Apophis (22 page)

We traveled in silence until we made it to the tiny town of Plains, Montana, population 1,048.  As we tromped into the town center, I hoped the current population was zero.  We didn’t find a roadside gas station, but we did find a U.S. Forest Service Ranger Station, which was like a big camp store.  The Station was ransacked, picked clean of anything that looked remotely usable.  The map section was picked over, too, but I spotted a larger map book and flipped it open to the Idaho page.

“So where are we going?” I asked Nora.

She bit on her lip and lowered her eyes to the page.  “This isn’t the map my father had.”

“It’s just made by a different company,” I said, keeping the annoyance out of my tone.  “The towns and roads are all the same, trust me.”

She flicked her expressive eyes toward me. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Take your time,” I said.  My voice lowered of its own volition, to something that remotely sounded compassionate and encouraging.  It sounded foreign to my ears.

“I can’t figure this out with you breathing down my neck, Sam.”

I nodded. “I’ll go explore a little bit – see if there’s not some things we can make use of here.”

I grabbed a candy bar and ripped it from its wrapper.  Nora curled her lip and winkled her nose.  I ignored her disgust and bit off a mouthful of chocolate and peanut better.  “What are you gonna do when all the healthy food is gone?” I posed to her.

In truth I would have killed for an apple.  Who knew when and if I’d ever get fresh fruit again. “You suppose they have apples in Eden?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” She gave me a goofy, playful grin. “Just don’t eat from the Tree of Knowledge if a snake starts talking to you.”

“Cute.  Real cute,” I deadpanned.

              I stuffed as many food items that would fit into my pack.  I thought about throwing away the bottle of moonshine Ryan had given me to make more room in my bag, but I eventually decided to hold onto it a little longer.  I even found a pair of sunglasses that didn’t look too horrible on me.

I set a few food cans next to where Nora sat. “Fit as much of this into your pack,” I told her.

She looked up long enough from the map to see what I’d set beside her. “You really think we’ll need sloppy joe sauce?”

“Hey, you never know.  It might be good with squirrel.”

Nora wrinkled her nose. “God, I really have changed. I actually want to try that.”

When she saw the meat stick in my hand, she arched an eyebrow at me.  “You eat a lot.”

“I’m a growing girl,” I said around the mouthful of dried meat.  “You should eat more, too.  We need calories.”

Nora sighed. “Packing on the calories. Yup, I really have changed.”

I squatted beside her, peering at the map she had unfolded on the floor. “Any luck?” I didn’t want to frazzle her by being overly anxious, but the longer we stayed in this Ranger Station, the more likely it was that we’d run into bandits.

“I think so.”  She patted the space beside her, so I sat down Indian-style. “Our goal is to get to Idaho.  Eden is located somewhere on this little peninsula over here,” she said, pointing to a spot on the map. “But we’ve got a pesky mountain range in the way.  I don’t know about you,” she commented, “but I’d rather avoid the Rocky Mountains if we can help it.”

I nodded.  Her words made sense.  I had been both dreading and looking forward to seeing the mountains up close.  North Dakota was just about the flattest place on Earth besides the Badlands.  But if we could get to Eden without having to climb a mountain, I was all for that strategy.

She traced her pointer finger along a topographical map.  “That giant mountain to the north seems to be Baldy Mountain.  If we take a slight southwestern detour, we can miss it entirely.”  She tapped her finger on what looked like a major highway.  “Highway 200 will take us to Eden. It follows this river which seems to cut right through the mountains.  It’s probably a little elevated, but if we stick to this route, we’ll avoid any serious climbing.”

I studied the map.  “We should stay away from highways for any long stretches, though,” I countered.  “We’re more likely to run into bandits.”

“Then we’ll follow the river instead of walking on the highway itself,” Nora said. “Which would you rather face, Sam? The uncertainty of running into bandits or the certainty that the Rocky Mountains are going to slow us down?”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “How far away is Eden from here?”

