Chapter 16
Iwas avoiding people as I approached the border of Georgia and North Carolina.
The stretch of the trail that was ahead was one I’d been looking forward to as it was in the Smokies and there were few signs of civilization.
Really, I think after all the excitement of the past eight days, I deserved a break.
I kept my eyes out for sunglass woman, but we didn’t cross paths. I had camped off trail the previous night. I kept my cell and satphone sealed in the Faraday bag, which probably helped. Also, no sign of Claire and Boone. Or Louis, aka the Mountain. Or anyone with a knife.
The weird thing, though, was I was starting to feel a bit out of sorts and out of touch with what I really cared about.
I decided I’d check in with Rose this evening.
Find out how she was doing. Poppy. Status of the work on the road into Rocky Start.
Luke and Jackie. Pike’s leg. And what they did with Jenna.
This communing with trees thing was all right but—
Maggs paused, alerted. I quietly took my ruck off and stepped off the trail to the right. I put my ruck under a bush. Then, Maggs at my side, I began creeping forward, off trail. I heard a woman’s voice, low and hushed.
One that sounded familiar. I walked out of the forest onto the trail. Just ahead of us Claire sat on a rock outcropping, and Boone lay at her feet, his sides heaving. I knew right away he wasn't getting up this time. Maggs whined softly beside me, sensing the same.
“Claire.”
She didn’t look up. “He can’t make it up the next section. His back legs. They’re done.” Her voice was flat. “And before you ask, yes, I’ve tried carrying him. Turns out fifty-five pounds of Lab plus a thirty-pound pack equals one very humbled middle-aged woman.”
I grabbed my ruck and approached slowly, Maggs staying close to my side. Boone’s tail thumped twice when he saw us, but he didn’t try to stand. His eyes were glazed and his breathing came in labored gasps.
“How long has he been like this?” I asked. I glanced down the trail but there was no sign of the woman, and it didn’t seem appropriate at the moment to ask Claire if she’d seen her.
“Since yesterday. I thought he just needed rest, but—” Her voice cracked. “He crawled off last night. Tried to hide under a bush.”
Yeah, he was done. I remembered reading how the mortally wounded stranded on the battlefield in the Civil War would crawl underneath trees or bushes to die. It was some sort of core instinct.
I knelt beside Boone, running my hands gently over his hindquarters.
He whimpered, and Claire flinched at the sound.
The old dog’s hips were swollen, hot to the touch.
Severe arthritis, maybe something worse.
He’d been pushing through pain for a while now, probably weeks.
Pain killers took away the feeling but not actual damage.
“There’s road access about a mile ahead at Sandy Bottoms,” I said. “We need to get him to a vet.” It had to be this next road, because beyond that, the trail went into the wilderness for miles and miles.
“And then what?” Claire's voice was hollow. “They’ll tell me what I already know. That he’s twelve years old and dying. That the kindest thing would be to let him go.” She finally looked at me, and her eyes were dry. Too dry. “I know what comes next, Max.”
The way she said it made my blood run cold.
“Claire—”
“I have the pills.” She said it matter-of-factly, like she was discussing trail rations or water purification tablets.
“I don’t need a vet. Boone won’t suffer.
He’ll just go to sleep, and then . . .” She shrugged.
“He’ll be with my son again. But really, come on, let’s be real, he’ll be nowhere.
Either way is better than this. He won’t be in pain. ”
Maggs pressed against my leg, sensing my tension. I'd been trained for a lot of different kind of missions but nothing like this.
“And you?” I asked.
“This isn’t about me right now.” She said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I sat down on the rock beside her, not too close. Maggs settled between us, her head resting on Claire’s knee. The gesture was so gentle, so deliberate, that Claire’s composure finally cracked. She pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to hold back a sob.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered.
"Everyone keeps saying I’m strong, that I’m surviving, but they don’t understand.
I don’t want to survive. I want my son back.
I want my daughter’s wedding. I want my husband’s stupid jokes about my cooking—which was excellent, by the way, no matter what he said about my lasagna.
” Her other hand found Maggs’ head, fingers tangling in the long fur.
“I want normal, boring, alive. And I can’t have any of it. ”
“You can’t have back what you lost.”
She looked at me sharply, having expected me to argue, to tell her things would get better. To pull out the crisis counselor script. She did not expect me to agree.
“You’re right that it’s not fair," I continued, searching for words. “That no parent should outlive their children or lose everything in one fell swoop.” I watched Boone’s labored breathing.
“And I can’t tell you it gets better, because honestly, I have no idea if it does.
I’m not exactly qualified to give inspirational speeches. ”
“Then why are you here?”
