still intact. I tip the pack upside down to empty it, but there is not much left in it. Stuff must have fallen out.
âIâm going to have to straighten your foot.â My stomach flip-flops.
He says, âYou? No way.â
âYou canât do it yourself.â I look at his foot. Itâs grotesque the way it hangs off his lower leg. âYou have a better idea, Einstein?â
He eyes his mangled foot and shakes his head. No.
I set my hands on each side of his ankle. He winces. I say, âDonât be such a wuss. On the count of three.â
He sighs. âOne,â he counts. âTwo.â
I close my eyes and pull.
He screams. I scream. When I open my eyes, I see the foot is more or less where itâs supposed to be.
He swears and wipes tears from his face.
I slip the empty pack over his foot. The toe of his boot sticks out through the rip in the outside fabric. I fold the pack around his leg, using the internal frame as a brace. Then I crisscross the straps of the pack across his leg and pull them tight.
He holds his hand out, like he wants me to help him up.
I say, âYou canât walk on that.â
He gives me the âyouâre an idiotâ look.
âFine,â I say and haul him to his feet.
He gasps, and the color drains out of his face. He grabs my shoulders to balance himself as he takes the weight off his broken ankle.
Between clenched teeth, he says, âSit me down.â
I ease him to the ground. Heâs panting, and sweat beads on his forehead. He swears, spits and swears again. âYouâll have to carry me.â
I could, but for how long? Iâm not sure Iâm strong enough to make it myself, never mind carrying Tej too.
I say, âI canât carry you. It will be faster if I go alone.â
I look at the blood drying on his face and the pathetic job I did bracing his ankle. Heâs as good as dead, and anything dead is food for a bear.
As if he can read my mind, Tej says, âWhat if the bears come?â
I hope my voice sounds more sure than I feel. âWeâll build a fire. They wonât come near a fire.â
He brushes away more tears. âYouâll get lost.â
Probably. I swallow down on my fear. âNo, I wonât.â
He is pale and shivering. He holds his ankle and I can see the pain shooting across his face. He says, âThen the bears will get you.â
I kneel down in front of him. âI have to leave you. Iâll run. Iâll be back before it gets dark, I promise.â
He turns his head away from me. He doesnât believe me. Why should he? I look up at the sky. Itâs late, only a couple of hours of daylight left. And dark clouds line the horizon. What if I canât find the quarry?
What if the bears come after me?
I rummage through the spilled contents of Tejâs pack.
âIf youâre looking for matches,â he points to the scree slope, âtheyâre probably somewhere up there under nine feet of rocks.â
But I find the matches. I open the packetâthere are two left.
He snorts. âTwo matches? Good luck.â
I say, âWe can die together, right here, tonight, or I can try to get us out. But this time we have to do it my way, Tej.â
He puts his head down between his knees. He looks so small sitting there. Maybe I should carry him. At least weâd be together.
He speaks without lifting his head. âBuild me a fire. Then get the hell out of here.â
Chapter Fourteen
Between the sound of the water gurgling in the creek and the sound of my own breath panting in my ears, I canât hear anything else. I donât want to, actually. If that sow grizzly is hunting me down, I donât want to know. Iâd rather die in blissful ignorance. Under my jacket, my shirt back is wet with sweat. Iâm running in the creek because the tangle of undergrowth along the sides slows me down. My pant legs are soaked to the