The Trip

Prologue

“This is it!” Beth broke the foreboding silence, quickening her pace on the trail at the front of the group.

The four of us had hiked without a word for the last several hours, the weight of leaving Courtney behind hanging over us like a death cloud, leaving no room for conversation.

Beth pointed ahead. “I remember that log with the mushrooms on it being on the path at the start of our hike.”

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Emma said, her curly blond ponytail swaying from the breeze as she took an athletic stride over the log a few feet in front of me. Despite her knee injury, I was having trouble keeping up with her.

Beth’s steps shifted from a walk to a near run.

“What if you’re wrong?” Emma called after her.

We all knew the answer, even though none of us spoke it. Then we’ll stay lost out here. Without food. And no way to call for help.

My stomach growled. It had been twenty-four hours since I finished my last protein bar.

I was so hungry it hurt. That morning, I’d woken to the sound of Emma puking beside my tent after she ate what she thought were salmonberries but were apparently something else.

This morning, Emma had hiked the first few miles hunched over, stopping to throw up two more times, leaving the rest of us too scared to try any of the berries we saw along the path.

But if we were stuck out here much longer, we were going to have to risk it until we figured out which ones were edible.

I spotted a squirrel scampering up a moss-covered tree and envisioned myself throwing a rock at its head before it disappeared around the other side of the trunk.

I then imagined roasting its tiny body over a fire and immediately pushed the thought away, surprising myself as much by my urge to kill as my desire to eat meat when I had prided myself on being a vegetarian for the last two years.

The only plus side to my hunger pangs was the distraction they provided from the painful blister on my heel that had burst a few miles back.

I stepped over the log Beth had sped past but had no memory of seeing it at the start of our trip. However, it felt like a lifetime ago with everything that had happened since then, so I kept the thought to myself.

I thought of Courtney, the only one of us not making it out of the woods.

How could I be so selfish, worrying about my next meal?

I imagined Courtney’s body, lying dead on the damp forest floor, her cold, decaying carcass ravaged by wolves before being picked apart by scavengers. Vomit rose to the back of my throat.

I started at a grunt behind me. I spun around, heart racing as I envisioned the massive cougar I’d encountered yesterday when all I’d had to defend myself was the engraved pocketknife Courtney had given me at the start of the trip—thankfully, the wild beast moved on to something else.

I spotted Gigi on her hands and knees on the dirt path, her long dirty-blond bangs half covering the painful grimace on her face.

“I can’t go any farther! What the hell were we thinking?

We’re going to be lost out here forever.

” She broke into a sob as she lowered her head toward the path. “My blisters are killing me.”

For as long as I’d known her, Gigi had never done well with pain. Looking at her, I was filled with frustration. My heels were raw, too, but her growing panic wasn’t doing anything to help us.

“Here, let me help you.” Begrudgingly, I dropped beside Gigi and draped her lanky arm over my shoulder before pulling her to her feet.

“Need more help?” Emma asked.

I shook my head, practically dragging Gigi along the path as she winced in pain with each step.

“Just a little farther,” I told her, hoping it was the truth.

“It better be,” Emma said. “If Beth led us the wrong way again, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“I see the van!” Beth cried.

“Thank God,” Gigi muttered.

I let go of Gigi and hurried after Emma, slowing when I emerged from the tree-lined path onto the gravel parking lot.

Straight ahead was Beth’s minivan, parked in the same spot we’d left it and still the only car in the remote trailhead parking area.

My lungs deflated with relief. I hunched forward, keeping my eyes fixed on the white vehicle while resting my palms on my knees.

I straightened, my relief muddled with guilt when it struck me that we would be driving out of here with one less person.

Emma turned to me as Gigi hobbled out of the woods. “Check your signal.”

I slid my backpack strap off my aching shoulder, unzipped the front pocket, and turned on my phone as we continued toward the van. It seemed like an eternity as I waited for the screen to light up.

“No service,” I said, lifting my phone in the air.

“Let’s go.” Beth opened the driver’s door. “We’ll drive until we get one.”

I climbed into the passenger seat as Emma and Gigi piled into the back.

“What about yours?” I asked, motioning to Beth’s Nokia flip phone in the center console as she sped down the narrow gravel road.

Beth pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose before opening the phone. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of her round cheek beneath the bright-red gash on her temple. The screen remained black as she held down the button on the side. “It’s dead.”

Of course it is, I thought. None of us were prepared for what had happened on this trip.

Gigi’s phone had gone into the river yesterday when Courtney had fallen in, along with both their backpacks containing most of our food.

By then, Emma had completely drained her phone battery by leaving it on to continuously search for a signal when we were out of cell-service range.

None of us had brought a charger, knowing we wouldn’t have any reception for most of our three-day trip.

I kept my phone lifted toward the windshield, hoping it would help find a signal while Beth accelerated down the windy path. As she plowed over a pothole, the top of my head hit the ceiling, but my eyes stayed glued to the screen as the van’s tires created a cloud of dust out my side window.

“Stop!” I yelled.

Gigi was thrown forward when Beth laid on the brakes. Gigi’s thin arms stretched beside me, her palms pressing against the dash as we came to a stop, and I dialed 911.

“911 operator, what’s your emergency?” a staticky voice asked.

“My friend,” I spurted. “She’s . . . missing.

We were camping—rafting—on the Sol Duc River, and she .

. . um . . .” I glanced at Beth, who stared back at me.

“Fell from the raft.” The splash when Courtney hit the water filled my mind.

“That was yesterday. And we can’t find her. We got lost on our way back and—”

“Miss, I need you to slow down. Can I have your name? And tell me where you are.”

“Palmer. Palmer Montague. I already did—we were on the Sol Duc River. She’s gone. We need help now!”

“Ma’am, just stay calm. I need you to be more specific. Where on the Sol Duc River? Can you give me another landmark near you, like a trailhead?”

I turned to Beth, kicking myself for not paying better attention when we got here.

Instead of parking at the Sol Duc Trailhead, we’d taken a windy backroad to a secluded trailhead Courtney had heard about from her brother.

What the hell were we all thinking, gallivanting into the woods like that without at least taking note of where we were? “What was the trailhead called?”

“I don’t know.” Beth shrugged, her eyes wide.

I twisted toward the others in the back seat. Emma shook her head while Gigi cast her a blank look as if trying to recall the name.

“I can’t remember.” Gigi bit her lip. “I thought Beth wrote it down.”

Beth shook her head and threw the van into reverse. “I wanted to, but you and Emma were making fun of me for taking too many safety precautions.”

I pressed my hand against my forehead, willing myself to remember as the van rolled backward. It had been Courtney’s plan to come here, but how had none of us paid better attention to our location?

“Wait!” I reached across Beth’s lap. “Stop or we’ll lose my signal.”

The emergency operator’s voice returned. “Miss? I need you to tell me where you are. Can you find the name of the trailhead?”

“Lost Creek Trail!” Gigi yelled, swiping a long strand of blond hair from her face. “No wait, I remember—Grave Creek Trail!”

“Grave Creek Trail,” I said into the phone.

“Okay, that’s good. And your friend, when did you last see her?”

“Yesterday, around noon. She fell into the water when we were rafting the Sol Duc River. It was about ten miles northeast of where we are now.” I shifted in my seat, conscious of the pocketknife that was no longer in my shorts pocket.

“And that was the last time you saw her?”

She’s dead, I wanted to scream. Instead, I swallowed hard, three pairs of eyes on me as raindrops began to beat against the windshield.

“Yes,” I lied.