11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Keeley
M y head and left wrist hurt a little, but otherwise I seem to be fine. I slowly climb up the slope, which takes longer than I thought it would. Not just because I keep turning around every two or three metres to make sure I can still see the chute, but also because I have to crawl over roots, boulders and bushes.
When picturing a forest, you might expect smooth ground between trees, but this hell hole couldn’t be further from that. The wind is howling through the treetops, but down here in the undergrow there’s hardly a breeze.
I turn again and search for the parachute. Luckily it’s bright yellow so I spot it easily in the dark greens and browns of the wood, although it gets more difficult the further I go.
I’m out of breath and sweat is forming on my forehead, but none of that matters. We need to get help. Oliver needs to get to a hospital.
As I climb higher, I come to a section that is too steep for me to just walk up. I hold onto roots and bushes as I drag myself up over the slope. When I get to the top of it, I turn around again. Deep down I spot a bit of yellow. If I go any further, I won’t be able to see it anymore.
A look up the slope tells me that I’m nowhere near a clearing. If I continue I’ll lose the line of sight but I still don’t have any signal as one look on Ols’ phone confirms. I’m not super outdoorsy, but I know that in a place like this, where everything looks the same, it’s easy to veer off the straight line you think you’re on. You don’t even notice it. The thought of not being able to find my way back to Oliver frightens me more than anything.
I’m torn. Think, Keeley, think! My eyes drop to the bright red of the hiking jacket I’m wearing. In an instant I unzip it and take it off. I’m only in a thin T-shirt and the cool air makes me shiver. Goosebumps appear on my arms. It’s only for a short while, don’t be a wimp. I pull the hood out of the zipped-up pocket on the collar of the jacket and yank. It doesn’t move. I lay the jacket flat on the ground, step on it to hold it in place and pull on the hood. Eventually I hear the satisfying sound of material ripping.
I step up to the nearest tree and reach as high as I can. It’s some kind of coniferous tree. I tie the jacket around the thin trunk on my tiptoes. When I drop back down, I admire my handywork. My new beacon is in place, which should allow me to go a bit further; not much, but maybe enough for some signal.
I throw one last look downwards as I stuff the hood of my jacket into my trouser pockets and carry on the climb. After another strenuous ten minutes even the red of the jacket is becoming just a tiny speck. I have to stop, there’s no other choice.
I pull the phone from my pocket and hold it up in the air. The trees are a bit thinner here and I can actually see the sky.
There, there was one bar. Just now, I saw one bar. I hold the phone steady, but the signal bar is gone. I take two more steps and for a brief second, I have another bar before it disappears again.
I cry out in frustration and tears sting my eyes. I open the messaging app and find Ols’ sister in his contacts. I type out a message and press send. I wait for the confirmation tick to appear but it doesn’t. Battery is showing sixty nine percent so it should last for a while; hopefully long enough for the message eventually to go through. I find Kurt and Jake in his contacts and send them a message as well, then I take the phone and place it inside the hood. The cords to tighten the hood around your face are still intact so I use them to tie the phone as high up on the nearest branch as I can.
Please get through, please get through, please get through . I mumble the words over and over as I slowly descend towards the red dot in the distance.
It takes me nearly thirty minutes to get close enough to our crash site to I can make out Oliver. Walking downhill should have been easier but the gradient of the slope and the roots, branches and bushes meant I had to walk slowly and carefully. The last thing we need is for me to get injured as well.
“I’m back,” I shout from further away to alert him to me approaching. There is no reply. Fear spreads through me like fire. No, no, no.
As fast as the incline allows, I run to him and drop to my knees.
“Hey, you’re back,” he whispers. His face is twisted in a grimace.
“How are you?”
“In pain,” he admits. “You look like you have been to war.” I can only imagine what condition I’m in. My hands are covered in dirt like I’ve been working in a coal mine. My hair feels sticky from sweat and I’m sure there’s leaves and twigs in it.
“Hey, I’m not a damsel in distress type of woman. I can get shit done if I need to,” I say softly and stroke his cheek. His stubble scratching my palm is oddly comforting.
“Oh, don’t I know it. Any luck with the phone?”
“We’ll see. There was some patchy signal up there. I sent a few messages and left the phone in the hope one would go through.”
“Clever. You’re not by any chance related to Ray Mears?” he tries to joke, but I can see that talking is exhausting for him.
