Zach lifts his pant leg up and winces. It’s a ghastly sight, with his entire sock saturated in blood and a few small beads of red dripping down his shoe.
“Oh, wow. That looks worse than I thought.” I grab some medical supplies from my backpack.
The gash is deep and wraps around much of his ankle. As I remove the blood-soaked sock, Zach lets out a little yelp. But he puts his hand over his mouth to muffle any further noises.
Seeing him in pain is making my heart a little achy.Wow. I forgot what it was like to care for somebody. To open myself up. All I want to do is wrap him in my arms and protect him from harm. It hurts to see him like this.
I use a little of our limited water supply to wash out the wound, then wrap some gauze around it, which immediately starts turning red. I wrap it with an ace bandage to encourage clotting.
Zach sucks air in through clenched teeth. “It’s okay. I can take it. Make it tight.”
We only rest for a few more minutes. I hand Zach a protein bar and take one for myself as well. “We’ll need the energy.”
The trail gets steep again as we approach the second plateau. It takes nearly an hour to get to the top. Once there, the sun has risen, and we’re met with golden, rolling hills as far as the eye can see. Dried patches of sagebrush cover the landscape, and snowcapped mountains line the horizon.
The dirt trail we’re on cuts through the landscape. Before the Great Collapse, this would have been a great mountain biking trail. But it doesn’t appear as if anyone has been on it for months. The wind has blown away all the footprints and tire tracks long ago.
I turn to Zach to see how he’s doing. He looks okay but still has a visible limp on his left side. “How’s the leg feeling?”
“Better since we cleaned it up. But it still stings a bit.”
“In a few miles, we can look for a place to stop and take a long rest.”
“Sounds good. What trail are we on?”
I grab the map from the backpack. “It’s called the Palouse to Cascades Trail. It runs across most of Washington State.”
I show Zach the map, pointing to where we are. “I’m thinking we’re going to have to stay on it for a while. It meets up with I-90 in about twenty miles. We can try to find a car again, but we’ve lost the jump starter.”
Zach nods and lets out a sigh.
We’ve been hiking for about an hour when we come to a small stream that cuts right into the arid landscape. I’m guessing it’s only seasonal and stops flowing after the spring runoff. But fortune is smiling on us.
A small grove of dried-out trees and sagebrush provide some shade and cover. We’re both exhausted, so we take an extended rest and set up camp. We even risk a small fire. With it, I boil some water for a more thorough cleaning of Zach’s cut.
He sits, propped up by his arms with his feet forward, while I tend to the wound. The bleeding has stopped. There’s some dirt ground into the wound, and I wash it out with warm water. Zach winces in pain as I scrub. The edges of the cut are red and puffy. I try to be gentle so it doesn’t hurt too much.
Once we set up camp and have a bite to eat, Zach and I sit under the shade of the tree. This is the right time to clear the air.
“Zach, I want to talk about last night. About leaving you.”
Zach’s shoulders slump, but he says nothing.
“It was an important moment for me. And I need you to understand it.”
He nods and lets out a sigh. “Okay.”
“When I left, I did it because I thought I was protecting you. But the farther I got, the worse it felt. Every step got harder than the next. I couldn’t leave you. I turned back to the camp to rip up that note. Tell you how I feel. But then I saw headlights headed your way. I started sprinting back, but when I got there, you were gone.”
“When I realized you had left me, I was devastated.” Zach chokes out the words. “I didn’t understand.”
“I’m so sorry for putting you through that, Zach.” My voice croaks, and my eyes get glossy. “When Marcus died, I shut down my emotions. Since then, I’ve let no one in. But Idohave feelings for you. That’s what I realized last night as I was walking away. I was doing it to protectmyself, not you. So I wouldn’t have to face those feelings. To not be afraid of losing someone again. Of losingyou.” A tear streaks down my cheek. “I like you, Zach. A lot. And I’m sorry I left you. I hope you can forgive me.”
“I like you too.” A smile cracks through Zach’s sad face. “Hearing you say all that helps. But it’ll take some time. And you have to promise me one thing.”
“Name it.”
“Trying to protect me came from a good place. But next time you make a big decision like that, you need to include me in it. You need to trust me. Okay?”
