprints. No landmarks. Without knowing the area, everything looked the same.

  “We’re lost,” Marisol said in a flat voice.

  Lavender nodded.

  “No, no, no.” Rachelle shook her head, in deep denial. “We can retrace our steps.”

  John snorted. “Good luck with that.”

  Marisol turned in a slow circle. “I don’t think I even know which way we came from.”

  “It was that way.” Rachelle pointed a random direction.

  “I don’t think so …” Marisol said.

  “Or was it that way?” Rachelle’s voice actually faltered.

  “Face it,” said Lavender. “You ran off, and now we’re completely lost.”

  “You were running just as fast.”

  “What do we do now?” Marisol asked.

  “John, try your phone again,” Rachelle ordered. “We’re not at the bottom of a wash anymore. Maybe you’ll get a signal from here.”

  John pulled it out. Marisol and Rachelle clustered around him. They locked hands, and even in the wilderness, even now, Lavender’s heart clenched at the sight.

  John dialed 911. Still nothing. He tried again and again.

  While he called repeatedly, Lavender fished out her radio. Not wanting to hear Rachelle’s rude remarks if it failed again, Lavender walked away from the group. When she could still see the others but was certain she was out of hearing range, Lavender began scanning frequencies. She felt like doing a cartwheel when she paused on one and heard voices. This was it. They were saved.

  “Mayday, Mayday,” she transmitted.

  “Thinking of using maple for the new cabinets,” one of the disembodied voices crackled.

  “This is an emergency! Come in,” Lavender said into the radio.

  “Maple is an awfully tricky wood to work with.” Another voice came in more faintly than the first.

  Why weren’t these people responding to her distress signal? She could pick them up with her radio, but they didn’t seem to hear her.

  “Mayday! Mayday!” she called again into her radio.

  “Well, I ain’t gonna use any of that expensive curly maple if that’s what you mean.”

  Lavender felt like her insides were being held between two clamps and twisted as she realized that they must be talking on a repeater. Without the settings for that repeater, her small handheld radio wouldn’t be able to reach them. This was worse torture than being stuck in a tree with Rachelle during a freak flood.

  Then a sudden hope surged through her. Hadn’t her dad said something about a note? She’d been so distracted by her drama with Marisol that she hadn’t really listened to her dad, but they had planned to talk while she was at camp. He’d had to have given her the settings for the repeater. Lavender began tearing through her backpack.

  Empty bag of trail mix. Sunscreen. Water bottle. Toilet paper roll. But no note.

  Had she heard her dad wrong? A memory flickered: Lavender suddenly recalled the stuff she’d dropped on the bus and forgotten about. The note that could save their lives was probably lying on the floor of their school bus. The thought made Lavender feel ill.

  Discouraged beyond belief, Lavender jammed everything into her backpack and slowly returned to the others. She did not say anything to the others about the near-rescue. It would be cruel to taunt them with how close they’d come to getting help.

  With every passing moment, the shadows were lengthening. Night was falling.

  “It’s no use,” John was saying between clenched teeth. “I’ll try again from a different place, but we’re not getting through here, and I’m just wasting battery.”

  He powered down his phone.

  Lavender took a deep breath and spoke in a hollow voice she hardly recognized. “We’re not getting back. Not tonight.”

  “No, no, no, no.” Rachelle shook her head and even stomped her feet. With each shout, John tensed. He looked ready to bolt. Not Lavender. She was holding in a smirk. Here were Rachelle’s true colors. A babyish tantrum, compared to Lavender’s own levelheaded behavior. She waited for Marisol to draw away.

  Instead, Marisol put an arm around Rachelle. “It’s okay.”

  “You want to stay out here overnight?” Rachelle asked.

  “No. Of course I don’t want to,” Marisol answered, glancing toward the gold horizon, where the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, “but if we can find a safe shelter until tomorrow, don’t you think we have a better chance in the daylight?”

  Rachelle followed her gaze.

  “Plus,” Marisol said, “I remember my uncle saying you’re more likely to be found if you stay in one place than if you go in circles.”

