48 - Melissa

48

Melissa

I cried for the first ten minutes in the taxi as we drove out of town. The driver was kind enough to pretend like he didn’t notice.

The tightness in my chest was familiar. The normal sensation of loss. It always hurt when things ended, no matter the circumstances.

But beneath my superficial sadness was the certainty that I was doing the right thing.

I was a completionist. I had to finish the hike that I had started. And it was becoming obvious that the longer I remained in Crested Butte, the less likely I was to get back on the trail. This was the right decision.

I kept telling myself that, but it didn’t make my tears stop.

My only real regret was leaving without saying goodbye to Noah and Ash in person. I knew they were both working, so there wasn’t any way to do it without staying in town longer. And I knew that wasn’t possible. If I remained here even an hour longer, I might lose my nerve. I had to go now, before I changed my mind.

I tried composing a text message to them. Nothing felt adequate. Leaving was absolutely the right decision, but saying goodbye this way felt wrong.

But I had to say something. Especially before Jack told them what I was doing. They deserved to hear it from me. At the very least, I owed them that.

My phone rang, and I welcomed the distraction. “Hi, Mom.”

“Have you been kidnapped?” she demanded.

“Why would you think I’ve been kidnapped?”

“I’m looking at your location on Find My Friends. You’re on Route 135, heading out of town.”

“Wow, you’re acting kind of stalkerish, Mom.”

“If worrying about my only daughter makes me a stalker, then I will proudly stalk you until I’m buried in the cold ground.”

“Geez, Mom,” I muttered. “No, I haven’t been kidnapped. I’m in a taxi on the way to Ouray. I’m resuming my hike tomorrow.”

There was a pregnant pause on the line. “Yesterday you told me you needed at least another week to heal.”

“I was wrong! I woke up this morning and my ankle was fine. Isn’t that great?”

Another pause. The kind of pause where a mom was magically reading their child’s mind.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Why would something be wrong?”

Behind us, a car honked.

“You sound like something is wrong,” Mom insisted. “Are you sure you’re ready to hike again? I don’t want you to rush back into things and injure yourself.”

“I’m positive,” I said in my most reassuring voice. The tone I’d perfected over the years to keep her from overreacting. “Trust me, I’m ready to go. I’m excited to get back on the trail! I’ve spent too much time sitting around.”

There was another honk from the car behind us. The taxi driver glanced in his mirror and muttered, “Go around.”

“As long as you’re sure that you’re ready,” Mom said skeptically. “I want you to give me daily updates.”

“I’m not going to give you daily updates, Mom.”

“At least for the first week. You can do that for your poor mother, can’t you?”

“I won’t have cell signal every day, but I promise to text you every time I do.”

The honking continued. The taxi driver grumbled something to himself.

“You should have bought one of those emergency satellite devices,” Mom went on. “So you can always communicate. I don’t like it when I can’t get in touch with you.”

That’s what I like most about this hike , I thought to myself. But what I said out loud was, “Those are expensive.”

“What’s your problem, asshole?” the taxi driver muttered.

I looked over my shoulder. The car behind us was flashing its flights. Wherever they were going, they were in a hurry, and this was a small two-lane road.

“You should have bought it anyway,” Mom insisted. “You could have asked us for the money. What if there’s an emergency?”

“There’s not going to be…”

“You already had one emergency,” she interrupted. “It might happen again. You don’t know.”

The car behind us revved its engine and moved into the incoming lane to try to pass us. It appeared alongside us, but then slowed down to match our speed rather than passing.

“What’s this guy’s fucking problem?” my driver wondered out loud.

I glanced out the window. It was a mud-streaked white Jeep.

Jack’s Jeep.

I was so shocked that I dropped my phone. Ash was in the passenger seat, and Noah was in the back. All of them were waving, trying to get my attention.

So much for sending them a text message.

“What the fuck!” my driver cursed. “They’re trying to kill us!”

“Shit,” I said, fumbling to pick my phone up off the ground.

“What’s happening?” Mom demanded when I put the phone back to my ear. “Someone is trying to kill you?”

“I need to call you back.”

“I knew you should have gotten that satellite—”

I hung up and leaned forward in the car. “I know the guys in that Jeep. Just ignore them.”

“Ignore them? They’re going to make us crash if they— FUCK .”

There was a blaring of horns as a semi-truck came around a bend up ahead. Jack slammed on his brakes, then swerved back into our lane behind us just in time to avoid a head-on collision with the truck.

My driver made the sign of the cross and muttered a prayer in a language I didn’t recognize.

I glanced behind us. The Jeep was right on our tail, dangerously close. The lights flashed over and over again. They were going to get themselves killed.

“Pull over,” I told the driver.

He gestured angrily. “Where? There’s no shoulder.” There was a metal guard rail on the road, with a roaring river right on the other side.

“Whenever you get a chance,” I said.

I wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. I had no idea how it would go. They might have been furious with me, or would try to convince me to stay. I was still certain of my decision, but I didn’t want to have to listen to them try to talk me out of it.

The engine behind us revved, and the Jeep was driving alongside us once more. But this time it kept going, passing us. It merged back over, then the brake lights shone red as they slowed down. Our cab had no choice but to slow down with it until we were completely stopped in the road.

All three men got out of the Jeep. The taxi driver continued praying. I think the language was Russian.

There was a crisp wind blowing when I got out of the taxi, bringing with it the smell of fresh pine trees and mountain dirt. I approached the three men and shouted, “You can’t change my mind! I’m going back to the Colorado Trail!”

“We’re not trying to stop you,” Jack said.

I gestured at our stopped cars. “Then what the hell do you call this?”

Noah, who was wearing a white coat with his badge clipped to the breast pocket, tapped on the window of the taxi. The driver rolled it down a few inches, and then Noah handed him a thick wad of cash. Jack reached inside the back door and removed my bag. He closed the door and patted the top of the car.

With screeching tires, the taxi swerved around the Jeep and sped away.