Feel Me Fall Page 10

  Ryan Wray couldn’t be scared. If he was scared, what did it mean for the rest of us? Fear was contagious, and I didn’t want to get infected.

  “We’re all scared.”

  “The way I’m feeling…it reminds me of before….” He stopped and rubbed the stump of his leg. “I can’t do it again. I can’t wake up with no arms.”

  “It’s probably food poisoning. It’ll pass.” I thought of what he’d said to Molly. “You can do incredible things if you put your mind to it. You can. You will.”

  “I will.” He silently repeated it over and over as we inched along. Suddenly, he lost purchase on his stick and toppled to the ground.

  I tried to help him. He lay on the ground, not moving, releasing sad moans. “Ryan, get up.” He tried to come onto his knees and fell back down. “Get up,” I said. Trying to get through to him, I said, “Don’t be a whiny bitch. Get. Up.”

  “I...can’t.”

  I called out to the group ahead. “Hey! Wait up! It’s Ryan!”

  As they turned and walked back, they seemed surprised Ryan was on the ground. I said, “He’s sick. Really sick.”

  Nico squatted next to Ryan. “He’s not going anywhere. Not on his own.”

  Derek said, “I don’t know…we can’t stop.”

  I said, “What are you saying?”

  “I’m just being practical. We can barely move ourselves.”

  Viv turned to Derek. “You wouldn’t leave me, would you?”

  Derek said, “We have to save ourselves. We save ourselves, we save him. We’ll come back.”

  “For all the ants and snakes and whatever else is out here?” I said. “He wouldn’t last a night.” There had to be a solution. “I’ll carry him.” When they looked at me as if I was crazy, I said, “You made beds out of bamboo. Can you help me make something to drag him on? Like a stretcher?”

  It took some time, but with all of us helping, we made a stretcher out of bamboo and rolled Ryan onto it. I lifted the front, carrying the bamboo poles on my shoulders, and Ryan lay sloped on the stretcher. As I held the poles, he began to slide off.

  “This isn’t going to work,” I said. “I’m gonna need help.”

  No one volunteered. Out of us, Nico looked the strongest. “Nico?” He hesitated and I added, “We’ll rotate. No one will have to carry him the whole time.” With that, Nico stepped behind me and lifted the poles.

  “Sorry, Ryan,” I said. “But this is gonna be a bumpy ride.”

  Chapter 12

  Carrying Ryan was an ordeal. Sweat dripped into my eyes, stinging, and I couldn’t wipe it away. Even with his missing leg, he felt as if he weighed 200 pounds. It couldn’t have been comfortable for him, either. Nico and I swayed, and Ryan jerked back and forth in an off-kilter rhythm.

  My arms gave way and I dropped the bamboo poles. Ryan crashed into the muck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I tried to pick up the bamboo, but I had no more strength. My arms were noodles, loose and numb. Nico gently laid down his end. Ryan lay on the stretcher, eyes shut, as if mentally transporting somewhere else.

  I said, “Viv, can you switch with me?”

  “I can try.” She walked to my side and took the poles in her hands. She seemed as thin as the bamboo.

  I instructed, “Lift from your thighs, not your back.”

  She strained, trying to lift. “He’s too heavy, Em.” Viv looked to Molly. “Can you try?”

  Molly hesitated as if she’d waited for this moment her whole life. “What’d he ever do for me?”

  “Does it matter?” I asked.

  “Did he ever help me when his friends called me a genetic malfunction? No. He laughed.” She looked down at him. “Not so funny now, is it? C’mon, Ryan, let’s hear you laugh.” When he didn’t respond she walked over and nudged him with her foot. “Why isn’t it funny? You laughed before. Let’s hear you laugh.” He still didn’t make a sound. “Coward.”

  She glanced over her arms and put her hands around her wide waist. “Not a bad day to be fat, is it? You’ll all starve to death, but I’ll keep walking.” She looked us over one by one, mud on our faces, hair askew, hunched over and tired. “How you feel right now is how you make me feel everyday.”

