Hostile Territory Page 10

  “I say we cross.” Derrick points toward the mountain we’re aiming for. “At least we’ll eliminate one quagmire straightaway.” He stretches out the quag when he says it, and for some reason we all laugh.

  I’m not sure why we’re standing here laughing, but it feels good.

  Then Brooke brings us back to reality. “If the water is over our heads, how will we make it? We can’t swim with our packs on.”

  “It might not be that deep,” I say. I look across the shortest distance, which is maybe a quarter mile. There’s no way to know unless we try.

  Derrick takes his pack off and holds it over his head. “We should cross like this, commando style. That way if the water only comes up to our chins, we’ll keep the rest of our stuff dry. If you have to swim, just keep your pack in front of you and kick like hell, like there’s a shark chasing you, until your feet touch bottom again.” He sets his pack on the ground.

  “It’s better than standing here and starving,” I say, “while the mosquitoes suck our blood.”

  “It’s a good plan,” Brooke says, “especially if you’re tall.” She looks at Derrick and frowns.

  “What?” Derrick stretches the word out and gives her an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t have any freaking control over my height. Do you have a better idea?”

  “She’s right,” Shannon says. “I’ll be the first to swim, then Brooke, then Josh, and then you, that is, if you have to swim at all.”

  “I get what everyone is saying. And basically, everyone is right. Derrick can’t control his height. It is a good plan if you are tall. And Shannon has correctly identified the swim order.” I hold up my hand to stop anyone from saying anything until I finish. “But how about if we add this to the plan.” I slap a mosquito that’s drilling into my cheek and continue. “The taller people cross first, and if the water is deep enough that the shorter people will need to swim, then the taller people will cross back and carry their packs and keep their stuff dry.”

  “So, me and you head across,” Derrick says, “and if we don’t have to swim but it’s obvious that they do”—he points at Shannon and Brooke—“then we hoof it back and assist?”

  I nod, and Derrick says, “I’m game for that, Moose Man.”

  “It’s a pretty good idea,” Shannon says. “I’ll just add that some of us shorter people might not need help all the way across, but just over places where it’s too deep to walk.”

  “Brooke?” I say.

  “Do I even have a choice?” She huffs. “You three are all for it. I’m in whether I want to be or not.” She takes her pack off, unzips the top pocket, and pulls out her small waterproof bag that she keeps her cell phone and solar charger in.

  She unclips the solar charger from the top of her pack, carefully pulling out her cell phone and detaching the cord running between it and the solar panel.

  “That’s weird,” she says, staring at her phone. “I was sure I turned this thing off. Maybe the button got pressed from all the jostling around.” She squints. “But what’s on the screen is different than it was before.”

  We all gather around Brooke, trying to make sense of what we’re seeing.

  CHAPTER 35

  “IT’S NOT THAT DIFFERENT,” DERRICK says. “Maybe the bear was there the whole time, and we’re just now noticing it.”

  “No.” Brooke shakes her head. “I’ve been staring at this screen every time I check to see if my apps will come back up, and it’s only been red.”

  On Brooke’s phone screen, there is a faint outline of a bear in the center of the still-red screen.

  “Maybe it’s Canada’s state animal,” Derrick says. “And some code person thought it’d be cute to have it in the system.”

  “Canada’s national animal is a beaver,” Shannon says.

  “How do you know this crap?” Derrick asks.

  “That same ole Alaska wildlife class,” Shannon says.

  “Maybe it’s military,” Derrick says. “Maybe this rescue operation has been named Project Bear or something. My dad is always throwing around these weird names for the stuff he’s doing.”

  “At least we know someone is doing something,” I say. “I mean, the screen has changed, so that means people are actively doing something. Maybe once we get across the swamp and back up high, they’ll spot us.”

  Brooke powers her phone down, puts it in the waterproof bag, and zips it into the top pocket of her pack. She says, “How can they just leave us out here? We left a note. There were twenty of us. We all have parents. I just don’t understand.”

