Sunlight glared off the wet walls, waking Emma. It was silent. She crawled from under the shelter and brushed off fir needles and debris, checked for spiders. Every movement she made was a painful reminder that she should have worked harder in gym class.
She stepped over the roofing to the door and pushed. It did not budge. She pressed with her shoulder, and with a pop, it opened an inch. Fir needles, leaves, paper, and branches had blown against the door, trapping her inside, but not for long. She leaned on the door, pushing until she could squeeze through. She squinted in what she thought might be the direction of the road.
Most of the trees that surrounded the building had toppled over, leaving the sky open and wide. The remaining trees stood like something from a Dr. Seuss book, toothpicks with feather-like branches sticking out here and there.
“Do you see the stream?” Jade’s muffled voice came from under the metal roof.
“No,” Emma whispered. Each storm downed more trees, tore off more roofs, and blew debris into smaller pieces until nothing was in its proper place or resembled what it had once been.
“Something wrong, hon?” Jade’s voice came muffled from under the shelter.
“You have to see this for yourself.” Emma couldn’t find the words to describe the landscape.
There was a scuffle and slapping. “No, you don’t want a cigarette,” Jade said.
“Well, you’d better stop scratching that damned scar or you’re going to scratch all my hard work off.” Lilli said.
Arguing again. Emma kept her mouth shut. She’d miss even their bickering when they were gone, which would be too soon.
Lilli poked her head out of the door. “Crap.” She shielded her eyes with her hand. “The National Guard will never get through all of this.”
Jade pushed her way out and stared into the distance, silent and still.
“Can you make it, hon?” Lilli took Jade’s hand to help her out the door.
“How can it get worse? If I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes…” Jade’s soft drawl had a calming effect on Emma, even if the words were harsh.
Emma took a step and winced. Her thighs would be sore for a month after all the walking and climbing.
Lilli cleared her throat and pointed. “The junction sign might be down, but it’s still pointing us in the right direction.”
Emma followed Lilli’s finger to a spot in the branches. No. Not yet.
“We made it. This is the junction.” Lilli’s impish grin gave Emma a start. We follow the 3 north. You’ll take 96 east.”
Emma couldn’t be alone. The earth started to spin.
Lilli pointed to another sign that read: CEDARVILLE 7 MILES.
“Seven miles.” Emma sank to the ground. “That’s a little farther than I thought.”
“Couldn’t we go with her just a little way?” Jade raised her eyebrows at Lilli, who stood with her hands on her hips.
Emma wanted to grab Jade and kiss her, but she didn’t. She could barely hold back her sob.
“Jade, your leg. I can’t let you go one extra inch.” Emma chewed her lip, fighting to hold in her tears. “Besides, Gran and Papa live this side of Cedarville, so it’s closer.”
“Emma’s right, hon. You need all your strength to get to my house.” Lilli adjusted her pack on her shoulders.
“Look. There’s Prickly Bear Peak.” Emma indicated a rocky bluff. The familiar landmark eased her mind. “I can see it from my grandparents’ back porch, so I’m not that far.”
“See, hon?” Lilli rubbed Jade’s arm. Jade frowned. “Emma’s almost home, okay?”
“Yeah.” Emma stood as straight as she could.
“We’ll need to find that stream or lake or some kind of water if we’re going to make it the rest of the way.” Jade’s transparent excuse to stay warmed Emma. Jade sniffed and rubbed her leg. She didn’t look up or agree with Lilli.
Emma had to give Jade a nudge to go, even if she did have to factor in getting lost on her own, and it might take her until tomorrow to get to Gran’s, but she didn’t mention that.
Emma pushed her shoulders back and held out her hand. “Thanks for saving me from the storm, Lilli.”
Lilli stared at her hand then slapped it away and hugged her. “I knew you were a survivor the minute I saw you.”
“Can’t we eat breakfast together, or something, before we head out?” Jade asked.
“That’s a good idea. Yeah.” Lilli slipped her backpack off.
Emma wobbled, her relief overwhelming her. She’d have her friends for a couple more minutes. She spotted the perfect log, and Lilli helped pull away the broken branches and brush off the bark.
