In an Instant(19)

14

My mom and Kyle realize quickly that hiking straight up the way we fell is not an option. The icy sheet of granite offers little in terms of footholds and less in terms of shelter from the fierce wind that blasts against its face the moment you rise above the tree line and that could easily blow even the strongest climbers to their deaths.

Instead, my mom and Kyle traverse at an angle, my mom being careful to keep the glow of the sun behind them to ensure they are heading north, the general direction of town. When possible, they travel upward, but often as not, they hit an impasse and are forced to backtrack to lower ground.

At first my mom hikes in front, but soon it becomes clear that Kyle has better traction, and he takes over the lead. On the steeper parts, he digs in and uses my mom’s scarf to help her up.

They make slow, inconsistent progress, which I can see is leading them closer to the road, but they have no way to know this. My mom’s lips are blistered and her cheeks raw, but the exertion seems to have warmed her, and only her feet appear in pain from the cold.

Kyle seems unaffected, or perhaps he just isn’t the type to complain. Stoically he marches forward, forging a path and looking back often to check on my mom. And the more I watch him, the more my admiration grows and the more I find myself wondering about him, about who he is, his family, his girlfriend, how he ended up living in Big Bear, what he’s thinking about, whether he’s scared. It seems so strange that he is part of this and that we know so little about him.

My mom’s eyes slide side to side as she walks, scanning like a hawk, and I feel her hope that somehow they will stumble upon Chloe and Vance. Only I know they are nowhere close, a vast forest of snow, rocks, and trees separating them, Chloe still huddled in the hollow of the tree she stumbled to last night as Vance continues to stagger farther into the wilderness.





15

“Oz, can you lift me out again?” Mo says.

“Where are you going?” Uncle Bob asks, suspicion lacing the words, a new undercurrent of distrust between them that grows with each minute that passes.

“I’m going to get us some water.”

Natalie perks up, and Aunt Karen licks her lips. The group hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since we left the cabin fifteen hours ago.

Uncle Bob blinks, and his distrustful squint is replaced with a flash of shame. “Do you need help?”

Mo shakes her head a little too quickly. “I just need to get some snow.”

My brother weaves his hands into a stirrup like Kyle did and hoists Mo through the door. She closes it behind her and blinks into the blinding glare from the day, which is now dazzlingly bright. She scoots onto the door, which is snowless from being opened and closed, and I shiver as I watch her shed my sweats and her pants to pull on Chloe’s tights.

I smile at her brilliance, knowing she purposely waited for enough time to pass that the others would not think about what else she might have retrieved from the purses and console.

Quickly she re-dresses, both of us feeling the guilt of her wearing a layer that Chloe desperately needs. I watch as she closes her eyes in a silent prayer, and I pray with her, hoping Chloe can feel me.

When she is dressed again, she takes two quick bites of the carrot, returns it to her pocket, then scoops snow from the top of the camper into Chloe’s purse. She climbs back through the door, and Oz helps her down.

Uncle Bob, Aunt Karen, and Natalie watch curiously as Mo crawls over the seat to the side window of the trailer that is now on the ground. She breaks my mom’s sunglasses case apart, pulls off the felt lining, and picks off the glue as best she can. Using the pages of Pride and Prejudice and the BIC lighter, she builds a small fire, which she uses to melt snow in the sunglasses case. The case is shallow and barely holds a few ounces, but the method works, and after a dozen pages, she has a small dish of precious liquid.

She pours the water between my dad’s parched lips, and I cheer when I see him swallow.

The next vessel she gives to Oz, who guzzles it greedily and again says he’s hungry.

“Me too,” Mo says.

The next drink she gives to Natalie, who thanks her.

“Bingo,” Oz says as Mo returns to the flame with another small mound of snow.

Uncle Bob and Aunt Karen watch silently as they wait for Mo to make her decision of who to give the precious drops to next, them or the dog. Mo has yet to take a sip for herself.

When the snow is nearly transformed, Mo looks up at Oz. “Oz, Bingo is a dog,” she says. “He can last much longer than people can without water.”

“No,” Oz says, pulling Bingo tighter. “He’s thirsty.”

Mo holds the case out to Aunt Karen, who carefully takes it from Mo’s trembling hands.

No, I scream. It’s Mo’s turn. She is the next CHILD. My hate for Aunt Karen is instant and overwhelming. Of all the things she has done or not done since the accident, this is the one that pisses me off the most.

She lifts the case to her lips, but she is too slow. Oz lunges and grabs hold. Aunt Karen pulls against him and bends to try and slurp the water out.

And that’s when it happens. Over less than a quarter cup of water, Oz hits her. It’s more like a club than a punch, his fist glancing sideways across her cheek, but the force is enough to snap her face sideways.

With a yelp, she lets go, and half the water sloshes out.