  “That’s exactly why we couldn’t just stay at the lake.” I start to rub my eye and then stop because I don’t want it to start burning more. “This quake must be an all-time record breaker. We’re just not a priority.”

  “Okay. I get it,” Brooke says. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  Derrick laughs. “That’s what I think almost every time my dad explains why he’s making me do something I don’t want to do. Like going to that stupid Simon Lake camp. I didn’t want to go. And now look where I am. I hope my dad is thinking about that. About the fact that he sent me when I didn’t want to go, and now I’m missing. Maybe he’ll change his tune when I get back.”

  I look across the swamp and then to the mountains beyond. If we get back, I think but don’t say. “How about if me and Derrick get started? Tallest first, remember?”

  “We’re the tallest?” Derrick says.

  “You’re the giant,” I say. “I’m just a distant second.”

  “That’s more like it,” Derrick says, and he laughs.

  And I’ve got to admit, I envy how easygoing Derrick is. How he can make a joke one second and be ready to do something crazy serious like crossing a swamp the next.

  He’s already hoisting his pack above his head. “Come on, Josh. Let’s get this over with.”

  I was just feeling almost dried off after my last dip in the swamp. I hoist my pack above my head and follow Derrick.

  “Don’t drown,” Brooke says from behind me.

  I turn around. “Keep your bear spray handy. You never know what might happen while you’re waiting.” Then I join Derrick, who’s already got his feet in the water.

  “It looks longer now that we’re actually going to cross,” he says.

  “Just don’t think about the whole thing at once. One step at a time,” I say.

  “And then one kick at a time if we have to swim.” Derrick smiles. “It sucks being the tallest one. Maybe up in the mountains”—Derrick points to where we’re hoping to get—“we’ll run into some obstacle where it makes sense for the shortest person to go first.” He laughs.

  We walk into the water side by side. The first several steps are knee-deep and the cold water soaks my lower legs and chills them. Feathery plants that feel like tall grass brush against my shins. My arms are getting a little tired from holding my pack up, but I want to keep my stuff dry, so I rest the pack on my head, which takes a little pressure off my arms, and I keep walking.

  Now we’re about a hundred yards from where we began, and the water is just starting to touch my crotch.

  Derrick hasn’t said anything since we started wading but now he breaks the silence. “Do you think there’re leeches in this cesspool?”

  “If there are,” I say, “they’ve got to get through our clothes to find any skin. I hope we’re not in here long enough to find out.”

  “Me too,” Derrick says. “I hate murky water. When we lived in Texas, there was this pond my friends liked to swim in. I hated it. They used to hound me until I’d relent and go in. And then they’d play tricks on me. Touch my legs with branches underwater and I’d think it was snakes. Stuff like that.”

  I’ve only ever lived in Alaska and have only traveled out of state a few times to visit relatives or compete in cross-country races. The only scary things up here are big. Bears, wolves, moose. And the cold. Any month of the year and you can freeze to death. No snakes or creepy crawli
es. Unless there’re leeches.

  “Shannon probably knows if there are leeches,” I say. “She freaking knows everything.”

  “She’s got it going on,” Derrick says, “in a good way.”

  We keep walking, and now the water is touching the bottom of my rib cage.

  Then the surface changes from grassy to muddy, my feet start sticking to the bottom, and I’m in water up to my armpits. “I need to swim,” I say, “before I get stuck.”

  I kick my feet hard and try to push off the bottom, and my right foot comes free. I pull the left one up as hard as I can, and it comes free, too. But my left foot feels colder than my right, and then I know what happened.

  Down there.

  In the murk.

  Somewhere.

  Is my shoe.

  CHAPTER 36

  I’M TREADING WATER TO KEEP my feet off the bottom, but my arms are starting to feel the burn from holding my pack over my head.

  “My shoe,” I say. “I lost it. The mud sucked it off my foot. I have to search for it.” I don’t want to move from the spot directly above where I lost it, or I’ll never be able to find it.

