41. Lost
Lost
SAM
Iprobably shouldn’t have driven home that night. I was so blissed out I was surprised I didn’t roll off the road. This was it. The rest of my life.
It didn’t help that I looked at my phone for the first time after sending my version of a goodbye text to Ellie and had seen the message from her mom.
She’d sent me a photo of a house for sale. It was dusk—they must have walked by it on their way to the fireworks. But she’d done exactly what I asked—sending me, on the last few days of her trip, photos of any houses for sale.
I didn’t open it up to look at it properly—I could do that tomorrow. For now, I needed to get home, to get some sleep so I could be fresh for Tommy’s day tomorrow.
I was nearly back to Greenville when my phone buzzed with a call. I would have ignored it, but I worried it was Ellie. What if she needed something? Even if it was just for me to tell her goodnight I was going to give it to her. I couldn’t make her wait.
I pulled off the road, fishing the phone out of my pocket.
My smile fell when I saw it was my mom. Worry instantly streaked through me. It was a quarter to eleven at night.
My mother went to bed at nine, if not earlier.
I picked up just before it went to voicemail. “Mom?”
“Sam, I’m so sorry to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
A pause. Then, “No.”
The single word—in a high-pitched tone—was enough to make my stomach turn to ice. “Mom, what is it?”
“It’s your father. He went for one of his hikes today and… well it’s getting late now and he never came home.”
Alarm shot through me. “Getting late? Mom it’s—” I cut myself off. And one of his hikes? What was she talking about? He went on walks in town. Where he was supposed to. Like the doctor ordered.
I suddenly remembered Mrs. Patel that day in the square. My cousin fell on his health walk. Cracked his head open like a melon.
Adrenaline coursed through me. “Mom, where did he go?”
“Well, I think at that last family dinner when you were talking about that trail, he got inspired, because that’s where he said he was going. I’m pretty sure.”
The ice spread, spreading through my veins.
I’d told them about the SAR orientation I’d done with Tommy.
How one of the places we’d looked at on the map was a hike on a ridge half an hour south of Greenville.
It was a fairly straightforward trail, good for beginners.
But another hike branched off from it. That one went up to the top of the ridge.
It was rough. Rocky and narrow the whole way up.
Despite good signage, dozens of people had gotten lost over the years.
Why the hell would Dad choose that one after I’d been talking about how dangerous it was? Did he have something to prove?
I hit the speaker button on my phone and threw it onto the passenger seat, doing a u-turn to head in the direction of the ridge.
“When did he leave?” I demanded.
“This afternoon. I think around two.”
“Mom!” I couldn’t control the panic in my voice. That was more than eight hours ago.
“I’m sorry! Sometimes he meets Peter after his walks. I thought maybe they got carried away.”
Peter was my uncle. They sometimes walked together, but Peter was in a wheelchair, which means he wouldn’t have gone with Dad on the trail. It was easy, but not accessible. “Did you call him?”
“He hasn’t seen him. Oh Sam, I’m really worried!”
No shit.
“Okay Mom, it’s okay. I’m going to need you to stay calm, and call 9-1-1, okay?”
“9-1-1? Samuel, is he dead?”
“Mom! No! We don’t know anything. But he’s been missing for quite a few hours. Please call them. Then call Mrs. Patel so you don’t have to be alone.”
“I can’t do that. It’s so late.”
I couldn’t even begin to sort out how my mother’s brain worked. I took a breath. “She won’t mind. Not if you tell her what’s going on. Okay, Mom? Can you do those things?”
I finally got her to agree to all of it and hung up the phone.
Then I drove as fast as I could toward the trail.
None of what I was doing was smart. Planning on searching a trail at night?
With no supplies? I’d be tossed out of SAR if I was still leading it.
But everything went out the window when it was your missing person.
All I could think about was my dad lying in a gulley with a broken leg in the dark. Or worse.
Alone and scared.
I pulled into the parking lot a half-hour later, empty, except for Dad’s truck.
