I was definitely right about one thing––the journey is not an easy one. Within the first ten minutes, my legs, arms, and overall body are beginning to give out. Our pace has definitely slowed down, and the rough forest terrain certainly isn't helping this journey along. It was much easier walking in daylight, than hauling a wheelbarrow by night.
Chuck has been holding the flashlight forward for me, so I can see some of the roots, stones and crevasses in our path ahead. However, the strain from this constant force I have to exert is blurring my vision anyway, leaving me to mostly only see light, and not what it is supposed to let me see.
By now, it's 2:45 am and we haven't made it very far. Even in darkness, I know the proximity and distance of these woods, from our house to the distant road I laid eyes on when Alexa went missing. I'm going to be at this for a while.
And that's only making it to the first road. Who knows how far the nearest hospital is?
As my tired body keeps pushing, I try to think of a story. I'm realizing that I may need to include some of my past information, such as an address, in answering questions. I'll have to lie and say that we're twins, or something. The problem is, we look nothing alike. His thick black hair and piercing grey eyes are something only his relatives would possess. We unfortunately know that to be true.
With each little bump, I can hear soft moans coming from Chuck. I didn't even think about how much they must hurt.
"How are you doing Chuck?", I gasp. "You okay?" He doesn't answer me. Through my blurred vision, I begin to notice that the flashlight is flickering. Oh no. The battery is dying. We've used the flashlight out here, but gone through the batteries. The last ones I have left are here, in the flashlight now. Now, we're about to lose our one guiding source of light.
Chuck lowers the flashlight, changing the direction of its aim closer to the ground.
"Chuck, I know it's hard, but please. Show me the light! It's about to die, we need all that we can get!" The light then shuts off. Oh no. "Did you turn it off?", I ask naively. I know he didn't. Sure enough, Chuck weakly shakes his head no.
At this point, I'm near tears. This journey was already near-impossible to begin with, and now our odds of making it––let alone on time, are diminishing. I shake my head and slap myself. Come on, Candice. Pull it together. You can make it. With a mighty heave, I continue to push the wheelbarrow, slowly but surely.
"We're going to make it, Chuck. We're going to be okay after all," I tell him. I don't believe it to be true anymore. It would take a miracle. I do my best, however, to ignore the sense of impending doom, and keep the guilt out of my struggling mind. I need to try.
"Candice," he says weakly. "Candice!", he hollers, weakly but louder. "Stop." He coughs once more. I purposefully ignore him.
"No, Chuck! We're going to get you there! We're almost there! We've made it this far! I'm not stopping!"
"Candice, it's......it's not use. Simply getting out of bed almost....almost killed me. It took me.....practically an hour to get to the couch on my own." No, no, no. I can't stop. This isn't real.
"Chuck, I'm not stopping!"
"Candice, please!", he begs, straining his voice. "Please," he continues. "There's no point. I'm already beyond repair. I'm....a dead man walking, except I can't even walk!" He's as weak as I've ever heard him sound. Giving into my negative spiral of thought, I stop the wheelbarrow. I get down on my knees and rest my head, practically about to sob. I can't, though. I need to be strong. "We're not going to make it," he utters quietly. Another cough erupts from him. At this point, his coughs are louder than any speech he utters through his damaged, raspy voice.
Silently, I allow myself to tear up, where he can't see me. I don't say a word for a few minutes, simply letting myself cry. How can this have happened? I've failed him. I check my watch, which shows 3:10. We've been at this for almost an hour. On foot, alone, I would've reached at least the road by now.
Surely, we could still make it. Yeah, we must not be that far from the first road, since we've travelled this far. Once we make it to the road, I can push Chuck much more easily, it'll be a flatter surface. Who knows. Someone could come along, then we'll call 911, and......
I stop my wishful thinking. It's no use. I'm too late.
"What can I do?" I ask him. "What can I do for you? I've already failed you, and-"
"No Candice, you didn't fail me. It was already too late," he gasps, "but..."
"Yes?", I ask, perking up.
"Could you....could you lift me out of this wheelbarrow, please? It's uncomfortable." I stand up immediately.
"Yes," I say, wiping my tears. "I can do that for you, of course." With a final gathering of the strength I have left, I grab Chuck and start to lift him out. He clings onto me, weighing me down, but I resist it.
