I Crossed the River to Escape Them

 I Crossed the River to Escape Them

I keep walking. The sun warms the back of my neck. Sam breathes heavily against my shoulder. He’s awake, but quiet.

“Dad.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m thirsty.”

“I know. We’ll stop soon.”

Emma walks behind me. I hear her breathing, broken and uneven, dragging her injured foot.

The forest closes in around us. The trees grow taller. Their canopies block the sun. The light turns green, fragmented.

“Jack.” Emma’s voice is tight.

“What is it?”

“There’s something on the ground.”

I stop. I look down.

Footprints. Deep. Fresh.

“Bear?” Emma asks.

“No. Boots.”

I follow them with my eyes. They disappear between the trees to the west.

“They’re recent,” I say.

“Are they circling us?”

“I don’t know.”

I shift Sam to my other arm. My shoulder hurts. My fingers are starting to go numb.

“What do we do?” Emma asks.

“Keep straight. Don’t deviate.”

“And if they’re waiting up ahead?”

“Then we’ll face them when the time comes.”

It sounds harsh. But I don’t have another answer.

We keep walking. The tracks move away. But the air feels different. Like the forest is holding its breath.

Sam squirms.

“Put me down, Dad. I want to walk.”

“We’re close. We’ll stop soon.”

“But I want to walk.”

“No.”

“Put me down.”

“Sam, enough.”

He goes quiet. But I can feel the tension in his body. His stubbornness. He inherited it from his mother.

Emma comes closer.

“Let him walk a little. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“His ankle...”

“For a few minutes. He needs to move.”

I think about it. The trail is straight. I can see about twenty meters ahead. No movement.

“Fine. But stay close. Don’t wander off.”

I set Sam down. His feet touch the ground. He stretches. Walks a few steps. He looks smaller now that he’s standing.

“Where are we going, Dad?”

“Across the border. To a safe place.”

“Will there be toys there?”

“We’ll get you new toys.”

“Like the ones I had before?”

“Better ones.”

He smiles. Runs a few steps ahead. Crouches to pick up a branch.

Emma walks beside me.

“He’s okay,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“We’re okay.”

“For now.”

“Jack.”

“What?”

I look into her eyes. They’re tired. But there’s something steady in them.

“We’re going to make it,” she says.

“I know.”

“You don’t sound like you do.”

“I do. It’s just that...”

“What?”

“I don’t know what’s on the other side. I don’t know if that place really exists.”

“Thomas said it does.”

“Thomas is an old man living alone in the woods. He could be wrong.”

“But he could also be right.”

“I hope so.”

Sam comes running back. A branch in his hand. He uses it like a sword.

“I beat you, Dad!”

“Of course you did.”

“Is it still far?”

“A little more.”

“Will you carry me again?”

“You’re already tired?”

“Yes.”

I crouch and lift him. Heavy. But I don’t let him go.

We keep going.

The trail climbs. The ground gets rockier. Loose stones. Roots jutting out.

Emma limps more.

“Do you need to rest?” I ask.

“Not yet.”

“When you want.”

“I know.”

We walk in silence. The sun filters through the trees. Warm. But not warm enough.

An hour more. Maybe two.

The forest changes. The pines give way to birches. White bark shines in the light.

“Pretty,” Emma says.

“Yeah.”

“It reminds me of somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t remember. Just a feeling. Like I’ve been here before.”

“Maybe you have.”

“No. It was on another trip. When I was little. My parents took me to a lake. There were trees like this.”

“Where?”

“In Minnesota. Near the border.”

“Maybe we’ll go back there.”

“Maybe.”

The sound of water. Faint. At first I’m not sure. But then I recognize it.

“You hear that?” I say.

“Yes.”

“A river.”

“Is it on the map?”

“I don’t know. Thomas didn’t mention a river.”

“Maybe it’s a big creek.”

“Maybe.”

We follow the sound. The trail bends left. Then right.

The water appears between the trees. A river. Wide. About ten meters across. The current is fast. Clear.

“We have to cross,” Emma says.

“There’s no bridge.”

“We ford it?”

“The water looks cold. And fast.”

“There’s no other choice.”

