Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“I’m not going back,” I huff out through my teeth, heading toward my guide as he approaches me.
“Yeah, you are. Cause I’m not going any further, and you can’t stay out here.”
He’s getting that look on his face my fiancé likes to get. The one where he’s decided he knows better than me. Even when it comes to my own body and its limitations.
“No.” I stubbornly dig in and swing myself forward again. “I’m not. If you need to go back, no one’s stopping you.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “Look, lady, you can barely stand up, and there’s grizzlies out here. Probably what got all those dumb hikers.”
When I just stare him down, he says, “Wolves, too. Real hungry wolves, and cougars.” He lifts his arms menacingly. Like this skinny boy making claw-hands at me is going to intimidate me.
“I’m not afraid of bears or wolves.”
That gets me another eyeroll. “Fucking tourists,” he whispers not so quietly under his breath.
What Keith doesn’t know is that I’m actually not like other fucking tourists he might have brought up this mountain and then scared with all this lions, tigers and bears, oh my! talk.
It takes a lot more than that to scare a person who’s gone through as many surgeries as I have as just a little kid. One to correct the curvature of my spine. Another on my feet. Another to shave off my too-thick sternum so my heart can beat without constraint.
I’ve looked death in the eyes too many times already. It doesn’t strike fear into my heart to meet it with a different face. Even if that face has a mouth full of teeth.
I have come here seeking monsters, after all.
“We’re going back.” Keith reaches me and grabs my upper arm. “Now.”
I yank hard away from his grip. “Get the fuck off me.”
I hate people thinking they have the right to touch me just because I’m different. When his grip clamps even harder, I flip my left cane and hold the spiky foot end to his throat. He freezes in place. Especially since I’m shaky on my feet and the spikes wobble.
“I said to let me fucking go.”
His mouth drops open like he’s not sure how he got in this position. But he does let go of me, roughly tossing me away from him so that I tumble into a bush on the side of the mountain. “What the fuck ever. I did my job.”
“Hey!” I cry, trying to right myself and get out of the thorny bush without falling off the mountain. “Asshole!”
I stop struggling with the bush long enough to flip him the bird, not that he gives even a single look back to see.
I heft out a breath, bite back tears, and set about getting my legs free without tangling my arms even more. He knocked one of my crutches out of my hands during the fall, and when I finally roll out of the bush back onto the path, I grab for it desperately.
Keith is hoofing it down the path so fast he’s around the bend before I fully regain my breath so I can curse him out properly.
Then he’s gone. And that’s when it sets in.
Well shit. I’m out here, all alone, on a mountain trail that’s famous for people not returning from it. With a face full of dirt and mosquitos swarming my teary eyes.
I grit my teeth and, using my crutches, slowly, painfully, make my way back to my feet. It takes longer than I wish, and I’m glad that asshole is gone so he doesn’t see the awkward process.
By the time I manage to get upright again, the sun is indeed dropping toward the horizon. It’s far closer to sunset than I’m prepared for.
But I don’t care if the guide was telling the truth about the time or if he was just scared shitless. There’s never a need to be an asshole to those who are weaker than you.
I look up the ever-darkening mountain. At the path that seems to grow even narrower.
I’d rather not die of stupidity in my search for my miracle.
The thought makes me giggle out loud.
Some would—and have—said that this entire trip is a fool’s errand.
As thorns catch again on my long-sleeved shirt, I’m inclined to agree with them. I almost got caught in a patch of briars about a half-mile back where I had abandoned my walker. It almost made me give up—like it is nature’s barrier trying to scream at me: what do you think you’re doing? You can’t do this! Even healthy people don’t come back alive!
The path narrows even further and is thorny with overgrown brush. I’m glad I’m wearing long sleeves and jeans despite the mid-October warmth. I mean, I know Alaska can’t be cold all the time, but I haven’t quite been ready for this heat—or the number of mosquitos apparently native here after summer when the snow melts into thousands and thousands of lakes.