I end up falling to the ground, with Chuck lying on top of me. I try to catch my breath and adjust myself, only to hear moans of pain coming from him. That must've hurt.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. I finally manage to sit up, and pull Chuck between my legs, propping him up and leaning him against me. "What can I do now?", I ask, choking up.
"Nothing," he replies faintly, "just.....stay with me, here. Please."
"Of course," I reply. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here with you." As tears stream down my face, I begin to softly stroke his thick, black hair.
"Mmmm yeah, keep doing that," he tells me. "That feels...nice." He coughs yet again, leaving a trace of splattered blood on his mouth. I wipe it gently for him with the sleeve of my sweater. "Thanks."
|||
For the next hour, we continue to sit like this, with me stroking Chuck's hair and talking a little bit. I've lost the feeling in my legs entirely, with his weight on them, but I don't care. I'm not moving.
"Listen, Candice," says Chuck.
"Yes?"
"I want you to know that you did everything you could for me, and.....if you were out in the real world," he utters slowly, "you'd make an amazing doctor." That last sentence feels like a knife to the heart, plunging itself violently into me. I might as well be bleeding out right now.
"I'll tell you a secret," I say. I can at least relieve my conscience a little bit now. "I had always wanted to be one, a real one, but I had to give that up when I knew I was going to stay here." I pause. "I never told anyone, because I didn't want anyone to think I was ungrateful to be here, or that I wanted to be in the real world instead. But...." I stop again, letting more tears fall down my face. "I failed with Evie. And now, I've failed with you. I don't know if I could live with going through this kind of failure again. I'd want to do anything I can to prevent it."
"It wasn't....your fault, Candice," says Chuck. "It wasn't anyone's fault. I don't blame anyone for this. It could've happened to anyone. What would you have done if....it had happened to you?" I pause to think on that.
"I have no idea, to be honest," I reply. "I had never even thought about that, because I was so focused on you. If it were anyone else, I would've done the same thing. I don't why I was the only one who was willing to do this for you. Nobody left behind, right?" I feel myself spiralling a little bit. I don't think I mean these things entirely, about the others. Chuck coughs.
"It's not that, Candice," he says. His speech continues to get slower, more strained. "They had risks, ones we didn't have. They still care." I sigh, feeling ashamed.
"I know. I just wish things weren't this way. You're making the ultimate sacrifice because of it."
"Well....." he continues, "I don't regret a single thing. I don't regret coming here, or meeting any of you. Who knows what life I would've had out there." He's practically whispering at this point.
"I'm sorry, Chuck. Please forgive me," I cry.
"I do. I never needed to forgive you all. You're my family."
"I love you," I tell him, leaning in. "We all love you."
"I love you too," he replies. "All of you."
The next little while continues to be silent. It's now almost 5:30 and the sky is beginning to lighten. I think it's almost sunrise. The birds are chirping around us, and the air is cool and fresh, while a slight morning fog begins to form. Despite the ground being wet and cold, I don't want to move.
I persist with stroking his hair, despite my wrist and hands growing tired. I refuse to let my mind be consumed in this reality, of where we are right now. I try to let myself zone out, while also trying to preserve every moment I have with him right now. I can't even begin to let myself realize that I am the last person he will see, and that everyone else won't see him again.
Oh no. They have no idea of what's happening out here. I wonder if any of them have woken up, if Hayden has noticed an empty bed beside him, and....no, don't let yourself go there. Chuck begins to strain, as if he wants to say something.
"Hey," he croaks. "I'll be with my mom soon." I quietly sob as he utters that. "I've really missed her."
"Yeah, that's true," I cry. "You must've missed her."
"Yeah," he whispers. "I'll be with family."
"Yes you will," I croak out, physically unable to say more.
"Well, I've been with family here for a long time. I guess, then.....I'm going from one family to another."
"That's true," I say, almost smiling. He pauses for another moment.
"It's really peaceful out here," he says quietly. "It's beautiful. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." He takes another deep breath. I notice the streak of a tear on his face. "I'm getting really tired. I just want to rest." I know what that means. I need to let him go.
"You can rest," I tell him, collecting myself. "You can rest now. You're free."
"Thank you," he says. "I guess I am now."
We don't say anything else. I'm not crying anymore, rather numb. Part of me isn't accepting reality. I'm simply focusing on the beauty surrounding me, of nature, the sunrise, and the animals scurrying about in trees. I look up at the sky, it really is beautiful.