I look at Sam. He’s asleep again. Breathing softly.

“It could be dangerous.”

“Jack. We don’t have time to look for another way.”

She’s right. Behind us, the forest stretches on. Somewhere out there, the engines. The men. The dogs.

“All right. We cross.”

I look for a place where the river widens. Where the current is weaker. About thirty meters upstream. The water spreads out there. It looks shallower.

“There,” I say.

We walk to that spot. I sit on a rock. Untie my boots. Hang them around my neck. The laces knotted.

Emma does the same.

“Should I wake Sam?” she asks.

“No. I’ll carry him.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

I step into the water. The cold hits my ankles, then my knees. A shiver runs through me.

Sam stirs. But doesn’t wake.

“You okay?” Emma asks.

“Yeah. The water’s cold.”

“I can see that.”

She steps in behind me. She gasps when the water reaches her knees.

“It hurts,” she says.

“Your ankle.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you do it?”

“I have to.”

I move forward. The water reaches my waist. Sam is wet up to his back. But he stays asleep.

The current pulls at me. Hard. But I manage to keep my balance.

The stones on the bottom are slippery. I move slowly. One step. Another.

Behind me, Emma breathes hard.

“You okay?” I ask without turning.

“Still going.”

I reach the opposite bank. Climb out of the water. Drops fall from my legs. I’m trembling.

I set Sam down on the grass. He complains. But doesn’t wake.

I turn. Emma is in the middle of the river. The water reaches her hips. Her face is tense. Pale.

“Come on,” I say.

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“My foot. It’s stuck between the rocks.”

I look more closely. She’s bent forward. Straining.

I go back into the water. The cold returns. I reach her.

“Lean on me.”

“I don’t want to...”

“Lean on me.”

She puts her arm over my shoulder. I hold her up. I feel her weight. Her shaking.

“Pull your foot,” I say.

She tries. It doesn’t move.

“Harder.”

“It hurts.”

“Pull.”

She closes her eyes. Pulls. Her foot comes free. She loses her balance.

I catch her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

We get out together. Reach the bank. Sit on the grass, breathing hard.

Sam is still asleep.

Emma looks at the river.

“I almost stayed there,” she says.

“But you didn’t.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I know. But I’m doing it anyway.”

She gets up. Finds her boots. Puts them on with difficulty. Wet fingers. Wet laces.

I do the same.

“Keep going?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“How much farther?”

“I don’t know. But we keep going.”

I lift Sam again. Still asleep.

We walk on.

The trail continues on the other side of the river. Narrower. More overgrown.

But it continues.

A sign.

We move forward.

Water drips from my pants. My feet are wet inside my boots. The cold settles into my bones.

Sam opens his eyes.

“Why am I wet, Dad?”

“We crossed a river.”

“And I slept?”

“Yes.”

“Did I see a fish?”

“No, little one. Just water.”

He rubs his eyes. Yawns.

“I’m hungry.”

“I know. We’ll eat soon.”

Emma walks behind me. Her breathing is uneven. Slower than before.

“Jack,” she says.

I stop and wait for her. Her face is pale.

“I need to sit down.”

“Not here. Let’s find somewhere more sheltered.”

“I can’t do any more.”

“Just a few more minutes. Please.”

She nods without much conviction. I start walking again.

The trail grows narrower. Bushes scrape my legs. Branches hit my shoulders. Sam curls against my chest.

“My stomach hurts, Dad,” he says.

“It’s hunger. We’ll eat soon.”

“You promised before.”

“And I’ll keep it. I find a place, and we eat.”

“Where?”

“There. Where those trees open up.”

A small clearing. Yellow grass. A flat rock in the center. Enough.

I get there and set Sam down. He sits immediately, hugging his knees.

Emma arrives behind me. She collapses, exhausted.

She takes off her boot. Her ankle is swollen. Red.

“It’s worse,” I say.

“I know.”

“We should bandage it again.”

“We don’t have bandages.”

“We can dry the ones we wet.”

“Yes.”

I search through my backpack. The bandages are soaked. I squeeze them with my hands. Water drips out.

“Better than nothing.”

Emma stretches out her leg. Clenches her jaw.

“Do it fast.”