Chapter Twenty
I step out of what’s left of the tent, not even needing to unzip it.
It’s cold, colder than it was yesterday, so I decide I’m going to take the sleeping bag with me.
I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be sleeping outside, and I don’t see a world in which I’m lucky enough to find another abandoned campsite.
The warmth this sleeping bag provided me last night isn’t something I’m ready to be without.
Any comfort I can find, I shouldn’t turn away.
The problem is I don’t have any room in the backpack so I have to hold it in my arms. I consider wrapping it around my body like a shawl, but I already feel too bulky and uncoordinated with Luke’s giant backpack.
I would like to avoid making myself an even bigger hazard.
I look up in the direction I saw the lights last night, my stomach dropping hard.
The sky is empty–right where they were, right where they should be.
There’s nothing there. I don’t understand.
I spin in circles searching the sky, hoping my eyes will stumble upon it.
Hoping I just got turned around but there’s nothing.
I stumble forward, feeling momentarily sick.
What’s happening? How can something so huge just disappear?
Was it even there in the first place? Stop.
Don’t do that. I can’t let myself think like that.
I reach into my jacket pocket to pull out the map but it’s empty. I dig around deeper, my heart rate spiking higher. No no no. The only thing left in my pockets are the bullets; the map is gone. Panic starts to set in as I fall forward, really feeling like I might throw up.
I feel and hear a bigger crunch than a normal leaf or branch.
When I pick up my foot, I see I’ve stepped on one of the twig figures.
When I look up, the ground is covered with dozens more.
I turn around, looking back toward the tent.
More little figures fill the ground around the campsite.
There are so many and I can’t see how far they lead into the trees around me.
I don’t know what to feel. I don’t understand how there can be so many.
They are placed perfectly, all facing the exact same direction; looking toward the remnants of my tent.
I know what brought them here, but I can’t figure out how.
The thought of the big, skeletal things being out here all night.
Setting up this creepy surprise is horrible and mind boggling.
Right when I think I can’t get more overwhelmed, my eyes lower to a stump sitting in front of what used to be a fire pit and sitting on it is another stick figure but this one is different from the others; it's bigger. I walk the few steps over to it and pick it up. This one has hair but not fake, doll hair. It looks human. Automatically I reach up and touch mine. It looks just like my hair. I hold my breath as I hold the stick figure next to my hair and confirm it’s the exact same color and texture.
My breath comes in gasps as I rip my beanie off and run my fingers through my hair, desperate to figure out if any is missing.
It doesn’t feel like it and without a mirror it will be impossible to know for sure.
I lean down, grab the doll and throw it as hard as I can.
Anger thrums through my body causing me to feel my heartbeat in my head, my feet, in every part of my body.
Everything starts to spin, slowly at first and then so fast that I fall over.
My vision blurs as the air coming in and out of my lungs is nothing but tiny, staccato gasps.
I can’t get hold of any of it. I only feel the sensations growing as I shrug the backpack off my shoulders and start frantically unzipping my jacket.
I struggle with the buttons on my flannel, feeling desperate to get the cold air on my skin.
As the breeze blows across my chest, the change in temperature is jarring enough to distract and ground me.
My mind clears enough that I remember to focus.
Focus on my hands, squeeze them closed. Open and close them, tap each of my fingers together and keep repeating the cycle until my breathing calms. Slowly I feel the cloud of panic clearing from my mind.
I feel myself in my body once again. The small amount of sweat on my skin has chilled and I feel the cold seeping into my bones.
I refasten my buttons and zip my jacket closed as I quickly start to shiver.
It’s too early in the day to already be losing it this bad.
The last thing I need to do is start stressing myself out but the thought that I have wasted precious minutes makes me want to crawl back into the tent and go to sleep.
It’s a selfish thought and not an option.
I need to hurry. I pull myself together enough to stand up and gather my things.
I stop and take a few deep breaths, through my nose and my mouth.
“I can do this,” I say to myself and whoever else is listening.
I’m not completely sure which way to go, so I take my best guess and point myself in the direction I think I saw the lights last night.
Just put one foot in front of the other.
That’s all it takes. I do my best to sneak around all the stick people, not wanting to step on any of them, although I know it doesn’t really matter. They aren’t real.
_____
The next couple hours are calm and even kind of peaceful.
I think I flushed the pent up anxiety and now am able to sink into random thoughts and not be hyper-focused on this grim reality.
I think about getting back to Luke, going home, and forgetting any of this ever happened.
I think about my parents, how I need to make it home for them.
They need me. My thoughts cycle through my childhood.
My dad chasing me at the playground, my mom letting me help her make cookies, both always tucking me in at night.
They kissed me goodnight every night of my childhood, never even leaving me with grandparents to go out of town.
I never went to a sleepover at a friend's house. They were… are... always there.
Now, I wonder if I’ve been a good enough daughter.
It's something that haunts me even if it shouldn’t.
Kids aren’t supposed to be the rock for their parents, but dads are supposed to live long enough to walk their daughters down the aisle.
Life isn’t fair. A tear slides down my cheek and as it falls and hits my hand, I’m snapped back to reality. I need water.
I need to pay attention. I only have a few sips left, and I can’t afford to miss a chance to find more.
I walk at a steady pace even as my legs feel heavy and my stomach sits empty.
It’s making horrible sounds. There isn’t anything I can do for my exhaustion, but I did stash another one of Luke’s disgusting, bland granola bars in my pocket.
He likes this brand because they’re “clean energy” but from my perspective, there isn’t much to like.
I would kill for a heavily processed chocolate chip, chocolate dipped, granola bar and all the “dirty energy” it would provide, whatever any of that means.
I smile to myself at a memory of Luke looking disgusted while watching me rip open a box of the chocolate granola bars while still at the grocery store and devouring two in a row.
I softly chuckle out loud as the memory continues.
It feels like yesterday that I was chasing him down the aisles trying to force him to take a bite.
Just as fast as the thought of Luke cheers me, it then forms a pit of loneliness and sadness when I remember where he is now. Focus, Hanna. I can help him.
_____
I hear a small splash, stopping dead in my tracks.
When I look down, I see that I’ve stumbled into a small stream.
So small, that you can just barely hear the trickling of the water.
Excitement floods into me as I watch it flowing underneath me.
I follow it but it doesn’t go very far before filling up a small pond which is really more of a big puddle.
I set down my backpack before kneeling to get a closer look.
It’s a little murky at the bottom but the water at the top looks clear.
I skim my fingers along the surface to test this when suddenly all kinds of movement erupts.
Hundreds of tadpoles are darting back and forth.
There are so many now that I can’t see through the water.
A frog jumps out and lands in front of me, startling me and giving me what I can only describe as a withering stare.
“Hi,” I say to it and smile a little. A dozen more frogs leap out of the water, landing right in front of me causing me to fall onto my ass.
Their sudden appearance makes me nervous.
I sit and watch them, waiting to see what they’re going to do.
They’re all sitting in a line, staring at me and croaking loudly.
This makes me wonder if the water is actually safe to drink.
I don’t know anything about frogs or if drinking water they live in would be bad.
I decide it's probably best to leave this section of the water alone. I know enough from survival shows that when water is flowing it’s filtering itself and I’ll risk that over drinking my own pee.
That’s an emergency move I’m hoping to avoid.
I pick up my things and walk back up the stream a few steps, wanting to get away from the frog’s prying eyes.
After setting my stuff to the side, I get on my hands and knees and drink straight from the stream.
It's the coldest, freshest water I’ve ever had.
It tastes amazing. Which is probably what every person ever has said before contracting some sort of horrible parasite, but it’s a risk I not only have to take, but am happy to take.