The Distance Between Lost and Found by Kathryn Holmes Read Free Book Online

surreal, with Rachel sitting in the dirt in the middle of the trail and Jonah leaning back against a tree and the afternoon sunlight coming in at strange angles. If another hiker were to come along, if someone were to take a picture of this moment, they’d probably assume: friends. Since childhood. Easy together.
    But since no one appears with a camera to document it, the moment passes.
    Jonah says, “We should be close now. We’ve been hiking long enough.”
    â€œGood,” Hallelujah says. “Let’s get this over with.” The rest of the hike. Whatever punishment awaits them at the lodge. And after. She’s ready to face it. At the same time, she doesn’t mean that she wants this day to end. Not entirely.
    She helps Rachel to her feet. Their eyes meet, and Rachel nods, and Hallelujah knows she is forgiven. She doesn’t know why, but an olive branch has been offered. She’s grateful for it.
    They walk. Up small hills and down others, along straight trail and winding curves, over roots and through soft dirt and under low-hanging tree boughs.
    The light changes.
    As the light changes, so does the mood. Their silence goes from comfortable to tense, charged. Their breath comes in puffs. Their feet hit the ground, heavy.
    Hallelujah thinks, but does not say, We should be there. We should have been there an hour ago . She’s afraid to say it. Afraid saying it will make it real.
    They walk faster, the sun slipping away from them. There’s a sense of urgency now. They all feel it. They all create it.
    No one will say it.
    Not until they reach the top of a ridge and look out over a valley and see the sun dropping closer to the mountaintops. Jonah squints into the light, drops his pack off his back and says, simply, “We screwed up.”
    Rachel nods, looking miserable. “No kidding. I’m sorry.” Small words, but Hallelujah is glad to hear them from the person who insisted they take this trail.
    Hallelujah sits down, suddenly exhausted. She slides her backpack off her back, rolling her shoulders to work out the kinks. She’s got two sweat-stripes where the straps sat. “How long do you think we have before the sun sets?” she asks, trying to sound less anxious than she feels.
    Jonah looks at his watch, worry creasing his face. “I don’t think we’ll make it back before dark. Either of you two bring a flashlight? All I have is this.” He flashes the blue light on his watch screen.
    Hallelujah shakes her head. Rachel shakes her head. They were supposed to be back in the vans by now.
    â€œWhat do we do?” Rachel asks.
    â€œWe shouldn’t keep walking after sunset,” Jonah says. “Too dangerous. Who knows where we’d end up. I’d say our best bet is to start back, and when the sun goes down we find a place to camp for the night.” He looks from Hallelujah to Rachel. “At this point, they know we’re gone. So they’re already looking for us. We might not even have to spend the whole night out here.”
    â€œRight. And we have some food,” Hallelujah says. “Enough for tonight and tomorrow morning. I mean, we won’t starve.” She heaves herself to her feet. “I think there was a clearing, not too far back. Just off the trail. Maybe we can sleep there.”
    â€œGood, Hallie.” Jonah nods.
    They backtrack about half an hour. Hallelujah wishes they could just keep backtracking, rewind the film. She wishes she’d been louder at the crossroads, pushed her opinion, made herself heard. But she isn’t used to making people listen to her, or even wanting to, and if she’s honest with herself, she wasn’t 100 percent sure she was right. And then she would have been the one leading them astray, not Rachel.
    Rachel, who pulled them away from the group in the first place. Rachel, who picked the wrong path. Rachel, who—
    Hallelujah forces herself to stop. Blaming