The sun blazed through the branches, burning the top of Emma’s head as she climbed over and around tree after tree. The winds had toppled the forest, and it left her exposed to full sun. Why does everything have to suck right now?
How far had she gone, two miles? And the sun was setting already? Tears sprang to her eyes as her sinuses pounded, and a cough rasped her throat. “No.”
She sank to the forest floor and pulled the branches around her, making a nest.
She woke shivering. She’d dreamt she was sleeping at her grandmother’s house in a real bed, a down comforter tucked around her. She staggered to her feet and walked around the trees. If she had to climb another one, she was going to scream. Her head spun, and she couldn’t take another step. She’d stopped to rest, but it had turned into a nap. She had to get to Gran and Papa’s.
She stumbled to another stack of trees but couldn’t lift her leg to climb. Why were they all sixty feet tall? They were strung out for miles. She should be at Gran’s by now. Was she even going in the right direction anymore?
She let her eyes droop. An indentation beneath the stack of trees created a little cave of sorts. She crawled in and curled into a ball.
****
She woke shivering. Every muscle ached. Forcing her arms and legs to move, she crawled out of her shelter, stretched her arms over her head, but the trees swirled. She lost her balance and dropped like a stone. Her bowels cramped, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her arms and legs hung like lead weights. Why was this happening?
Sweat beaded on her upper lip and her brow as she dropped to her knees. A wave of heat surged through her then nausea hit. Her middle gurgled, and she clutched her belly, vomiting apple and all the precious water. The smell cut through her congestion, and she gagged and vomited again.
Weightlessness replaced the churning heaviness in her gut. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Where were Lilli and Jade now? Were they sick too? Her eyes refused to focus, no matter how hard she squinted. Where was the sun?
Her head spun faster, and she lay back, focused on the rise and fall of her chest, which moved in quick bursts.
“No.” Tears blurred her already fuzzy vision. Her head pounded, and she sank into the branches. She would not reach Gran’s before nightfall. Jade would never have let her drink that water, not without the purification tablets. What did Emma know about surviving? Nothing. She was going to get herself killed.
Her insides churned, and she turned her eyes to the sky once more, a brilliant shade of blue, and no clouds as far as she could see.
“Thank the goddesses.”
****
She woke to the smell of rotten eggs. Lifting her cheek, she put her fingers to her face and let them fall. Her own vomit dripped onto the branches. At least it was daylight. The last time she opened her eyes it was to a starry sky. She slept, but for how long—four hours or twenty-four hours? The branches rustled, and she raised her head off the ground but dropped it back again.
Please. Let it be a chipmunk.
“What was I thinking?” she asked the sky. “Why did I drink? Maybe this is the flu.”
The branches rustled again, and she stiffened. Her gut gurgled, and a wave of nausea stronger than all the others took hold of her. She rolled onto her hands and knees and dry heaved until her throat burned, then collapsed.
****
She became aware of darkness, of stars blinking in the black veil overhead. “Dark-thirty.” Where was Mom? Cedarville? Two days without Lilli and Jade and she still wasn’t there. She might not ever make it.
She lay on her back, gazing at the sky as frosty air brushed her cheeks. A shooting star blazed overhead. She made a wish that Mom would appear, hold her, and tell her everything would be all right. But nothing happened.
“My phone is broken. The weather is broken. Come on, stars.”
Another star shot across the sky.
****
She woke to daylight, but what day?
She lay on her back and giggled. “Over the river…” Was she delirious now?
Blue sky filled her vision, and sunshine filtered down to her nest. At least another storm hadn’t hit. Her throat ached with thirst, though. She held her throbbing head and sent out a plea to all the goddesses. Help me.
She rolled over and pushed onto an elbow, but the world spun, and she fell back. The smell of her soiled clothes overpowered her. She retched, but nothing came up.
“Water,” she moaned.
No one was coming for her. She would never see her mom. She pressed her face in both hands as tears squeezed out of her closed eyes. Her shoulders shook with her sobs. Would she die here, so close to Gran and Papa’s? Wild animals, or maybe even someone’s pet dog, would eat her.
“Stop it.” She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “You have to do this.”
She sat gathering her strength. “Now, get up, Emma. No one’s going to save you. You have to save yourself.”
Rolling onto her side, she pushed to a sit and rested against a log. Her pulse pounded in her temples. Wobbly and weak, she grabbed broken branches to stand. All this misery from water? She tottered but held herself upright clinging to a log. Apparently, the goddesses were on vacation.
Her chest ached from coughing, and the dizzy spell settled into a woozy head. Putting one foot in front of the other, she came to a log but couldn’t climb over it. She walked to the thick end until she’d reached the jagged tree stump. The break formed steps.
With slow, measured movements, she climbed onto the log. She scanned the distant pasture with blurred vision. Was that a movement? She blinked, focused. It was a man. She lifted her hand to wave but teetered on the log.
“There are no more chances, Emma. Make something happen.”
With a grunt, she stood on the highest spot of the log. The man was lifting something large and shiny from under a pile of branches. A black mirror? She called, but her words seemed to fall straight to the ground. She coughed until she bent at the waist. Maybe he’d hear her coughing.
A whistle. That’s what she needed. How many times had Mom suggested that, and she had scoffed? But even if she had a whistle, did she have enough energy to blow it?
“Help.” Her hoarse voice crackled in her ears. A dizzy spell hit, and she tilted. She gripped a branch sticking off the tree and stared at the boy, willed him to see her.
“Help.” She waved her arm. Why wasn’t her jacket bright red or yellow, not this drab gray? She had to do this for Mom. She tore a bushy twig from the branch and waved it like a flag. She swung it over her head. She swirled it in a circle. How long could she keep this up? Not long.
The guy stopped what he was doing and turned his face toward her. Had he seen her?
The man dropped the shiny, black thing, and her brain buzzed. He raced across the field in her direction, and she sank onto the log.
“Thank all the goddesses and the stars.”