Survival in Style Page 9

Chapter 9: Pressing On

  I woke up to the oddest sensation. My back was completely toasty but my toes and fingers were freezing. Somehow, like a human blanket, Tony had slipped his arm under my head and we had rolled on our sides so that I could feel his heartbeat in my back. His arm around my waist added warmth, but his shallow breaths against my ear were what woke me up.

  We were snuggling.

  Alarmed, I pushed his arm away. It took me a minute to remember that I was on my first camping trip, which would explain the stiffness and aches in my muscles. The pounding in my head had grown worse since yesterday, probably because of the concussion. I reached for the aspirin Dad had packed in my belt pockets, groaning in agony. Everything hurt! But my need to use the toilet again was the worst, driving away any ideas of painkillers.

  The sun was just starting to brighten the sky, so I knew it was morning. And so early. I never got up so early, not even for Christmas presents. I wanted to sleep some more - a useless idea. Now that I was awake, I could smell, hear and feel everything the forest had to offer, including the lumps beneath the tent that poked into my body like hockey pucks.

  I sat up, brushing against the ceiling of my little tent. Little droplets of condensation rolled down the green fabric. Must be from breathing, I thought. Wow, if we lost all that water just breathing, how much more do we lose when we walk?

  We only had eight meager water packets, having drunk four yesterday. And the more I thought about water, the more I craved it. I remembered Ranger Nelson’s dire warning about bacterial poisoning in the lakes and streams.

  Streams reminded me of my need to go potty. There was no sense in trying to get back to sleep; I knew it wouldn’t happen. Careful not to disturb Tony, I unsealed the tent and crawled outside into the cool morning air.

  The ground was crunchy with fine white frost. Had it really been that cold last night? In June? But the cloud of exhaled vapor that formed in front of my face told me that it was still cold. I glanced at the fire pit; it had gone out through the night. Only a smoldering line of smoke rose from the still-warm ashes. I toasted my fingers over the embers and then headed to the pee tree. I used the remainder of my Army-issue toilet paper and wondered what I would use for the next time.

  Tony had started folding up the cloak-tent by the time I returned. “Good morning, Teaspoon.”

  “Must be six o’clock in the morning,” I grunted.

  “This time of year? Sunrise comes around five-thirty.”

  I grunted. The ties weren’t as wet as I expected, considering the frost. I rolled them up and flipped the tent so the green side was out again, then finished fastening the seams so I could wear it. Most of the water droplets rolled right off, and I knew the rest would evaporate, but I have to admit that it really grossed me out to be wearing our breath around my shoulders.

  Meanwhile, Tony did his best to erase signs of our campsite. He found a dead pine branch and swept the dirt clean of footprints. He even buried the fire under fistfuls of dirt, and topped it off with leaves, pine needles and mosses so it looked like the rest of the forest floor.

  “I hate to tell you this, but I can still tell we camped here,” I said.

  “That’s because you already know.” The look on my face must have expressed doubt, because he added, “At least they’ll have to look twice to find it - if they’re even looking for it. Every minute counts.”

  “Speaking of which,” I said, my stomach growling, “maybe we should eat breakfast?”

  “Munch on the run,” he replied. He fished in his pouch and brought out one of the power bars. He broke it in half and offered it to me. “Bon appétit.”

  “Thanks.”

  He gestured to my miniature compass. “Which way, O Ringed One?”

  I glanced down and located south. “That-a-way,” I pointed.

  We began to trudge along.

  “Oh, my gosh,” I groaned. “I’m so sore. I can’t believe how sore I am.”

  He chuckled. “Me, too. Like crashing into a lake wasn’t bad enough. I think we walked five hours straight yesterday.” As he walked, he unfolded the map he’d snatched at the ranger station. He squinted off into the distance, then checked the map again. “Looks like we made good time, too. About fifteen miles, if I’m reading this right. But we’ll have to do better than that today.”

  I did some swift calculations. “That’s about three miles an hour? If we keep up that pace, we’ll reach Otter Paw in three more days. Tuesday night or so.”

  “And I’ll get back in time to testify against Drosnin.” He refolded the crumpled paper and stuffed it back in his pouch. Then he passed me a water packet. “Try to make it last. We can each drink two today, and then another two tomorrow.”

  “And then on Tuesday?”

  He shrugged.

  I didn’t want to think about it. I sipped my little packet as we walked, but slowly, to make it last. It didn’t do much to quench my thirst, though. I alternated between nibbling on the power bar and taking tiny swigs of water. “Probably have to eat squirrel meat when this runs out, right?”

