Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

By dawn, I am completely frozen despite the fire. Reluctantly, I pour earth on the embers so as not to risk a forest fire during the day. Bren is still asleep, and when I wake him, he's groggy. I quickly explain to him what I intend to do, but he drifts off immediately, probably not even registering what was said. His pulse continues to race and his respiratory rate is elevated. Not a good sign. If left untreated, the risk of death from blood poisoning increases by one percent per hour. That stupid phrase keeps coming back to me. Okay, an inflammation of the lymphatic system does not necessarily have to lead to blood poisoning, but it often happens if left untreated—and the fever is the first clue as is the increased heart rate, I remember that from Avy. If only I knew how long Bren has had a fever! Still, what would I do? Calculate his chances?

Since water flows downward, I don't climb up to the tracks again where only the stony rock face waits for me, but look around the area. The terrain in front of me seems completely discouraging. Tall black firs grow everywhere; each tree a mirror image of its neighbor. Ferns, mushrooms, and thick hairy moss sprout in between, all of which look the same. I don't see a creek, a spring, or a puddle within half a mile.

I must have wasted a good hour before deciding to walk along the steep slope of the train tracks. In this flat forest that looks the same everywhere, I'm terrified of getting lost and not finding my way back to Bren. It also allows me to discover how often the trains pass. I haven't heard a second one since we jumped off, so it's a rarely traveled route. I'm not fooling myself. Today, I'm more rested than I'll be tomorrow. If I can't find water today, I mustn't miss the train even if I reckon there's little chance the engineer will even see me, provided the freight trains aren't computer-controlled and the engineers aren't doing something else during the journey!

I drive away the gloomy thoughts and move faster, sometimes even breaking into an easy trot. I took five painkillers at once, way more than I should have, but I must persevere.

As I continue, the sun rises in the cloudless sky and breaks through the canopy onto the crown of my head. It's getting hot and stuffy on the forest floor and soon sweat is streaming down my face and back. My thirst kicks in for the first time, but I stubbornly ignore it and lick the salt off my lips every now and then.

When the sun reaches its zenith, I have blisters because yesterday, I stupidly wore my hiking boots without socks. I could have put Bren's socks on, but I didn't think of it. My throat burns and sometimes I feel dizzy. I think about the line on Bren's arm and grow increasingly scared with every step I take away from him. What if the fever goes up or he passes out? Then something else pops into my mind: I can't carry a huge amount of water in the small breakfast bag. I would have to constantly walk back and forth covering this long distance.

I stand there, helpless. I don't know what to do. Every time I want to turn back, a voice inside me tells me that there's bound to be a lake in a few minutes. We saw countless during the train journey, so there must be one somewhere! And if not a lake, a village. Anything! I continue on for about an hour, after which the nagging fear becomes insurmountable.

With a burning throat and aching feet, I turn back empty-handed. The bridge of my nose and my forehead are hot and tight. I already had a slight sunburn yesterday and the mini tube of sunscreen continued on with Grey. The thought of Grey makes me even more miserable, but I don't have time to cry.

The way back takes forever because I can no longer move as quickly. At some point, I grow so dizzy, I see black dots, so I suck on the dextrose from my makeshift bag, slowly, like a treasure. I plan to give Bren at least two more today with or without water.

How would he act in my place if our roles were reversed? What would he want me to do?

Exhausted, I wipe the sweat and a few dead mosquitoes from my forehead, clenching my teeth. My lips are cracked and starting to bleed. I didn't drink much yesterday. I didn't drink much at all so I wouldn't have to go to the bathroom all the time, which is problematic when traveling by train. Now I bitterly regret that.

When I arrive at the campsite, dusk is hanging between the trees, immersing the forest in an oppressive atmosphere. Bren lies by the cold fire pit with his eyes open, and for a moment, he looks so still that I think he's dead, but then he lifts his head and looks at me. His eyes flicker feverishly and I can see the heat in them.

"Lou!" He is deathly pale and the shadows under his eyes are as black as runny makeup.

My heart lurches from fright. "Hey!" I rush over to him and kneel beside him. "How are you?" Stupid question! I take his hand and inspect the line. Naturally, it crept upward, I can tell by the birthmark on Bren's forearm.

