Young Writers Society

Chapter 3

Their moods had been dampened by the conversations regarding both the locket and the dreams, and Cass couldn't help but feel like it was all her fault. Today was meant to be the perfect day. They had spent so much time waiting for it, and had made sure to plan everything so it would be just right. But as they drove down the street, the wind rushing in through the windows drowning out the noise of the quiet radio, Cass knew this day was far from perfect. She stared dismally out her window. If only she had waited just a day – then they could have enjoyed the trip to the flea market like they were supposed to. 

She should have been smarter.

Even the sight of the hiking trail a few minutes later failed to make her feel better.

They parked the car. Got out. Went to get their things from the back. Closed the doors. Talked a little bit about how beautiful the trees were this time of year. Left the car in the small dirt parking lot. Every action felt forced. They were just doing it because they had to pretend that everything was alright, even though the dreams and the locket weighed heavily on both of their minds.

The skies, appropriately, began to darken as they started their hike. Clouds covered the sun that had shone so brightly that morning. Cass looked up at them for a minute before following Aspen down the trail, absentmindedly adjusting the straps of her backpack as she put little effort into bridging the growing distance between the two of them. 

Aspen remained silent.

Cass didn't bother to start a conversation up. What could they possibly talk about? Anything they said would eventually return to the troubling matter of how she had acted back in the flea market, and that would only make their moods worse. She kept her head down. They had come for the beauty of the trees towering above them, but all that Cass wanted to look at right now was the dirt path at her feet and the footprints Aspen was leaving behind in the mud.

They continued to walk in silence for an indeterminable amount of time. Cass rarely raised her head. She noticed many things during the walk – the increasingly muddy path, how the sun peeked out from behind the clouds less and less, the moss that clung to the sloping sides of the trail, and the familiar smell that preceded rain – but she failed to give them much thought. She just kept walking. The distance between them had become so great that it would seem like they had come separately to any person they passed, if there had actually be other hikers on the trail.

At some point, she came to a stop when she noticed had far apart they truly were. It was stupid to continue the hike when neither one of them was enjoying it. At least a movie could make them both laugh; a hike was only an opportunity to further their misery. She was about to suggest that they turn back when there was an ominous roll of thunder in the distance.

Aspen, who must have been so caught up in her thoughts that she was no longer paying attention to the world around her, looked noticeably started at the noise. In that moment, they must have come to the same conclusion. A thunderstorm was on the way, and they needed to get back to the jeep as fast as they could. Aspen spun around. Cass stepped forward. And just as they tried to get to each other, Aspen put her foot down on the wet moss on the side of the path.

The effect was immediate.

Aspen's foot began to slide down the moss. She frantically tried to pick it up, but her other foot slipped across the mud. The straps of her sandals dug into her ankles, and she went tumbling down the side of the path into the woods. The slope wasn't too sharp and didn't last for long, but something about the fall made her cry out in pain. 

Cass darted across the muddy path. She knew that there was the risk of her slipping like Aspen had, but she didn't care. Her best friend was in trouble. It was only when she reached the place where Aspen had fallen that she finally slowed. She carefully made her way down the small slope to where Aspen was trying and failing to get to her feet. She was leaning up against the tree closest to her, her clothes covered in mud and wet leaves. One foot was firmly on the ground. The other was hesitantly wavering in the air beside it.

The thunder rumbled, and rain started to fall from the skies.

Cass stopped at her side. She was already trying to assess the damage done by the fall – trying to tell herself that things would be alright – but the truth was clear to see from Aspen's hesitation to put her foot down. As the rain soaked through their clothes, Aspen turned to look at her.

“Cassie?”

There were tears in her eyes as she spoke.

And that was when Cass was certain things had gone horribly wrong, because Aspen Lovelace never cried over a minor scrap or bruise.

“I-I can't put my foot down,” she said. There was terror in her voice, terror that only intensified as another ominous roll of thunder shook through the forest. “It hurts too much. I think...I think it might be broken.”

