Anyone? (24 page)

“What if you’re wrong?” I pressed my back against one of the
bridge’s wooden trusses as shadows outside my safe zone started to disappear.
The rising sun swallowed them inch by inch.
Please don’t be wrong, Cole.
Please.

He released the buckle of his backpack and let it fall to
the ground with a thump, causing the bridge to vibrate, then stepped fully into
the morning light. He closed his eyes, turned his face toward the sun, and held
his arms outstretched at his side. “Is my skin sloughing off?”

“Please don’t joke around.”

“Am I starting to smoke? Do you see any flames shooting out
from my head?”

“You didn’t get sunburned before, so standing out there now
doesn’t prove anything.” I glanced up at the roof of the old covered bridge—weather-beaten
and broken in several areas, it wouldn’t take long for the light to creep in
and take over, leaving me with only a foot or two of possible shade.

I was pretty much screwed regardless if I stepped into the
sun or remained here. “We should have stayed at the motel we passed several
miles ago, and walked tonight after the sun went down.”

Cole dropped his arms and opened his eyes. “You want to climb
a mountain in the dark? In pitch blackness? Yeah, that sounds like a much better
plan to me, way more reasonable.”

“And if I burn, what are you going to do? By the time you
can pick me up and run from here to there”—I pointed to a small thicket of
trees—”you’ll be carrying my fleshless skeleton in your arms.”

“Wow, you’re dramatic and incredibly visual with your words.”
He held his hand out toward me. “Come on. It’s going to be fine, I promise.”

I looked at Callie cradled in the crook of my arm. “What
about her?”

“What about her? Did she get burned by the sun too?”

“No, but she went crazy right before I reached my arm
outside the garage. She knew something wasn’t right long before I did.”

He pointed a lazy hand at her. “She looks pretty darn
peaceful to me. Come on.”

I knew what happened to me, even if I couldn’t understand
how I’d healed so quickly. Whatever had happened, I didn’t want to experience
it again, especially if I could avoid it. “What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.” He wiggled his fingers.

I swallowed and hugged Callie closer. “I don’t think I can.”

“Well, the sun’s going to get you one way of the other.” He
indicated the decreasing shadows near my feet. “You can waste time by standing
there, or you can trust me. The choice is yours.”

“How fast is your running ability?”

He shook his head. “Not too good.”

Great.
“I’m supposed to step into the sun likes it’s
no big deal?”

“Yeah, because that’s exactly what it is—no big deal. If I
believed you’d be hurt, I wouldn’t make you do this.”

“And if something bad does happen?”

He threw his hands into the air. “Then I’ll let you set me
on fire so we’re even, okay?”

I took a couple of deep breaths and looked at him. “You
better be right.”

“I am.” He wiggled his fingers again, this time with a
little less patience.

I braved sticking the toe of my boot into the light. Normal
warmth heated my foot. No human combustion, but that didn’t mean anything—my
foot was covered. My arm hadn’t been.

Please, please, please.

I reached into the light with my free hand, sticking it out
for a millisecond and drawing it quickly back in. Again, normal warmth. Okay,
not bad.

“Do it again,” he said.

The shade around me shrank several more inches. “I really
hate this.”

“I know.” Cole made himself comfortable in the middle of the
dirt road, his legs straight in front of him and crossed at the ankle. He
leaned back on his arms and tipped his face to the sun. “Ahhh... it feels
wonderful.”

“You’re a huge jerk.”

He smiled, but didn’t look at me. “I know.”

Light trickled over both my boots, and pierced the broken
beams overhead, though not quite touching me—not yet anyway. Either I would die
a horrible death or this experience would turn out to be something funny to
look back on.

Please be funny. Please be freakin’ hilarious!

I wrapped Callie’s leash around my hand and took one final
deep breath. All or nothing. No going back.
Do it.
I kept my eyes on the
stand of trees and took off running across the open space between them and the bridge,
not giving myself an opportunity to change my mind.