Chuck's breathing gradually gets quieter, and his heart rate slows, until a moment comes when I can no longer hear it, or feel it. I snap back into the moment, instinctively grabbing his wrist to try and feel his pulse. There's nothing. I stop stroking his hair, as he can't feel it anymore. Checking my watch, I sigh and announce, only to myself.
"Time of death, 5:43 am," I say.
I finally remove myself from under Chuck, letting blood recirculate to my legs. I take a few steps around, before circling back to Chuck. His eyes are closed, thankfully. His face is pale, with dark bags under his eyes.
Even looking at his dead body now, I can't bring myself to cry––at least not right now. I've become numb, hollow. I'm not going to let myself accept this just yet. Not until I make it back home.
Instead, I lie on the ground and stare up at the sky. Ironically, this has been one of the most beautiful mornings I've ever remembered out here––fresh, humid, not too cold, almost sanctuary-like. However, I have nothing left to feel inside me to even begin to really appreciate it.
I close my eyes, hoping for this to all go away. I dig my hands and burrow my head into the soft, muddy ground beneath me to feel the coolness of it on my skin. I then glance to my right, to see some white and pink flowers, geraniums I believe. I haven't seen any in ages.
I then get up from the ground and pick some of the geraniums, assembling a bouquet. I then take off my sweater, despite the morning chill, and place it down.
I pick up Chuck, carefully lifting him into the wheelbarrow, despite my already-shaking and agonized muscles. Picking up my sweater, I carefully wrap it around his head and top half of his torso, almost to preserve him.
"I need to go back," I whisper to myself. "I know I do." After lots of reluctance, I finally bring myself to turn the wheelbarrow back around, facing home, and start walking back.
|||
I've been much slower on the journey back. I suppose with no time constraint this time, as well as dreading the thought of telling the others what has happened, I have much less of a purpose to walk quickly. Besides, I'm exhausted, since I haven't slept all night. I'm trying everything I can to not realize the reality of what I'm doing––pushing my friend's body back home in a wheelbarrow, back to the people who don't even know that he's gone.
|||
At around 7:30 in the morning, I make it back near the cliff. The sun is entirely up in the sky now, leaving me in the cold light of day. I stop moving the wheelbarrow, leaving it at the top of the cliff. I then remove Chuck from it, leaving him on the ground. I place the flowers next to him and leave his face covered before walking down towards the house.
I finally make my way inside, shutting the door and staring blankly at my surroundings. The house already doesn't feel the same. I lean against the door and sit on the floor, still noticing myself staring into space like a zombie. I don't want to stop though. I can't.
Will is the first one to open his bedroom door, and it doesn't take him long to notice that I'm on the floor.
"Candice?", he asks. "What's wrong? Where have you been?" He walks over to me and sits next to me. "Candice!" he repeats, more insistently. Suddenly, Alexa comes out too.
"What's going on?", she asks. I still don't answer. I physically feel as though I can't speak. I remain staring blankly. I have nothing left inside me, but pain.
"Candice won't answer me! Candice! What's wrong!", he asks. There's a panic in his voice now.
As if things couldn't get worse, a final door opens, revealing Hayden with a worried look on his face. He then asks the question I've been dreading to hear for the last several hours.
"Where's Chuck?", he asks.
At this point, my breathing becomes short, and I start to hyperventilate. I can feel myself crying again. Will grabs my hands, as he's starting to freak out as well.
"Candice, what's happened?", he asks. I look up at Alexa, who hasn't said a word. Her face is blank with worry. I have a feeling of what she'll do next. I slowly inch away from the door. Sure enough, the second I'm out of the way, she bolts out of it, passing me. Hayden is right behind her.
"Chuck!", she calls out.
"Chuck!", yells Hayden. I hear their frantic footsteps continue for another few seconds, before they start to make their way up the hill. Oh no.
"Candice, what happened?", asks Will, as he begins to cry.
As he asks, an agonizing scream comes from Alexa, followed by Hayden. They've found him.
Will leaves me alone in the house, as he races out as well. I can hear an echo of outbursts coming from them––of horrific cries, yelling and pain.
Eventually, I can't take it anymore. I get up off the ground once again and slowly head outside. I dreadfully walk up the hill, to see everyone else crouched beside him.
