Authors: Belinda Pollard
They all thought he was such a religious person. Of all the times in his life this was the moment to pray, and yet he couldn’t summon a single word to his Maker.
So Jack stared at the sea, seething out there in the gloom. Although he’d traded his wet clothing for thermals and waterproofs, the cold still reached the center of his soul. His body was seized by wave after wave of uncontrollable shivering.
Lightning sheeted overhead every few seconds, its flash freeze-framing the water in yet another brutal contortion.
Frothing at the mouth. It wants to tear us to pieces if the mountains don’t manage to do it.
Callie came to sit beside him, two weak cups of coffee in her hands. He made room but didn’t look at her. The cup registered warm between his hands, but didn’t cheer him. He brought it to his lips, because that was what you did with a cup, and because he knew at some intellectual level that he needed its heat. It scalded his mouth and throat.
He spoke quietly, just to her. “You know we’re all dead now, don’t you.”
“You can think that if you want, but don’t you dare say it in front of the others.” There was heat in her answer. “I’m not putting on my positive face because I feel terrific. I’m doing it because misery will kill us faster than anything. I need you Jack. I can’t do it by myself. Don’t let me down now.”
He stared at his feet.
Great, she chases pretty boys forever and finally turns to me when I’ve got nothing to give.
“I want to think the best, Cal, but the maps, the GPS, the emergency beacon, the satellite phone—they were all in Bryan’s backpack that is now somewhere out there.” He pointed at the ocean. “Even if we could retrace our route, which is unlikely, and by some miracle do it in the same time, we’ve got people who can’t last another ten days.” He didn’t have to be explicit about Rachel and Sharon. “We haven’t seen another human being. We’re exhausted and frightened. Soon we’ll be very hungry. It’s like you said: Bryan is crazy, not stupid. He’s planned this execution carefully. His murder weapon is his blasted Shadow Land.”
She took a long time to reply. “That’s not the whole truth. You haven’t mentioned the things in our favor.”
“Such as?”
“We have ten days hands-on bush craft training from a man who knew these mountains intimately, and probably didn’t even realize he was teaching us. We have shelter and specialist clothing. We’re hardly going to die of thirst.” She gestured towards the rainwater streaming from the edges of the tarp. Jack rolled his eyes, but it was true: water was always the biggest issue in any survival situation. “We have two strong men over there, even if one of them is a basket case at the moment. We have a nurse on the team. We have a couple of peacemakers who’ll stop us being too nasty to each other.” She paused a moment and added, deadpan: “And right here on this rock we have a couple of the best brains in the world.”
The joke was corny but he appreciated the effort, and gave her half a smile.
She continued, “As for food, there’s deer, birds, fish. And plenty of vegetation. Surely we can find something edible. In fact you can help me look for something now if you like.”
“Who gets to be the taste-tester, to see if it’s poisonous? I vote for Kain.” He was only half-joking.
“That’s nice, considering he just saved your life.”
Jack felt the rebuke all the more strongly because it was justified. He stood, snapped his jacket hood up over his head, and stomped off into the rain. He was embarrassed to have been so ungracious, especially in front of Callie, but there was an undercurrent within him about Kain. It would be childish to resent owing his life to a rival, but something sinister niggled at his brain. Why did the proud surf lifesaver take so long to come and get him out there in the roiling bay? It seemed like hours he’d been under that dark water, desperate for air, eternity reaching out for him.
They’d always grated on each other, but it was a big leap from there to letting someone die. As the future disintegrated around them, would he be able to trust Kain?
9
Callie began the laborious process of making packet soup, and wondered about Jack. It wasn’t like him to walk off in a huff. Usually he would stand and fight.
Who cares? He shouldn’t have spoken like that about Kain.
But she did care. Of all these people, he was the one she needed, although she couldn’t have said why.
The dehydrated main meals were all gone, something that had surprised her last night when she’d realized it. Bryan had provisioned the hike only for the exact number of days required to bring them to this point. She had thought a good expedition leader would surely pack extra food in case of unforeseen circumstances. But now she knew that while Bryan was an expert leader, he was not a “good” one. The aroma of evil was rising from every recollection of how Bryan had behaved.
