“Yeah,” you say. “It was tucked away. But Diana found it last night.”
Fran gives you a strange look for a second, her brows nearly forming a triangle. Then her eyes go back to the map, taking in the mottled surface and scanning a finger across the lakes. Within seconds, she has found your island in a body of water called Long Gull Lake. Then she leaves to grab her compass and a small twig dipped in mud. When she returns, she’s lining up the base plate of her compass on the map and drawing a line to your potential destination with the mud.
Troy and Diana wander out of their tents as Fran works, yawning and hunting for something to eat. They notice her and gather around, watching her position the compass. She uses the ruler on the side to measure the distance to the dot in centimeters. Then she finds the map’s legend and converts the centimeters to miles. How she knows this basic map skill, you have no idea. From there, she zeros out the compass and adjusts it for declination. Then she lifts it from the map and aims it in the right direction like a magic wand.
No one has spoken for what feels like minutes, and you could probably wait hours if you had to. Fran is the only one with answers here. But she doesn’t keep you in suspense for long. Soon enough, she turns to all of you and holds up the map.
“Okay, party people,” she says in a monotone. “Here is the situation as I see it.”
Will immediately falls to the ground and starts doing push-ups.
“Will, what in the actual hell?” she says.
“This helps me focus!” he says. “Go on!”
Fran looks away from his rapid movements and puts her finger back on the red dot.
“Assuming this dot is the drop,” she says. “Which I hope to God it is. We have about eighteen miles to travel today. And that’s if we don’t take the trail but just go in a straight line, bushwhacking.”
“Bushwhacking?!” says Diana. “Who are you?”
Fran does not stop for this interruption.
“I doubt we’ve ever made it more than ten miles in a day, but I’m not sure I know where we started, so it’s all just a guess. Anyway, there’s also some water involved in this trip and paddling is faster than walking, so that helps a little.”
Will’s movements are getting quicker, and his face is bright red.
“Just tell us if we’re going to make it,” he says, panting. “Is there even a chance?”
Fran scrunches her nose.
“A slim one,” she says.
Will pops up next to you, breathing hard and cracking his knuckles.
“Okay, then. So what are we waiting for?”
“Well,” says Fran, drawing you in closer. “There’s just one more thing.”
You all huddle in a tight circle around the map.
“If the drop is actually here,” she says, landing on the red spot again, “and we take the water as far as we can, then we have to contend withthis.”
You lean in and squint at where she’s pointing. Most of the map is made up of lakes, a long chain of them that lets you hopfrom one to the next with the help of small portages. But near the red dot, there appears to be a river cutting through the path, and not just a river, but one that bends in an odd way. It’s almost a full circle that leads directly to your destination.
“What do you think it is?” says Troy.
You feel a shooting pain from the back of your head. You wince, and the answer arrives in the midst of the ache.
“That’s it,” you say. “It has to be.”
“Don’t say it,” says Troy.
“The Devil’s Loop,” says Diana.
“It’s not labeled on here,” says Fran. “But I mean…”
Everyone looks at the little squiggly blue line. It’s almost like a question mark punctuating the end of your route. Each of you is probably picturing some unique horror. Something that terrifies only you. For you, of course, it’s heights. A cliff to jump. A mountain to climb. You close your eyes and see the view from the top of the highest cliff at the quarry—the way the water below looked so far away, it seemed like an optical illusion. You feel your heartbeat starting to pound.
