9
When I wake again, the world outside is washed in gray. It’s not bright, but at least the darkness is gone. I lie there for a moment, listening. Laughter, voices, the metallic clatter of Dutch ovens—nothing out of place. The sounds you expect to hear at camp.
My stomach rumbles at the thought of breakfast. I pull a hoodie over my tank top and slip into my sneakers. There’s no point brushing my tangled hair since it’s just going to get drenched in rapids and sunscreen, so I draw it into a messy low bun and throw on a faded baseball cap.
Outside, the aroma of wood smoke and bitter coffee color the chilly air.
The river smells like a wet stone, its surface almost still except for the quick ripples made as a trout snaps at mayflies.
Eggs and potatoes sizzle in a blackened cast-iron skillet above the fire.
Judging by the number of women already hunched over plates, I’m the last to get up and moving.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Josh calls as he dishes out a steaming scoop of eggs onto Pam’s plate.
“We were about to send someone to wake you up, but we didn’t want to risk scaring you again.
” He sends a pointed glance in Allie’s direction.
Thankfully, she’s too busy spooning breakfast potatoes into her mouth to notice.
Gracie finishes refilling the coffee pot and playfully elbows Josh.
“Leave her alone, now. Everybody is doing just fine this morning. We have coffee and food in our bellies. What more could we want?” She waves me over to the folding table and thrusts an empty plate into my hands.
“The quiche and potatoes are almost gone, so load up on—”
“What the hell, where is it?” interrupts a voice near the water.
Everyone, including me, freezes. Our heads swivel in the direction of the angry voice. In the shallows beyond the beach, Macy stands beside Bryan at one of the gear rafts, her hands on her hips.
Bryan stops tightening a strap, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Where is what?”
Macy mutters something under her breath, yanking a small orange crate—it looks like a tackle box—from within the gear boat. Ignoring Bryan, she marches straight for the breakfast spread, where I stand with my plate outstretched.
“Josh,” she says, lowering her voice. “Did you do the security check last night?”
Josh slides a slice of quiche next to the potatoes onto my plate, then squares up to face her. He hesitates a moment, pulling his fingers through his beard before saying, “Yeah … I did it right before everybody went to bed. Same as always.”
“What’s the problem?” Gracie asks, moving between me and the other two guides. The conversation around the campfire has ground to a halt, and every head swivels in our direction. Nobody is even pretending not to eavesdrop.
Bryan eases himself down from the gear raft and comes toward the group of guides hesitantly, like he’s afraid of getting yelled at again.
“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Beth calls out, cradling her coffee mug.
“Nothing, just wrangling some gear,” Macy calls back to her. “Give us a second, okay?”
Beth reluctantly turns back to the fire, and the conversation around her picks back up.
I suddenly realize that Macy is looking pointedly at me. She purses her lips and gives me a tight-lipped smile. Then she waits in silence until I carry my breakfast plate over to the coffee station.
I move slowly, resting my plate on the coffee station while I choose a speckled enamel coffee mug from the stack by the carafe. As far as I can tell, I’m the only one who’s within earshot of whatever Macy is about to say. And I fully intend to listen.
I take my time with the creamer and sugar as Macy opens the lid of the orange box, tilting it to show the inside to Josh and Gracie.
Macy clears her throat and whispers, “Are you one hundred percent sure you checked, though? Me and Gracie were hanging out on one of the gear boats until bedtime—while y’all told your scary stories.
” She hesitantly adds, “We never saw you check the emergency box,” looking at Gracie for confirmation.
“Yeah, we didn’t …” Gracie affirms hesitantly.
Josh grunts. “I checked it,” he insists. “It would’ve been after you two got into your tents. What the hell is the problem?”
Macy’s voice drops even lower. “It’s not in there,” she hisses.
“What’s not there?” Gracie asks, sounding genuinely confused.
“The satellite phone,” Macy says gravely.
I almost spin around, but then catch myself. I keep my back turned like I’m not paying them any attention, pouring a steady trickle of coffee into my mug.
“What?” Josh demands. “No way. Sometimes the phone falls to the bottom,” he insists, grabbing the orange box from her. “Did you take everything out?”
I keep my eyes on the coffee pot, but in the periphery I can see Josh’s hands rummaging through the box—bandages, gauze, a tangle of plastic-wrapped papers. Nothing that looks like a phone.
Macy, Josh, and Gracie look up in unison as Bryan crosses the last few feet of sand, hesitantly joining their circle.
“Can somebody tell me what’s going on?” he asks, his voice cracking. He takes off his baseball hat, revealing a receding hairline that’s completely at odds with his chubby cheeks and baby face.
Josh ignores him and shakes the open box in his hands. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Did it even get packed?” he asks, voice rising as he turns to Bryan, acknowledging him for the first time. “You were on final gear check yesterday—”
“Yeah, I know. And I packed it,” Bryan sputters. “I—”
“Hold on, Josh,” Gracie interrupts. “I thought you said you saw the phone last night during gear check.”
Josh just groans, and Gracie continues. “I’m positive it was there when we got on the river yesterday. Bryan and I did the final gear check together, right before we launched. I remember we put fresh batteries in the Sat phone.”
I start tidying up the coffee station, gathering stained napkins and twisting the plastic lids back onto the creamers. The guides seem immersed enough in their debate that I risk turning toward them just a little.
I see Bryan nod. “Did anyone open up the emergency box for anything after we launched?” he asks carefully.
Everyone is looking at Josh now, and I suddenly understand that the dry box with the satellite phone must have been on his gear raft yesterday.
“No,” Josh insists, almost too quickly. “And it was there last night, I swear. I saw it. So somebody must have taken it while everyone was asleep.”
Hot coffee spills over my knuckles, scalding, and drips into the sand at my feet. I scramble to grab a fresh napkin.
Someone must have taken it while everyone was asleep. I replay the sound that woke me for the second time last night: the squeak of plastic, a strap unbuckling.
“But why would someone take the Sat phone?” Gracie asks, a quaver working its way into her voice.
Her question is met with silence.
I take a few steps toward the guides, clearing my throat.
“Hey. I … well, I think I heard something last night,” I begin, fully aware that I’m admitting to eavesdropping.
My cheeks flush as I continue. “About an hour after Allie’s nightmare, I heard somebody moving around down by the rafts. I … I thought it was one of you guys.”
“What?” Macy demands, her voice rising and her eyes flashing. She glances over at the women sitting around the campfire, just out of earshot. When a few look up curiously, she lowers her voice. “Why didn’t you say anything until now? Who was it?”
My face burns. “I was going to look, but then the sound stopped. It was four in the morning—I just went back to sleep.”
“Maybe one of the guests was scared by the screaming,” Bryan offers. “And they took the phone, but forgot to put it back? A few women saw us replacing the batteries yesterday, so they’d know it was there.”
Josh nods, seeming to warm to this idea. “Yeah, that’s probably what happened.” He steeples his fingers as if gathering his composure, looking less like Jesus and more like a grumpy hipster. “We can’t break camp until we find that phone.”