She sat between Lilli and Jade, the morning sunshine warming her back. Lilli spread peanut butter on crackers, and Jade passed them to Emma. She nibbled on one. She’d need her strength.
“You know, this whole getting-back-to-nature thing is nice, but we wouldn’t be out here if the storm hadn’t forced us.” Jade spit saltine crumbs as she spoke.
“I’d be in school right now.” Emma couldn’t fathom school, her friends, the crowded halls, Megan.
“I bet you ace all your classes, don’t you?” Lilli grinned at Emma.
“I wish.” Emma licked peanut butter from her fingers and took a swig of water.
Lilli helped Jade to stand, and they adjusted packs and stowed water bottles. “Well, this is it. Here’s looking at you, kid.” Lilli drew Emma into another bear hug.
Emma couldn’t breathe. Was this really happening? Was this where they left her? She opened her mouth and closed it, afraid she’d ask them to go with her, afraid they’d say yes.
Lilli pushed away first, clearing her throat, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
“Jade,” Emma croaked.
Jade embraced Emma then held at shoulders’ length, as if trying to memorize her face.
“Well…” Emma couldn’t finish her sentence, the words, like peanut butter, stuck to the roof of her mouth.
“You got your apples? How about the water purification tablets?” Jade brushed Emma’s hair behind her ears. “That will last you until you get home.”
Emma nodded.
“No talking to strangers.” Jade tapped her walking stick on the pavement. “Mrs. M said it best. Until we meet again, my girl.” Jade clasped Emma in one last hug, and Emma clung to her.
Jade, who feared dogs, looters, storms, even the wind, made sure Emma would be okay. She stumbled a step when Jade released her, and Lilli took Jade’s hand and gave Emma a final wave. Emma tightened the straps on her backpack and watched the two women as they hobbled into the tangle of downed trees blocking Highway 3.
Bird song filled the air as Emma turned to the east. Her vision blurred, and the trees turned to green blobs in a fuzzy landscape. She was heading into farm country. Maybe the cleared pastures and fields would make her journey easier.
With a pause, Emma glanced at the spot where Lilli and Jade had disappeared. They were gone. She turned and pushed through the branches looking for the yellow line of Highway 96.
“I’ll be home soon.”
****
The sun inched across the sky, and she longed for shade. Sweat ran down her back. Her throat itched with thirst. She had never worked this hard or spent this much time outdoors or away from Mom. Except after the accident. Dad.
She wanted her mom. Where was she? She scanned the devastated landscape. Was that a man? She squinted at the shape—a stump. She didn’t want to see anyone or anything—no people. Maybe a cat.
“Cuddles.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “She has at least seven more lives, right? And now I’m talking to myself.”
What did it matter? She was alone.
Emma searched the sky for the sun, found only a bright spot behind the clouds. It hung farther to the west than she expected, and her bowels tightened. She wasn’t going to make it home today. Being technology free, unplugged, “off the grid” wasn’t so bad, though. The sun was setting. What more did she need to know?
She wasn’t prepared. No extra clothes, sleeping bag, extra water, but she’d survived. She sniffed her underarm. Yeah, not prepared.
She left the road in search of shelter for the night, keeping the sun to her right. If a farmhouse suddenly appeared that would help. She stopped in the middle of an enclosure of trees.
“This will do.” She sat on a boulder and took out her water, half full. She pulled out an apple and sank her teeth into it, savoring the juice. Her arms ached, and her head was pounding. Dehydration? Probably. She rubbed her temples, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.
She wouldn’t reach Gran’s until tomorrow. Prickly Bear Peak seemed taller, so she was getting close. Everything took so much longer than she calculated, and now she was stuck sleeping outside, alone.
“Mom,” she whispered, willing away her sore throat. She gazed at the tall trees in the east. She blinked as she slipped off her pack and snuggled into the branches. She let her tears fall. “I will bend in the storm just like they do. I will not break.”
****
A mist hung over the trees, and birds sang their morning song. The sun slanted over Prickly Bear Peak. Gran and Papa’s wasn’t far now. She sat, wiped the sleep from her eyes, the pressure in her sinuses pounding. Ugh. A head cold? Really?
