Stranded (6 page)

“If they are,” Isaac said, “they're probably destroyed.”

“We should go and look.”

“I did.” Isaac stared at her, disturbed. “They aren't there.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I am sure.”

“But you—”

“Go yourself if you don't believe me!” Isaac roared. “Go and look! I dare you.”

I sat back down, feeling like I should eat something. Or maybe I shouldn't eat anything. I needed water. I wished for something a little stronger. Bourbon. Vodka. Gin. I wanted to puke. I leaned forward and pinched the bridge of my nose.

“You okay?” Oscar sounded concerned.

Do I look okay?
“Mmm-hmm.”

“Fine!” Chloe shouted, and stomped over in the direction of the tent. She climbed over the limb on the far side and disappeared. I tried to think about what she would do when she saw it. Scream? Faint? I didn't have to wonder long.

When someone vomits, it's a unique sound, and even though everyone does it a little differently, no one needs an explanation. Like the wailing on the news, there's not much lost in translation.

After a few minutes she climbed back over the tree and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She didn't look at us, and we didn't look at her. We all just stared at the ground. Thankfully, Isaac didn't say anything. No one did.

My shadow dissolved slowly in the sand, and I when I finally looked up, only a half-light was left in the sky, fading with each passing second.

Chloe sat down next to me. “How you doing, Em?”

Em. Like my friends used to call me. Lucy always called me Emmy.

I shook my head and swallowed.

Chloe sighed. “Yeah, me too.”

We looked for movement on the water. No loons. No frogs. No fish jumping the surface. Not even a bug.

“I think we've picked up as much stuff as we can,” she said. “No thanks to Captain Asshole, of course.”

I snorted, burying my face in my elbow. I shouldn't laugh at a time like this. Then again, maybe that was the only thing left to do.

“Did the captain decide on a course of action?”

“I guess we're staying put for now.”

“Do you think anyone knows what happened?”

“I hope so. Chris said . . .” Chloe's voice cracked on his name. “He said we were remote, and we haven't seen anyone for a whole day. But you think there would be a few campsites close by?”

“Maybe Oscar knows,” I said. “He was looking at the map a lot last night.”

“That's what we really need to find,” Chloe sighed. “The map.”

“You didn't find it?”

She shook her head. “It's probably ripped to shreds, or stuck up in a tree somewhere.” She kicked her boot in the sand. “Or we need a compass. Or a phone. My phone had a compass. A GPS.”

“Mine did too.”

The setting sun was a fireball in the sky, sinking quickly behind the trees, and we watched it turn from a bright half circle to a glowing crescent to a sliver of hot orange fingernail. “That must be west, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you two doing?” Isaac's voice was loud. “Lezzing out?”

“You wish.” Chloe flipped her finger at him, not bothering to turn around.

“Whatever,” Isaac grumbled. “It's time for a powwow.” He didn't wait for a reply but slipped back over a log.

“Who died and made him king?” Chloe asked. And then I immediately realized the literalness of the question. Someone had died. Three someones, actually. And our leader
was
dead.

I got up. “What happens now?”

“Maybe Captain A has a plan.”

“I hope he came up with a good one.”

“I doubt it.” Chloe shook her head, unconvinced. “But I guess there's a first time for everything.”

“I guess there is.” I pulled her up; she squeezed my hand, and we walked back to the campsite in silence.

Isaac stood where the center of the campfire had been, the ground charred black under his boots. Oscar sat next to the refilled cooler and the pile of now folded clothes, and I went and stood next to him. Chloe pressed her back up against a trunk; the splintered wall of broken limbs and sticks around us made me think we were trapped in some sort of prehistoric bird nest.

“Okay,” he began. “We've gathered as many supplies—”

“You did?” Chloe crossed her arms. “I thought you were just supervising.”

“I was thinking.”

“Oh. I see.”

“And I've decided we should stay put.”

“Is this gonna be a vote?”

Isaac shrugged. He clearly didn't care about being democratic. To him, this was a dictatorship.

“Shouldn't we go back?” Oscar asked. “At least to an area that's not like this?”