  “He’s going to die,” I said. “Is that what you want? Would that makes things equal in your book?”

  “I wonder if you’d all try and carry me.”

  “Molly, we’re dealing with what’s happening right now.”

  Molly considered and peered down at Ryan. “If I do this, you will be in my debt, understand? Say it.”

  Ryan mouthed, “I understand.”

  “You will apologize to me.”

  His lips were white and cracked. “I apologize.”

  “Ooohh, it’s not that easy. You’ll apologize to me in front of your friends. Your hilarious friends.”

  He nodded.

  “And then you will take me out to the most expensive, exclusive dinner you can afford followed by a concert with front-row seats at the Hollywood Bowl and you will post pics of us all over Instagram saying you had the greatest night ever. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.”

  She wiped her hands. “Then let’s get this show on the road.” She reached down to the poles, grunted and lifted the stretcher. “You better remember this, Ryan Wray. This genetic malfunction helped save your life.”

  It wasn’t called a rainforest for nothing. It drizzled nonstop. Sometimes it rained. Sometimes it turned into a downpour for minutes at a time and just as inexplicably as it started, it would stop. The first time it happened was curious, the idea of being caught in the rain, our sins being washed away. By the second or third, we were over it and simply hated being wet. By the fourth and fifth, we felt mold growing in our damp clothes.

  This time the rain didn’t stop. It came down in sheets, the undergrowth beneath us already soft to begin with was getting sticky, sucking our shoes into the muck. Any fantasies I ever had of running naked in the rain disappeared. This was misery.

  The wind kicked up and the thick leaves waved, silent green applause everywhere. The sky went unnaturally dark. A storm wasn’t coming; it was here, and we were caught in it with nowhere to go.

  Make it stop. I’ll do anything, but please make it stop.

  Molly and Nico carried Ryan, but Nico slipped, flailing backwards. The shift was too much for Molly and she lost her grip. Ryan landed with a thud, crooked on the ground.

  Molly said, “Everyone’s gonna have to take a side.”

  I shook my head. My arms were still wasted.

  Derek and Viv shared the front while Molly and Nico took the back. They lifted Ryan, and I walked ahead of them, holding back branches. The rain poured, mocking our efforts. They walked less than a minute before Viv’s foot got caught and they came to a stop.

  Nico yelled something, his mouth an angry O, but it was lost in the wind.

  Viv screamed back, “Stop moving! I’m stuck!”

  “Everybody take a step back,” I said. They did, and Viv wrangled her foot from beneath some tree roots. Holding onto Ryan’s stretcher, they moved stutter-step, like movers moving a heavy couch through a small door.

  The rain pelted us, each drop a tiny bullet.

  The mud was turning into a sloshy soup. More yelling from Viv. “I can’t! I can’t!” As she set down her end, the others screamed for her to hang on. Once Viv let go, they all released their grip, and Ryan lay on the stretcher.

  We squatted on the ground, seeking shelter, our bodies bent, backs rounded. It poured and poured and I wouldn’t have been surprised if it poured blood. That’s how I felt about this evil place.

  Molly was crying, her tears melding with the rain.

  Viv and Nico looked like wet, forlorn dogs. Only Derek, the survivalist among us, seemed to enjoy himself, his face lifted to the rain.

  In an effort to raise their spirits, I made a call back to Nico. “Remember! It’s an adventure! It’s only an adventure!” No one bothered to respond
.

  Rain fell and rivulets of water streamed over the stretcher. The mud was turning into a small stream.

  Derek said, “Guys, we gotta go.”

  We looked at him, set like statues. In the storm, no place seemed better than any other.

  “This is low ground. We’re in danger of a flash flood.” The evidence was under our feet. The rivulet was growing stronger with each passing second.

  Ryan spoke, his voice weak, and I leaned in to hear him. “Don’t leave me.”

  “We won’t.”

  But Derek was already on his feet, walking away from the stretcher towards higher ground.

  “Derek,” I called out. “We need your help.”