“A hundred miles.  We’re close,” she encouraged.

Following a river and a major highway through the Rocky Mountains seemed to be exactly the kind of thing my father would have avoided.  Chances are, if he had gotten safely away from Hot Springs, he would be taking an alternate route to Eden.  But between the choice of 100 miles of rock climbing and 100 miles of level terrain, the latter certainly sounded more appealing.

“Okay,” I hesitatingly agreed. “We’ll go your way.” As to signal the finality of our decision, I folded up the road map and tucked it into the front zipper of my pack.

“Why do you get to hold onto the map?” Nora complained.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, but I kept the unnecessary and probably mean comments to myself.  Instead I plucked another road map from its kiosk and thrust it in her direction. “Here,” I said, shaking the map a little until she took it from me. “Now we each have one in case we get split up.”

My words gave her pause. “Do you think that might happen?”

I pulled on my pack, feeling its familiar weight on my back.  It was heavier than before, now filled with extra food. “I don't know. But I guess we’d better be prepared in case it does.”

+++++

If I had thought finding a map and formulating a plan signaled the moment when life got easier, I was terribly wrong.  It reminded me of that saying: Man plans, God laughs.  A few hours after we’d left Plains, Montana and the Forest Ranger Station, the wind picked up and we found ourselves in the middle of a blizzard.  We couldn’t stop though.  We still hadn’t found a tent.  I just had to keep moving.  As long as I was churning my legs, I’d be alright.

“Sam,” Nora’s voice cut through the wind.  “Sam, we have to stop.  This isn’t smart.”

“Just a little bit further,” I yelled back. 

I squinted my eyes into the wind.  I could hardly see what was in front of me and I had no idea if my compass still worked at these arctic temperatures.  I couldn’t remember seeing anything that could serve as shelter in the past ten minutes either.  We’d just have to keep pushing on.  There had to be something.  Even a large tree trunk would be better than stopping right now with nothing but our bodies to break the wind.

I heard a soft cry and turned just in time to see Nora drop to her knees.  I turned back, lifting my feet high to save the wear on my shins.  I grabbed her around the waist and with my help she was able to get back to her feet.  I was vaguely aware that she’d helped me similarly just a few days ago when I’d twisted my ankle.  Hot Springs felt like a lifetime ago.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Her head drooped forward.  “I’m just so tired of this.  Why does it have to be so hard?  When are things going to get easier?”

“Come on.  Just a little more,” I urged. “We’ve got to find someplace to stay the night.”

We stayed like that, my arm around her, the two of us huddled together against the wind, not stopping the movement of our legs, until we came to a valley. There wasn’t much that broke up the landscape beyond just acres and acres of snow-covered fields. But nestled in the heart of the valley was a tiny structure.

“What is that?” Nora asked. I could feel her lean against me even more to peer down on the valley. “Is that a house?”

I squinted my eyes. The blizzard gave us limited visibility and made strange shadows and shapes below.  It was a little like looking down at an oasis in a barren desert. “No, that doesn’t look that much bigger than a shack,” I said.

“I think it’s a house,” Nora decided. “Let's go check it out.”

Before should she launch herself down the hill and go bounding into the valley, I stopped her.

“We have to be more careful,” I admonished. If there was someone down there they’d easily be able to pick us off as we tumbled down the hill.

“There’s no smoke,” she pointed out. “If there were people living down there, we’d be able to see it.”

I still hesitated. That moment you realize you’re just like your parents is horrifying.  I used to
hate
my dad’s careful, overly protective nature.  Now I was finding out that he and I were the same person.

“There might be something down there we can use, even if it’s just a shack.  A tarp or something.  We wouldn’t have to find another cave.”

“That’s a good point.”

“I’ve been known to have a few good ideas in my day,” she replied drolly.