“We don't have a map,” Isaac reminded him. “We don't have canoes. Even if we had one, we couldn't portage over that.” He pointed at the wall of broken trees. “One canoe for four people? And our gear? Someone would have to swim every lake. That's hypothermia in twenty minutes.”

Chloe looked down at her boots. None of us could argue with that.

“So we agree?” Isaac asked. “We stay here and wait.”

“How long do you think it will take them to find us?” Oscar examined the contents of the cooler, obviously concerned with the food-and-water situation. My stomach growled.

“A day? Maybe two?” Isaac said. “It might take longer for them to get to us.”

Oscar picked up a vanilla pudding cup. “Then we need to make some rules about food.”

Isaac shifted his stance back, hands on his hips, studying Oscar, or more like sizing him up. I couldn't tell by his face what he decided. “You have an idea, Wiener?”

“We parcel out the food evenly. Everyone gets the same amount up front. No fighting about it.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Chloe said, emphasis on the word “fair.”

I nodded. “Me too.”

“Okay, Wiener,” Isaac said finally. “I guess you're in charge of the cafeteria.”

“Good.” Oscar put the pudding cup back in the cooler. “Does everyone have their packs?”

Surprisingly, everyone did. Mine had been wedged under a pine branch, and it took several tugs to free it, but thankfully, nothing ripped. There were only a few scuff marks on the fabric, and although the aluminum frame was dented in places, it wasn't broken. The zipper still worked, and all my stuff was inside. I hugged it to my chest with a silent prayer.
Thanks, Dad
.

Oscar divided everything into four even piles. There was an extra apple and granola bar.

“You take it,” Chloe told him. “It was your idea.”

Isaac had succeeded in getting the tent up, but it must have been missing a few parts, because the roof sagged in on one side, and there was a large tear all the way down to the bottom.
Who is going to sleep in it? Are we supposed to flip a coin?

I sneezed three times in quick succession.

“You okay?” Oscar asked, concerned. “Allergies?”

I rubbed my eyes. “It's probably dust or . . .” The taste of burned wood coated the tip of my tongue, spreading down my throat—just a small tingle, but enough to make me cough. I turned to face the breeze. Light but steady.

“Or what?” Oscar touched my hand. “What is it?”

What is it? What is it? What is it?

There was only one thing it could be.

“I think its smoke.”

“Smoke?”

“I can smell it. Like a campfire.” I sniffed again. “But more.”

“You think?” Oscar inhaled deeply, lifting his nose with his eyes closed, like an animal trying to catch a scent.

Isaac walked the perimeter, which wasn't far, given how the fallen limbs had us penned in. “It's probably a fire,” he said after completing a circuit.

“You mean a campfire?” Chloe asked hopefully.

“It
was
a campfire,” Isaac said. “But now? With the windstorm?”

“Do you think it started a forest fire?” Oscar asked.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

I sniffed again. “What if it's coming this way?”

Isaac picked up his pack. “With our luck, it probably is.”

“So what do we do? Go back out on the lake?”

“I wouldn't,” Chloe said. “We have no boat.”

Isaac nodded, agreeing with her for once. “If the fire does come, we'd get surrounded. And we can't stay in the lake that long. The water's too cold.”

“So how do we know where to go?” Oscar's voice climbed an octave. “We'll get lost out there.”

“Ouch!” Chloe rubbed the top of her head. “Something bit me!”

Isaac backed up, startled, his eyes on the trees. “Jesus fucking Christ!” The panic in his voice pulled the skin tight on my neck, goose bumps sprouting instantly on my arms.

“What's that?”

The treetops—what was left of them—were aglow with fireflies, blinking and fading in the increasing dark. But these fireflies were orange and cherry red, not halogen yellow. Giant clumps of light, like a cluster of thick snowflakes, drifted and swayed above us.

Oh my God. What is happening?

A bright orange ember turned black as it hit the ground by my boot.

“That's not a campfire.” Oscar grabbed his pack and handed me mine. There was still a large pile of clothes on the ground. “Stuff as much in as you can,” he ordered. “Now!”