The sight made my stomach lurch. Mom had the right place, which was good, but the foolish hope she’d made a mistake altogether—that he was somewhere safe and warm and had just forgotten to check in—was no longer possible.
I checked the truck just in case, but of course it was empty and locked.
I looked around, just in case, calling his name.
When that proved fruitless, I took stock of what I had in my vehicle.
There was a pocket-sized aid kit under my seat.
It had only a few antiseptic wipes and small bandages, but it was better than nothing.
I dug around in the glove box, a flutter of relief in my chest as I found the little flashlight I was pretty sure was in there, working well when I turned it on.
The only other thing I could think of was a half-empty bottle of water and a hoodie from the trunk—the same one Ellie had worn that day in the park.
I’d been a weirdo about it and hadn’t wanted to wash it after she wore it, which was great in hindsight, because if I’d been normal about it, it would be at home right now.
I tied the sweatshirt around my waist and jammed everything else into my pockets. Then I slammed the truck door and looked round.
I felt very much like throwing up.
The woods were a wall of darkness. The kind of dark where you can’t see past your nose. The quiet, too, filled me with dread. It was like being underwater. There weren’t even any crickets.
It didn’t matter—I was going in. Even if it took me all night, I was going to find him.
“Dad!” I called.
Nothing at all, of course.
I turned on the flashlight, pointing it at the trees.
There was nothing to do but start walking.
My hip was fine when I started walking.
It wasn’t now, two hours later.
I’d walked the entire length of the easy trail, my voice hoarse from calling Dad’s name. The trail looped around about a mile from the parking lot. Which was also where the more difficult trail branched off from.
I probably should have left when I finished it. Gone back to the parking lot and checked in on Mom to figure out where the hell the emergency response was. Or if she’d even called.
My stomach sank as I realized she’d probably messed that up somehow. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t accounted for her dropping the ball. I thought of how often she repeated herself lately. How confused she got.
Fuck.
Now, standing at the split in the trail where the harder hike branched from, it was too late.
Not only was there no cell service here, but the flashlight had died twenty minutes ago.
I was using the flashlight on my phone. I’d charged it on the drive after hanging up with Mom since there was no service by the time I got to the road that led out here either, but there was less than twenty percent of my battery left.
I was trying very, very hard not to freak out.
“Dad!” I called again.
He had to be on the ridge trail. The alternative—that he was on the one I’d already traversed but incapacitated or worse—was too much to think about.
I headed up the trail.
I’d heard a few sounds as I’d traipsed through the woods in the dark, mostly made by me tripping on roots and smashing through branches.
At one point a branch had hooked itself into my shirt, scratching me on the ribs deep enough I could feel the wet of blood.
I barely felt it now. My hip took over all the pain receptors in my body.
But there were creatures out here too.
“Dad! Are you there?”
Little things that scurried through the brush. I’d heard the haunting call of an owl a few times. The close whoosh of bats.
My ankle rolled on a rock.
“Fuck,” I cursed, taking a moment to regain my footing.
About an hour back, there’d been something bigger. A deer, or maybe a moose. It could have been a black bear. Whatever it was, when I’d shone my light at it, the bulky shadow had vanished. I didn’t love it.
“Dad!”
I hadn’t heard any birds, though, besides the owls. Of course I hadn’t, because it was the middle of the night.
Now though, twenty minutes up the trail, sweaty and breathing hard, I paused.
A minute ago, I swore I’d heard something like a woodpecker.
Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!
Except woodpeckers didn’t tap that slowly.
“Dad,” I whispered.
“Dad!” I shouted. Using my voice felt like I was swallowing broken glass at this point, my throat ravaged from yelling constantly.
But I was desperate to locate the direction of the sound.
Nothing. Then: Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!
My heart seized. It was him. It had to be: it was our signal. Four hits for help.
My heart thundered in my chest. “Dad! I’m coming! Do it again!”
It took me ten more minutes to find my father.