"Why didn't you tell me?" My voice is hoarse and speaking hurts my dry throat.

"I didn't want to upset you." I can see from the bulging veins on his forehead how much it pains him to speak. Didn't want to upset me!

I shake my head in disbelief. "I've been searching for water all day, but I can't find a stream!" No, I'm not crying now even though the tears stuck in my throat really want to get out.

"You go…" he says. "Walk along the tracks and make sure you get out of the wilderness in one piece." He coughs and grimaces in pain, and I remember his ribs.

Tears lump together inside me. "You must be completely crazy to believe I'd do that." I use his words, sounding like someone is choking me. "I'm not going anywhere without you!" I feel anesthetized and abandoned, helpless in a way that makes me want to scream.

I give him some dextrose, which he only takes under protest, and stay with him until he falls asleep. After that, I walk through the forest where I gave up the search this morning because every tree and patch of earth looked the same. Dry pine needles crunch under my soles. My blisters have burst and the open skin rubs against my hiking boots with every step. And, again, I forgot to put on Bren's socks. I cautiously step over a few ferns and branches snap. I peer through the twilight, heart pounding, terrified a bear or cougar is going to pounce on me at any second.

What am I doing here? I must be crazy! All this can't be happening; it must be a bad dream. I'll wake up soon.

At regular intervals, I make directional arrows out of broken twigs, which should later help me to find my way back even if I just walk straight ahead. However, it will soon be pitch black and then the arrows will only be useful in the morning. I could make a torch out of old fir wood. Yes, you could if you'd had cloth and oil with you!

My throat is now so dry I can hardly breathe. I've been on the move for most of the day and sweating profusely, my white T-shirt wet and clinging to my skin. Also, my ankle hurts. I know it's only adrenaline that keeps me going since the painkillers wore off long ago.

As the sun sets and the forest is ablaze with orange and red, I still haven't found any water. But I don't just need water. Bren's time is up. I need an antibiotic, a doctor, or a village.

I sob softly to myself even though I hardly have any liquid left in me. At some point, I start hobbling back. There's no point, I have to wait for a train. Every cell of my body aches. Back with Bren, I take off my hiking boots, but still collect wood and make a fire.

Bren is still asleep or he's asleep once again. He trembles and wheezes in his sleep. At one point, he calls out for his mom and dad, which breaks my heart and fills my soul with fear and cold.

He's going to die without knowing the truth about his mom. He will die and I will be left alone. And all of this is my fault!

With the last of my strength, I climb the steep slope to the railroad tracks, and halfway up, I hear a train.

"No!" I yell, knowing I won't make it in time to signal the engineer, but I still hurry uphill like a lunatic. "Stop! Stop!" I yell, cry, and curse. When I finally reached the tracks, the countless cars are already thundering by. A hot draft blows in my face and the draft from the train almost knocks me off my feet. I sink to my knees.

That was it, Lou!

By the time the next train comes by, it'll be too late. Everything is too late! Bren will die.

Stunned by fear and terror, I slide down the slope, ignoring the pain in my body, and rush to Bren. I have to get him away from here. I have to take him with me somewhere where we can find water, to a village!

Without thinking of anything else, I grab his feet, cry and cry, pull, and barely move him two feet. He gasps in pain. I'm hurting him, but all I want is for him to survive.

"I'm sorry." All merely words that don't help. They come from my lips like a prayer.

"You're still here," Bren murmurs eventually, recognizing me.

"I'm not going away! Never!" I tug at his feet again, but this time he lets out a horrible, dark painful cry. I let go immediately, stroke his face, and talk him to sleep with beautiful words.

Darkness envelops me. It's night again. I'm on the verge of exhaustion, unable to hold out much longer. I don't know how I can still cry.

I walk a few feet from Bren so he won't see it if he wakes up. How am I supposed to help him when I'm about to go nuts myself? I need to calm down, but I can't. Trembling, I sink to the ground, draw my legs up, and put my head on my knees, closing my eyes. Pray, cry, pray, cry. I'm cold with fear, freezing cold.

A distant click snaps me out of my exhaustion. In the stillness of the night, it was as loud as a thunderclap. I jump up, at which moment a figure emerges from behind the fir tree—I see two dark eyes and the muzzle of a rifle.