She shivered as she drank the last drops from her water bottle. She’d have to start moving to get warm. That stream Lilli mentioned must be close. She munched on a saltine then grabbed the apple from her pocket and sank her teeth into it. The apple juice soothed her dry throat, but she’d need water soon. She bushwhacked her way to the road and searched until she found the sign: CEDARVILLE 5 MILES. Easy-peasy. She’d be there before lunch.
Crawling through the branches and fallen trees was like the worst gym class ever. Where were Lilli and Jade right now? She missed them and all their complaining to the goddesses.
A chipmunk scolded her from a fallen tree. It must have held its nest. Emma glanced up at it and shrugged her shoulders.
“Dude, I did not do this.”
The chipmunk flicked its tail and jabbered. Laughter bubbled to her lips, but she pushed it down. This wasn’t funny. It was tragic.
A crow swooped through the clearing, cawing a warning. Great. All of mother nature was against her. Perspiration dampened the back of her shirt, but her throat remained dry, and her head pounded as though it would burst. Where was that stream? Thirst pushed her on, and she clung to branches to keep from falling.
She paused and closed her eyes. A breeze hummed over the landscape, but no roar of jets, no cars on 96, no technology of any kind, just the chattering chipmunk, the caw of the crows, and the gurgle of water.
Gurgle of water?
She scrambled over trees and peered under the branches. Several Douglas firs had fallen across a bridge, knocking it off its foundation. It no longer reached the other side. White water ran through the logs and rushed over the concrete and asphalt.
Rapids. Lilli had called this a stream. This was a raging river. She reached for her water bottle. She’d fill first then figure out how to get across.
She climbed along the bank, over trees and through branches. The rushing water taunted her, her throat raw and tight.
She could taste the water, and her parched throat drove her. She wobbled on a log. A dizzy spell dropped her to her knees. Was she going to die of thirst right next to water? She never understood the meaning of irony, but this sure seemed ironic.
She walked along the river’s edge to a wider spot where the gurgle turned to a murmur. She scrambled onto a stack of trees that crossed the river like a bridge. She lifted a branch, and the glint of sunlight off water blinded her. If she could just reach…
She lowered herself to a large tree trunk and reached through the branches. The water caught the bottle, tugging it from her grip. She gasped and clutched it.
Dipping it again, she let it fill then drank until water ran down her chin and neck, drenching her chest. Wiping her chin, she sat back and tipped the bottle, emptying it.
She straddled the log and bounced. It seemed sturdy enough, and it ran from shore to shore. Maybe she could cross here? Pushing herself to a stand, she put one foot in front of the other. Her weight sagged the tree until it hit the fast-moving current. The drag of the tree as it hit the rapids created a rotation, like a bucking horse.
She fell to her knees then clasped the tree, slipping off the log. She swung her leg up and scooted back. The log rose from the water, but she was dizzy and disoriented from the motion. Stuffy sinuses didn’t help.
She sat back and scanned the river. It was wider in this spot. Pay attention, Emma. She inched backward, grasping the tree until her fingers bled around the nails. The apples flopped around in her backpack and threw her off balance. She slipped where the bark had sloughed off.
She scooted backward until she was on solid ground. Then bent at the waist, letting the blood rush back to her head. What if she had slipped? But she didn’t.
She clamped her eyes shut, her heart beating as though she’d sprinted the hundred-yard dash, five times. She held up her empty bottle. She had to find a better spot, one where the water was exposed.
She filled her bottle, sniffed it. Who was she kidding? Her stuffy head made it impossible to detect anything.
Jade’s water purification tablets—oh no.
She should have used them. What was she thinking? Where were they? She checked her pack pockets. How bad could it be? Putting the bottle to her lips, she downed it.
The river narrowed, and water rushed under a logjam. She tried several logs until she found a big one that didn’t sag. Brown foam created a scummy froth that floated in a whirlpool under the logjam. She watched the brown pillow of foam as it swirled under the logs.
“That’s not good.” Why hadn’t she used the purification tablets?
She hauled herself onto the large tree, and, holding her arms out to balance, she sang, “Over the river and through the woods…”