Page 23 of Backed By You
She’d gone hiking this afternoon. I spotted her and Hulk heading toward the mountain trail with those same flimsy sneakers on her feet that I warned her about. The stubborn woman had just marched past me, chin up, those blonde waves bouncing with each determined step.
I wanted to call out, to say something,anything, but the words got stuck in my throat.
Story of my damn life with this woman.
A distant sound catches my attention—a bark followed by a whimper. I straighten, my brow furrowed as I listen intently.
There it is again. More urgent this time.
I turn toward the road and see a shape inching toward me. Limping.
I’d recognize that massive German Shepherd anywhere. Hulk.
But something feels wrong when I peer farther down the road. I don’t see Callie. And Hulk is never without her. Never.
I drop the shovel I’m holding and jog toward him. As I get closer, I can see he’s favoring his hind legs. There are scratches along his side, dirt and blood mat patches of his fur. He looks like he was just in one hell of a fight.
“Hey, boy,” I say, approaching slowly. He and I haven’t had the best start, but he’s heading straight toward me—and he doesn’t look too good. “Where’s Callie?”
At the sound of her name, Hulk barks sharply, then turns toward the trail. His gaze shifts to me and he barks once more before limping a few steps in the trail’s direction.
My blood runs cold. “Show me.”
The sun is fading fast, painting the sky in deep oranges and purples. Not much daylight left. I follow Hulk’s limping form down the road, my pace quickening despite the dull ache in my knee as we move up the mountain.
The trailhead looms ahead, three paths branching from the main one. I’ve hiked them all countless times while surveying the property years ago, but which one did Callie take?
Hulk hesitates at the fork, whining as he looks between the paths.
“Which way?”
He starts toward the center trail—the most difficult one—but stops, circling back with a pained whimper. His injury is slowing him down, and he’s clearly in a lot of pain.
I kneel, examining the ground. The recent rain has left the dirt soft enough to hold impressions. There—a distinct footprint heading up the center trail. Small. And beside it, paw prints.
“Stay,” I tell Hulk, pointing firmly at the ground. He barks, trying to follow me, but I can’t risk him injuring himself further. I need to move fast, and he’s in no condition to keep up. “I’ll find her. I promise,” I say, wondering if he can even understand me.
Sure enough, he lies down at the head of the path with a whimper, his gaze on me.
I set off at a brisk pace, following the most challenging trail. My knee strains with each upward movement, but I ignore it. The trail gets steeper, rockier. The kind of terrain that could be dangerous for someone in inadequate footwear.
“Callie,” I call out, my voice echoing through the trees. “Callie, can you hear me?”
Nothing but the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze answers me.
I push on, the light fading by the minute. I scan the path ahead. About a mile in, I spot something that makes my heartstop. A small section of disturbed earth at the edge of the trail, right where it narrows beside a steep drop-off.
“Hulk!” Her scream is terrified. The raw panic in her voice sends adrenaline surging through my veins as I sprint ahead. “Hulk, where are you? Please, baby, answer me.”
“Callie,” I shout.
Her screams stop abruptly. “Hello? Who’s there?”
I slow as I approach the disturbed edge, peering carefully over at the rampage of debris showing signs of a rockslide. About twenty feet down the steep embankment, I spot her—half-sitting against a boulder, blood matting her hair on one side, face streaked with dirt, blood, and tears. Her right leg is stretched in front of her.
Relief washes over me at finding her alive. “Stay still. I’m coming to you.” Dirt instantly gives way under my boot and I curse to myself. I opt for a different angle to hopefully avoid any more debris from falling in her direction.
The slope is treacherous—loose shale and dirt mixed with jagged rocks. I sit at the edge and begin to slide down carefully, using my good leg to brace against larger rocks and roots, controlling my descent. Pain shoots through my knee with each jarring movement. I grit my teeth and keep going.
