Page 57 of Dark Roads
She emerged onto an outcropping, stood with her hands on her hips. She admired the view of the river below for a few moments and felt glad for the fresh air, the greenery. It had been good for her to get out of her rut, even if she hadn’t found anything. She let out her breath in a long sigh.
Behind her, a sharp sound. A stick breaking. She spun around. A deer, soft-eyed and gentle, strolled through the timber, lifting its hooves delicately. Beth gasped at how close it was—it saw her, then sprinted away, bounding over trees, crashing through the bushes.
Beth stood still, her heart racing, and laughed to herself. Maybe the deer was a sign from her sister.You don’t belong in this forest. Go back to the city, Beth!
She had dropped the compass in her surprise. She bent over now to get it, and the pack shifted on her shoulders, throwing her off balance. One of her heels came down on the mossy rocks and skidded off to the side. She fell onto her knee. She pushed her hands into the moss, trying to grab on to something, but it all came apart. Her boots slipped. Now she was on her stomach.
She slid over the cliff edge, grabbing at twigs and branches and roots, the hard rock. She almost caught herself, then the root broke away from the dirt, and she was plummeting down.
She was freezing. She reached for the blanket to tug it over her shoulders, felt only air. Something was pulling on her from behind, jerking her back. She opened her eyes, moaned, and sucked in a mouthful of water. She gasped and spluttered, shifted onto her side. She tried to sit up. Everything tilted and she lowered herself toward the rock—most of her body was in the water.
Barking. The rasp of a wet tongue across her cheeks, her forehead. Rough, insistent. She turned over, then startled when she saw the black dog. Was ithim? She held out her hand, but he danced backward. He grabbed the side of her backpack in his mouth and yanked hard.
“Hey! Stop it!”
She slowly sat up, clutching her head, and squinted at the sun. Her hand felt sticky. She pulled it away and sucked in her breath when she saw the blood, and instantly regretted it because of the shock wave of pain stabbing her ribs. The dog had bounced out of her reach and was sitting nearby. One ear twitched at her.
“I’ve been looking for you.” Speaking hurt. Her mouth tasted like blood. She stared at him for a long, wavering moment,leaned over, and puked. She bent over the river and scooped water into her mouth. When she tried to stand up, she wobbled, and stumbled backward. She thought for sure she was going to fall again, but she threw out her arms for balance.
She shrugged her wet backpack off her shoulders, groaning with every move. She took out another shirt, which was also wet, and pressed it to her head. She looked at the dog.
“Thanks for waking me up.” His tail thumped. That was new. Last time he had ignored her. “Are you with someone?” He thumped again. The mountain man? He could be watching her. She turned and looked into the forest, scanned the shadows, stumps that looked like hunched people. “Is anyone out there?” She was greeted with silence.
“I’ve lost my mind.” She started to shake her head, then grimaced at the wave of nausea. It took her a couple of tries before she was able to bend and fill her water bottle. She hesitated, thinking about bacteria. The river was running fast though. That was good, right? It had to be okay. She drank in big gulps, then attached the bottle to her backpack. The dog watched.
She began to pick her way over the rocks. She thought about how far she was going to have to walk to the campground. Did she even know the way? She stopped at the shore.
“I’m so fucked.”
She bent over to puke up the water she had just drunk. The dog bolted into the woods, but he stayed at the top of the bank. As if he were waiting. When she walked toward him, he yipped, spun around, and started down the trail.
She stopped, thinking. Was he leading her back to the campground? Maybe she was crazy. Her head throbbed. The trees around her kept merging. She closed her eyes, waited for her balance to come back, then she took a tentative step towardhim. He wagged his tail. Okay. She’d let him play leader. He seemed more certain about where he was going than she did.
It took all afternoon. She stopped a few times to sip her water, pausing between each mouthful to make sure she could hold it down. Every time she glanced over her shoulder, eyes scanning the forest, the dog would yip impatiently, and she’d continue on, but she found herself moving slower and slower.
She sank to her knees and leaned forward on her hands, bracing herself, but her arms sagged, and she collapsed onto her stomach in the middle of the trail. The ground was cool under her body. Her breaths felt ragged. The dog barked in her face.
“I need to rest,” she said weakly. “Few minutes.”
The dog wouldn’t shut up. He barked incessantly, coming within inches of her, nipping at her boots, then leaping backward.
“Go away!” She scrabbled up a handful of dirt and tossed it at him, but he didn’t run off. He grabbed on to her backpack strap, dug his feet into the ground, and began yanking and growling, twisting his neck. She moaned and cursed at him but pulled herself to her knees.
The dog pounced forward, still aggressively barking.
She got to her feet, weaving, and stumbled after him. When the trail started to look familiar, she realized she was close, and she quickened her pace. She was panting hard, almost gasping. Then she remembered the gun—at the top of her pack. She stopped, and with shaking fingers she removed the bullets, and shoved the gun to the bottom of her damp backpack.
She broke out of the trail, staggered onto the campground road. She looked behind and the dog was standing at the edge of the forest. He spun around and disappeared.
“Hey, you okay?” A shout. She looked up. The black-hairedguy from the other site. They’d cooked bacon yesterday. It had smelled so good. She had really wanted a slice of that bacon.
She slumped to the ground.
Beth woke to noise. Pale green walls, a TV hanging in the corner, a white board with red writing—the day nurse’s name, the date, Beth’s last vital check, the attending physician’s name, and a cheerful smiley face.
The noise again. She turned her head to the right. Jonny sat sprawled in a chair, watching her with his chin in his hand, a paper cup in his other.
“Brought you a coffee. It’s on your stand.”
