Daphne finished the last of the M&Ms just as the rain began to fall. She shifted her place on the moss-covered rock to peer down at the man lying at the side of the trail. Fat drops hit his forehead, rolled over his eyelids and down his cheek. The rain mingled with the blood oozing out of the gash above his ear, tinting some of the forking rivers a watery pink. Daphne stretched her arms out above him, hoping to at least protect his face. Her bare hands glowed red from the cold. She rolled them into tight fists and glanced back down the trail for what must have been the hundredth time.
I wish my mom came back already. I wish I had my gloves.
They weren’t planning on being out this long. Just an easy five-mile loop hike. Daphne’s mom preferred to hike in the early months of winter, when the city crowds cleared from the mountains, yet only a dusting of snow graced the worn paths. They sang songs as they hiked—loudly, certain no one could hear them. Her mom invented terrible lyrics that made Daphne giggle. Each verse would get progressively worse. In an army cadence, she’d chant:
I hate kitties, yes I do.
Like to kick them with my shoe.
What do you do with a kitty at night?
Pour gasoline on ‘em and give ’em a light.
Daphne loved cats. She knew her mom did, too, as she had watched her hold an uncomfortable position on the couch for hours just so as not to disturb their tabby’s carefully balanced perch across her knees. So the songs were wholly hilarious.
“Daphne, you do one,” Mom had said. But Daphne had stopped laughing.
She had stopped in the middle of the trail. “There’s something,” she said.
Daphne felt the sudden force of her mother pushing her aside and watched as she raced down the trail in the direction Daphne had pointed. She had known right away that it was a man.
“Hello? Hello!” her mom had said. “Can you hear me?”
The man had groaned. His eyes flickered open. Mom pulled her cell out of her pocket and swiped her thumb across the screen.
“Shit. No signal.” She stood up, ran a few feet ahead and climbed up on a slippery stump, holding the phone high. She brought it back down. “Shit.”
The man had moaned. Daphne'’s mom clambered back down.
“We have to get help!” Daphne’s voice had felt small, as though the towering pines had pulled the strength out of her lungs, or caught her breath in the net-like witches’ hair moss that hung in curtains around them.
“Sir? Sir? I’m going to get you some help.” Daphne’s mom bent back down over the man. She touched the side of his face, examined the gash she could see.
Blood marked the rocks around his head. She slowly lifted his head and slid her hand underneath. The man moaned. She gasped. With her free hand, she pulled her scarf from her neck with one quick movement, bunched it up, and carefully pushed it under his head. When she finally pulled her hand away, it was covered in blood.
“How bad is it?” Daphne had said.
“Bad.” Her mom sat back on her heels, looked at Daphne, looked down the trail and then back at Daphne. “Look, sweetie, I have to run. We’re a good two miles from the trailhead. I have to go fast.”
“I can run too.”
The man moaned. He lifted a hand and placed it on Daphne’s mom’s foot. She bent down and grabbed it.
“You can, honey. But I'’ll go faster without you. I have to get him help right away.”
Daphne nodded, her body rigid. “Okay. I’ll stay with him.”
“That’s my good girl.” Daphne’s mom stood up, and Daphne took a seat on the moss-covered rock next to the man. She picked up the hand her mom had dropped.
The man squeezed her palm with a strength that surprised her, but he did not speak or open his eyes.
“I might not have a signal at the trailhead. I might have to drive down to the main road. Here.” Daphne’s mom slipped off her daypack and placed it on the ground in front of Daphne. “There’s a trail bar, M&Ms, and water in there. Don’t worry if it takes some time, okay? I will come back. As fast as I can. You just watch him. That’s your job, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll watch him.”
Daphne’s mom had bent down and hugged her tight, kissed her head at least ten times. Daphne had still been holding the man’s hand and could only hug back with one arm.
Her mom had gone only a few stops back down the trail when she turned and looked back. She bit her lip, stared hard. She zoomed her gaze all around, at the trees, the rocks, the trail, the man, ending again on Daphne.
“Just watch him. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Okay.” She stood there staring at her for a few more moments, then took off down the trail, faster than Daphne had ever seen her move before.
Daphne didn’t know how long her mom had been gone. A long time, for sure. Long enough for the man to fall asleep and his grip to loosen. Long enough for Daphne to eat all the M&Ms, for clouds to roll in, and for the rain to begin to fall.
I wish I had my gloves. Her arms ached as she held them out over the man. The rain soaked her sleeves, dripped from the low point and splashed even heavier, bigger drops on the man’s face. She dropped her arms and sat back on her rock, pushing her fists as deep into her jacket pockets as she could.