  “Sure. The whole forest is a smorgasbord. Bark, berries, and squirrel meat. We’re set!”

  It took a while for my stiff muscles to start moving naturally. I need a trip to the spa, I thought. A nice massage, some relaxing music... A branch to my face cured me of those thoughts right away. “Hey, watch it!”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Try to keep up. We can’t afford to slow down, not now. We’re still free.”

  “I’m trying as hard as I can. I just hurt everywhere.”

  “Don’t you have aspirin or something in that fancy belt of yours?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I opened one of the packets and used the last of my water to swallow the two pills inside. I offered Tony the other packet. “Want some?”

  “Nope. I try to save what I have for when I really need it.”

  I felt a little scolded, and somewhat ashamed. Was he saying that I should suffer with the pain, and not take any relief?

  “I mean,” he continued, “What if I were to break my arm? I’d want something then.”

  “Aspirin wouldn’t help much with a broken arm.”

  “I guess you’re right. But you might need them tomorrow, so keep them.”

  “Okay then. What about the other stuff - mosquito repellent, lip balm?”

  “Those I will take, and gladly.”

  The sun was bright in the sky before I remembered my day at Nature Camp back in sixth grade, when they told us we could find water from dew. Leaves exhaled oxygen and water, so all we had to do was find some broad leaves and curl them up a bit, and drink the drops. But by the time I remembered all that, the sun had burned away all the frost and warmed up the air so much that my cloak was not only dry, but growing uncomfortably warm.

  Too tired and sore to talk, I plodded along, sometimes following Tony, sometimes leading the way, always trying to ignore the mosquito bites on my arms and the itches between my toes.

  The forest made conversation for us. Red-breasted robins chirped their territorial ballads in the treetops above while squirrels chattered their defiant replies. In fact, one little creature with olive-brown fur jumped from one tree to another, spreading his little arms like he wanted to be a bird.

  “A flying squirrel!” I shouted. “Look!”

  Tony didn’t look fast enough. “They’re supposed to be nocturnal anyway. Maybe it was just a regular squirrel.”

  “I know what I saw. He’ll be our good luck charm for today.”

  Mammals were at least friendly and cuddly, but I kept flinching every time I thought I saw a snake. Even so, I felt so peaceful out here in the wintergreen-scented air. “I could live here,” I murmured.

  Tony glanced down at me.

  “Well, maybe I could come back here,” I corrected, “when I’m not running for my life.”

  Tony froze. “Helicopter?”

  I strained, listening for the now-familiar staccato. At first I couldn�
��t distinguish it from the immediate rustling leaves, but then I heard it. We dashed for the nearest cluster of waist-high grass. I almost screamed when a rabbit darted out.

  Tony pushed me in, anticipating my protest. “If a rabbit was in there, there aren’t any snakes.”

  Just as we nestled in the soft grass, the helicopter passed overhead.

  “Red and white! It’s a rescue copter,” I said, getting ready to wave at it.

  Tony held my wrist down. “Looks like it, but what if it’s Nelson? What if Drosnin has other rangers?”

  “Could be a real rescue,” I pushed. “By now, my folks are probably worried sick.”

  “Can’t chance it.”

  When we were sure it wouldn’t double back, we crawled out of the thicket. Tony held out his hand to help me to my feet, but I glared at him. I understood his mistrust, but I also wanted to go home.

  He nodded. “Let’s get to the good guys before Drosnin and his men do.”

  “Even if we make it to Otter Paw, how do we know your officer isn’t one of them already?”

  “I trust Jerome,” he said. “Maybe I’m wrong, but he’s always tried to protect me.”

  “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Adrenaline rushed through my body, making it easier to bully my way through the thick grasses and branches. After picking our steps over thin creeks and climbing jagged hills, I noticed that my headache had returned. And I was starving. Tony seemed to be having an easier time; every time I slipped, he caught me; every time I faltered, he steadied me. He was becoming my crutch fast, but I couldn’t help it. I was exhausted. And it was only our second day.

  A while later, Tony pointed to a tiny gray shack off in the distance at the top of a barren hill. “There’s Miller’s Lodge. Let’s make it there, then we’ll take a quick break for lunch.”

  “We get to eat lunch? I thought we had to wait until dinnertime.”

  “The power bar was seven hours ago, at least. May as well be yesterday. I’m starving.”