“Nope, but I was a tomboy growing up. My sister was the girly girl. That’s probably why we aren’t close. We’re too different.”
“Tell me about her.” The last word causes Oliver to cough and wince in pain. I guess the initial adrenaline after the crash is wearing off and he’s in much more pain.
“About my sister?” I lean back against the hill, my fingers gently stroking his forehead. “I… I really think we have better things to worry about now. What if they don’t get the message?”
“Hannah will alert them anyway if we’re not back by three. We always have a safety check in time. If I go past that and don’t answer her call, she will inform mountain rescue. It’ll take them longer to find us but we should be safe here until then. The nights…” He winces again. “The nights are cool, but not so cold that we’d risk hypothermia. And someone could have seen our crash.”
I hope he’s not just trying to calm me down. It seems logical, but if they don't get the texts, it could take ages to find us, given that they’d need to search a wider area.
I press the button on Ols’ fancy watch and the dial lights up showing that it’s just after three-thirty p.m. So, if he is right, they should be looking for us already.
“There’ nothing we can do but wait. So, tell me about your sister?”
“Why?”
“To distract me.”
“Hmmm, I don’t think it’s a very interesting story. Lisa is two years older than me. Growing up, we never really played with each other. Whilst she was collecting posters of her favourite boy band I was the ringleader of the Merry People.” I grin at the memory.
“The Merry People?” Ols’ voice is weak, but he tries to give me a grin.
“Yes. We loved watching Robin Hood and it was a group of boys and me. They called themselves the Merry Men like in the book, but when I joined I challenged the leader to an earthworm eating competition. I won and renamed it the Merry People because they weren’t just men anymore.” Oliver laughs and then groans in pain.
“An early feminist?”
“Nah. Although I liked hanging out with the boys, I didn’t want to be one so Merry Men didn’t work.”
I want to ask Ols about his sister but I’m not sure if making him talk is a good idea.
“What are you thinking?” He asks and his eyes find mine.
“If it’s wiser to keep you talking, so at least I know you’re conscious or if it’ll cause you too much pain.”
“What did you want to ask me?”
“About you and your sister? You seem close.”
“We are. When we were younger… we didn’t hang out much, but once we were both out of the terrible teens… and realised we were both interested in outdoor… adventures, we started to hang out more. We are different. She is more… carefree.” He talks slowly with gaps when he inhales.
“When my parents died in a car accident I thought my sister and I would grow closer but although we grieved together our lives just didn’t connect very much,” I sigh.
“Is that something you regret?”
I think for a second. “Oddly, no. You can’t force being close to someone. It’s not that we never talk. But I think it hurt more when I lost friends because of my job.”
“How so?”
“When you’re travelling somewhere new every week, it’s only natural that you start to drift away from friends. At first, we made an effort to stay in touch and meet up whenever I was back. But as time went on, we ended up missing so much of each other’s lives that keeping close became tough. Now, when we do catch up, it’s more reminiscing about the past than sharing what’s currently happening. And that’s okay—friendships don’t always last forever, but it makes for a lonely life sometimes.”
“I’ve lived in the same village all my life and I’ve kind of… lost touch with friends in the last few years… we still hang out occasionally but… with work, and my mum my days are busy.”
“What’s with your mum?” A little black bug is trying to crawl up his cheek and I swat it away. This is your only warning, my friend, next time I’ll squash you.
“Since my dad died, she’s gone through waves of depression… but she refuses to accept help… from anyone but me… or Hannah, if she offered any.”
He doesn’t sound bitter. Sad maybe.
“Hannah just can’t handle seeing Mum so down and her way of dealing with it is to hide away. I mean, I get it but—” another cough causes Ols to cry out in agony.
“But you also need a break sometimes?” I finish his sentence when he’s recovered.
“Yes. Flying gives me a couple of hours of freedom.”
“Have you ever spoken about it with your mum?”
“No!”
“Or a therapist?”
“She doesn’t want to see one.” He turns his hand around and moves it towards me. I link our fingers and it seems to relax him a little.
“I meant have you spoken to a therapist. After my parents died I had some therapy and it helped me a lot. A therapist could help you manage your mum even if she doesn’t want to see one herself.”
Ols doesn’t reply. His eyes are directed to the sky. The wind must have died down because I can hear birdsong rather than the sound of the wind in the treetops.
“Maybe,” he finally mumbles. And I promise myself I won’t let him forget that if we ever get down from this mountain.