The Middle of Somewhere(96)

She shuddered as she placed her right foot onto a large rock. It tilted sharply under her weight, throwing her off balance. Her right pole skidded across a slab, and her pack swung sideways, toppling her. Her elbow smashed into the slab. A searing volt of pain shot up her arm. Her shoulder collapsed and her head hit the ground with a thump.

“Liz!” Dante squatted beside her. “Are you hurt?” She opened her eyes. Dante’s boots. He was touching her head. “Your head’s bleeding. Not too much.”

She shifted to push herself up. A stab of pain from her elbow froze her. She stretched out her other arm. “Can you help me up?”

He grasped her arm in one hand and her shoulder strap with the other and pulled her to standing. She touched her forehead. A lump. Her fingers came away slick with blood. She moved to straighten her right arm and cried out.

“Oh, carina.” He turned to search the trail behind them, but only a short stretch was visible. He placed his fingers under her chin. “We’re going to find a place for you to rest, okay?”

She nodded.

“Can you carry your pack?”

“I think so.”

He took one of her poles from her. “Okay, follow me. And watch your feet.”

She hugged her injured arm to her belly and stepped where Dante stepped. One foot in front of the other. She bit down hard on her lip to take her mind off her throbbing elbow and planted her pole with care. She didn’t monitor the clouds or look behind her. She knew all too well what she would see.





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE





Dante stepped from behind a block of granite and motioned to her. She climbed up to him and slid past into a space the size of a closet. He helped her remove her pack. She squatted in the far corner and cradled her arm. Now that she’d stopped, the pain was worse. She struggled not to cry. Dante handed her a water bottle and she drank deeply, realizing how thirsty she was.

“How’s your arm?”

“Not good.”

He untied the top of her pack. “Ibuprofen. And I can make a sling out of something.”

“That would help a lot. But Dante, I’m really worried it’s going to storm.” Her voice broke. She closed her eyes, tried to focus, but she couldn’t dispel the image of looming thunderheads.

He opened the bottle of pills, tapped four into his palm and gave them to her. “I agree we need to get off this mountain, but the Roots are between us and the exit.” He pointed to the opening. “They’ll find us here. There are so few places to hide.”

She could see he was thinking the same thing she was: they should have retraced their route to Guitar Lake, gone out the long way through the Kern. Hindsight. He frowned, and fished the map out of the top compartment of her pack and unfolded it.

“What?” she said.

“I just want to look.” He pored over the map. He looked up at her, excitement lighting up his face. “There’s another trail.” He turned the map so she could see and pointed at a dotted line to the east of the Whitney summit.

For a split second she believed a new way off the mountain had magically appeared. Then her heart sank as it hit her what the dotted line represented. “It’s dotted because it’s not a regular trail.”

“What sort of trail is it?”

“A mountaineering trail.”

“What the difference?”

She’d read about the route in her book on Whitney. “It’s steep—climbing, not walking. For most of the year, you need an ice ax and crampons for the top section.”

“And the rest of the year?”

“Dante, we don’t have the gear.”

“People use ropes?”

“Some.”

“So, it’s possible without anything special?”

“Yes, but—”

He squatted in front of her and brushed her hair from her forehead. “We can’t stay here. We can’t go back. The Roots are waiting for us. Looking for us. They might not know about this route. And, even if they do, they won’t expect us to take it.”

Her mind spun, searching for a better alternative, coming up empty. Despair wrapped her tightly in its grip.

Dante locked eyes with her, his expression determined. “We need to get going, Liz.” His eyes softened. “We need to go home.”

His words broke into her. “Oh, Dante.” Tears clogged her throat. She bent her head, unable to meet his gaze. “Do I even have a home with you?”