The Wild Lands Page 12

  “We can’t pull him off you,” Tam says, “until you let go.”

  I feel a hand on my hand, prying my fingers. “Trav,” Jess says, “let go.”

  I let go and feel a jab in my side as they pull Dylan off me. I push to my knees and then stand. Blood runs over my lips and I wipe it away with my hands, but it just keeps coming. I tilt my head back and take a breath through my mouth.

  “Never talk about my dad,” Dylan says. “Never.”

  I squint down at him through my burning eyes. One side of his face is covered in gray-black ash. Other than that, the bastard looks normal. “None of us have parents,” I say. “We don’t have anyone except each other. You hurt anyone here, you’re hurting everyone.” I feel blood above my lip, gathering on my mustache, and suck more air through my nose to keep it from dripping.

  “Just don’t talk about my dad, ever,” Dylan says.

  “I don’t know what’s in your head,” I say. “I can’t know unless you tell me. That’s true for all of us. But if we’re going to have any chance of crossing this burnt-out swamp and finding a route through the mountains, we’ve got to work together. All I’m asking is that you try. And that you don’t attack any of us.”

  Dylan spits, then rubs his eyes, which I’m sure are just as irritated as mine. I’d love to clock him right between the eyes. Smash his nose so hard that it sticks out the back of his skull. I hate him.

  “My dad was special,” Dylan says. “He was…” He shakes his head. “Forget it. Just don’t talk about him.” He turns away.

  I look at Mike and he puts a finger to his lips. I flip him off and head to the swamp to wash the blood off my face.

  CHAPTER

  28

  TWO DAYS LATER, AND THE mountains are actually starting to look bigger. The swamp has been ankle-deep the past few hours. Dylan navigated us around a few more lakes, and we haven’t seen any more bears. We haven’t seen anything. Just the sun beating down on the gray slurry and on us, and some fireweed and willow sprouts on little hills poking above the swamp.

  We’re walking side by side, all six of us. My feet are warm but wet. And my nose is still a little sore. We left the guns back on the hill. No ammo and probably no chance of getting any. No need to carry the extra weight.

  “Something’s changing ahead,” Dylan says. True to his word, no one has mentioned his dad and he’s stuck with the group. He didn’t apologize for attacking me, but I didn’t expect him to. In his mind, everything he does is the right thing to do. And to me, that’s what makes him scary. You just can’t reason with him at all. It’s better to simply let him talk. And I’ve got to admit, he’s done a good job of navigating the land—way better than I could’ve done. Still, I’d like to clock him, just once, right on the nose.

  Dylan stops and we all stop with him, waiting.

  “We’ll see it when we see it,” Dylan says, then starts walking.

  Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the ground begins to rise. There’s less and less standing water and, suddenly, we’re walking on dry ground.

  I turn to Dylan. “This is a pretty nice change.”

  He laughs a friendly laugh, like we’re best friends, and says, “This is only the beginning.”

  A couple miles later we encounter a fissure, where the ground has probably been wrenched apart by an earthquake. It’s only a few feet wide but runs east to west as far as we can see, and it is filled with water. We jump over it and keep going.

  A half mile later we hit another one. It’s wider, eight feet across. Mike pokes the water with his spear and it sinks about four feet before stopping.

  “It could be deeper in the middle,” I say. “How about if I jump across, then you guys can throw me your packs and we’ll keep them dry. Then you can each jump across.”

  Jess turns to me. “I don’t think I can jump that far.”

  “I’ll jump back over after the packs are across, and we’ll wade across together.”

  “I’ll wade with Jess,” Max says.

  Jess shakes her head. “You guys all jump. I’ll do it alone.” A smile breaks out on my face and I turn toward Jess and wink.

  I take my pack off and hand it to Mike. “Maybe two of you could throw it. You know, each one take an end and lob it gently so I can get under it and make sure the jars don’t break.”

  “Sounds good,” Mike says.

  Max, Dylan, and Jess nod. Tam has her back to us. She’s always keeping watch when we stop.

  “There’s going to be more,” Dylan says.