  He turned his head, still walking. “I’m tapped out.”

  “Come back here!” I looked at the others. No one made a move.

  Nico sighed, exhausted. “I’ve been carrying him the whole time.”

  “It’ll only be a few more yards.” It was a lie: but it sounded better than the truth. “Screw the stretcher, let’s just get out of here.” I got up and grabbed Ryan’s arms, wrapping my hands around his. My action inspired the others to follow. Nico grabbed his prosthetic leg. Viv and Molly placed their hands under his stump, as if carrying a tray. The four of us walked octopus-style and I couldn’t see but a foot in front of my face, my eyes small slits against the rain.

  I felt the water rise to the top of my tennis shoes. Seconds later, it was near the top of my ankles. My mind drifted to the things in the water—snakes, leeches, worms, parasites—and I forced myself to think of better things. I grasped at happy memories.

  Did I even have happy memories?

  I thought of long-forgotten images: going horseback riding above Beachwood Canyon, trotting along on a horse, amazed at the gentle and beautiful power of the creature beneath me; walking into the ocean for the first time as a wave crashed over me, and I went tumbling, sand caught in my bathing suit; reading to my mother, switching roles at my request, and me tucking her in, rolling the covers up to her chin. My mother had brought me to all those places for birthdays or getaways, and there was love there. Small bits of love that kept me fed until the next time, and I knew that I wasn’t alone and never had been.

  The water was nearing my knee. The current pushed against me.

  We sloshed and waded, and we carried Ryan like a fallen soldier. Every second was torture. Ryan slipped from my grasp. I dug into his hand, my fingernails into his skin, and I heard him yelp, but it was the only way I knew to keep ahold. My thighs burned, my back threatened to give way, but we kept moving, our distance measured by sticks; just one more tree, then another. We followed Derek up the incline, and the water lessened, receding from knee to calf, from ankle to the bottom of our shoes, and finally, mud—wet, wet, mud.

  We stopped near a tree, gasping for air and sat down. Where we’d walked from didn’t exist anymore: the ground had become a torrent, leaves and god knew what else floating on the surface.

  We’d done a good thing. We’d saved a person. We’d chosen sacrifice over selfishness.

  It was to be our last time.

  Chapter 13

  I worked the drive-thru window. It was night, and while most people were pleasant, every once in a while I’d get a group of hemmers-and-hawers who couldn’t decide on what to order. There are only so many choices, people! Then there were the drive-thru squatters who slowly checked their order while holding up the rest of the line. One guy, he wasn’t even old (I have more patience for the elderly) paid for his meal in pennies. Pennies! The saddest ones were those who came every day by themselves, drowning in food, as though they wore a sign that read “Life Hates Me.” I was extra nice to them, realizing our interaction might be the highlight of their day. Otherwise, I empathized with anyone who worked with the general public because I had proof-positive most of them were idiots.

  Over the intercom, a guy ordered a burger, fries, and shake. He paid in the first window and then rolled up to get his food. I recognized the car. It was Nico’s, a green Prius, another gift from his parents for maintaining a high GPA. I thought Viv might be in the car with him, but the solo order told me he was alone before he even pulled up.

  I didn’t want to see him. I looked for someone to take my place at the window, but the other employees were busy at their stations.

  Stuck where I was, I said, “Hi, Nico,” and handed him his food.

  He turned down his radio, grabbed the bag and placed it on the empty passenger seat. Unfortunately, no other car was behind him so he had time to linger. “How’s it going?”

  “It’s going.”

  “When do you get off?”

  I’d learned to avoid this question, usually from late-night guys trying to be funny, due to its double entendre. “My shift is over at eleven.”

  He glanced at his clock dash. “It’s ten-thirty now. How ‘bout I wait and we can hang out?” He jiggled a plastic baggie filled with green and said in a singsong voice, “Got something that might make you hap-py.”

  I motioned for him to put it away. “We’ve got cameras.”