Dust kicked up around my boots. Callie screeched, coming
awake, and dug her baby claws into my arm.
To the trees, to the trees!
I
zipped past a relaxed Cole, hardly noticing him as I ran for the shade and
instant safety.

Mr. Wanket, my P.E. teacher would have been so proud at my
sprinting ability. Yeah, his name was Wanket, and yeah, the jokes were
plentiful, but in that moment, I couldn’t remember even one. My focus was that
intense.

When I got to the trees, huffing and panting, I realized the
only pain I suffered came from the scratches inflicted by my surprised cat. I
glanced at my exposed arms then reached up and patted my face.

“I’m okay!”
Thank heavens!

Cole stood, brushed off his pants, and smiled. “That’s
debatable, but you
are
still as pale as ever, so that’s a good thing.” He
seemed to think for a moment, then waved a hand at me, pointing from my head to
my feet. “Now that I think about it, you should probably put some sunscreen on.”

A small fire crackled in the makeshift pit. Occasionally, a
few embers would float into the sky, but die a quick death in the cool air. A
breeze swayed the branches high above our heads, but otherwise, a thick
eeriness permeated everything. Where normally an owl would hoot or a wolf would
bay at the moon, only silence filled the night. No crickets chirping. No
bullfrogs croaking. No life at all. It should have felt more comforting—no
threat of being eaten by a bear or attacked by a moose—but the deadly silence
was almost worse.

I adjusted the blanket around my shoulders and petted Callie
as she slept belly-up in my lap. The fire warmed us, though the night was cool
and pleasant.

Cole knelt near the fire, keeping an eye on a pot of water. “The
altitude must be screwing with the boiling process. This is taking forever.”

“You filtered the water, right?”

He’d spent a good deal of time before the sun went down
pumping water from the small creek next to our camp. The process was slow, but
necessary.

“Yeah, but I want to take every precaution possible. The
last thing we need is stomach cramps and the turkey trots.” He used a large
stick to shift the hot coals. “Hate being frank like that, but we’re out in the
woods with only a couple rolls of toilet paper between us. Those rolls are
worth their weight in gold, and I won’t easily share mine.”

He thrived on having no decorum. I only smiled—a different
response to his uncouth words. He must have worn on me or I had decided correcting
his behavior wasn’t worth the effort.

“Did you get enough to eat?” He looked across the flames. “I’m
pretty sure you’re getting skinnier with each passing day.”

Really?
I hadn’t noticed. My pants hung a little
loose, and I’d had to tighten my belt, but in a world where fresh proteins and
veggies were scarce, this would be expected. A person could only live on “add
water and stir” meals for so long without it affecting their physique. “Remember
how you tried to stop me from laughing and having a panic attack? You told me we’d
pick wild berries and hunt rabbits on this camping trip?”

He made himself comfortable on a fallen log and poked the
flames with the stick—a giant dangerous kid. “Nope.”

Go figure.
“Well, you did, and now I’m telling you I
could go for either one of those.”

“Sorry, kid. I shouldn’t have said it then. The most I can
offer you is a peanut butter granola bar.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I figured.”

“You want a granola bar?”

“Heck no. If I eat any more granola, I’m going to turn into
a vegan nature-loving hippie. It starts with granola and the next thing you
know you’re wearing your hair in dreadlocks and forgetting to shower.” I hadn’t
set out to be funny or curt, but he laughed, and I realized he had worn on me
in more ways than one. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe not.

“Well, you’ve got the granola and no showering parts down,
so I guess the next logical step is dreadlocks.”

I shook my head. “Not happening.”

“I know a few vegan hippies and they’re some of the nicest
people I’ve ever met. They make the best natural soaps and grow some of the
best organic wee... wheatgrass.” He cleared his voice, stopped poking the fire,
and looked at me. “Forget it. You’re not a vegan-hippie kind of person.”

