Chapter 41

DAY 5 - THE DESCENT

We packed up the night before, knowing we’d need to be ready to go before the sun came up. My fingers tremble. I’m scared to leave, of what might happen, not just on our hike, but for what the future holds for us. Our relationship has only ever existed in fire towers and dorms. Forced proximity. Can we exist in the real world too? Merging this dreamlike version with reality makes me uneasy, but I’ve spent a lot of my life scared, and that’s no way to live. I have to trust us to make it work.

I’m adjusting my warmed socks over my ankles while Callahan spreads out the embers in the wood stove. Watching him gives me goose bumps. It’s the first time we’ve woken in the morning to put out the fire rather than feed it. My stomach churns. I have total confidence in him to get us safely down the mountain, but it doesn’t erase the trepidation of our endeavor.

After proudly rigging up my hiking boots with chain and paracord, he set my DIY-crampon’d boots near the wood stove last night so they’d be toasty when we start our journey home.

“Still with me?” he asks without looking over his shoulder .

I pull my lips into a tight smile. “Mm-hm.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“I know.”

He turns and squeezes my toes and hands me two plastic bags to wrap them in. “Did you eat?” he asks, referring to the energy bars we laid out for breakfast. If I eat it now, I might throw up. I’m afraid to walk away from the safety of the lookout, but we can’t stay here. We’re out of water, and there’s an opening in the weather, so we absolutely have to leave, but with each step, I’ll be closer to the things I’ve been running from.

“It’s in my pocket.” I push my bagged feet into the heated boots, lacing them up on the rug. I stand, the chains underneath feeling unfamiliar. “Are you nervous?”

“Nope. It’s going to be slow moving through the snow in the beginning, but as we descend, things will get easier. We’re just taking a morning hike, that’s all this is.”

It’s just a hike .

We’re bundled up using extra clothes. Cal is making me take the gloves, but he’s got a couple pairs of wool socks on his hands as mittens. Ridiculous, but there’s no use in arguing with him. Shadows dance around the room as we gear up. I hoist my pack over my shoulders, and he tucks my water in the side pocket.

I pull up my hood, he slides the headlamp over his hat, and our eyes meet. He tilts my chin up and slants his head to kiss me.

“Let’s go home,” he says with a smile.

I nod. “Home.”

Callahan was right. We’re hiking in total darkness through deep snow reaching the top of my thighs. This is hard, but it would have been a hell of a lot harder if he hadn’t scouted it yesterday, making tracks for us to follow. Being shorter than him makes it more difficult, and I do my best to keep up, but I find myself wanting to stop and stare at the sky. I forgot how deep the universe is, the astronomical abyss goes on forever. Without cloud cover or landscapes, the stars appear closer than ever. It’s otherworldly. The Milky Way is as bright as I’ve ever seen it.

The wind still has me squinting, but it’s nothing like it was when we first arrived. The snowy terrain twinkles like glitter in my peripheral when Cal’s headlamp or my flashlight—that we stole, sorry —catches the light. It’s like staring into static, which confuses my depth perception when the sky is sparkling just as much. It’s impossible to see where the heavens and earth meet. The lack of horizon makes this expedition incredibly disorienting.

“Need a break?” he asks.

My mouth is dry. “I’m good.”

While ignoring the glittering void around us, it’s best to keep my head down to ensure I’m staying in his footprints. Footprints is the wrong description, with snow this deep, they’re more like boreholes. The ones he made yesterday all by himself. Being five-foot-three, I have to lift my legs a lot higher than he does to step into them, and I’m panting after an hour. The only savior for me in the waist-deep drifts is that we’re hiking downhill, giving me an advantage. It feels like we aren't getting any closer since I have no point of reference to compare our position to. My fingers and toes are freezing, but I keep wiggling them as much as possible.

We reach a section of the woods that has us breaking off to trek toward the river bed, and occasionally, Cal pauses to hold a tree branch out of the way so it doesn’t rear back and slap me in the face. It’s the little things that mean the most. While hiking through the small forest sections takes longer, I find them preferable to the clearings where there’s no protection from the wind. “ I can’t believe you did all this yesterday by yourself… Thank you.”

“Of course.”

I’m incredibly impressed by his prowess in nature. Even carving out this path during the daytime, he had no trail to go off of. I don’t mistake that he’s made the tracks closer together than he would on his own. That was for me. It must have been painstakingly slow checking each step before making it, but based on how many we’ve taken, he must have been moving at a pretty good clip. I’m not ashamed to say it’s sexy as hell. There’s something about a man who can navigate his way through snowy mountains. Callahan’s a beast.

Unfortunately, when we reach the end of his path from yesterday, we’re slowed down significantly. Coyotes yelp in the distance, but they’re far enough away to not cause concern. Eventually, he’s tired out from making fresh tracks, so we break for water. I take the opportunity to eat the protein bar I was supposed to eat before we left. I’m just barely able to make out the horizon for the first time. “It’s almost dawn,” I comment, pointing toward the slightly lighter sky. His headlamp beam shakes with a nod.

We continue our route, and before long, the sky is a soft purple and we’re gradually able to see our surroundings. After another hour, the sun’s rays are warm on our face, and with the lower elevation, the wind isn’t nearly as chilling. The snow is finally below my knees, and it’s a blessing because a stair climber doesn’t have shit on the snow at Quell’s Peak. Boulders and rocks jut from the white landscape, and I’m not sure I’ll ever see them the same again. By the same token, any sign of less snow is a welcome sight.

