“Come here.” Rose beckoned me with her finger, wincing as she did it. Sweat beaded her upper lip. Her brow.
I walked over and knelt in the dirt beside her. “I don’t care about any money. I don’t want to look for anything. I just want to help you. I want to get out of here.”
“Then listen to me. Come closer.”
I nodded. Dropped my head. Cupping my chin in her hand, Rose leaned forward to whisper the location in my ear.
I stared at her. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you want me to do this?”
Her eyes puddled. “Because this—everything that’s happening, everything that’s gone wrong—it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I have to fix it. As much as I can.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to. Just go up there with him. For me. Please?”
I relented. “Okay.”
Rose leaned back. Gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Ben. I can always count on you.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“I hope so,” she said.
32.
ARCHIE AND I set off almost immediately. I was gripped with panic leaving Rose behind, but in leaving I also found purpose. This was how I would save her. This was a chance for me to make the right decisions, and I wouldn’t screw up. Not again.
The trees rattled overhead, the wind racing the branches, and I glanced back only once as we left the clearing, my gaze falling on Abel’s motionless form. He’d done nothing but spit blood after Archie struck him, but his eyes never opened. And while I was glad Rose had made Archie leave the rifle behind, it wasn’t like I didn’t know about the handgun resting in his backpack. There was nothing safe or honest about him. I had to remember that.
“You shouldn’t have hit him,” I told Archie when we were out of earshot of the others. “It wasn’t cool.”
“Oh, shut up,” he said. “You think people like him deserve mercy?”
“He could be lying about the money, you know. He’s probably full of shit.”
Archie snorted. “Why the hell would he lie?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t he?”
“Because he has to know I’ll kill him if we don’t find it.”
I had no answer for that. We made our way across the stream and began the steep hike up out of the gorge. My legs protested the effort, but I pushed myself to go faster. Soon I was coated with sweat.
Archie was silent as we climbed, but I watched him drink from a silver flask that I recognized as Maggie’s. He didn’t bother trying to hide it, the drinking, and I didn’t bother caring. Together we wound our way past Hunters Camp—the shady spot where we’d eaten lunch and I’d slept curled in Rose’s lap.
The trees thinned as we hiked higher, and the exposure threw sun in my eyes, a mid-morning assault, but one I needed. Rather than retreat, I tipped my face into the day’s glow and tried soaking it in, all that light, the clarity. Something broke inside me as I did this, tight cobblestones of grief dislodging to remind me of all we’d lost—not just now, but from the future, too. There were mountains that would never be climbed; shitty homes never escaped.
Another half mile and we stopped to splash water on our faces from the frigid depths of Grizzly Creek. That felt good. My head spun from lack of food, lack of drinking water. But when I stood again, after kneeling by the creek, a swarm of colored dots filled my field of vision. I instinctively sat back down and shoved my head between my knees, waiting for the light-headedness to pass.
When I felt better, I looked up, only to catch sight of Archie staring at the sun rising over the mountains, just as I’d been doing earlier. I don’t know what expression I expected to see on his face. Arrogance, I suppose. Or maybe resentment at forces beyond his control. After all, weren’t those the reasons we were in this situation in the first place? Wasn’t that how we’d gotten here?
What I saw instead was pain. Of the wet-cheeks-and-heaving-chest variety. I turned away, embarrassed for Archie the same way I’d been embarrassed for Mr. Howe when he’d tried giving me relationship advice I hadn’t wanted to hear. Whether sorrow or need, some emotions were best left unexpressed.
“Let’s go,” I said gruffly and started walking again before Archie had a chance to answer. For all I knew, his weepy mood wasn’t because of Mr. Howe or Dunc or the grim finality of death, but because he was grieving for himself. For the realization he just might have to answer for his own stupidity.
We made it to the meadow at last, our small campsite coming into view with a burst of bright color amid a sea of green. I made a beeline for the tent I’d shared with Rose. Crawling inside, I made a mess as my shoes tracked dirt everywhere while I tore through our belongings, searching for the keys to the Pathfinder.
Only I couldn’t find them. They weren’t in her backpack or mine. Or anywhere I could see. I searched more, going through all the tent compartments. Then going through them again.
Still nothing.
“Shit.” I sat back on my haunches, and there was that weight of uselessness again, a familiar beast settling in to rest heavy on my chest.
The answer came to me then, a swift gut-kick of insight. I lifted Rose’s sleeping bag and pulled it to me. Reaching inside, my fingers roamed before landing on a zippered pocket stitched into the lining, opposite the hood. Tugging hard, I worked the pocket open. Sure enough, the keys were in there. I slipped them into my own breast pocket with a grunt of satisfaction—well, technically, it was the Preacher’s pocket, but it wasn’t like I planned on giving the jacket back.
Crawling from the tent, I felt more purposeful than ever. Capable, too. Not only had I found what I’d been looking for, but it was my studied knowledge of Rose that had led me to the keys. She was different from me in a lot of ways—most, actually—but there were two things central to her nature that I was absolutely certain about: First, she liked to use things for their intended purpose; she wasn’t one to carelessly leave her keys in shoes or hats or on the ground, the way I might. And, second, if something was truly important to her, I knew that Rose would always, always keep it close to her heart.
—
Archie had vanished by the time I got back outside. I jogged the perimeter of the campsite but couldn’t find him anywhere. The wind blew harder, pushing the lush meadow grass around so that it swirled and bent. I didn’t bother calling out for Archie. Doing that would’ve felt like I wanted him to return and that wasn’t a desire I wanted to put out into the universe. Besides, I was starving.