Stranded (24 page)

“But you didn't.”

“Too chicken, I guess,” he sniffed, and held his hand over his eyes.

“Actually, I think it means the opposite.” Even through his shirt I could feel the heat blazing off him. I remembered a picture in Dr. Nguyen's office, one of those framed inspirational prints. “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”

He choked out a weird cry. “Sounds like a bunch of hippie bullshit.”

“From a poster in my shrink's office.”

“Shrink, huh? You don't seem like the type.”

“Eventually, I think we're all that type.”

He laughed; it sounded more like a gurgle, and I saw his teeth were pink, filmed with a thin sheen of blood. I looked down and squeezed his shoulder once more. There was nothing I could do now.

“Oh God.” I stood up when I heard the buzz again. “It sounds close.”

“Go find it, Emma,” Isaac whispered, and closed his eyes. “Just go find it.”

“I will.” I jerked forward, my arms out for balance, as though I was learning to walk for the first time.

Just find the noise.

I tilted forward, trying to keep my eyes open. The light was so bright it hurt. The ground moved away, and I almost fell forward. Downhill. The trail was going downhill. The noise was louder there. I shifted my weight back on my heels, letting gravity do the work.

Is this a trail?
It looked like one. Wide and beaten down, dusty from use. I went faster.

Down. Down. Down.

A turn. A switchback. A huge aspen. Then blue and glittering silver, the color of water.

A lake.

Not just any lake. It was enormous. Steely blue, studded with whitecaps.

Lake Superior?
I squinted, making out a dark smudge of trees on the far side. No. Not Lake Superior. But it was a lake. A large lake.

I stumbled down to the shoreline, studded with boulders the size of small cars. Gusts of cold wet air hit my face, and in my desperation to get to the water, I tripped on a slick rock and banged my knee, then my elbow. I didn't care; I was so numb I barely felt it. I stuck my head in the water, gulping at it like an animal. I didn't care about anything, only that it was wet and I could drink it.

The buzz made me lift my head and turn. About a half mile up the shoreline, on a thin crescent-moon inlet, was a dock. And next to the dock was a bright white floatplane. The buzz I'd heard was the engine; the propellers whirled until they blurred with speed.

A plane.

And it was leaving.

“No!” I waved my arms, shrieking as the pain pierced my back, but the plane taxied away from the dock, humming forward like a giant steel dragonfly, turning out a frothy wake as it gathered momentum.

“No! Wait!” I ran into the water, and when it reached my knees I fell forward. “Stop!”

I chopped through the water with sharp, quick strokes, ignoring every spasm and kicking fiercely. My clothes pulled at me. My boots dragged my feet down. I kicked harder.

I have to make them see me!

The water was icy; I gasped with each breath.

Get out there! Swim faster!

I lifted my head up to see the plane facing the opposite
direction from me. Was it going to turn? Which way would it take off?

The cold burned my hands and face, pushing me forward.

Stroke. Stroke. Kick. Kick. Breathe.

Kick. Kick. Breathe.

Stroke. Stroke. Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Stop! Wait! Don't go! See me!

I looked up, but the plane wasn't turning.

No! Wait! Turn around!

Stroke. Stroke. Kick. Kick. Breathe. Choke. Cough.

The wake hit me in the face, rolling me to the side.

Stop! Come back! Please come back.

I floated on my back, watching the bright flash of white lift off, lofted up into the gathering clouds, before banking sharply over the tree line. The snow was falling faster now, like someone shaking down from a ripped pillow. The storm. Soon it might turn into a whiteout.

But I was alone, drifting along like an empty beer can.

What do I do now?

Just float. It'll be okay. Just wait a while and you'll see.

I did. After a minute the water didn't seem so cold. It felt nice. I felt nice. Numb and comfortable. My arms and legs were forgotten; I couldn't really move them much. I just floated.

Come back, Emma.

What? Who is that?

It's me, Emma. It's Lucy.