“I don’t want to be a vegan or a hippie, remember?”
Why are
we arguing?

“That’s good. You’d make a terrible one.” He leaned over the
pot and smiled. “About time.” He used the stick to swing the pot away from the
flames. “As soon as it cools, we’ll fill our water bottles.”

“Okay.” I stood, holding a sleepy cat. “I think I’m going to
go to bed now. It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. You coming?”

“I’ll get some sleep in a bit. I’ve got to string up my
hammock and make sure the fire is out first.”

“Hammock? The tent is all ready to go. There’s plenty of
room for your stuff and mine.”

“I think the hammock will be much better for the both of us,
don’t you think?”

I shrugged. “Do whatever you want, Cole. I’m too tired to
argue with you let alone try to molest you while you’re sleeping, if that’s
what you’re thinking. If you want to sleep in a hammock, go for it. You might
want to rig up a tarp while you’re at it, too. Looks like it might rain tonight.”

He glanced at the dark clouds circling the tops of the trees,
making them appear larger and taller than they actually were. Precisely at that
moment, a drop of rain landed on his cheek. It couldn’t have been timed better.

He turned his gaze from the sky to the pup tent and then to
me. “I’ll take my chances.”

Rain drizzled from low-lying clouds, carrying right on into
the following afternoon without a break. What had once sounded beautiful and
lulling against the tent walls soon began to annoy me outside. Wetness curdled
my toes and water logged my fingertips. Even with a raincoat thrown over my
clothes and backpack, water still managed to work its way inside, drip down my
neck, and soak my socks, making the very act of walking miserable.

The trails became muddy encumbering pathways, and both Cole
and I slipped our way along them. We would have stuck to the paved roads, the
easiest routes through the mountains, but when we’d come to the mouth of the
canyon, we’d found it blocked by a massive impassable landslide.

“That doesn’t look natural,” Cole had said. “Look there.” He’d
pointed to the smooth canyon walls. “That didn’t happen on its own.”

“What do you mean?”

“There and there.” He pointed once again, this time to
several different spots. “Someone blasted the mountain and forced a road
closure. If the weather did this, there would be more of an angle to it. This
looks chiseled and deliberate to me.”

“You’re saying someone did this on purpose? Why?”
What
did this mean?

He shifted the pack on his shoulders. “I don’t know, but an
awful lot of trouble went into this decision, so whatever the reason, it must
have been a good one.”

Even now, as we traversed the dangerous mountainside,
weaving between trees and boulders, my mind couldn’t shake the vision of
someone purposely exploding a mountain.

The reason must have been a good one
. Cole’s words
thumped at my brain, and with the rain making it too miserable to do much of
anything but place one foot in front of the other, talking gave way to silence
and I was left alone inside my head.

Callie had it good, riding in the front pocket of my
backpack. She didn’t even complain when I shoved her inside, but curled up and
fell asleep, probably realizing it was better to be dry and uncomfortable.

Every time it seemed as though the rain would let up, giving
us a reprieve, the clouds would slam back together and rain once again. Too
many disappointments taught me to stop hoping when I saw a hint of blue in the
sky.

Cole didn’t grumble or voice his discontent, but trudged through
the soggy mud sucking at his boots, and tightened his rain jacket around his
neck. He had to be just as tired and wet as me, but never said so.

We climbed steep paths and made our way through thick trees,
following the downward flowing river. Cole didn’t want to venture too far away
from our only source of water; besides, it kept us from walking around in
circles. Even with a compass to direct us—something I couldn’t quite figure out
and left up to Cole to interpret—it wouldn’t take much to become lost.

Each step, however wet and awful, got me closer to Dad. I
kept my mouth shut, my head down, and trudged along.

We rounded a bend and our path opened wide, revealing a
beautiful grove of tall grasses and multi-colored wildflowers bordering the
large crystal-clear lake. Jagged mountain cliffs walled it in, and pines and
junipers grew in clumps, giving the entire area a tranquil mystical feel.