Cass was already searching for a branch that Aspen could use as a temporary crutch. But even as she found one and hurried back to her best friend, she knew it wouldn't be enough. Walking with the crutch would slow down their pace considerably. They would never be able to get back to their jeep in time. As if to confirm the horrifying reality, thunder boomed overheard with a brilliant flash of light.

Cass thrust the crutch into Aspen's hands. Aspen didn't take it. She just stood there, looking at her with wide, terrified eyes. “We're not going to beat the storm, are we?” she questioned. Cass hesitated, then nodded. There was no point in hiding it. “Would you be able to make it?”

She looked at how quickly the rain was pouring, and felt how hard the wind was pushing against her bare skin. “I don't think so.” She bit her lip and tried not to cry. She had always been a careful hiker. She had always told someone where she was going if she was on her own so they could find her if she got lost. She always had her backpack on her. She always had worn the proper clothes and footwear.

But she been stupid. She had ignored all the warning signs, having been too caught up by their earlier conversations to even worry about the possible outcomes. And now they were stranded in the middle of the woods in the middle of a thunderstorm, and Cass didn't know what they could do.

She tried to reassure herself that things would be alright. Getting killed by a lightning strike was a rare way to die, and the possibility of them being hit when they couldn't even see the shape of the lighting bolts-

There was another flash of light.

And, as if the world wanted to prove her wrong, she could clearly make out its shape.

The tears began to pour down her face, mixing with the rain droplets that were already dotting her cheeks. Aspen was crying, too. Maybe out of pain. Maybe out of fear. Cass didn't know. All that she knew was that she was terrified of dying, and that this wasn't how she wanted to go. She threw her arms around Aspen and pulled her into a hug. Would this be the last time she hugged someone?

“Well,” Aspen said, her voice quiet, “if I'm dying here, at least I get to spend my last moments with you.”

The words should have reassured her. The thought of her last moments being spent with her best friend were almost poetic, but the thought of actually dying ruined the illusion of a perfect ending. This wasn't how she wanted to die. Maybe the storm would pass over them, and they wouldn't be struck by lightning. It was, after all, a predictable thing. But she wasn't ready to give up.

Not yet.

She pulled out of the embrace. Making sure Aspen was holding the makeshift crutch, she started to direct her away from the tree. Lighting struck the tallest thing in an area. Standing underneath a tall tree would only heighten their risk of getting killed by a lighting bolt. She tried to get Aspen to use the crutch in the way that it was intended, but Aspen stubbornly continued to just hold it in her hands.

“Cassie,” she said, “I don't think we're going to survive this.”

She shook her head. “We're going to make it.”

“We're not going to make it to the jeep-”

“I know!” Cass exclaimed. There was terror in her voice, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins gave her a burst of a courage she didn't know she had. “But I'm not ready to just sit by and let ourselves get killed when there's something we can do to prevent it.”

Aspen fell silent. It was impossible to tell if her argument had served its purpose, or if Aspen had decided that she didn't want to spend her last moments arguing.

Light began to fill the sky, immediately followed by another loud clap of thunder. It was hopeless. They'd never find a way to escape this storm, not when their only guaranteed shelter was too far away from them. But she still kept scanning the woods for something – anything – that could save them. It was her fault that they had gotten into this mess in the first place, and she would never be able to forgive herself in the afterlife if they died because of her. 

I need to protect Aspen.

As the sound of the thunder died down, there was a sudden burst of warmth from something right in front of her. Distracted by the bizarre feeling, she looked down. The warmth was unfolding from her locket – why else would it be emitting such a comforting golden glow? The warmth was racing across her body now, covering every inch of both bare skin and clothing. The glow became stronger. Now the warmth was was passing from her hand to Aspen's, enveloping the both of them as the light abruptly grew so bright that it blinded her.

She instinctively closed her eyes.

There was a burst of warmth.

Then Cass no longer felt the rain on her skin.

“Whoa,” Aspen said from beside her.

Cass opened her eyes.