  “One fissure at a time,” I say, then laugh.

  “Whatever,” Dylan says. I’m pretty sure I hear him say asshole under his breath, but I don’t even care. As long as he doesn’t do anything stupid.

  I get a running start and leap across with a few feet to spare. Dylan and Mike swing my pack like it’s a jump rope and, on the count of three, lob it over. I catch it and stagger back a few steps.

  Max takes her pack off. “I’m jumping across to help catch.”

  She clears the fissure with no problem.

  Max and I stand side by side, arms out, knees bent, and catch one pack after another until we have all six of them. Mike jumps across, then Dylan, then Tam.

  Jess wades in. The water comes up to her chin as she scrambles from one side to the other, then I pull her out.

  “Good job,” I say.

  She sighs. “I wish I could’ve jumped.”

  I wish she could’ve, too. I hate seeing her all wet while the rest of us are dry. I think about jumping in too so she’s not alone, but think that would only make her feel worse.

  Max puts her arm around Jess. “Maybe you’ll be able to jump the next one.”

  A few minutes later, and we’re all staring at the next fissure. It’s at least twenty feet across.

  Mike sticks his spear in the water. “It’s deep,” he says. “Over our heads.”

  “We can’t swim with our packs,” Max says.

  Tam keeps her back to us and says, “We could follow the fissure until it ends. It can’t go forever.”

  I glance east and west, trying to see where the fissure ends, but can’t.

  “We could walk for miles and miles,” I say, “and not reach the end, and have to swim anyway.”

  Dylan points across the fissure. “They’re going to get wider and deeper.”

  Max touches his arm like she’s his girlfriend, and he just nods without even looking at her. For part of yesterday she walked with Dylan, talking quietly to him. If Dylan goes wacko again, I hope Jess isn’t too influenced by how Max sees him, because she’s still close as ever to Max. I don’t want to, but if I have to I’ll take Jess and strike out on my own.

  The sun hangs just above the mountain peaks to the south. I turn sideways to it so I can see. Our shadows stretch to the north. “We could use the rope to get the packs across. One person swims across with the end of the rope. Another person holds it taut from this side. We hook a pack into it and someone swims it across.”

  Tam turns. “I’ll swim packs across.”

  Mike nods. He’s barely spoken a word the last couple of days.

  “Fine,” Dylan says. “Whatever.”

  Max and Jess say okay.

  We all take our packs off. I fish the rope out of mine and give one end to Jess. “Hold on to this while I swim to the other side.” I wade in and the bottom drops out from under my feet, and I sidestroke across. The water’s colder than I thought it’d be—freezing compared to the sun-warmed swamp.

  On the other side I crawl out. I watch Dylan slide a pack onto the rope through a webbed hoop. Then he clicks the waist strap onto the rope for more support. Mike grabs the other end of the rope and we both lean away from the fissure to get the rope as taut as possible.

  Tam slips into the water and shoves the pack forward. She puts her hands on it, starts kicking, and doesn’t stop until the pack kisses the edge of the fissure. I haul the pack out. She flashes me a smile and her blue eyes sparkle in the sunligh
t. I smile back at her, wondering what her deal is and how she ended up in that group home. I know almost nothing about her life before the government pulled out.

  As Tam swims back, Mike threads another pack onto the rope. Dylan jumps in and kicks it across.

  At the bank, Dylan pauses before swimming back. “Good idea,” he says. “About how to get the packs across.”

  He pushes off before I can say anything. Either I imagined that, or he’s just given me a compliment. I decide not to say anything back to him even if I get the chance. I don’t want to wreck whatever stability seems to be lingering between his ears.

  Tam and Dylan each kick another two packs across, then Mike, Jess, and Max swim across.

  We’re all soaked, but we keep walking until we hit the next fissure.

  “No way,” I say. “No freaking way.” I’m happy and sad at the same time. The fissure is at least a couple hundred feet across. And deep. But even if it was narrow enough to span with the rope, we still couldn’t have used it because there’s no water in this fissure except for a windy ribbon at the bottom, maybe two or three hundred feet down. And along the stream or narrow lake or swamp or whatever it is, I see the unmistakable green of plant life. Not tiny sprouts and spindly fireweed, but full-grown trees.