  “Good point,” John said. He’d stopped backing away. “What if we look for shelter over there?” He pointed toward a clump of boulders.

  “Anything that will protect us if those coyotes come back,” Marisol said.

  “No way,” Rachelle said. “I am not sleeping in a bunch of rocks. It’s probably full of snakes and spiders.”

  In her soul, Lavender agreed with Rachelle, but she would rather become a flat-earther than agree with Rachelle. So she said, “Good idea, John. Let’s go.”

  Lavender marched toward the rocks, hoping that this time Rachelle would throw such a mega-tantrum that Marisol would stop trying to comfort her and tell her to bug off. And if Lavender got her friend back, then sleeping outside in the middle of nowhere with no dinner would almost be worth it.

  Nope. No way. Not worth it. Lavender completely changed her mind by the time she reached the boulders. She was not going to sleep between the rocks. Turned out, she would rather agree with Rachelle than crawl in there.

  Lavender peered into the rocks. They were stacked on one another at the base of a small hill, and they formed a little nook—a pitch-black cave. A tiny dark tunnel that was probably full of killer bees or bats or scorpions or black widows or tarantulas or rattlesnakes or a thousand other creepy-crawly, potentially deadly things.

  “Perfect,” John said, studying the setup.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Rachelle said. “Who knows what’s in there?”

  Lavender bit back a groan. She despised being on the same side as Rachelle.

  “It’s dry, and it’ll be warmer than out here,” John said.

  “What if we miss the people looking for us because we’re hiding in there?” Lavender asked. There. That was a valid point, and it wasn’t the exact same objection as Rachelle’s.

  “What people?” John said.

  “Search and rescue? Don’t you think the teachers will call 911 or something? Doesn’t someone have to be looking for us?” Lavender heard her own voice get higher and higher pitched as she spoke. She was more worried than she was admitting to herself. She took a deep breath and tried to stuff down the looming panic.

  “You’re assuming they made it back,” Rachelle answered. “For all we know, they’re still walking in circles in the middle of the wilderness.”

  “And if anyone is looking yet,” John said, “I bet it will be a long time before they extend the search this far. Think about it, they probably assume that we’re near the wash.”

  “Or in it.” Marisol said the words that Lavender didn’t want to hear.

  “You mean they’ll think we … drowned?” she asked.

  “Probably,” John sai
d. “It’s what I’d think. You saw that flood. If they didn’t see us get out, I bet they think we got caught in it.”

  Lavender’s throat grew tight, and for a second, she thought she might burst into tears. What would her parents think? She took a few deep breaths. If John and Marisol were right, then that meant not only were they stuck sleeping alone in the wilderness overnight—it also meant that there would be no magical rescue. Any search would be for bodies, miles downstream. This wasn’t just a waiting game. It meant that they had to save themselves.

  But how?

  “Well, that sucks,” Rachelle said.

  “Understatement of the century,” Marisol said with a shaky laugh.

  There was another silence. Lavender wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but instead, she straightened her shoulders. In a way, this wasn’t that different than the concert. Someone had to take over. Someone had to direct things. “Okay,” she said. “So, shelter?”

  “I still think the rocks could work,” John said. “And I’ll check for animals before we go in if Rachelle’s worried about it.”

  “Seriously? We’re actually going to sleep in there?” Rachelle wailed.

  “What other option is there?” Marisol said.

  The four walked over to the clump of boulders. Marisol squatted next to John at the entrance. Her voice sounded like she was forcing it to be upbeat. “How will you see?”

  “I’ve got a flashlight,” John said.

  “You do?” Lavender asked. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  John didn’t answer. He was rummaging in his backpack. For the first time, Lavender really noticed how full his bag was. It was stuffed. She was again impressed with his tree-climbing skills. A moment later, John reemerged, flashlight in hand. He flicked it on.

  “I wish we had a black light,” Marisol said.

  “What?” Rachelle asked. “Why?”

  “To make the scorpions glow,” Lavender answered without really thinking—she was still studying John’s bag, but when she looked away, Marisol gave her a small smile. It felt like the first genuine sign of friendship that Marisol had shown since … well, since before the disastrous concert.