"What happened?", cries Alexa, staring at me. "Why is he here? How did he...." She then stops, and realizes why he's where he is, and not in bed. "You tried to take him, didn't you?" Reluctantly, I nod yes, as I continue to cry silently. Alexa takes a few steps towards me. At this point, I'm almost scared of what she will do, or say.
To my surprise, she wraps her arms around me. I return the gesture after a moment of surprise.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," I whisper. "I tried to take him, but I was too late, and I-"
"It's not your fault," she replies, to my relief. "We should've let him go sooner."
"We didn't know this was going to happen. Don't blame yourself." Hayden and Will eventually wrap their arms around us. For a long time, none of us say a word. We remain silent in our ecosystem of pain and anguish.
|||
Later in the day, Will starts to dig a hole near the top of the cliff, while Hayden chops a piece of log in half. Alexa whittles the exposed side of it, spelling CHUCK on it. I, on the other hand, haven't been able to move. Luckily, even though I betrayed them, I was allowed to skip out on any funeral preparations.
I've been lying in bed for the past few hours, numb and unable to move. My body is still physically recovering, as it sometimes feels as though I'm pushing the wheelbarrow. Despite my exhaustion, I still can't fall asleep. I'm brought back to the dark forest, with the numbing sensation in my legs and running my fingers through Chuck's hair.
I suddenly hear a knock on the door, almost startling me.
"Candice?" It's Will. I don't answer him. He opens the door slowly, peering in to see me. His aura reminds me of how he's been in the worst of times––fearful, broken, and sad. I know I'm not far off of that right now, to say the least. "We're ready for him," he tells me, barely letting the words come up as he chokes up. I nod sadly.
"Will, I'm really sorry," I tell him. "I'm sorry I went behind your back." At the end of the day, I'm more sorry that I didn't do it sooner. But I'm realizing that the only people I have in the world would feel betrayed by that, so I'd need to make amends.
"Don't be," he replies, "don't even think about that right now. You just went through something horrific."
"We all did. This isn't just about me." Will wraps an arm around me.
"Well we......" he begins, before pausing, "we didn't have to bring our friend across a forest in a wheelbarrow, then watch him die. You did the hardest part." I lean on him once again, before sobbing without a sound.
We remain in silence together, simply sniffling for a while, almost fifteen minutes. Finally, I remember why he came to find me in the first place.
"I'm ready," I tell him. "I have a few ideas, though." I get up, and head to Alexa's––well, Alexa and Evie's room. Opening the top drawer, I pull out Evie's pink sweater. I then grab Chuck's pillow from his and Hayden's room. "These can be a few things to go in with him," I tell him. Will looks at each of them, before nodding.
"That'll be nice," he says softly.
"And wait....we need one more thing." I open Chuck and Hayden's closet, pulling out an old blanket, one that hasn't been used in ages. "Now we're ready."
We head to the top of the hill, where Hayden is holding the shovel. Chuck still hasn't been lowered into the ground. Luckily, that's what the blanket is for. I toss the pillow in first, where he'd face the house. Hayden lifts him onto the blanket, before uncovering his face.
Chuck actually looks a little more peaceful now, which brings a calm to my heart.
"We'll lower him in on three," I say. Everyone nods silently, each of us grabbing a corner. "One...two....." I pause, letting the birds chip in silence for a moment. "Three."
We all carefully lower him in, sure to not drop him. As he touches the ground, his head gracefully sinks into the pillow. Hayden takes Evie's sweater, sniffing it softly, before lowering it in by his arm. Alexa lowers the flowers I picked, after seeming to have added some of her own.
"Goodbye Chuck," says Alexa, kneeling to the ground in tears. Hayden, while just as choked up, readies the shovel. "Do it," she tells him. "There's no point in holding it off any longer." We all silently cry as Hayden begins to shovel the dirt back into the hole. As he patches the ground, we place the half log, which Alexa whittled Chuck's name onto, and place it down in the ground. The silence persists, as we are all at a loss for words.
We have all the time in the world to say the words we wish. At least, it seems as though we have all the time in the world. Anything could change in an instant. That's been proven to us many times out here, whether it be the scratch of a bear, the fire of a bullet, or the shatter of ice.
It all makes me question, now more than ever, how much time I actually have left out here.