Crash

Chapter Six #2

The landscape of today’s descent has been a rocky one, both literally and figuratively.

There is no way to the botttom except through snow-covered and rough terrain.

There are spots where Spencer has to climb down and catch me in his arms, as I am unable to land on my leg.

We have had less shade from the trees, and our cheeks and foreheads are pink from the sun.

We are fortunate to have petroleum jelly from the first aid kit to spread over our faces and lips to protect us from the elements, but nothing to block the sun’s rays.

There is a yelp in the distance and then a whine.

Spencer and I both freeze. We hear it again, like a dog whimpering.

He hands me a torch from the tarp and nods as I light it against his.

We follow the cries until we reach a collection of fallen rocks.

One of the white wolves braces itself on top of the boulders, its back leg pinned underneath, reminding me of mine from the crash.

On the crest of the ridge, about fifty feet from us, stand the silhouettes of the rest of the pack.

Watching us, afraid of the fire, but wondering about our motives as we approach their injured brethren.

“Take my torch.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me.” Spencer hands it to me as he slips his bag off his broad shoulders and drops it to the ground, relieving him of the tarp he pulls. “Keep behind me, but stay close.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freeing it. Be ready to keep them back if need be. So far, they have kept their distance from the fire.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask harshly.

“Because I can save its life, and they haven’t expressed interest in harming us.”

“Spencer, don’t do this.”

He approaches the animal with both hands lowered and out in front of him.

The silhouettes in the distance shift their feet and lower and raise their heads.

The trapped wolf’s head swings in our direction, yellow eyes locking on Spencer.

“Shhhhh. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to help you.

” The wolf thrashes, and I jump. “Amanda, it’s okay.

” My legs tremble as he steps closer. “Amanda, I need you to calm your energy. It doesn’t want to hurt us. ”

I breathe deeply, and my hands tremble as I squeeze the whittled branch, shaking the already dancing flames.

I steady my breath and my mind. I trust him.

He inches forward as some members of the pack dart back and forth, and others stand like statues.

“I’m going to lift this rock off your leg.

” The wolf bares its teeth and snaps its jaws towards Spencer.

“Spencer, don’t!” I hiss, as my heart pounds through my ears, but he keeps inching forward.

“Shhhh,” he soothes, and I can feel his calming aura.

The wolf stops lashing the air, but its teeth are still bared.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice is hypnotic, not only to the wolf, but to me.

The restless pack freezes. His footsteps are quiet, like he’s walking on a cloud and not crystallized snow.

I want to yell to him to get back again, but the wolf stills as he walks behind it, still using his soothing voice, and the energy is serene.

The beast is at his eye level as he extends his palm out behind him, signaling me to stop as he advances forward.

Is he crazy? If this wolf wants to, it can turn and sink its teeth into Spencer’s neck the moment it’s free.

The pack quells in this comatose state, as motionless as the fallen boulders.

Spencer wraps his fingers around the rock within snapping distance, drops into a squat, and lifts.

The veins bulge and muscles strain in his neck.

The wolf begins to squirm, its claws scraping against the rock like fingernails on a chalkboard, sending shivers across my skin.

He grunts and lifts it higher, and the wolf leaps forward and lands on three paws.

My legs are cement. It runs up the hill to its pack, favoring the injured leg, but still placing it on the ground.

The pack greets it with gentle nips and huffs, weaving in and out and circling one another, eventually coming to a halt and gazing down on us.

My heart beats in overdrive as my breath stops, and Spencer holds that halting hand back to me again.

I reach one of the torches toward him, which he doesn’t take.

Their body language is still not aggressive; there are no teeth bared or fur raised.

My limbs are still weighted, and my chest is tight in this eerie moment.

The alpha steps forward, lowers his head in acknowledgment, then turns and trots in the other direction, and the rest of the pack follows.

My exhale comes out as a ragged gasp as I almost drop the torches.

Spencer quickly rushes over and grabs them.

I push him forcefully in the chest, and he stumbles backward in surprise, dodging the flames that narrowly miss his face.

I am just as taken off guard by my own reaction.

“You idiot! What if it had attacked you?” My voice is shrill and hysterical at the thought of him getting hurt.

“It wasn’t going to; I could tell by its body language and the pack’s.”

“Are you a wolf expert?” I seethe.

“No, but I know dogs.”

“Dogs!”

“Yes.”

“Please, don’t risk yourself like that.” My voice cracks. He stills with the torches in hand, but his eyes burn hotter, and I swear, if he wasn’t holding them, he would have thrown his arms around me.

“I knew I could save it, and it was a life worth saving,” he says with a smirk. “You were worried about me,” he mutters.

“I was,” I whisper, with my throat tightening.

“Come on, let’s keep moving,” he says.

Three more days pass where we scale the mountains.

My body aches and throbs everywhere. With each step, each movement, my muscles and joints fight me.

Spencer and I both have sun and windburn despite tying shirts around our faces and covering them in petroleum jelly.

Both of our eyes are dry and lightly webbed with tiny red veins.

To my disbelief, Bill had artificial tears in his survival kit.

They are helpful, but when you are outside from dawn until dusk in an arctic environment, there is only so much you can do to fight the elements with the bare minimums.

Except for yesterday, the wolves have left us alone.

They watch us from a distance as Spencer continues to carry our torch by day and light a bonfire at night.

We gather more firewood along the way, and Spencer has made new torches, also teaching me how to do so.

We eat the snow, also melting it in a dog bowl to drink.