We duct taped the tears in my soft-shell pants, but it’s not long before the weak waterproofing of the fabric gives into the snow. I do my best to ignore the penetrating chill as my base layer becomes the final barrier between my flesh and the elements.

We pause to rest and enjoy the rays hitting the mountain and the sunrise painting the sparkling snow a rich pink hue. It’s dazzling. A couple times I find myself believing we really are on a “morning hike” instead of a survival descent.

Callahan leans to the side and points up ahead. It takes my eyes a moment to spot what he’s showing me, then I make out two dark horns against the white snow about sixty feet away. There’s a woolly mountain goat curled up in the snow, casually watching us.

“Amazing,” I whisper.

His hand slowly drifts to the left. “There’s another one.” His voice is soft.

“I take it we’ve made it to Goat’s Ridge?”

He chuckles. “We have.”

“Do we need to be worried about them at all?”

“Normally, no. But since it’s mating season, we’re going to keep some extra distance…”

I gape in response. “What?”

“It’ll be fine. These guys don’t seem to care that we're here.”

Cool. Cool, cool, cool.

We march for another two hours along the ridge, and before long, the snow is down to my ankles, some areas even less. With each step, I feel the push back of rock under the chains strapped to the bottom of my boots. Callahan glimpses down, noticing how damp my pants are from the snow.

“How are your legs doing?”

“Fine,” I lie. We need to keep moving.

“My knees are fuckin’ killing me,” he huffs. I’m feeling it in mine too. “Let’s take a short break.”

We pull out our water bottles for a drink.

“Your headlamp’s still on,” I say, out of breath after swallowing a gulp. I’m surprised our waters didn’t freeze while we were battling all that snow earlier.

“Whoops,” he says, flicking it off.

Callahan has me sit on the edge of a large rock as he crouches at my feet and unhooks the homemade crampons. They aren’t necessary anymore. I shove my water bottle into my bag while he stuffs the paracord and chains in his pack, and we’re on our way again.

Downhill sucks. I’ve never traversed such a steep descent for such a long period of time. About three-quarters down to the valley of Goat’s Ridge, my right knee is throbbing, but I keep moving because we have ground to cover, and I don’t want to be the one slowing us down.

“How are you doing?”

“Fine,” I grunt.

He stops, locking his hands on my shoulders, and levels me with a stare. “Let’s try this again. How are you doing?”

“I’m tired.”

“Then we stop. We’re out of the snow, sun is up, we’re almost to the valley and making great time.”

I take a drink of water. “How much farther?”

“Five miles, give or take. Mostly flat though.”

I smile. “I can do five miles of?—”

Cal’s head snaps to the left. Did he see something? I immediately scan the area for mountain goats.

“Do you hear that?” he asks.

I fold back my hood. There’s a humming. The faint purr of something mechanical. Shooting to my feet, we hurry toward the sound. It’s getting louder, we’re heading in the right direction, but why can’t we see it yet?

The noise crescendos until the source emerges, a red and black side by side UTV comes barreling around the bend. Callahan and I stop in our tracks.

“Holy shit,” he says, laughing. We continue moving, slower this time. Our five miles to safety may have just turned into fifty yards. The off-road vehicle looks out of place in the remote landscape.

Callahan grins, sticking his thumb out as if we’re a couple of hitchhikers in the middle of nowhere.

As they approach, the driver and passenger are beaming. “Is that…?”

“Xander and King.” His smile is ear to ear.

“Are you my Uber?” Callahan shouts over the motor as they roll up.

“Yeah, I heard somebody missed their curfew,” King— Rowan —says, killing the engine and pressing on the emergency brake. I remember playing poker with him in Oregon, which makes the other one Xander. Callahan was right, he does have really blue eyes.

Xander steps out and grabs my pack, slipping it from my shoulders. Cal shrugs his off and tosses it in the back.

King lifts his chin to Callahan. “How was your hike, sunshine?”

“Lovely… Xander, King, you remember Scottie.” Callahan introduces us.

“Hi.” I offer a small wave, pushing down the emotion rising in my throat as relief sweeps through me. We made it. “It’s really nice to see you guys.”

King lifts a radio to speak into. “Found them. Subjects alive… Scottie’s got a decent cut on her forehead, but it appears to be healing. ”

The radio crackles. “Great news. Any other injuries?” The voice is familiar.

“Is that Matt?” I ask.

He nods, and I want to die of embarrassment. The last thing I want is to have inconvenienced him and caused a problem at my place of work. It’s bad enough I didn’t show up at the station today.

“She dislocated her shoulder a few days ago,” Cal adds. King relays it to my coworker.

We’re ushered into the back seat of the side by side, and just like that, we’re on our way, bouncing toward the trailhead. I shiver as my sweat cools. Cal wraps an arm around me and pulls me close.

“So my text went through?” He calls over the engine.

Xander turns his head to the side. “Yup.”

King spins around in his seat. “We didn’t even know you were missing until we found out Scottie was, then we put two and two together when we couldn’t get ahold of you.”

My brows draw together, and King faces forward again. They knew I was missing?

“Me? How did you find out I was out here before him?” I stick my thumb in Callahan’s direction. “I wasn’t due to report back at work until this morning… I don’t know enough people for someone to report me missing.”

Xander and King exchange a glance, but neither answer. My gaze oscillates between them, waiting for a response. King adjusts one of the mirrors, and Xander looks off to the distance. What aren’t they saying?

“Hey!” Cal snaps, leaning forward to make sure the guys hear him. “How did you know Scottie was missing?”

“We didn’t know,” King spits out. “Her husband did.”