  I want to get down there and then climb back up to the other side, but the nearly vertical walls down into the fissure, stretching as far as the eye can see both east and west, appear impossible to navigate.

  CHAPTER

  29

  “WE EITHER NEED TO GO around this fissure or canyon, whatever it is, or through it.” I pass the jar of salmon to Mike. We’re all perched on the edge of the drop-off, peering down. Even Tam. Mike holds the jar until Tam nudges him. He takes a small piece and passes it to her without saying a word.

  “See,” Max says, “the land is healing.”

  I pull one of my shoes off to shake out some rocks. “I guess the fire passed over the top of this fissure.”

  “Even if it did,” Tam says, “coals would’ve rained down and scorched it.”

  “Maybe it did burn a little, just not as hot as up here.” Dylan takes a piece of salmon and passes the jar to Max.

  “The Garden of Eden,” Max says. “That’s what it is.”

  The green ribbon stretches east and west. I see birch trees and willows down there. And we can hear the distant hum of flowing water.

  “I wonder why this fissure isn’t filled with water to the top, like the other ones,” Jess says.

  “It must have an outlet,” Dylan says. “Maybe it empties into a river.”

  “Right,” I say. “That makes sense. But what I want to know is how we’re going to get down there.”

  “Maybe we could make some arrow shafts,” Tam says. “And long spears for those stone spearpoints—if we can get down there. We don’t want to get trapped. If we go down, we need to make sure there’s a way out on the other side.”

  “There’s a way,” Dylan says. “There has to be.”

  “Why?” I ask. “There’s lot of places people can’t get to.” Anger bubbles up from inside me, and I want to say that I’m glad his dad’s fire of destruction missed this place. Just breathing the life in from up here would show anyone how wrong it was to set those fires. But Dylan has been so stable the last two days that I don’t want to disrupt the balance.

  “I just know,” Dylan says. “Accept it.”

  “Birds,” Max says. “Small birds. I just saw some flitting around down there. Well, I saw one. But where there’s one, there’s more.” She laughs.

  “The bear,” Jess says. “Maybe it was coming here.” She makes a growling sound, pretending to be a bear, and we all laugh. Max holds out her hand for a high five and Jess smacks it.

  Big white clouds are billowing over the mountains to the south. And a breeze is blowing ash over the fissure, but before the ash reaches our side it gets caught in an updraft.

  “I know there’s a way down,” Dylan says. “People have been down there before. Maybe some still are. I can feel them.”

  I glance at Mike, but he doesn’t say anything.

  “And that ash rising,” Dylan says. “That’s from warm air. All things being equal, it should be cooler than the air rising from the burnt land up here. Unless there’s a heat source down there. Some hot water, or steam, or a fire.”

  Sometimes Dylan sounds downright scholarly. I like this Dylan, the one who studies things and talks without insulting me. Right now he’s the politest arsonist I’ve ever met.

  “Are we gonna go all the way down there?” Jess asks, as she rubs her bare feet in the ash.

  I put my hand on her shoulder and say, “I hope so.”

  “Me too,” Max says.

  Dylan smiles and just keeps staring, like he’s in a trance.

  * * *

  “The rope won’t help because there isn’t anything to tie it to.” We’ve been walking east along the fissure, the green belt calling to us from below. But now the air rising from below feels cool on my cheeks, like a damp rag.

  “Maybe we can cut steps into the face,” I say. “Create a stairway as we go.”

  “Not here,” Dylan says. “It’s the wrong type of dirt. It’ll collapse. But there has to be a way.”

  “This is what hell is like,” Max says. “Staring at paradise with no way to get there.”

  Dylan turns to Max. “We’ll find a way down.”

  She touches his arm, smiles at him, and says, “Cool.” And he smiles back.

  How can Max like him? I mean, he torched the land she loved. But as long as his actions don’t endanger Jess, I can live with those two hanging out, hooking up, or doing whatever. I just want to keep my sister from being influenced by his type of crazy.