“Fuck if I know,” I said. “My normal mode is to avoid people. Someone told me to do it different and now I’m pretty much tripping over people.
” I looked at her. “My girlfriend told me to start reading people. And what I’m reading is someone who’s been carrying this alone for ten months, who made a plan because plans feel like control, and who thinks that maybe the only way out is through something extreme.
” I paused. “Also, you’ve got a terrible poker face, which makes my job easier. ”
Claire’s jaw tightened. “You’re going to try to stop me.”
“I’m going to ask you to wait.”
“For what? A sign from the universe? A reason to live? A really good sunrise?” Her voice was sharp. “Because I’ve seen plenty of sunrises, Max, and they’re still not worth it.”
“Boone needs a vet. Jamming pills down his throat is iffy. You’re a nurse. You know that.”
She gave me a sharp look. “I didn’t tell you that.”
“Tom. The amputee. You helped him.”
She shook her head. “He needed to get off the trail.”
“And he is. Now. Let me help you get Boone down to the road access. We’ll get a vet who can come up. Someone who can make sure he doesn’t suffer. And then we have to finish what you started for your son. Make it to Fontana Dam.”
“What difference will that make?”
“Maybe none,” I admitted. “But maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and decide you want to see one more sunrise—even though they suck, apparently. But at least you’ll have made that choice without Boone’s pain influencing it.”
She stared at me for a long moment, and I could see her running calculations, looking for the trap. “And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll sit here with you until you’re ready to move, and I won’t leave you alone.
” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. “I’m not going to physically stop you, Claire.
I don’t have that right. But I’m not going to make it easy, either.
I’ll probably sing off-key or tell terrible jokes. It’ll be awful.”
“You’re serious.”
“Unfortunately.”
Maggs whined softly, and Boone’s tail gave another weak thump.
Claire closed her eyes. When she opened them again, something had shifted—not hope, exactly, but maybe the tiniest crack in her resolve. “One day,” she said finally. “But I’m not making any promises after that. And if you sing, I’m leaving.”
“Fair enough.”
I pulled out my Faraday bag. Checked my cell phone.
No signal of course. So I got out the Satphone and turned it on, realizing the potential danger in that.
I called around and finally found a trail angel who could meet us at the campground with a veterinarian they knew.
Claire sat silent beside me, her hand resting on Boone’s head, while Maggs kept vigil between us.
Then we moved out. It took over an hour to get Boone down the mountain. I carried him most of the way, his weight heavy in my arms, his wheezing breath against my chest. Claire walked beside us, carrying both our packs, her face set in grim determination. Maggs ran back and forth, upset.
I was wiped out by the time we reached the campground. Claire wasn’t faring much better, hauling both rucksacks. We collapsed, exhausted. Our timing was good, though, because less than five minutes later a van pulled in. A trail angel driving a vet.
The vet was matter of fact—a woman in her sixties with kind eyes and the practiced compassion of someone who’d delivered bad news a thousand times. She examined Boone in the parking area, then looked at Claire with gentle honesty.
“His quality of life is gone,” she said. “The pain medication you gave him made it tolerable. And he probably enjoyed the trail as long as he could. This isn’t the first time I’ve been called out here like this, just so you know. Dogs have bucket lists too.”
Claire nodded. “Can you do it here? Now?”
The woman shook her head. “We have to go into town.”
“I’ve got a cabin you can spend the night in,” the driver suggested. “It’s not much but it’s a roof. And a hot shower.”
Claire looked at Boone, then at me, then at Maggs, who sat pressed against the old Lab’s side. “Tomorrow,” she said finally, her voice barely audible. “Can you do it tomorrow morning? I hate to trouble you.”
“It’s not trouble,” the vet said. “I’ll see you at 8:30 in the morning.”
The vet gave Boone an injection for the pain and gave us instructions and her number. The trail angel—a weathered woman named Sue who looked like she'd seen everything and judged nothing—drove us to a small cabin she kept for hikers who needed to get off the trail.
“You look like you could use a shower and a real bed,” Sue said. “Both of you.”
“Is it that obvious?” I asked.
“Honey, I could smell you when we were pulling in.”
Claire actually smiled.
We accepted Sue’s offer without argument.
We did stink.
That night, we sat on the cabin’s porch while Boone slept peacefully on a dog bed inside, finally free of pain. Maggs lay beside him, her head resting protectively against his side.
“You bought yourself a day,” Claire said, staring at the darkening mountains. “What are you going to do with it?”
I didn't have an answer. Not yet. We sat in silence, and I wondered—not for the first time—what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
Claire stood. “I’m heading in. Good night.”
“Good night.”