Rewrite Redemption (26 page)

It took me ten times longer to walk back to the hospital than it had taken me to run to A.J.’s house. The streets were dead quiet, but my mind was exploding with guilty accusations about everything I’d ever done in my life.

An ambulance shattered the silence, screaming past me, drowning out the screaming in my head. I should have hitched a ride since we were going to the same place, but I’d become invisible in the darkness. After all, I was empty of all things worthwhile. I had no patience. Apparently, I had no impulse control, no restraint. I had no forethought.

I didn’t even have my frickin backpack, and thus, no tunes to get me through the night.

Talk about running on empty.

I hiked upstream. With each step, thoughts of Constantine intermingled with worries about my situation. I knew I should focus on the task at hand, but thinking of him was soothing—better than listing all the scary possibilities for nighttime. I couldn’t help thinking that it was just my luck, that right when I meet him, I get sucked back to before either of us was even born. That was so unfair.

The ground was blanketed in wild sage and chamomile, and walking on the plants released heavenly scents into the air. I inhaled the aromas; along with the purest air I’d ever breathed. Blue sky, fresh air…this definitely wasn’t the worst place to get stuck.

Of course, it wasn’t dark yet.

I felt once again for the flashlight, and scanned for anything that could provide a little shelter. I spotted a group of ginormous junipers climbing the side of a moss rock cliff and spreading out on the ground below. They had to be hundreds of years old, all rugged, and gnarly, with huge roots about a foot and a half off the ground. The roots wound around and corralled little nests where they crisscrossed each other. They were about thirty feet from the creek, which made it a pretty good location for a campsite. I found a nest with a hollow big enough for me to curl up in. It felt halfway safe. At least I’d have something surrounding me.

I cleared out all the rocks and sticks and swept it as smooth as I could with a tree branch. After much deliberation, I saw that if I spread out my sheet, I could lay on half and flip the other side over top of me. Then I could tack it to the upper part of the root with safety pins to cover me like a little tent. Okay, not real solid, but at least it should keep creepy-crawly things off me and hide me from animals.

It felt better keeping busy, so I took my knife and gathered armfuls of the soft, ferny sage and chamomile. I soon had a stack about two feet high. Sure, it would smash down when I laid on it; but it was certainly better than sleeping on hard ground. I spread the sheet on top, folded it over, and stuck four safety pins in the root to seal me up later.

I crushed a bunch of chamomile, releasing the pungent aroma. It smelled amazing. After breathing it in for a few moments, I rubbed some on my arms, hoping it would help hide my human scent from any animals looking for dinner.

Next I hauled rocks to a flat spot a few yards away and made a fire pit. I cleared the loose brush from the area, so there wasn’t any danger of sparks catching hold and the fire getting out of hand. One thing I knew to fear in Colorado was wild fires. I wasn’t about to start one.

There was plenty of fallen wood everywhere so I gathered enough for several days. I didn’t expect to be stranded that long; but it felt good just to have it stacked in a pile. I was freaked, but not totally. I’d camped out before—I could do this. I mean, one night, right? At some point, I had to get yanked back home.

Campsite organized, I climbed up the hill to take a look around. With the binoculars, I could see for miles. There was a huge meadow to the east and mountain peaks to the west. Aspens and evergreens covered the mountainside, and the meadow was blanketed with a rainbow of wildflowers. But there was no sign of human life anywhere. I couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. It depended on how long I was going to be there.

Suddenly, I heard a loud buzz. I jumped. I whipped around, scanning the area. It took me a minute, but I finally realized it was Lex’s phone alarm. I had to laugh at myself. I reached into the bag and shut it off. That meant it was morning in Boulder.

I was starving at that point so I launched into a granola bar. It was amazing how good things tasted when you were out in the fresh air, and the food was limited. That got me thinking about my food supply. I had two thirds of a bag of chocolate covered almonds, two Snickers bars, another granola bar, and a tube of peanuts. Not exactly the four food groups. I liked chocolate as much as the next kid, but I needed something a little more substantial.

It was too early in the season for berries or fruit. There seemed to be a heck of a lot of rabbits. But what was I going to do, chase one down and whack it with a rock? I don’t think so. I’d have to be awfully darn hungry. I wasn’t there yet. I’d never been fishing, but I’d seen it in movies. How hard could it be? The creek was full of fish. The thought of a hot, fish dinner made my stomach growl. I dug through my pack to see what I could use.

There was a spool of something with Lex’s packet of beads. It didn’t say “fishing line” on it, but I figured it was the same thing. It seemed really strong. I decided since a safety pin was sharp, it would make a better hook than the lone paper clip. I cut off a long piece of line with the knife, looped it around the little hole in the end of a safety pin, tied it, and sealed it with a match. I wrapped the line up to the clasp so that it would work as a hook, making several. Then I found a couple of long, straight sticks for poles. I notched the ends and tied the lines on as tightly as I could, impressed with my own ingenuity. And all without input from Lex or Ipod.

I needed bait. That meant bugs or worms, which I was pretty squeamish about touching. I spotted Lex’s leather gloves in the pile of stuff. I debated but not for long. I knew she wouldn’t mind, given the situation.

When my mom was around, we did a lot of gardening so I knew about earthworms. The best bet for finding some was in the loosest and blackest dirt. The dirt by the campsite was hard clay. But closer to the water, the ground was thick with mulched leaves. I hiked down towards the creek and found a patch that seemed promising. It took the better part of an hour, digging hole after hole with a stick, but I finally had a pile of worms in the empty, granola-bar wrapper. At that point, I realized I did know some stuff. I high-fived an invisible Lex and Ipod.