  The clouds crowding the sky start spitting rain. We keep walking, searching for a break in the cliffs. I’m sure everyone else is as hungry as I am, but no one asks to stop and eat. Not even Jess. We’ll have to inventory our food, maybe even ration it. If we keep running into big obstacles, it could take a long time to reach the coast.

  The rain comes harder, soaking my hair, pressing it against my neck. Water runs down my back beneath my pack. The wind starts blowing, turning wet skin into wet and cold skin. Even though it’s summer, the only way to stay warm in this weather—to keep from freezing—without shelter is to keep moving.

  No one speaks as we kick our way through muddy ash. And even though fire destroyed this place, all I want right now is a big blaze to warm me up.

  If Dylan and his dad hadn’t burned this place, maybe we’d still be living in our house. People used to start fires in and around Fairbanks every year, but the firefighters always put them out.

  Things you took for granted. Firefighters, stores full of food, a house to live in. Electricity. Gasoline.

  And then later, houses, a river full of fish, few enough people that the land might be able to support them. But the fires changed all that, erased in an instant the tiny dreams of a few people. And created a desperate time. As if the land being destroyed also destroyed what was civilized in people.

  But a remnant of Interior Alaska lies below us.

  I have to get down there. Somehow. Just to recharge my belief in humanity. In life. My belief that even a guy like Dylan, who believes that the fires were purifying, could see that what his dad convinced him to do was a big mistake. How can I ever trust Dylan if he can’t see that? I hope Mike is right, that the farther away Dylan gets from his father’s cave, the more stable he’ll become.

  We come to a spot where the cliff has sloughed into a steep pile of dirt down into the fissure. It’s still steep, but not sheer. Rainwater runs down a crack at an angle to the cliff instead of straight down.

  “See that water?” Dylan asks. “I think it’s running that way because people or animals or both have walked there. This is the place. The trail in.”

  I have to admit that—steep as it is—it does look like a trail. It’s the best option for getting down
there that we’ve seen. Really, the only option.

  I put my arm around Jess but speak to everyone. “Press your body into the cliff face. We should spread out so we don’t start a chain reaction. If you stumble, you don’t want to fall onto someone and knock them off.”

  Tam slips her pack off and straps her bow to it, then puts it back on. Then she says, “Mike, just toss your spear over the edge. You don’t want to walk with it. Too dangerous.”

  Mike turns to Dylan, who just shrugs and says, “Basic.” Then he laughs, and I feel a chill travel up my spine.

  “I’ll go first,” I say. “Just let me get about fifty yards down. And once you go, you need to keep moving. If you stop, you might screw up whoever’s behind you. I’m not sure what it’ll be like past this first run, but be prepared to slide on your butt or your stomach or whatever it takes to control yourself to keep from falling.”

  “Dude,” Dylan says, “we get it. Hug the cliff, and give each other some space. Let’s go. I just want to get down there. This place, it’s got energy. Good energy. It’s the place to be.”

  I cuss him out in my mind but say nothing. I really want to take Jess with me but know if I did and then fell, I’d just be endangering her.

  Dylan turns to Mike. “It’s gonna be a hell of a ride.” He laughs. “Enjoy it.” Then he slaps his brother on the arm.

  Mike nods and says, “I’ll try.” But he isn’t smiling.

  Max hasn’t said a word. She’s just standing there, her eyes fixed on the narrow trail. “I’ll go second,” she says. “Jess, you follow me.”

  Jess just nods. If she’s scared, she’s not showing it.

  Dylan wants to go last, and Mike just before him, so Tam is fourth.

  I start sidestepping down the trail and immediately start to slide. I try to claw my way upward as my feet keep moving forward and manage to feel like I have a little control, but I’m moving about four times as fast as I want to. Out of nowhere a switchback appears, and I pivot on one foot and scramble in the opposite direction. Now I’m sure I’m out of view, but I can’t stop to warn the others about the switchback because losing my momentum would increase my chance of a free fall.