We are very fortunate to have it. I can’t imagine being stuck in an environment where we didn’t have water.

Spencer has helped me walk several times as the pain in my leg has caught up with me.

Some hours, we travel in silence, others we talk to take our minds off the dread of the situation and the relentless aches punishing our bodies.

My fuel has been Tyler, and I will never stop until we find help.

In this moment, I need to speak to Spencer to keep my mind off the pain.

“Talk to me,” I say as we navigate our way down the mountainside with our usual grace of sitting, sliding, and bumping and leaning against trees.

He’s still skittish about his past and has avoided certain topics.

“Let’s rate our top fifty songs and movies again.”

“No, I mean like really talk to me. Tell me something you haven’t told me before, something about you, about your childhood.”

He’s silent as we navigate down the mountain. “What do you want to know?”

“Did you have a good one?”

He doesn’t speak for several minutes, and he offers me a hand on a particularly steep part.

I don’t press him. He lifts me up and lowers me yet again, with his hands lingering on my waist. He tugs the cloth down, exposing his face, and says, “I had a great childhood until I was thirteen.” He looks away, but his hands tighten as his chest rises and falls.

“After that, I moved in with my aunt and uncle. They are wonderful, but the…situation made things difficult. They did the best they could under the circumstances.”

“What were the circumstances?”

“Me.” He huffs and finally makes eye contact and presses his lips into a tight smile. I’m about to crack a joke, but the pain in his eyes strikes me in the chest.

“Spencer, you were just a kid, and you have a wonderful soul; anyone can see that.” I place my hand over his heart, and his eyes flicker with anguish. “Why did you go to live with your aunt and uncle when you were thirteen?”

He clenches his jaw, and his eyes shift away as his nostrils flare.

“Let’s keep going,” he says just above a whisper as he lifts and smooths the shirt back over his face.

It’s a windy day, and there are storm clouds in the distance.

I squint and tuck my chin, the fabric around my face briefly warmed with my exhale, but it’s difficult to breathe.

The flames still blaze, and they’ve become symbolic to us.

If the torch is still alive, then so are we.

He is a few steps in front of me and keeps his head forward.

“My mother committed suicide when I was thirteen. My father couldn’t handle it, or me afterwards, and didn’t want me around anymore.

So, I moved in with my aunt and uncle.” The forest stills.

The few birds that are chirping stop, or maybe it’s just my imagination.

Even the wind through the trees dissipates as he continues.

“That’s the most I’ve ever said to anyone.

I talked to a therapist many years back, but you’re the first I’ve told outside of an office setting. ”

“You can tell me what happened if you want, but you don’t have to. Thank you for trusting me with that information.”

“Yeah.” His tone is distant, and I barely hear him, as he doesn’t face me.

The sky grows darker, and the wind picks up.

Snow and ice prick my face despite the shelter of the pine trees.

Spencer helps me down another steep slope, then lifts and lowers the tarp behind him.

When he straightens, his head swings to the right, and his brow furrows.

“Is that a cave?” My gaze follows his to an arching maw on the mountainside.

He looks up to the sky. “If a storm is coming, that would be perfect if we could camp inside.” We climb over some larger rocks.

I use Spencer as a crutch for each one as we move towards the cave, then help lift the tarp so we don’t tear it.

We reach the mouth. Its opening is just under six feet high, as it’s up to Spencer’s nose, and equally as wide, with various-sized icicles hanging down.

“Stay here for a second,” he says as he hands me the torch and grabs himself another one.

“For your protection, just in case. I’ll be right back.

” He slips his bag from his shoulders and lights the torch tip to my flame.

“I’m going to check the area for any tracks that may lead here.

” He jumps down off a rock and disappears until he circles in front of me with his head down, scanning the surface of the snow and the other side of our surroundings.

“It looks clear. There’s no sign of any animals,” he says as he tromps back.

“Let me go in first. I want to make sure it’s safe. ”

“Oh, great. As in no wolves or bears in there?”

“You got it.” He dips under the mouth full of ice fangs and disappears.

I track his movements and follow the light into the darkness until it vanishes, assuming he veered into a corner.

The glow travels up the gray walls as he reappears and spreads to the other side as it’s swallowed into blackness again.

He has been gone longer this time, and worry creeps in as I squint my eyes through the opening.

The light paints and spreads across the wall, growing towards me, and I know he’s returning.

“Amanda!” he whisper-shouts as he runs to me.

“You have to see this. I can’t even believe it! ”

“What?”

“Come with me.” He throws my arm over his shoulder and loops his underneath me.

“Too impatient for me to hobble there?”

“Yes.”

“Is that water I hear?” I ask as he guides me down a narrow corridor that smells like wet stone.

“There is an underwater stream, but also…” He stops as we turn a corner and step out to a wide-open area with tannish gray rock jutting down from above and flowing along the walls until it reaches a clear blue pool.

Steam is curling from the water, and natural light is cascading in from a hole twenty feet high on the ceiling.

I gasp. “Is this a hot spring?”

“Yep.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

He grins as his eyes alight, and my heart speeds up.

His smile is breathtaking. I’ve seen him laugh, but never like this.

He’s so happy and relaxed that emotion tightens my face.

“I know!” He hugs me forcefully against him, and if I were able to jump up and down, I would.

“Let’s go make a fire and get settled in. I think the storm is coming.”

“I think someone is looking out for us. What are the odds we find a place like this?”

“This is definitely divine intervention,” he says with me still snug against him and the torch in his other hand.