Lucy? Where are you? I don't see you.

I'm down here.

With some effort I rolled over and put my face in the water, seeing nothing but gray.

Where? It's too dark.

I know. But the dark is okay.

I tried to find you, Lucy. I did find you.

I know.

I was supposed to save you.

I know, Emma. It's okay.

It's
not
okay!

Oh, Emma, don't you see?

I can't see anything.

It doesn't matter. I'm okay.

It matters to me. What do I do now?

Save them.

How? I can't. It's too late.

It's easy, Emma. Just save yourself.

“Lucy!” I screamed into the water. Some primitive part of my brain forced me to breathe, and I rolled over again, back to the surface, treading water. I reached into my pocket. The knife was still there. I pulled it out, opened the blade, and held it up in front of my face, watching it flash and glint when the sun slid from behind a wall of clouds. I turned it over and over between my numb fingers.
He said it was special. He said it saved his life.
But it was just a knife, and there was
nothing special about it. My numb hands fumbled; the shine from the steel glinted so bright it hurt my eyes. It spun again, once more, before it slipped from my fingers, dropping like a glimmering stone to the bottom. I drifted on. Soon enough the sun began to fade. But it was okay. I didn't mind anymore.

*  *  *

“Jesus, Cal, you were right! That flash? It was a person! Good Lord, Mary, Jesus, and Joseph! Hey there! Hey! Hang on! We're coming!

Waves rose and fell, lifting and lowering me, rocking me in a frosty cradle.

“Nice and easy, now. Real slow. I'm gonna lift you up here. Good. Hang on, there you go. Cal, throw me that blanket. Holy Christ, kid, where did you come from? Can you talk? Christ, Cal, her lips are white. All right, all right. You just hang on. Cal, get on the radio to Ely. Rescue dispatch. Hang on, kid! We're going to get you outta here.”

“No.”

“What was that, kid? Did you say something?”

“No.”

“We got to get you to a hospital, kid.”

“No. Three.” My teeth knocked together so hard I bit my tongue.

“Three what?”

I grabbed my own chin with my hand to get the words out. He had to understand me. I had to make myself be understood.

“There are three more.”

“Three more? People?”

I made my head nod using my hand. “In the woods.”

“Hey, Cal! Hang on a minute!” He took off his aviators, waved his hand, a sign to kill the motor.

“Okay, kid.”

“My name is Emma Dodd.”

“Okay, Emma Dodd. Can you tell me where they are?”

I forced my chin up and down, then gathered the strength to speak. “I can show you.”

Beep. Beat. Inhale. Exhale.

The buzz of the machine was a low drone, much better than the high-pitched whine of insects, and I shuddered under my thermal blanket, clicking my teeth.
If I never see another mosquito, it will be too soon.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” Pause. “Or is it Snow White?”

“How about Frostbite?”

“I don't know that princess.”

I rolled over. “I'm awake, but you can still kiss me if you want.”

“Don't have to tell me twice.” Oscar stood in the doorway, his hospital gown hanging crooked over his shoulder, revealing the deep line of his scapula. He gripped an IV pole and pushed it through the doorway. I had my own IV, attached to my wrist, giving me heated fluids, on account of what they were calling “moderate hypothermia.”

“Are you supposed to be walking around?”

“Shh,” he said. “Don't tell.” He eased himself down on the bed next to me, and I couldn't decide if he looked like a very small child or someone who was a hundred years old.

“They're on their way?” I asked.

“Soon,” he said, then nodded.

We'd only been here at the hospital for a few hours. After the pilot and copilot (both biologists with the DNR who'd been checking in on a wolf pack) pulled me out of the water, they called in the dispatch, and a helicopter had arrived. When the rescue crew saw Isaac's wound, they evacuated us directly to Duluth.

“So what's it feel like to be the hero?” Oscar studied my warming blankets, my IV drip.

“I'm not.”