  “Me, too.” The thought of lunch gave me a surge of energy, enough to hike up the steep hill to Miller’s Lodge.

  Wildflowers and weeds surrounded the abandoned old shack. Cobwebs hung everywhere out on the porch; I shuddered to think what we’d find inside. Worse was the eerie silence; there was no birdsong at the top of the hill, like I’d been hearing all day, as if something bad had happened to frighten away all the wildlife. It gave me goosebumps.

  “Let’s see if there’s anything we can use,” Tony said, striding straight onto the decaying porch.

  “I’ll wait out here, thanks,” I hedged. “To rescue you if you fall through the floor or something.”

  He poked his head through the doorframe, then went inside. He came out about four seconds later. “Nothing there except an old canteen with a hole near the top,” he announced. “I frightened a raccoon family, though. Cute little buggers.”

  “No food? Cans or packets or coffee tins full of beans?”

  “It’s abandoned,” he replied.

  I sighed. “Well, if we find a pond, at least we can fill the canteen.”

  “And get bacterial poisoning from stagnant water? Come on, city girl, I wouldn’t drink that green slime if it were the only water left on earth.”

  I patted my belt. “I do have some water purification tablets, you know. Now all we need is a stream.”

  “So which do you want - another power bar or another power bar?”

  I adopted a British accent. “Thank you, James. I’ll take a salmon steak, brushed with lemon butter and topped with herbs.”

  His response was equally British. “As you wish, my lady.” Ever the gentleman, he passed me the half with the wrapper so I wouldn’t get my hands all sticky.

  We sat on the edge of the rotting porch. I munched for a while before I let out a small laugh. “You know, these are disgusting. They always say that when you’re super hungry, everything tastes great. They lied.”

  He smiled. “I know. And still I wish we had more of them.”

  I closed my eyes for a minute, tilting my face up toward the sun. “I haven’t had this much fresh air since I was a kid. Remember when it was fun to race to the top of a big hill? Now it’s just work.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh! Listen - an owl. I thought they were supposed to be nocturnal.”

  He cocked an ear in the direction I was pointing. “That’s not an owl. It’s a mourning dove. And she’s... there, right there, see in the top of that tree?”

  I found her in the tree right above us, so close that I could have thrown my power bar at her nest - a bluish gray creature with enormous dewy black eyes. She didn’t seem disturbed by our presence at all.

  “Did you know they produce milk?” he asked, his voice soft and low.

  “I thought mammals were the only dairy creatures.”

  “It’s not quite dairy. You know how penguins regurgitate their food? Well, mourning doves have a special thing in their throat that produces a sort of milk. It’s supposed to smell like cheese, too.”

  “Gross. What are you, some sort of walking dictionary?”

  He shrugged. “I like to read.”

  “Me, too.” I added my own bit of lore. “Did you know that moose and elk are pretty much the same thing with a few minor differences, sort of like how humans can be Norwegians or Hispanics?”

  “Both types of humans being Caucasian, from the Caucus mountains.”

  My jaw dropped. “Holy cow. Talk about precise.”

  “Yep. Did you know there are three kinds of wild cats out here - bobcat, cougar and lynx?”

  I shuddered. “And just last night you were mocking me for being afraid of bears.”

  “Sorry. At least the timber wolves and foxes will leave you alone.”

  I thought for a minute. “Did you know that porcupines never have twins? One baby only.”

  “Cool. Did you know there are four kinds of squirrels in Minnesota? Red, gray, fox and flying.”

  “Five,” I corrected. “You forgot the ground squirrel, more technically known as the thirteen-lined ground squirrel, also known as the humble gopher.”

  He nudged me in the shoulder with his. “Aha! So you’re a fellow nerd, after all. When we get home, we should play Trivial Pursuit.”

  My grin disappeared. “Yeah, home. This has been fun. But we should probably get moving before I decide I need a nap.”

  “This has been fun,” he repeated. “Let me go find a tree real quick. Be right back.”

  I knew what he meant. I’m too dehydrated to pee, I thought. I untied my right boot and began to rub my ankle. The stench of wet leather and foot sweat wafted up to my poor nostrils. I really needed a shower. Disgusted, I pulled off my sweaty sock in order to check on my blisters. The bandages Ranger Nelson had placed on my heel yesterday was still there, but now I had new blisters growing on the tops and sides of my feet. I would be lame by tonight - and aspirin wasn’t going to help a whole lot.

  “Darn.”