  Derrick turns toward me. The water is chest-deep on him. He’s still standing. “I’ll take your pack, but I probably won’t be able to hold it for long. I’m sinking a little bit now, too.” Derrick takes a step toward me. “Hand it to me, and I’ll keep walking so I don’t get stuck.”

  He takes another step and reaches for my pack, and I thrust it toward him. Now he’s got both packs. He’s holding one in each hand with his arms stretching toward the sky.

  I stick my head underwater and reach for the bottom. Cold mud oozes between my fingers. I’ve got my eyes jammed shut. Not that I could see anything if they were open in the murky water. I dig and dig with my hands, searching for my shoe. I feel something solid and pull.

  But it turns out to be a stick. I let go of it and move to the right just a little bit. I thrust my hands down again and submerge them into the mud. Leeches or no leeches, I need to find my shoe. I spread my fingers and search side to side. I’m up to my forearms in mud, and now my lungs are starting to scream for air.

  I pull my arms toward me and then reach for the surface, popping my head above the water. Derrick is about fifty feet away, still walking in the same pose.

  I suck in a deep breath, go back under, and keep searching. I pull up another stick. And then a rock. Am I off by a few feet? Am I not digging deep enough?

  I go to the surface and then submerge three more times, but each time I come up shoeless.

  Now Derrick is standing still, maybe one hundred yards away, but the water is only thigh-deep where he is. Somehow, he’s managed to put one pack on his back and is holding the other close to his chest. He’s looking in my direction. I start kicking toward him. I swim the breaststroke, keeping my head above the water.

  “The bottom’s solid here,” Derrick yells.

  I let my feet touch bottom, and now I’m wading in waist-deep water, closing the distance.

  “I’m screwed,” I say as I reach out to take my pack from Derrick.

  “We’ll deal,” Derrick says. “Let’s just get the hell out of this swamp.”

  We keep walking, and I’m favoring my right foot—the one with the shoe. I’m doing more of a hop-walk than a true walk, not wanting to plant my left foot down too hard in case something sharp is sticking up from the bottom.

  The water depth keeps decreasing until we’re slogging through shin-deep and then ankle-deep water. “Let’s get to that tree.” I point to a spindly spruce standing by itself. “We can leave our packs there. It’ll be a good landmark to shoot for on our second trip.”

  “At least our packs are mostly dry,” Derrick says. “And we’ve got three shoes between us. We could still compete in a three-legged race.” He grins.

  I crack a smile even though there is basically nothing to smile about. Then I say, “Did you sink at all back there, like I did?”

  “I sunk in a little bit. But my gigantic feet kept me afloat,” Derrick says. “They’re like snowshoes. For once, they’ve paid off.” He looks down and says, “Monster Feet, you’re finally paying for yourselves.”

  At the tree we take our packs off and set them down. Then we look across the swamp.

  I put my hand to my forehead and scan the narrow point of land from where we started. Derrick does the same.

  At the same time, we both say, “Where are they?”

  CHAPTER 37

  WE LEAVE OUR PACKS BY the tree and wade back into the swamp. Derrick has his canister of bear spray, which he says he can keep above the water, no problem. Mine is mostly empty from the moose encounter. Plus, I’m not confident I can keep it above the water if I carry it in my hand, and if there’s any left, I want to be able to use it later if I need to. I don’t know if submerging it in water would wreck it, and I don’t want to find out.

  As we wade, we yell for Brooke and Shannon. I just don’t understand where they could’ve gone. I mean, the dry land ended, surrounded by swamp, so unless they turned around and started heading back the way we came, they’d get soaked.

  Besides turning around once at the beginning, I kept myself focused forward when we crossed the swamp, so I didn’t see what happened to them, and I don’t remember hearing their voices either. Wouldn’t they have called out to us if something was wrong?

  The trees are pretty thick just beyond the edge of the water, so maybe they’re just inside the trees. But if they are, why aren’t they coming out when we call for them?