  “Relax. I’m not robbing the place.” He casually put the baggie in the glove compartment and closed it. “These places were made for the munchies.”

  I took off my headset to make sure no one else could listen and leaned across the window. “Where’s Viv?”

  “She’s at home. Doing home-stuff. You know how her mom gets.”

  “I’m aware. But….”

  “But what?”

  “But no,” I said.

  He strummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m thinking of breaking up with her.” He said it like describing the weather.

  I couldn’t tell if he was serious or getting a rise out of me. “Who breaks up with their girlfriend right before prom?”

  “Well, it’s gonna happen some time or another. Better to pull the bandage off all at once, you know?”

  This is exactly why I didn’t date guys my own age. “It’s a dick move.”

  “I never said I was a saint.”

  “She loves you, Nico.”

  He sang the old Tina Turner song, “What’s love got to do with it? What’s love…but a second-hand emotion?”

  “If this is about what I think it’s about, then I’d like to tell you: don’t worry. You’ll be going to the Promised Land soon.”

  He shook his head. “Some things are too little, too late.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  He found my eyes. “You know why.”

  “She’s your girlfriend.”

  “And your best friend,” he parroted back. As if I needed reminding. As if I wasn’t reminded every time I saw her with him.

  “Which is exactly why I’m not hanging out with you after work.”

  “I’m thinking of telling her.”

  My heart stopped. Would he dare tell Viv? I’d do anything for him not to. Anything but repeat that mistake.

  “I’m not getting what I want,” he said. “You’re not getting what you want. Only Viv’s getting what she wants. Seems like two out of three people aren’t getting what they want.”

  “Nico, I’m fine where I am.”

  “So, you’re getting what you want?” When I didn’t answer, he said, “With who?”

  “With nobody. I’m fine by myself.”

  He sat listening to a song in his car, weirdness descending on us, as if this was the most awkward date in the world. “She thinks you don’t like me.”

  “Sometimes I don’t.”

  With roguish charm, he said, “Could’ve fooled me.”

  My intercom burst to life with an order. “Gotta go. Nico, please. Don’t say anything.”

  He pulled out a quarter. “Call it.” He flipped it in his car.

  It was ridiculous, but I went along. “Heads.”

  The quarter landed on his wrist.

  I asked, “What is it?”

  He smiled and said before driving off, “Wouldn’t you lo
ve to know?”

  I thought how trapped I was; how my secret had spawned another. I could never tell Viv the truth about how her “perfect relationship” simply wasn’t true.

  Like a spigot turned off, the rain finally stopped. We’d huddled around each other for warmth. We were as close as we’d been since the crash, shoulder to shoulder, hip-to-hip, round in a circle. There was something comforting about feeling the closeness of their skin near mine. For a long time no one said anything. Beads of water dripped from our faces. The sounds of the jungle returned—monkeys in the distance, insects, and frogs—and I took in the scent of clean air, dark sky giving way to daylight.

  I was beginning to feel as if we were being punished. If I could only find out why, I could shout the answer to the heavens and we would be saved. Maybe we were being made to suffer so that we would find meaning, a gift given only to those who walked so close to death that they came back embracing life with a joy and ferocity they never had before. All the angst and worrying in the hallways of high school would mean nothing. Not when compared with this.

  I’ve learned my lesson. I swear I have. Can I go now?

  Nothing happened. The jungle remained as apathetic as ever.

  Molly still carried my cross-body bag on her shoulder, and my mind ping-ponged to Johannes’ book, to the pages on the tree branches, to the message we’d written in sand.

  “Oh, God.” I thought I’d said it to myself, but they looked at me. “All our messages. My pages….” I shook my head. “Not with the storm.”

  No one said it aloud, but we were all thinking it: no one knows where we are. No one will find us.

  Their reaction made me wish I’d never said anything at all. The fact that they didn’t react at all scared me more. They were beyond hysterics, beyond numb.

  Ryan whispered from his stretcher. “I’m sorry.”

  Derek wrenched his hands together, as if they were wet rags. “What’d you say?”