He was lying just off the side of the trail, in a patch of grass, like he’d been taking a nap. If it were daytime and you were looking, he would have been easy to find. Even at night, his jacket had reflector strips on them that were so bright in the light of my phone I had to squint.
“Dad!” I dropped to my knees, confusion and relief too deep to notice the way my hip screamed in pain.
I felt around his head. There was a contusion on the back left side, sticky with blood, but it wasn’t very big.
He was conscious. His eyes were open and blinking at me. Tears streaked down the side of his temples.
“Dad, what happened?”
He wouldn’t answer me.
The relief that had flooded me a moment ago drained away. Was it his heart? He had issues. That’s why his doctor had told him to go on walks—in town, of course. Not here. But he likely wouldn’t be conscious if that was the case.
“Dad, can you talk to me? Can you tell me how you feel?”
I shone the light on his face so I could read his lips. Probably he was hoarse from yelling too. But that’s when I noticed something very wrong. His mouth was drooping on one side, a stream of drool coming from its lowest point. I drew the flashlight down. His body was slack on the same side.
A stroke.
Fuck.
“Dad, we need to get you to the hospital.”
He made a scratch of a noise. He had been yelling. Probably long before I got here. I tried to get back to standing, but my hip buckled. “Shit,” I breathed.
Dad made another noise.
I pointed the light at him, but he was quiet now, his eyes still wide.
“Dad, I have to get you up. I’m going to have to carry you out.”
How the fuck was I going to do that? I was barely able to hold myself up, and Dad was a big guy. He’d towered over me as a kid, larger than life, and though he was a couple inches shorter now, he was heavy. He probably weighed the same or a little more than me.
Dad made a sound again. He had aphasia, that much was clear. But he was trying to speak to me.
“Dad, I have to get you help,” I said, my eyes stinging with tears. The longer we stayed away from the hospital, the worse this could get.
But who knows how long he’d been lying here already. Long enough his voice was hoarse. The damage might already be done.
He tried to move.
I gritted my teeth. “I’m going to get you out,” I said. I managed to stand up then, and was able to hobble to a nearby tree, which I fell against.
All the things I did with Ellie tonight before hiking through the woods had probably laid the foundation for this pain. I didn’t regret them, not for a second. I just wished my body were whole.
I needed to make something to carry him with. A travois. Two poles lashed together for dragging.
But I didn’t have any way of cutting sticks. I didn’t have fabric for slinging between the sticks—the sweatshirt wasn’t nearly big enough. I could collect grass maybe, but it would take me all night.
I didn’t have anything. I needed to rest, then I could do a firefighter hold. I’d done it before.
When your hip worked.
“Fuck,” I said out loud, running my hand through my hair.
Even if I managed to get him onto my shoulders, which I could do if my hip weren’t fucked, walking down that trail in the dark with my father on my shoulders was a death trap.
Even if my body was working properly. One misstep—which was all but guaranteed—and I could drop him, exacerbating all his injuries. A fall could more than likely kill him.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
I spun around, shining the light on Dad. He held a rock in his good hand; the same one he had to have used to call me.
Three taps.
Look at me.
I got back down, blinking away the tears. “I’m looking, Dad. I’m here.”
He dropped the rock and patted the ground beside him. Then he closed his eyes.
That’s when the phone died, plunging us into darkness. I didn’t even get to see what time it was.
There was nothing I could do to save him.
Just like the last time, thousands of miles from here. I saw Ulli’s eyes staring at me. I saw the pool of blood under Mirabelle.
I felt the doll like a phantom limb in my palm.
I dropped onto the grass, trying hard to stay calm.
Dad’s hand whacked against mine, gripping it when he found out where I was.
He made a noise.
“Aah-eeeh”
He sounded like Henry.
“What are you trying to say, Dad?” I croaked.
“Aah-eeh.”
He coughed, the sound loose and flappy.
“Aah-eeh.”
Was it Sorry?
“You don’t have to be sorry, Dad,” I whispered, my throat tight.
But he squeezed my hand, and I wondered, if that was what he was saying, if he might have meant it for everything.