  We hit the deep, soggy section where I lost my shoe. I start swimming, but Derrick keeps walking, so I pull ahead of him. I’m starting to get chilled from being soaked from head to toe.

  My feet bump the bottom, and I stand up in knee-deep water and start jogging toward shore. I hear Derrick splashing behind me and know he’s running, too.

  I’m still favoring my right foot, setting it down harder and trying to run in a way that my left foot barely touches the bottom of the swamp. I hit dry ground, stop, and turn around and wait for Derrick to catch up.

  Together we head toward the trees, shouting the girls’ names. Sticks poke into my sock, but there’s nothing I can do about that. I just hope I don’t get a puncture wound.

  Just inside the trees, we find a light green backpack. “It’s Shannon’s,” Derrick says.

  The pack is open, and her stuff is spilled out across the forest floor. Like someone, or some animal, pulled stuff out and tossed it wherever. Like a hurricane tore through it. Her food canister, tent, her blue stuff sack. A purple stuff sack with a bunch of tampons is lying next to it.

  “Shit,” Derrick says. He unclips the safety from his bear spray.

  “Be careful with that,” I say.

  “I got this,” he says.

  “Shannon!” he shouts. “Shannon!”

  I shout, “Shannon!”

  “Over here.” Brooke’s voice cuts through the silence.

  Derrick and I look at each other, and I point off to the left.

  Derrick sprints ahead of me, and I follow with my one-foot hop, relieved that we’ve heard Brooke’s voice, but still confused.

  Brooke keeps shouting, and we keep following her voice.

  “They’re here,” Derrick yells.

  I crash through some spruce trees. My sock catches on a snag from a fallen tree. I stumble and fall down on one knee. I push myself up and snake my way around a couple more trees, and there, in a little clearing, I see Derrick and Brooke squatting, facing away from me.

  And between them, on the ground, are two legs sticking straight out. As I approach I see that the legs are Shannon’s. She’s lying on top of a sleeping pad.

  Now I’m hovering over Brooke, peering down at Shannon. Her eyes are closed and she’s not moving. I scan her chest and stomach, looking for them to rise and fall, but can’t even tell if she’s breathing.

  CHAPTER 38

  “I GAVE IT TO HER right in the thigh,
” Brooke says, “just like she told me. Then she got dizzy and said she needed to lie down.”

  Brooke tells us about Shannon wandering off to pee and then getting stung by a yellow jacket, which she’s allergic to.

  “The side of her face was swelling up by the time I got to her, and only a minute or two had gone by. She pointed in the direction where she’d left her pack and I found it, dumped it out, and got the EpiPen. The swelling has gone down some.”

  I keep staring at Shannon’s chest and stomach, and finally I see the rise and fall that tells me she’s breathing.

  “I didn’t know she was allergic,” Derrick says, his hand on Shannon’s arm.

  “I don’t think anyone did,” Brooke adds. “Or, if the leaders at Simon Lake knew, they kept it a secret. Her throat could’ve swollen shut.”

  Brooke strokes the side of Shannon’s head, and Shannon moves a little in response and whispers, “I’m okay. In a minute, I’ll try to sit up.”

  “The monster speaks our language,” Derrick says.

  “Just shut up,” Shannon whispers. “And keep the mosquitoes off my face.”

  Derrick laughs quietly. I see Brooke crack a small smile and feel myself smiling, too.

  But now I’m starting to really cool off from being soaked. The clouds have blocked out the sun. I know I’m going to get wetter before I get drier since we have to cross the swamp one more time.

  And my shoe—my freaking shoe—is somewhere in the murky mud out in the middle of the swamp. How will I climb mountains with just one shoe?

  Now I’m the one hoping like crazy that we’ll get buzzed by more helicopters and one will actually see us. Or that we’ll get some bars on Brooke’s phone and be able to call for help or send a text despite the red screen. I took for granted that I could just cover any distance I needed to. Like if I needed to leave everyone behind at an easy-to-find spot and run for help. But that idea that I’ve kept as a backup plan has evaporated with my lost shoe.