The Middle of Somewhere(75)

She hadn’t noticed the sky. Lost in thought about Brensen and alert for the possibility of encountering the Root brothers, she hadn’t registered the gradual loss of blue until an hour and a half after they left the bridge, and Brensen’s body, behind. Hunger had overcome the shock of his death, and the four of them stopped to eat in the shade. Liz tipped her head back while taking a drink and saw the clouds, already tall and thick, blocking the sun.

“Is it me, or is it getting humid?” Dante said, plucking his shirt away from his body.

“It’s sticky, all right. Could turn into a storm.”

Dante nodded at the McCartneys, resting nearby. Linda was lying on her back with her arms across her face. Paul was studying a map. “Are we waiting for them?”

“It makes sense to talk to the ranger about Brensen together.”

Linda unfolded her arms and rose with labored movements. She noticed Liz and Dante watching her and managed a weak smile. “You kids ready to rock?”

The trail insisted they make up all the elevation gain they’d lost that morning. Up they went, through the heat of the afternoon, pausing only to filter and drink water. They came to Arrowhead Lake, clogged with algae and sedge around its margin, the water an unnaturally vivid green. Liz doubted it would have been safe to drink even after filtration. They continued past the lake without a word, bearing the heat and grief individually.

In the late afternoon, they arrived at the first of the Rae Lakes. The dark clouds rendered it a deep aquamarine, the water so clear Liz could perceive sharp edges of submerged rocks thirty feet out. The bizarre curved peak of Fin Dome rose from the lake’s distant shore.

A mile farther they reached the turnoff for the ranger station, and minutes later approached a log cabin set upon a stone foundation. Liz didn’t bother to remove her pack before ascending the steps to the narrow porch. She felt the emptiness of the cabin even before she called hello. When no one answered, she knocked.

Dante came up beside her. “They’re gone?”

“And there’s no note. They’re supposed to let hikers know when they’ll be back.”

Liz gave a thumbs-down signal to Paul and Linda, who were waiting a short distance away, and wondered whether she ought to add the ranger to the list of people she was concerned about.

She suggested camping at the cabin, in case the ranger returned, leaving unsaid how much safer she would feel next to this sturdy building in a thunderstorm. But there was room only for two to sleep on the porch and no patch of ground in the vicinity flat enough to accommodate a tent.

They broke up in pairs to search for campsites. After a half an hour, the women found a small secluded site, well away from the lake edge and the trail, partially protected by a stand of whitebark pines.

Linda leaned against a tree trunk. “Do you mind if we take this one? I’m not feeling so great.”

Liz laid her hand on the woman’s forehead. “You’ve got a fever.”

Linda sat on a log and straightened her injured leg. Liz rolled up the pant leg. The flesh around the wound was swollen and red. Droplets of white pus oozed from between the stitches.

“It started itching this morning. I should’ve said something to Paul, but I was hoping it’d just go away. He’d have been so worried. Then the whole thing with Brensen—”

Liz touched the inflamed skin and Linda flinched. Liz put her hand over her friend’s. A fat raindrop landed on her knuckle. “I’ll go find Paul.”

The men had located a site fifty yards away, on the other side of a rocky knoll, wedged between a cluster of boulders and a shoulder-high granite bench. After learning of Linda’s condition, Paul agreed they would sleep there, as it promised better protection from the elements. Liz led the way to the other campsite.

Once the three of them rejoined Linda, Paul knelt in front of her. “Let’s have a look, darling.” He inspected the wound and gently rolled down his wife’s pant leg. “Tequila and acetaminophen this evening, and then, I think, an early start. Twelve quick miles, some antibiotics and a pizza, and you’ll be as fit as a fiddle.”

“You’re fretting, Paul. Don’t. I’ll be fine.”

Liz said, “Do you want us to go with you? Just in case?”

Linda and Paul spoke at the same time. “We’ll be fine.” They laughed lightly. Linda added, “If our situations were reversed, we’d keep going. It’s only a few more days.” Paul nodded.