“You’re not going to talk to him about it?”
“No…” She let the word fall silently, not going into detail.
“But he might have some advice… I mean, the backcountry is his terrain.”
“It’s just a bad idea, George.”
“And your mom?”
“I’d rather not have the image of her disdain be the last thing I take into the wilds with me.”
“So just your dad and I will know where you are?”
“Well, that and the park service. You know hikers have to check in with rangers before they can go anyway, and so they’ll have my route, too.” She sighed, looking at his worried face. “Thank you for worrying,” she said. “But I’ll be okay. I’ve done this lots of times.”
“Alone?”
“Being alone is what this trip is all about. I’m about to transfer down to San Francisco and start a new life. That means new people, new environments, new challenges. I can’t tell you how sick I am of…” She gestured around at the people in the diner, then at Edna. “Of this. You know what it’s like for me, George. All my life most people have shunned me. You’re the only one who’s stuck around. You and Ellie. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life turning people off, weirding them out.”
“Those people aren’t worth being your friends,” George said protectively. “I don’t even see why you worry about them.”
“Yeah, I know.” Madeline felt a flush of defensiveness. “That’s because you have a normal social life. You have a circle of friends you’ve had since preschool, and make new ones all the time. Plus you’re gorgeous, and people flock to you.”
George shook his head. “No, you are gorgeous. And don’t let these bastards make you feel unwanted.”
They both fell silent, a lump in Madeline’s throat growing more painful by the second. The incident at the dam had brought memories of Ellie crashing back on her, a resurgence of grief so powerful it made it hard to breathe. At last George said quietly, “I think it’s a good idea.”
Madeline smiled, then almost laughed. The thought of the peaceful backcountry, of not seeing another soul for days or weeks, sang to her like a lullaby. She couldn’t wait to get out there.
George stood up and slid into the booth next to her. Putting his arms around her, he pulled her close. Several people gasped when they saw him daring to get so close to her. Over his shoulder, Madeline whispered, “This is going be great. Just me, the mountains, wildlife, and plenty of fresh air.” Now, more than ever, she craved it. A vision quest. That’s what she needed.
He pulled back, his hand still on her arm. “I’ll know where you are. If anything happens, I’m coming to find you.”
“Deal,” she said. “But I’ll be fine.”
3
DARKNESS. Freezing.
The murmur of cascading water.
Reality bit at her cut and bruised body, enveloped her in ice, washed around her, cold and unrelenting.
Too tired to open her eyes, she couldn’t remember where she was. Her face lay against something smooth and cold. Her arms felt wedged. Something held her steady as the frigid water curled around her, robbing her body of its last bit of heat. With that warmth had bled all sensation, and all she could do was bob on the current.
Water. She remembered water.
A great wall of water.
And then…
Blackness.
Madeline exhaled deeply. She was so tired. At least her head was above water now. She could just breathe and lie there. But she wanted to sleep. Sleep sounded so good. To rest.
Madeline lay still and let the water toss her about as she breathed in the crisp air.
Somewhere, in the back of her mind, some distant voice nagged at her, told her to pull herself out of the glacial meltwater, but she just couldn’t muster the energy to move.
Water, spiraling, no air to breathe.
Hands clutching at her, dragging her down.
Darkness.
Blood. A dark-haired woman with sightless, staring eyes, throat gashed open, spilling blood. A man struck down in a street, the blood-soaked back of his long coat shredded violently. A feeble old man cowering in a corner, shrieking in terror-
Darkness.
Hands. Pulling her out of the river.
A room full of spinning dancers in ball gowns. A cobble-stone street filled with the sound of clopping horse hooves. A lone candle burning atop a small piano. An opera house filled with the music of Mozart.
Darkness.
Faint sun on her eyelids.
A deep, kind voice: “Hey, you’re awake. I was worried. That’s quite a nasty cut on your head.”
“Cut?” Madeline said groggily. All she could feel was cold. Deep, numbing cold. She brought a tentative, shaky hand to her forehead, but her hand was so numb it felt like it was asleep. She thought she detected water on her head, but it was slick, like blood. And if it was blood, her head was covered in it. “Nothing bleeds like a head wound,” came her mother’s voice from somewhere inside her, echoing from a time when things were much easier.
“You’re drenched through. You need dry clothes and fast. I didn’t want to move you-didn’t know if you’d broken anything. But you could be hypothermic. Are your thoughts clear?”
Madeline managed to open her eyes. They came open with a wet sucking sound, and cold water leaked into them from the corners of her eyes. As things came into focus, Madeline saw the stranger kneeling beside her. He was slightly older than her, maybe in his mid-twenties; semi-short, wavy blond hair; a slightly scruffy ill-shaven face with angular features; and haunting green, green eyes.
He left her side then. The first thing she checked, body moving stiffly, was that she still wore her bracelet with its precious silver box securely latched. She did, and it was. She also felt the weight of her pocket knife in her pocket. She hadn’t lost everything. She lay blinking in the fading sunlight, blissfully warm on her face. He returned a moment later with a first aid kit. Quickly he withdrew a silver emergency blanket and laid it over her, though she couldn’t feel the difference.
She tried to move, tried even to shift her weight, but she felt incredibly heavy and suddenly realized what they meant by waterlogged. She felt like the two-ton trunk of a tree.
Rummaging through the kit, he produced some bandages and Neosporin. He held them up and said, “Glad I always keep a first aid kit in my backpack.”
“Oh, my backpack…” she said faintly, full of regret, remembering shrugging it off desperately in the cold water. “My supplies…” But she knew wriggling out of it had saved her life.
“Don’t worry about that now.” He gingerly dabbed the bandage on the cut. “I’m just going to clear some of the blood away so I can have a better look at the wound.” After a moment of dabbing he said, “It’s stopped bleeding.”
“Where am I, exactly?” she asked, wondering how far she’d been swept away.
“You’re way backcountry. Don’t know how long you were in the drink.”
She squinted, swallowed hard. “Think I floated on a limb for a while.” She remembered feeling her arms lodged between branches.
“Probably saved your life.” He shook his head slightly. “I hiked about six hours to get out this far.” He affixed a bandage with tape and smiled amiably. “Luckily, this is the first backcountry camp on this trail. We should be able to make it back within a day.” His smile faded as he studied her intently.
“What is it?” she asked, uncomfortable suddenly under his gaze.
“Do you remember anything you said before you woke up?”
“Was I talking in my sleep?”
He nodded. “Were you having a dream?”
Madeline shook her head, which throbbed in protest. “Not exactly, I…”
And then, checking the tape on the bandage, the stranger touched his bare hand to the skin of her forehead, and striking visions flickered to life before her.