Page 50 of These Rough Waters

“Maya!” I start to yell about half an hour into the trek, the darkness of the forest that stretches up the side of the cliffside almost swallowing the little light I had. “Maya! Come on little doe, where are you?”

I might have had a chance to track her if this rain wasn’t so bad, it would have washed away any trace of her by now, but I look anyway, shining the light on the ground in hopes of seeing footprints or anything that could lead me to her. But there is nothing, so I have to continue my blind search, praying to whoever is listening that I find her before it’s too late.

If she was out in this, if she was exposed to this level of cold and wet, she’d be hypothermic in no time. What the hell was she thinking!?

“Maya!” I roar into the wilderness, “Maya!”

I break into a jog, my search turning frantic as I wildly shine the flashlight in every dark corner, under every tree and continue to yell her name until my voice is raw. “Come on, little doe! WHERE ARE YOU?”

I come to the fork in the trail that either leads to the peak or further into the forest, and my gut is pulling me toward the peak, toward that sheer drop right at the top. My teeth grit against the panic, against the memories of the other woman and boy I could not save.

“Maya!”

My flashlight catches on a broken branch, the limb snapped and hanging by a single thread as it whips around in the wind and I drop my eyes, to the clear groove in the wet earth that almost looks like a foot slipped. It’s deep enough that the rain hasn’t washed it away, instead the cold-water pools in it but it’s an obvious sign someone has been through here.

Which was good. The cabin was only a ten-minute hike from here through the woods, but had she fallen here? Had she hurt herself?

“Maya?” I call, “Maya, where are you?”

I turn back around, heading a few yards back down the cliffside, keeping my eye out for any more possible tracks.

Come on, sweetheart,I think,where are you, baby?

And then I see it, a pure chance that my flashlight was angled just right to catch the gloved hand laying still but poking out from beneath a tree.

“Shit!” I drop to the ground, ignoring the wet clothes sticking to my back, the cold making my hands and feet numb. I let the momentum of the decline take me down quickly, sliding over the mud and rocks that dig into my body on the way, “Maya?”

Shining the light beneath the low hanging branches I peer under, finding her unconscious body laying in the rain. Mud coats her, her hair a tangled mess and a fresh cut on her cheek. Afraid to move her, but more afraid that I couldn’t see she was breathing, I reach under and haul her out, dragging her towards me far rougher than what I wanted to but had no choice.

Her head lays in my lap, but she was limp and so fucking cold, her lips were blue, her breathing shallow and she was completely drenched through. I shake her, “Little doe, wake up, I need you to wake up baby.”

I hold my hand to her mouth; her lips parted and feel the shallow puffs of hot breath against the wet and cold palm of my hand. She was breathing but that wouldn’t remain the case if I didn’t get her warmed up immediately. And I would end up exactly like that if I also didn’t get the clothes off my back.

Getting to my feet and feeling all my bones begin to ache with the cold, I reach down and haul her up. Fatigue claws its way through me, my head swimming, which definitely wasn’t a good sign.

I cradle the small woman to my chest. There was no going back down the cliffside, not when it’ll take double the time it took to get up here, so the cabin was the only option. I head back to the fork in the trail and take the other route, keeping my steps steady and slow so I don’t risk us both taking a damn tumble down the cliff. She remains unconscious and still in my arms, but I could feel her breath on the side of my neck.

The ten minutes it would have taken to get there is doubled with how slow I am, but I push through, the flashlight somehow remaining in my hand and finally see the small log cabin situated so far into the woods no one ever finds it.

It’s been abandoned for so long I had no idea what the inside was going to be like, but anything was better than this.

Despite the wish not to, I place Maya on an old bench outside the cabin, beneath the wood awning that has clearly seen better days and fish the keys out of my pocket, fingers shaking and struggling to grip.

Once I have the door open and reach through to switch on the lights, I turn back to Maya, lifting her back into my arms to carry her through the door, kicking it shut behind me.

Twenty-Four

It wasn’t much warmer inside the cabin, but it was dry, even if it did smell like dust and age.

I find all the blankets I can from the cupboards and single bedroom, bringing them all out to where I’ve left the still unconscious Maya on the couch before I start to carefully strip her out of the wet clothes. She doesn’t move or wake as I go, taking off each layer until her skin is exposed along with her underwear which too are soaked through. With a deep sigh, I take them off her too, forcing my eyes to remain on her face as I adjust her body, trying my best to dry her without looking or touching. When I’m sure she’s dry, I begin to pile on the blankets, wrapping them around her, her neck and her head before I tend to the small cut on her cheek. It was only shallow, likely caused by a branch, but I clean it up anyway.

While the cabin has been empty for some time now, the water and electricity remained on and there was a log burner across the room which I go to next.

I’ll sort myself out as soon as I can get a fire on to warm this place up, even if I knew the best course of action here was probably body heat but the fire would help.

There was some left over wood in a box which I use inside the burner, shoving in kindling to help get it started, glancing every few seconds towards Maya on the couch. I didn’t like how pale she was, how unresponsive, and the dread I felt earlier before I figured out she was missing comes back tenfold.

There was no way for me to even contact Ruthie to let her know I’d found her or that we wouldn’t be back, at least until this storm breaks, which likely won’t be until morning.

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