  Tony knocked on the side of the house. At least, I thought it was Tony. When he kept knocking but didn’t respond, I peeped around the side to see what he was doing. Nobody was there. It was just a fallen branch, not quite severed from its tree, thumping against another tree. Below it, however, was an old axe poking out from a stump that must have served as a chopping block when the lodge was still being lived in. We could really use an axe, even a rusty one. Dad’s ring-saw necklace was awfully hard to use.

  Boot in hand, I went to check it out. When my naked foot felt how thick and soft the grass was, I considered taking off my other boot. Just then, I was thrown on my back by a strong force that whipped me into the air! When I stopped bouncing around, I realized that I was dangling three feet off the ground, securely snagged by a thick rope snare. I thrashed around like a walleye on a fishing line.

  Tony came crashing through the branches. “What happened?” he asked, but he figured it out as soon as he saw me. “Hold still.”


  “Get me down!”

  “Hold still,” he repeated in his soothing, calm voice. “I can’t help you if you keep flailing like that.”

  I forced myself to stop panicking.

  “If I had a pocket knife, I could cut you down,” he said, “but all we have is that ring-saw. I don’t think I can reach that high. How about you?”

  “I think so.” I hooked Dad’s ring saw around my fingers and tried to curl up toward my feet.

  Have you ever seen those ladies in the circus, the ones who hang from long crimson curtains and dance in the air? Well, they’re stronger than they look. I gained new respect for them as I tried and tried to reach up to my ankle, but I wasn’t very flexible or strong. Certainly not coordinated enough to hold myself in position and use the saw. I sagged, my hair drooping into a patch of pink and purple wildflowers. Blood pounded in my head, making my headache even worse. “Can’t do it,” I gasped.

  “So we try something else,” he said.

  “You could climb up the tree and cut me down,” I suggested.

  “Maybe. Of course, you’d fall, maybe break your neck. Oh, hang on... get it, hang on? Never mind... If I hold you up, could you slip your foot out of the loop?”

  He braced himself under my shoulders, pushing me up toward the rope. I nearly split my hamstring; it took all my effort to heave myself up, but I got the rope off my ankle. Of course, I also crashed toward the earth in the same instant.

  “Gotcha!” Tony said. His legs buckled as he caught me.

  A sharp cry escaped my lips. “My ankle.” I sat up and looked at it in horror. If the rope had snagged the foot with the boot, I bet I’d have been fine. As it was, I could already see the rope burns on my tender pink skin.

  He started to prod it with gentle fingers, but I pushed him away. “Don’t touch, for crying out loud.”

  “I think it’s just twisted,” I mumbled. Was the nausea from the pain or from being dehydrated? Either way, I didn’t want to puke in front of Tony again. “Guess I should put my boot back on, huh?”

  “Afraid so. If we don’t do it now, your ankle will swell too much and we won’t be able to get it on at all. And you won’t be able to hike without some protection.”

  I handed him the gauze from my belt. “Do you know how to bind an ankle?”

  Sympathy glittered in his black eyes. “I’m a soccer player. It comes with the territory.” He unwrapped the long white bandages. “Brace yourself. This might hurt a little.”

  He bound my ankle in a secure figure-eight pattern so I couldn’t move it, which was painful enough. I tried to focus on the vibrant petals of a purple wildflower near my head. That trick didn’t work when we tried to get my boot back on my foot. I had to really clench my teeth together with all the twisting and pushing it took. When it was over, my forehead was covered in fine sweat, and I’m pretty sure I pulled up a dozen of those poor flowers by their roots trying not to scream.

  My eyes stung again when I tried to stand up. I caught my breath, dazzled by the momentary pain. Tony glanced down at me, pleading in his eyes, but he didn’t say what he was thinking. “It’s not that bad,” I lied. “Might not be able to make twenty miles today, though.”

  “No problem.” He draped my arm over his shoulder. “Lean on me. Hey, don’t go fainting on me now. I can’t carry you all the way to Otter Paw.”

  I leaned half my weight against him and started my little bird-hops toward the forest. I couldn’t help but remember the time I was back in second grade, when I broke my wrist. This pain was definitely as sharp. At least I didn’t have Mom scolding all the way to the hospital this time, nagging about how it was my fault and how I should be more careful. And Dad wasn’t here to argue with her either, saying how accidents happen and you can’t plan for them and the best you can do is deal with them when they happen - which is kind of what Tony said the night before: make a choice.

  I’m strong, I thought. I can do this. I turned to Tony. “Really, I’m fine. Let’s not stop until we make camp for tonight, okay?”