“You saved us all by doing what you did.”

“I didn't think I was going to make it myself.”

“But you did.”

“Lucky for me.”

“Lucky for me, too.”

We sat there awhile like that, his warm hand in my cold one, listening to the machines, the movements in the building, people outside in the halls, nurses and doctors and staff, the squeak of sneakers on shiny, disinfected floors. The hum of electricity. I could turn on a light with a finger flick, turn up the heat by twirling a dial, get a drink of water by pushing a handle. The ease of meeting our needs was nothing short of staggering.

“I guess I feel even,” I said finally. I didn't tell him what I'd seen in my dream, and then again what I saw in the water. Some things, I knew now, were simply beyond telling.

“Even?”

I nodded. I saved three lives to make up for the one I lost. The one I never should have lost.

Out the window was a view of the Duluth harbor, and the lift bridge was up—a huge steamer waiting for passage. Lake Superior took up the entire horizon; it became the horizon, and in this light it was impossible to tell the line of sky from the edge of water. It was everything, and soon enough the steamer would become nothing but a dark dot inside of it, chugging along on its way to the Saint Lawrence.

Oscar curled my hand up in his and squeezed it, opening his mouth to say something, when there was a commotion out in the hall. Voices rising. A nurse entered the room and, seeing us sitting together, quickly frowned.

“What is it?” Oscar asked.

“CNN, I think.” The nurse blinked. “Ever since you kids arrived, all the news media in the tristate area have landed. The parking lot looks like they're waiting for the Second Coming.” Her frown smoothed out; imagining this possibility seemed to please her. She looked on the far side of middle age, probably a grandmother, and she crossed her arms in satisfaction of being the first to reveal this news.

Oscar was annoyed. “They can't come in here.”

“No, of course not,” the nurse replied. “Over my dead body.”

Interesting choice of words
.

“Our parents aren't even here yet,” Oscar continued.

“Some just arrived,” she corrected him. “They're getting briefed by the medical team.” She nodded, as if this is what she had originally come in here to tell us. “And you . . .” She crooked a finger at Oscar. “You need to get back to your room now.”

“I will.”

She blinked again.

“Five minutes, okay?”

The nurse made a deep
humpf
in her throat and left, still smiling.

“Have you seen them?”

Oscar nodded. “Chloe's totally fine, and Isaac . . .”

“Isaac?” I held my breath.

“I passed his room on my way here. He was eating chocolate pudding and watching cartoons.”

“What? So soon? Didn't he have surgery?”

“I guess the wound missed all his vitals.” Oscar shook his head, amazed. “He waved at me and offered me a spoonful. He even called me buddy.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I think they gave him a bunch of painkillers.”

“That's some serious drugs.”

“Yep.”

More silence.

“So.”

“So?”

“Now what happens?”

“I don't know.” Oscar traced his fingers over mine absently. “Everything. Nothing.” He shook his head. “I guess tomorrow we'll be famous.”

“Don't let it go to your head.”

“I'll try.”

The machine beeped low. “You should probably go back to your room.”

“Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Not likely.”

“Good.”

Voices in the hall. I recognized my mother's high-frequency pitch, my father's reassuring murmur. Other voices too. Calm and professional, trying to even out the frantic parental rhythm. They were coming, rising toward us like a tidal wave of sound.

“It's going to be weird,” I said, my eyes suddenly wet.

“I know.” Oscar gripped my hand tighter. “That's why I'm here. We can be weird together.”

I laughed and wiped my eyes. “Then stay.” Was I laughing or crying? I was happy, but tears were coming out everywhere, everything all at once, straight out of my eyes, running down my face, into my mouth, over my chin.

My face is raining, Lucy.

It's okay, Emmy, the sun will come out soon
.

Oscar held both my hands in his. “You gonna be all right?”

I smiled at him, sure through my tears. Now I finally knew the answer to that question. “I am.”

We squeezed our hands together and watched the door swing open.