Mirror Lake.
I’d been here before with Dad and Toby.
We’d camped under a blanket of trees off to the south and fished the inlet of
the river to the north. Years had passed since I’d last set foot here, but the
memories rushed back as though only a few days had gone by.

I smiled—
we’re getting closer
—but my grin slipped
away as I was overcome by dread and fear. The beautiful flowers and trees faded
and the gruesome scene before us came into full view.

From a distance, the lake appeared to be circled by large
rocks and boulders, almost like sandbags used to keep the water from
overflowing and flooding the exquisite space, but as we drew closer, it became
quite apparent the mounds weren’t rocks at all.

The bodies of hundreds of dead animals, bloated and
decaying, lay on their sides along the lake’s edge, the carcasses wrapped
around the entire length of the lake, ten to twenty animals deep. Smaller
animals lay on top of the larger ones like Russian stacking dolls, with their
milky eyes wide and their mouths gapping. Tongues hung from open jaws. Stiff
legs jutted at awkward angles. Bears, deer, birds, horses, domestic dogs and
cats, mice, bobcats, chipmunks, rabbits, beavers—the predator and the prey—all asleep
in death; all sharing the massive unnatural gravesite.

Worse yet, dozens of animals floated in the clear blue
water, some just below the surface, while others lingered and swayed on top. Creepy
and unreal. Rain rippled the water and rolled over the dead animals bobbing along
the edges, washing away the smell that would’ve accompanied the scene.

I couldn’t move or look away, even though I wanted to run. This
solved part of the mystery of where all the animals had gone, though I couldn’t
understand what it meant. Had some of the animals run straight into the lake?
None of them would have been able to swim across the expanse. Had they known
they were sentencing themselves to death? But most importantly, what were they
running from?

Cole came to stand at my side. Rain dripped from the brim of
his hat. “Now you know why filtering the water isn’t good enough.”

We’ve been drinking this water?
I bent at the waist
and vomited into the wet grass until I had nothing left to throw up. Cole didn’t
try to comfort me, but stood quietly at my side until I had finished. I swiped
a wet hand over my mouth. “We need to get out of here.”

“Agreed.” He shook his shoulders, spraying rain like a wet
dog. “Be careful where you step.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Cole bent down, picked up a
handful of thick snow from the pile wrapping around our legs, and held it out
to me. “We’re not prepared for this kind of thing.”

My body shivered and my teeth chattered. I agreed with Cole without
having to voice it. In the space of a week, we had seemed to experience all
four seasons—extreme heat, torrential rains, and now a snowstorm. He was right:
we weren’t prepared for winter conditions. A snowstorm this time of year,
especially in the higher elevations, wasn’t unheard of, and packing a winter coat
among our supplies would have been a smart thing to do, but neither of us had.

I’d already put on every piece of dry clothing available. With
the way the weather seemed to change every few hours, it seemed we just needed
to wait out the storm. Eventually, it would get better. I had to believe that.

“How’re your feet?” Cole brushed the snow from his gloved
hand.

“Frozen.”

“Can you feel your toes?”

“No, not really.” The Doc Marten boots, though stylish, didn’t
do much to keep my feet warm or dry. The souls were cracked and my toes
threatened to poke through the leather at any moment. They made horrible hiking
boots, but they’d gotten me this far and I hoped they’d hang in there long
enough to take me the rest of the way. “But that’s normal, right?

“Normal if you like walking on stumps instead of feet. No,
not feeling your toes is never considered normal. It’s pretty bad, actually.”

“I’ll be fine. If we keep moving, I’ll warm up.” I didn’t
want to waste time on a standard part of being out in the cold. We were so
close to finding Dad, and I didn’t want to get sidetracked. True, I hadn’t
experienced this kind of snow and cold before—most of our winters consisted of
a few inches of light snow mixed with icy rain, not sub-zero temperatures like
this. My wimpy, summer-loving body needed to adjust.

