Chapter Forty
I jog down the beach, trying to put as much distance between myself and Kei as quickly as possible.
I know that if I look back and see him there, then I’ll turn back around, and I have to get him out of sight.
I round the crescent end of the beach, and wouldn’t you fucking know it, I’m faced with another crop of boulders, these even bigger and steeper than before.
I don’t have it in me to climb over them. I’m down to only a few sips of water, and my energy is fading fast.
I make a split decision and turn into the forest. I’ll just skirt around the barrier of boulders and then follow the tree line.
The forest feels like a sanctuary. The shade of the trees, the cool, still air, the soft peat underneath my feet—this was a good decision.
But the rocks don’t just peter out as I’d hoped; they expand into a ridge, three times my height.
I try in vain to climb it, but the thick moss covering the rock clumps and crumbles underneath my feet. I’ll have to go around it.
As I head deeper into the woods, the vegetation on the forest floor thins out, making it easier for walking. Lofty pines tower overhead, and the only sounds are the occasional skitter of a squirrel, or the flapping of a bird’s wings.
My mind wanders to Kei. To what he said. Surely he’s just delirious, he didn’t mean it. Did he? He probably thought I was Kimi. But he said my name. And I don’t know how to explain it, but I felt it. I felt his love.
What a ridiculous thought. Maybe I’m the delirious one. He was just talking nonsense. Just because he wants to visit me in Vegas doesn’t mean he loves me. I mean, yes, I definitely one hundred percent love him, but that doesn’t mean anything. Does it?
Whatever. I love him, and I have to save him. I have to. Despite my fear and fatigue, this sense of purpose energizes me.
I think of Sue-Ellen, stuck in the rocks. I’m glad she doesn’t know it’s just me on my own. I wouldn’t want her to lose all hope. I have to rescue her, too. A worry about the bear finding her on the beach starts to take shape, but I squash it. Maybe it will find me here in the woods.
No, no, no. I can’t let myself think about the bear, I must pretend it was just a hallucination. It’s the only way.
I think about Damian and Giovanni. Are they back? Are they wandering through woods just like this? And Harmony—is she holding up okay?
All these people depending on me for their salvation. Me! Feels like a cruel joke.
When will I see them all again? Funny, they were strangers to me two weeks ago, and now we’re forever trauma-bonded by this shitstorm of events.
And, assuming I’m successful in this rescue mission, we’ll all be scattered all over the world.
How can we go from spending every second together to never seeing each other again?
We could do trips, visits to see one another. But that takes money. Money I don’t have. It hits me again like a punch to the gut, the realization that I’m going back to things exactly as I left them. No brand deals, no collabs, no prize money.
I stop to take a sip of water. I’m worryingly low, but I must be getting close to the path.
Except the ridge isn’t there anymore.
Oh shit. In my reverie, I’ve completely lost track of where I am. Shit shit shit.
I veer right, toward what I imagine would be parallel with the tree line. I’m too deep into the woods to double back toward the lakeshore, but if I just carry on in this direction, I should intersect the path at some point.
I wish my surroundings would give me some sense of what direction I’m going, but it’s all just trees, each one indistinguishable from the next. I come to a small stream, and I stop to splash some water on my face. The cold water is a dream for my sunburned skin.
I take in my surroundings. The scene is from some woodland fairy-tale—the sparkly stream, the little patch of orange mushrooms sprouting on its edge, the bright red leafy bush.
Is that weird? We don’t really have seasons in Vegas—just hot and hotter—but this feels early for fall colours. Maybe it’s different in Canada.
Canada. What a concept. I hop over the stream, marvelling at the fact that I’ve been in Canada this whole time, and I’ve never really thought of it as such.
Canada! The mythical land of polar bears and igloos—not that I’ve seen either of those things.
The microcosm of camp has felt removed from any specific place or culture, which I guess is on purpose.
Like how they film Love Island all over the world, but the villa is exactly the same each time.
Those islanders really have it cushy in that villa.
Maybe you’d get tired of all the neon signs, but it sure as hell beats Camp Couple-Up.
How could I have thought that was an actual reality TV set?
I’m once again gripped by shame and regret.
If I let them take hold, they may take me down, so I push the thought away, instead focusing on trying to name all the provinces of Canada, then all the U.S.
state capitals. I try count to one hundred in French, but I get stuck at seventy.
This keeps me occupied until I spot another stream up ahead.
This one also has a patch of orange mushrooms along its edge, on the other side.
I wonder if they’re edible. I don’t know much about the forest, but I do know not to go around taste-testing mushrooms. And, oh, weird—there’s a bright red bush by this stream, too.
Wait a minute.
I stop. Look around. It’s all too familiar. This stream doesn’t also have a red bush. It’s the same red bush, the same stream. I have managed to walk in a circle.
Fuck.
Hot panic rises in my chest. I take a deep breath. I can’t lose my shit right now, but I really want to lose my shit right now. I’m lost in the woods. I’m tired and hungry and thirsty and it’s getting dark and I am lost in the fucking woods.
I take a sip of water, just enough to wet my pasty mouth and hold down the impending meltdown.
I take several deep breaths. I’ll just follow the stream.
They say if you follow water then you’ll find people, right?
They say that, don’t they? I could be making it up, but it’s not like I have a better plan.
I walk and walk and walk, keeping the stream to my right.
Up ahead, I can finally see some light streaming between the trees, a clearing of some sort.
I quicken my pace to a slow jog. The woods are opening up.
I burst through the tree line…to a cottage where a man is just about to light the barbecue; to a parking lot where a couple is tying their canoe on top of their car; to a campground where kids are roasting marshmallows…
Any of these things would be better than what I find.