At least he had allowed a little surplus in soups, powdered milk, sugar, tea and coffee. Working out how to ration these now would be a challenge. Who knew how long they might have to last?
First ingredient for the soup was water, and the river was raging thanks to the deluge. The rocks were slick with rain, slimy with moss, and wobbled under her boots. It took several attempts to get the billycan full of water, but she didn’t lose it or herself into the torrent.
My strength and balance have improved exponentially
. Instinct told her that keeping sight of the positives would be vital to survival.
As she struggled back with the loaded billycan, half-blinded by the driving rain, Callie was pleased to discover that Rachel had hunted out the remaining soup packets.
“Perhaps we’d better just use one tonight,” Callie said. “It’ll make a pretty weak soup for eight, but our food will last longer.”
Rachel said, “There are only seven of us now.” Her eyes brimmed, and she wiped away tears with a jerky movement.
Callie gave her a hug, but kept it brief. Rachel had already been forced to use some of her precious insulin to deal with her body’s reaction to the shock of Bryan’s leap. Callie tried not to think about how many adrenalin surges might lie ahead for her friend, before this was over. She made her voice as calm and confident as she could. “I can manage here, if you’d like to go and sit with Adam.”
Rachel glanced at Adam, hunched on the ground near the edge of the shelter in his waterproofs, as the swirling rain made rivulets down his exposed shoulder. She nodded, sat down wordlessly beside him in the mud, and moved up close, hooking her arm through his, and leaning against his shoulder. He didn’t acknowledge her presence, but when Callie looked again later, he was leaning his head on Rachel’s, and the sobs had subsided to hiccups.
It took an eternity to heat the icy river water over that petulant campfire. They had used the stove for the urgently-needed hot drinks, but Callie was anxious to preserve what little gas remained.
The billy finally hit the boil just as Jack returned, water cascading from his jacket and streaming down his waterproof trousers. He held the bottom of the jacket out in front of him, and there was something piled up in it. Something curly. In the dim light, Callie couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Fern fronds,” Jack said, looking pleased with himself.
“Why?”
“You told me to get something we could eat.”
“Oh.” She stared at them, then at him, then at the fern fronds again. So he wasn’t going to resent their last conversation.
Good old Jack. Skin like a rhinoceros
.
“I remember reading somewhere that most ferns are edible, if you get the young curly tips.” He shrugged. “At least, I’m pretty sure it was ferns.”
“And how do we know that these are not some of the few that aren’t edible?” She picked one up and turned it over in her hand.
“Well I ate one, and I’m not dead yet.”
“What did it taste like?”
He grinned. “It tasted like chicken.”
“Idiot!” She could have kissed Jack for the dumb joke. The knots of tension in her back eased a fraction. She held the fern to her mouth and nibbled cautiously. It wasn’t too bad, so she popped the rest in whole, and chewed hard. It was crunchy, with a sweet taste somewhere between lettuce and water chestnut.
She started scooping handfuls of the fern tips into the billycan of watery soup.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” she said recklessly, and then became somber as she thought of the many “worsts” that might lie ahead.
Jack rubbed his face vigorously, then shoved his hands hard into his pockets. “I was thinking while I was up there gathering ferns. You were right. We have lots of resources.” He tilted his head, one eyebrow raised. “Heck, we’ve even got duct tape.” Callie smiled against her will.
He said, “We got in here; we can get out. Bryan might have planned it to the last tiny detail, but he didn’t have much faith in the human spirit. Even we don’t know what we’re capable of. This is my suggestion: tonight we eat, we sleep, and in the morning we come up with a plan. We can do this, Callie.” His expression was earnest and determined.
She held his eyes for a long moment, then nodded, in decision as much as agreement. “Okay. Food, sleep, and then it begins.”