Sweatshirts, swimsuits, a towel, flip-flops, a belt. I shoved things in without looking. “What about the cooler?”

“We can't carry that! Take the food out!” Isaac stuffed a
metal pot in his bag. “I can't fit any more in mine.” When he zipped it shut, it bulged like a deformed tumor on one side.

Chloe ran past me. “It's coming! Which way?”

Smoke tickled the back of my throat. “Not into the wind.” Another ember must have landed on me, sizzling as it made contact, because the skin behind my ear felt like someone had pinched it. I swore and pulled my cap down over my head.

Isaac sprinted past me and hurdled over a log, heading near Chris's tent. I didn't want to go that way, but it was the only direction we could go. Was it north? To my left was the lake. I knew we were camped on the south end, because I remembered the spot marked on the map. There were other campsites dotted around the lake; some we had passed on our way here.
How far away are they? A half mile? Two miles?
We hadn't seen anyone, but someone could be there now.
Is it their fire? Are they okay? Did trees fall on them, too? Does that mean the wind is blowing north? North by northwest? Isn't that a movie title?

“Emma!”

I jumped. Oscar shook my shoulder. “C'mon! We have to go!”

“I know.” How long was I standing there like a nitwit? “Where's Chloe?”

“She's already gone.” Oscar pointed.

A wave of heat hit my back, pushing me forward. Oscar had the first aid kit strapped over his shoulder. “C'mon,
Emma! We can't stay any longer or we'll be trapped!” He grabbed my shoulder straps and tugged me forward, like a dog on a leash that doesn't want to go. I went forward reluctantly, turning my head when I heard a popping sound. A snap.
Snap. Crackle. Pop. Just like the cereal. Just like a fire. This is a fire. A campfire. A giant campfire that we're inside of. We're the meat, ready to be cooked.

A plume of hot smoke descended over my face, searing my tongue and throat. “Oh!” I pulled my shirt over my face as I scaled the trunk to the other side, carefully stepping with my boots, hoping to feel firm ground and dirt, not a soft quivering mess of human parts. I couldn't stay here even if I wanted to. It would be horrible to burn, I realized.
Is that worse than drowning?

“Faster!” Oscar barked. “Watch your hands! Watch your feet!”

The heat grew on my head and butt, but my pack shielded the rest of my back. How hot could something get before it spontaneously combusted? I moved faster, but it didn't seem fast enough. We couldn't run. Instead, we jumped and scrambled over fallen limbs liked panicked squirrels.

How far had we gone? It didn't seem like we were making good time, not with each of us carrying an extra twenty pounds of gear, maybe more. I doubted we could have gone more than a mile. I banged my shin against a stump, barely feeling it.

The light brightened when we stumbled into a clearing,
and the lavender sky, speckled with stars, was clear above us. Long grass waved purple-feathered tops across the field, and I chased Oscar to the center, only stopping when he suddenly pulled up and bent over, hands on his knees. He panted heavily, breathing in hard, wheezy bursts.

“You okay?” I sounded weirdly calm. We were lost in the woods, trying to escape a forest fire, and we'd just lost two people in our group. The other three were dead. We were definitely not okay. “Side ache?”

“I'm not much of a runner,” Oscar heaved.

The wind was stronger in the field. I faced into it, then turned until I felt it at my back. “We should go this way.” I took the first aid kit from him. “I can carry this for a bit.”

I thought he might protest, but he didn't stop me when I slung it across my shoulder. “Do you think they came this way?”

“I don't know. I hope so.”

Ahead of us was dark; the fire's glow behind our backs. I could hear the snapping as it ate up the ground. I brushed my fingertips over the tall grass; it would burn like straw. It would go like crumpled newspaper. “Let's go. Can you still run?”

“Jog maybe.”

“Okay. Follow me.” I rolled into an easy jog, heading for the dark wall of the woods. We wouldn't be able to move that quickly through the trees. “We just have to run faster than the wind.” Only after I spoke the words did I realize how impossible it sounded.