I took off my gloves and blew on my hands, trying to instill
some warmth back into my numb fingers. My breath turned into white puffs that
hung in the air, and my nostrils began to freeze. I instantly regretted the
removal of my gloves. Breathing on my fingers hadn’t helped at all.

Cole grabbed my hands right as I tried slipping my frozen
digits back into my gloves. “How long have they looked like this?”

I hadn’t noticed the redness creeping over my fingers or the
pasty-white patches covering their tips. “I don’t know. This was the first time
I’ve taken my gloves off.” The cold air bit into my flesh.

He pinched each finger in turn. “Do you feel that?”

I nodded.

He helped me put on my gloves, but kept turning his head,
looking around. For what exactly, I had no idea. “We need to get you out of
this cold.”

“Should we pitch the tent?” We didn’t have many options as
far as shelter went, and I wouldn’t mind slipping into my sleeping bag for a
minute or two.

“No.” He held both my hands between his, rubbing warmth into
them. “The snow is too heavy. It’ll collapse. We can’t even start a fire,
because the falling snow will smother it.” The look on his face told me if he
could have punched something, he probably would have.

“Then let’s keep walking,” I suggested. “Standing here is
making it worse.” Cold seeped through my boots and crept up my spine. Each intake
of breath chilled my lungs, and every release meant I was forced to take
another. The longer we stood there, the colder I became, and the more the pile
of snow around us deepened.

“This isn’t good, Tess.” His eyes held a sense of
seriousness that should have scared me, but didn’t. “I’m getting worried about
you.”

“We’ll be fine. It’s not far now, just over the hill there.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “No, it isn’t. That’s not even the
right way.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “We have to head for that
ridge, you know that.”

I smiled
. Why is he getting all worked up?
“Yeah, I’m
sorry. I guess I got a little turned around.”

He swore under his breath as he removed the crinkled map
from his pocket, stared at it for a long time, and then scanned the area around
us. “There’s got to be a cabin or a hunting shack around here somewhere.”

“We haven’t seen any so far.”

Cole kept glancing around. “Doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
This is serious, Tess. We’ve got to get out of the cold before you lose your fingers
and toes.”

I’d thought he’d been joking before about the stump thing. “How
are your hands? Are you freezing?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Let me see.” I grabbed one of his hands, and even though he
didn’t make it easy, I managed to remove his gloves.
What the heck?
I
snatched his other hand, took off that glove too, and held both his hands in
mine. “They’re not cold.”

“I told you I was fine.”

His hands gave off warmth right through the gloves covering
my own. A normal flesh- colored tone proved his words true. He was fine. No
sickly white spots or bright-pink areas. His fingers didn’t look anything like
mine though we both wore the same gloves. In fact, he probably didn’t even need
gloves at all.

“You’re not shivering.” I hadn’t noticed it before now, too
focused on my own cold and discomfort. My body hadn’t stopped shaking for at
least a good hour. I didn’t think I could stop, or ever would, and I assumed he
was suffering like me. “Why aren’t you shivering?”

He snatched his hands away and worked his gloves back over
them. “I have more endurance than you, I guess.” He pointed to the west of the ridge.
“We should head for that section, because if I had a cabin, I’d build one
there.”

Beautiful majestic mountains rose up behind where he pointed—a
perfect Ansel Adams backdrop for a cabin.

“Okay,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself, “we’ll head
there if you think that’s the way to go.”

“I don’t know if we’ll find anything, but it’s worth a shot.
Otherwise, we’re in a whole lot of trouble.”

I let him take the lead. He stomped out the path—an arduous
task of lifting one leg, putting it down on top of the snow, and then sinking nearly
up to his thigh. Walking in the snow was hard and time consuming.

I kept my eyes on him as I trudged behind, but my mind kept
going back to his warm hands.
Why didn’t he shiver?
“Are you okay?” I
called to him.