The fading light jolted me out of my daydream, and I scurried to get the fishing going while I could still see. There was a place on the bank, where the roots of a tree stuck out a bit over the water like a balcony. Cringing, I chopped a worm in two and stuck safety pin hooks through the wiggling parts. Then I propped one fishing pole in the roots and sat down with the other.

And I waited…and waited…and waited.

After about forty-five minutes of increasing disappointment, I checked to see if the worms were still on the hooks. They were gone—so much for my brilliant plan. Here I thought I’d been all
Survivor
contestant, and the fish refused to cooperate—stupid fish.

The sun was sinking lower, and thoughts of the approaching night began to creep me out. Suddenly, an idea flashed through the fear; I don’t know where it came from. It was crazy, but what the heck. I had a much better chance of sleeping when it got dark, if I wasn’t hungry. Besides, there was no one around to see me fail, if it didn’t work. I had nothing to lose.

I put new worms on my hooks, and then I laid belly down on the big root so that I had full contact with the bark. I let my line trail out in the flowing creek. Closing my eyes, I imagined fish, droves of fish, moving towards it and snagging themselves on the hooks. I could feel little bursts of energy moving around in the water. Humming softly, I called to them in my mind. Then I pulled power from the tree and sent it out into the water. Within seconds, I felt a jerk.

My eyes flew open, and I yanked my pole, slapping a beautiful little fish smack against the dirt. I saw my other pole straining and caught it before it came loose. I flipped the second fish onto the bank beside its brother and stood, proudly, beaming at my amazing feat. Okay, I know it’s stupid, but I couldn’t remember ever feeling so powerful.

I felt a little sorry for the fish, but even that couldn’t cancel my buzz. Grimacing, I loped off their heads, scooped out the yucky stuff, and washed them in the river. Then I hiked back up to my campsite, holding them by the tails.

I got a good blaze going, and then I stuffed the fish with wet sage, because I’d seen it done that way with other herbs. I let the fire burn down a little to make coals, so the fish wouldn’t end up burnt on the outside and raw on the inside. I used a stick to crunch a half-burned log to speed up the coal making process. Then I got a thin, flat rock and washed it off in the creek. I laid it on the coals, and as soon as I could see steam rise; I placed my fish on the rock. Periodically, I splashed a little water on them so they wouldn’t dry out.

Estimating about thirty minutes more of twilight, I decided to get everything ready for the coming dark. After catching the fish, I wasn’t quite as scared as I’d been before. I arranged all my stuff within easy reach, found a big stick I could use as a club, set it by my nest, and returned to my fire.

While I waited, the sun moved lower over the horizon. I tried not to feel alone. I focused on Constantine, remembering what it felt like when he touched my face. Thinking of him was way better than stressing about the approaching darkness. I wondered what he thought of what happened in the hallway. I wondered if he thought about me at all. I wondered if he would ask about me when I wasn’t at school the next day.

Every few minutes, I checked my dinner by using a stick to pull the fish open. When it got to the flaking point, I used a bigger stick to shove the rock closer to the outer edge of the fire pit. One of the fish fell into the coals, and I had to stab it back on the rock. It was a little sooty, but the dust was only on the skin. I decided I could deal.

The best thing I could come up with for silverware was the little pair of scissors. I figured I could hold the sharp end and scoop stuff up with the handle part. Okay, not exactly a fork, but hey…things were working out just fine. There were no plates so I just knelt over the rock and forked up mouthfuls of trout.

With no side dishes, I ate fish until I was stuffed. The savory trout just melted in my mouth, and the sage had been a great idea. Even though it was starting to get dark, I felt amazingly content. I think the fact that I’d managed to feed myself by rigging together the things I found in Ipod’s pockets and Lex’s purse, gave me such a buzz, that I didn’t feel quite so helpless.

Besides, I had half my brain dedicated to Constantine now. When I wasn’t directly dealing with a task at hand, my mind just floated to thoughts of him. It was stupid, I knew, but it gave me something to focus on. I kept forgetting to be scared.

The air smelled like campfire. When the sun hit a certain spot, the sky broke out into a palette of colors…pink, red, blue, and purple. I was no longer hungry, the sunset was incredible, and I had actual memories of a guy—not too shabby.

As the sun sank over the mountains, it started cooling down fast. I put on Ipod’s hoodie, built up the fire to a roaring blaze, and sat as close to it as I could get. I poked at it with a stick, reviewing my day. I was still alone, but I wasn’t nearly as freaked as when I’d first arrived. I’d found out that I could use stranger trees to heal myself, which meant that if I got hurt, I had help. I’d even made fishing poles and caught my own dinner. How cool was that?

I wasn’t sure if I’d actually used the tree to call the fish or if it was just a coincidence. If I was still there the next day, I’d try it again. Sure, I was out in the middle of nowhere. But I’d go back home sooner or later. I always returned home before.

Surely…

I found myself yawning and knocked the logs down a little so that the fire was safe. I wanted to keep it going in case of predators, but I didn’t want it to get out of hand. My nest looked cozy in the soft, glowing firelight. Totally exhausted, I set my water bottle and my flashlight against the root, pulled off my slippers and curled up on the mossy bed. Then I pulled the sheet over my little nest and stabbed the pins through it into the wood.

I don’t think I had time to be scared, because I was asleep moments after closing my eyes.