The rain fell straight down in streaks she could see. A vertical world, the trees, the light, the rain, all straight up and down. A silver mist rolled through the forest. She could taste it, smell it, like dirt and cold metal.
Daphne stared down at the man. So still. His boots didn’t look like hiking boots. They looked more like her grandpa’s fishing shoes, with blue rubber tops and brown soles that reminded her of her art teacher’s gummy erasers. He wore jeans, spattered with mud and quickly turning from sky blue to deep indigo as the rain soaked through. His jacket was one of those puffy kinds, black, quilted in horizontal lines that made her think of tires for some reason. So still.
Is he breathing? An icy hand clamped around Daphne’s heart, squeezed. She stared hard at the man. No movement. She bent down and placed her face close to his, so close that she could touch the tip of his nose with her tongue if she wished. She held her breath, listened.
She heard him. No, didn’t hear him. Yes, heard him. He was breathing.
Daphne sat back up on her rock, folded her arms to tuck her hands in closer to her side. The man’s hands peeked from the sleeves of his jacket, white, not red from the cold like hers. It’s like a vampire got him.
Daphne smiled to herself at the thought of vampires. We are on the peninsula, where the Cullens live. Maybe they’ll smell his blood and speed run out here.
The blood on the man’s face had turned to a sticky goo. Doesn’t look very fresh. Probably would taste bad.
Daphne shivered, overcome by her own grotesque thought. She looked back down the trail. No movement. Not a sound, except for the constant static of rain.
Strange how when you hear something loud for so long it starts to become silent.
She looked sharply at the man and bent over in a hurry to put her ear close to his mouth again. Something like a week went by before she heard a soft intake of breath.
Daphne let out a long slow breath. That was my fault. I stopped watching him. I have to keep watching him.
The man moaned. Daphne sat still. He moaned again, moved his head slightly, fell quiet. His mouth opened. She watched a tiny cloud form above his lips, vanish. If the vampires came now, maybe it would be a good thing.
She balled her fists again, shoved them back into her pockets. I wish I had my gloves. Instinctively, she moved her head to look back down the trail, but stopped herself.
Her eyes frantically searched the man’s face, caught another puff cloud forming and dissolving. That was close. I have to try harder. That’s what’s wrong with me. I can’t pay attention. I have to pay attention.
Daphne focused all her energy into staring at the man. The intensity of her gaze so strong, it felt to her as if an invisible laser ran from her eyes to his face, a tractor beam. She fought the urge to blink, then blinked several times in succession. It’s okay if I blink fast. She counted to ten and then blinked. Counted to ten and then blinked. Then she forgot to think about blinking and instead studied the shape of his nose, noticed the small pores that covered every inch of skin. Some not so small. Her brow wrinkled. She reached up to touch her own nose. It felt smooth. She went back to counting the time between blinks. She did not look down the trail.
I am doing a good job.
The woods darkened around Daphne and the man. She was certain her mom hadn’t meant to be gone this long. The rain still fell, but so softly, the vertical streaks gone. Her stomach rumbled. Shivers ran up and down her body at regular intervals. Daphne kept her eyes on the man. She did not look down the trail.
Daphne organized all her thoughts into one steady chant, momcomeback, momcomeback, momcomeback. Perhaps she would hear her. Perhaps she would hurry, tell the rescue people to hurry.
It was getting hard to make out the man’s face, but still she kept staring at the shape before her. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, dripped down her face. Momcomeback.
The man breathed out with a sigh, like the sound of the air escaping from a balloon. Daphne froze. She bore into his chest with her tractor beam gaze. The man lay perfectly still. A minute ticked by. He took another deep breath. Then another. Her shoulders relaxed.
She did not cry. She did not glance down the trail. She kept her eyes on the man, even when the pounding steps sounded on the trail behind her and flashlight beams reached around her slumped shape to once again illuminate the man in her gaze.
Men fell in around her, lights bouncing off the reflective patches of their jackets. The forest filled with the clamor of their voices. Hands grabbed her from behind, pulled her. She twisted and wrought free of the grasp. Keeping the man in sight until finally he was strapped onto a board.
“You can stand back now, girl. He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.”
Another voice, further away, one she knew, called out her name, and finally she turned away.
Later, at the trailhead, Daphne curled in her mom’s lap, covered in blankets. Perfectly quiet, they watched as the rescue workers loaded gear back into their trucks.
One man with a dark black beard approached them. “I heard from the pilot. He made it to Madison fine and is getting care right now.” He looked straight into Daphne’s mother’s eyes. “You saved his life, ma’am.” The man smiled and walked away.
Daphne thought of the man, tried to imagine him in a bright lit hospital with doctors all around. Saw his face. His eyes were open.
No. It was me.
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Story Three: Cleanse to be posted soon!
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