10. Amy
10
AMY
T he rain is relentless. It comes down in hard sheets that pummel the hood of my jacket. The beam of my flashlight moves from side to side as I sweep the path looking for signs of the missing hiker. There’s a steep drop to my left, and every few feet I stop and sweep the flashlight over the edge, looking for evidence that someone is down there. So far nothing.
I’m glad. I hope the poor guy is huddled somewhere sheltering from the rain and not stuck halfway down a ravine.
My thoughts turn to Landon and the painful squeezing of my chest whenever I think about leaving here.
Maybe Mom’s right. Maybe I’m running. But I’ve run my entire life. I don’t know how to stay.
The path narrows with a large boulder on the left and I press against it, picking my way carefully through the path that’s turned to mud.
It’s madness to be out here in this weather, but I think about the young man who’s probably scared and maybe injured.
My foot slips on a tree root slick with rainwater. I stick my arm out to catch myself, and my flashlight goes skittering over the boulder and drops down the other side. The light tumbles end over end as it falls down the ravine, then winks out.
“Shit.”
Pitch black engulfs me so suddenly I can’t see the path in front of me.
I stay still, not daring to move. If I slip on the trail, I could go the same way as the flashlight: into the ravine.
My heart thunders in my chest, keeping the same beat as the rain pummeling my jacket. I reach for the radio and unclip it from my jacket. My fingers are stiff from the cold and slippery wet. I fumble the radio and it drops out of my hands, smashing onto the boulder.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”
I feel in the dark for the radio and find the orange light still winking, but when I push the button, nothing happens. It’s dead.
Panic rises in my stomach. I can’t risk going back in the dark, but if I stay out here, I’ll be cold and hypothermic before sunrise.
I sling the backpack off my shoulder and retrieve the only other light source I have. My phone.
Thick drops of rain fall onto the screen, and I shield it as best I can with my body. If it gets too wet, it will die too.
There are no bars of signal, but I try Search and Rescue HQ anyway.
Nothing.
I type a quick text to Suzie and hit send in case it gets through. At least it will be in my outbox and will send if I pick up a signal.
The rain’s coming down heavier, and I weigh up my options.
Going further along the trail isn’t an option. It’s too risky with the weak phone light that’s likely to go out if it gets any wetter. Then we could be dealing with two missing people instead of one.
Likewise heading back isn’t an option. It’s impossible to keep my phone dry in this weather, and it will cut out before I get far.
The best option is to find somewhere to shelter, keep as dry and warm as possible, and wait for the rain to ease.
I move my phone around the surrounding area, and it illuminates a craggy rock face further up the trail. This is the trail that rock climbers take, and I’m getting close to the good climbing areas.
Keeping my phone tucked into my sleeve so there’s some light while keeping it dry, I carefully make my way over to the rocks. The crag slopes outward, and if I tuck myself into the rock face, there’s a spot that’s out of the rain.
I try my phone again, but there’s still no signal.
I get the emergency blanket out of the backpack and wrap it around myself. Now that I’ve stopped moving, the cold is seeping into my skin.
I blow on my fingers to keep them warm and scarf one of the protein bars in the recovery pack. Then I turn my attention to the radio. The casing is smashed, and it seems like it landed right on the transmitter. I’m no electronics expert, but even I can see there’s no fixing it.
I’m just going to have to wait here until the rain eases or Suzie gets my text.
I pull the blanket around me and look out at the rain teeming down.
The sounds of the night are drowned out by the steady downpour. Which is just as well, otherwise I might think I’m hearing wild cats and bears. I take comfort in the fact that no other animal would be stupid enough to be out on a night like this.
While I was searching for the missing hiker, my mind was occupied. Now, as I stare out at the relentless rain, my thoughts turn to Landon. I wish he was here so badly it hurts. I long to be pressed against him. To bury my head in his chest, to feel his sturdy body against mine.
I pull out my phone to check the signal again. There’s still nothing, and this time I message Landon, telling him where I am and asking him to come and get me.
The message doesn’t go through, but there’s something comforting in the gesture. Maybe the clouds will clear and my phone will pick up a weak signal, and he’ll get the message. Or maybe he won’t.
I also send a message to Izzie and my mom, telling them where I am. Maybe it will get through to someone.
To conserve battery power, I tuck my phone away in my pocket and pull the blanket around me.
The rain doesn’t look like it’s easing up anytime soon.
Cold bites at my body, making me shiver. I grit my teeth and pull my body into a tighter ball with my knees up by my chest. But I can’t stop the shivering. A few minutes later, and my body is shaking from cold.
I can’t risk walking in the dark and the light on my phone going out. But I’m not sure how much longer I can stay here.
I wrap the blanket tighter around me, and as I stare at the rain, only one thing fills my mind. Landon, Landon, Landon.