Wish You Were Here

45

Before continuing on our way, we decided to wait, just to be sure they were far gone. I took out the black t-shirt from the backpack and put it on.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," Grant said. "We have to get all the way to Dean and Gina's cabin, then go to the dungeon basement cabin, and still find our way over to the first cabin. It's inevitable that we'll run across a group again at some point."

"Probably," I agreed. "But, so far we've done pretty good."

I was still feeling smug about outsmarting the last group. Grant, on the other hand, didn't look as sure as I did.

"We've done great," he said. "But, what if our luck runs out? I think we need to be better prepared next time."

"Better prepared?" I scoffed. "I don't think we've ever actually been prepared at all."

I could see him thinking things over silently.

"You're right," he said quietly. "That's it!"

I stared at him and waited, knowing an explanation was coming.

"What's the one thing the other groups seem to have had that we don't?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Matching shirts?"

"No," he said sarcastically and laughed. "They all seem to know what they're doing here and they're always prepared."

I rolled my eyes. "I knew you were a Boy Scout! Admit it."

"I wasn't!" He elbowed me playfully. "And neither were any of those groups, I'd bet. Yet they're always prepared."

I thought it over. Every person we had come across, regardless of the circumstance, had seemed much more prepared than any of us were.

"Well, we know there are cameras here and there," I told him. "Maybe Dean or Gina manage to get that information to those groups?"

Grant shook his head. "Even if they did, then what? They wouldn't have a lot of time to prepare for whatever was coming their way. There's more to it."

"So, what's the plan?"

"The plan," Grant replied, "is for us to be prepared, too. We need to get one step ahead of them."

With that, he hopped up and reached his hand out for me. He swiftly pulled me to my feet and then grabbed the backpack.

"We made a map of where we want to go, right?" he asked, rummaging through our belongings. "Now, we need to add to it."

He fished out a piece of crumbled up paper and a pencil.

"Add to it how?" I asked.

"Look at this map." He held it up for me. "If we were after someone and they were going to be walking this path that we've drawn out here, where would we attack?"

I studied the hand drawn map for a moment.

"I guess anywhere that's a good hiding spot."

"Yes!" he said excitedly. "We need to lure them in the right direction...right into a trap."

"Agreed," I said. "But, I don't know how we're going to do that."

"I think I do." Grant smiled.

I eyed him for a moment. His face wore that expression I'd come to know meant he had a clever idea, but one that would most likely push me out of my comfort zone. Way out.

"Don't look at me like that," he said. "You have that 'Grant-has-another-crazy-idea' look on your face."

I smirked. "That's because you have that 'I-have-another-crazy-idea-to-convince-Ryleigh-of' look on your face."

"It's not that crazy!" he said, trying not to laugh at my expression.

"Let's hear it," I told him.

Grant proceeded to tell me his plan. He and I would head down the same path, only he would run ahead of me, clearing the way and marking spots for us to set up traps. I'd walk alone, trailing behind him. As if that wasn't scary enough, I'd have to "pretend" to be weak and injured. Grant's thought was that if I appeared vulnerable enough, it might lure some of the other groups' members out of hiding.

He assured me that even though I wouldn't be able to see him, he'd be close by. I knew he wouldn't intentionally let anything happen to me. If was the unintentional things that worried me. The unexpected surprises or plans that might blow up in our faces that terrified me the most. We had been lucky so far; very lucky. As my confidence began to fade, reality snuck its ugly head back in to remind me that I didn't have to fake being vulnerable. I was vulnerable. We both were.

Dean and Gina's cabin was close enough that we could make it there in a short amount of time. Had this been a legitimate, real camp, the trek to their cabin would have been considered a daily walk that I could have done easily. I'd always enjoyed hiking and being out in nature. But after being malnourished, dehydrated, and mentally and physically exhausted, the walk may as well have been a marathon race.

Of course we hoped we wouldn't run into anyone at all. Not only because we wanted to avoid any physical confrontation, but because it would also allow us time to fully prepare. Using whatever we had in our backpack, we concocted different types of traps in our heads.

"I can make a snare with the last of the rope," Grant told me.

I have him an inquisitive look and he went on to explain that he knew how to make certain slip knots that would tighten around someone's ankle if they stepped into its loop. It reminded me of a Saturday morning cartoon as I listened to Grant describe it. I couldn't picture anyone getting swooped up by their ankle by a makeshift trap we would make from a rope hung over a tree branch, but Grant was adamant that it would work.

He would mark the areas for me so I wouldn't be the one to walk right into it and end up hanging upside down, swaying from the tree's limbs like a carnival prize or under-stuffed piñata.

"Where'd you learn how to make these anyway?" I asked him as he tied one.

He shrugged. "My uncle and cousins used to take me camping, hiking, hunting...I guess I learned stuff from them."

I wanted to ask him about his dad, since he hadn't mentioned him, but held back. I wasn't sure how comfortable he'd be sharing so much personal information with me. Instead, I just nodded and waited.

"That's the last of the rope," he said. "Let's hope this works."

With a deep breath, we headed out onto the path. Grant gave me one last long look before assuring me we would both be fine and then took off ahead of me. I counted to one hundred slowly in my head before following him.

It was strange being out there all by myself. It was quiet, with only the periodic chirp of a bird or soft wind interrupting my thoughts. The hot sun beat down on my head, so I tried to keep my face down with my eyes focused on my feet. It wasn't difficult to appear injured or weak; that's exactly what I was in reality. I walked at a steady, but slow, pace keeping my eyes open for Grant's secret markings on any of the trees.

Just as I began to wonder if the sweat that was forming on my brow was from worry or from the summer sun, I saw a large tree branch bent almost completely in half. It dangled down toward the dirt and I knew that was Grant's first marking for me to show I was going in the right direction. I exhaled a breath of relief and kept walking. Maybe this plan of ours would work after all.