***
Once the others saw Callie and Jack eating hungrily, one by one they joined in. The first apparent success with bush tucker introduced a tiny ray of hope.
No one mentioned Bryan. It was as if they’d slid into an alternate reality where he had never existed.
They waited as long as they could to make camp, hoping the rain would ease. But as they finally pitched tents, water still coursed from their waterproof clothing and threatened to flood their battered shelters. They lost momentum with the realization that they had only three tents; the fourth was on the bottom of Poison Bay in Bryan’s pack. Callie decided to squeeze in with Rachel and Sharon. Jack shared with Adam. The lovebirds remained together in the third. They worked mechanically in the fitful light of their headlamps. The thought flitted through Callie’s mind:
We need to conserve these batteries.
The three women’s overloaded tent was unequal to the extreme weather, and leaked wherever they brushed against it. Entombed in their sleeping bags inside the big orange plastic bags, none of them commented on the dampness.
Callie became aware of another sound over the pounding rain. Sobbing. It was Sharon, lying between her and Rachel. Callie felt rather than saw Rachel’s arm emerge from her own sleeping bag to enclose Sharon in a hug, and the sobbing increased.
“I loved him. And now he’s dead.”
“Who?” said Callie.
“Bry-y-an…” she wailed, frustrated.
Rachel’s hand paused from hugging just long enough to jab Callie on the shoulder, hard, and she knew she’d be getting glared at if there was enough light to see by.
“Sorry, just being dense
.
”
But seriously, how could anyone fancy a weirdo like Bryan?
“I always loved him. But he never looked at me. He just wanted Liana.”
Rachel said gently, “None of us got a look-in with any of the guys while she was around.”
“I hated her so much, and it’s my fault she died, and now I’m going to pay for it, like Bryan said I should.”
Callie had trouble imagining gentle, smiling Sharon hating anyone. But if anyone could coax unworthy emotions out of someone so sweet, Liana would have been the person for the job. “How can it be your fault?” she said.
“Do you remember how I’d saved up all year, so I could go to the Whitsunday Islands after graduation? She wanted me to give her that money, so she could get an abortion.”
“I can see how that would make you feel bad,” Rachel said. “But she asked me for money too, and I said no.”
“You don’t understand. She said she’d kill herself if I didn’t help her, and I said, ‘Good! Go and kill yourself.’ I actually said that to her! She had Bryan all to herself and she didn’t care how that made me feel. I would have loved to have his baby, and she just wanted to get rid of it—and even make me pay for it. I couldn’t stand it!”
There was a pause before Rachel spoke again. “Lots of people say terrible things when they’re angry. You probably didn’t think she’d do it. She was always being dramatic.”
“I guess so. But I did have this daydream about what it might be like if she wasn’t around anymore—not dead exactly, but somehow just not there—so that Bryan forgot about her and noticed me. But then she really did it, and it wasn’t anything like the daydream. It was so awful. And all these years… I felt so hor-r-rible…” She dissolved into tears, long spasms of sobbing from deep in her chest. Rachel rocked her, making soothing noises, and Callie wished there was enough light so she could make eye contact with her friend, and gauge her reaction to these revelations. Had Bryan somehow known about that conversation? Did Liana tell him, or write it in a diary?
Gradually, Sharon’s weeping exhausted itself. When she spoke again, her voice was flat. “Liana could have had any of the boys, but she went for Bryan because he had money. She didn’t love him. I never cared about his money. And I came on this horrible hike because I thought, maybe… But he still never thought about me. And now he’ll never think anything at all, ever again.”
Bryan, someone in the world really and truly loved you,
thought Callie, tears slipping across her face.
If only you’d seen the value of this woman, and loved her back,
how different might your life have been?
10
Sunday, One Day Lost
The storm had blown itself out and a non-committal sun lit patches of pale sky.
As the camp came to life, bleary and subdued, Callie thought how much she had been dreading the all-day drive back to Christchurch scheduled for today. How much would she give now to be on that bus, folded into a seat too small for her height? She headed to the river for water, and Jack followed.