I couldn’t give her a good reason why we shouldn’t investigate besides my own fear.  She had proven time and again that she would continue to thumb her nose at whatever obstacles life threw at her.

I sighed heavily. “Fine,” I conceded despite my misgivings. “But let’s not go charging down there like we’re a two-woman avalanche.  I think we should wait until the sun starts to go down. That way if anyone is staying down there, they won’t be able to see us coming.”

“If we wait until dusk, we won’t be able to see them either,” she pointed out.

I made a frustrated noise. It was a gamble. I hated not having a pragmatic option. But we were beyond that now. The time for pragmatism had probably vanished the moment Apophis exploded in the atmosphere.

“I’m going down there right now,” Nora declared. “Playing it safe never did anybody any favors.”

Without waiting for me or my permission, Nora charged down the hill.  It was a steep incline and I was sure that with the velocity with which she’d launched herself off our lookout spot that she’d tumble face forward all the way down.
 But even in snowpants and cumbersome boots, she still managed to be graceful.

I shook my head. This wasn’t smart. But it would be less smart if we separated and I let her go down there by herself.
 I trudged down the rolling hill to follow Nora.

“Wait up,” I panted behind her.

“Look,” she said, pointing at the snowy ground. “No foot prints.”

“They could have swept them away like I did with the cave.”

Nora shook her head. “Not possible. No one’s as cautious as you are.”

The closer we got, the larger the structure became. I had been right – it was too small to be a house. But it also wasn’t a shack.  It turned out to be a charming cottage.

Nora stopped just before the steps leading up to a small covered porch.

“Come on,” I urged. I was actually getting excited we might find some supplies we could use on the rest of the trip.

“I’m starting to second-guess myself,” she said, turning to look at me.  “What kind of person would live all the way out here by themselves?  We haven’t seen any houses since the Ranger Station.”

“So there’s probably some hillbilly cannibal living inside,” I pronounced.

“Yup.”

I shook my head and tried the door handle.  It was unlocked.  I turned the knob slowly, satisfied that it twisted noiselessly. 

“Well this looks cozy,” Nora mumbled from behind me.  She dropped her backpack on the well-worn wooden floor.

I walked into the center of the open-plan cabin.  In the far corner sat a well-loved futon frame covered with a thin black mattress.  Mismatched throw pillows covered the cushioning and a crocheted blanket laid across the back of the seating. Along the opposite wall was a small wood-burning stove, sitting on top of a brick hearth.  A tiny set of pine cupboards adorned another wall, flanked by a foldable table and chair set, large enough for two. A thin, thread-barren space rug struggled to cover the center of the room, barely covering the smooth, wooden planks beneath. It looked like someone’s hunting or fishing cabin rather than a permanent residence.

The sun was dipping lower in the horizon and rather than taking the time to make sure we were truly alone in the tiny house, I mechanically walked to the potbellied stove to assemble what we needed for a fire.  Stacked next to the woodstove was a tight bundle of long-burning hardwood and the kindling I’d need. 

The potbelly stove fought off the dank chill of the empty cottage. It was small and sturdily build and it didn’t take long until I started to feel warm with my jacket on.  Nora must have been feeling the heat too because she’d soon shed her boots, coat, and snowpants.  She hung her winter clothes over the back of one of the two chairs situated at a small square table.  She placed her boots and socks by the wood-burning stove so they could dry out. 

She combed her fingers through her hair which had been trapped beneath her ski cap.  Beneath her jacket and snowpants she wore a light thermal long-sleeved shirt and skintight but breathable pants.  She’d lost weight since my family first found hers, but she still had the slight womanly padding in her backside and thighs.

“Why don’t you take off your coat and stay awhile?” she lightly teased.

“Oh. Right.” I had been caught up in my own little world watching her get comfortable.  I dropped my gaze to the front of my jacket and busied myself with zippers and fastens. “Um, I’m just gonna do a quick sweep around the perimeter to make sure there’s nobody hiding out there.”