Field of Daisies

Chapter 21

I eventually make it to the marker for the two thousandth mile of the Appalachian Trail. All I can think about is how the Hunters are going to see this sign after hiking all those miles next year. I can't even imagine hiking that long, for fun. This is the longest I've ever hiked, or walked, I think ever. Let alone for fun. This is more for necessity, but still.

I can feel myself growing weaker and slowing down. I wish the twins had offered me something more solid than tea, but at least I'm semi-hydrated. My poor feet are screaming at me with every step and the ache in my legs isn't helping. I try to stay focused on looking and listening for a brook and a fork in the path.

The Bigelow Avery Peak has a sign indicating another 4088 feet in elevation, making me feel completely drained upon its sight. I take a short break, focusing on breathing in several deep breaths as if I'm a plant and will be able to photosynthesize energy from the sun. I keep pushing along, looking out desperately for water.

There is no sign of water, but there is signs of another unused campsite. My gut is telling me I've gone too far. Strafford Notch Campsite does not imply a split nor a brook. I decide to risk the lost ground and backtrack, paying extra close attention to signs of an old trail.

I'm dragging my feet when I see something promising. Are my eyes deceiving me or is that a sign hidden in the brush? If I wasn't looking for something, I probably would have missed it. But upon further inspection it's definitely an old trail sign. Looking at the back if it, I see the words: SAFFORD BROOK TR—. This must be the brook. Oh, please be the brook!

I hope it is because I'm starting to push into the brush, finding myself on what appears to be an overgrown and unkept trail, but a trail none the less. After a while of following it to the best of my ability, I hear water to my far right. Is that direction south? East? Both? I assume the water is the namesake of this trail as I loosely follow its length. I want to thank Amil, but I know it's still too soon to celebrate.

The old trail ends at a torn-up road. The scent of a lake has been growing stronger, so I walk towards the scent, following the brook still. Just as I suspected, I end up at a lake's edge. Which direction am I supposed to go now, Amil? I want to go right, but I feel pulled to the left.

***

I'm tired down to my bones. I'm hungry for a real meal. I definitely smell bad. My feet are in desperate pain, not to mention soaked. And I can see something that looks like a lodge. As I approach my energy seems to pick up. Oh, please be The Collective.

I find myself on the edge of a property, searching for someone to notice. For Theo. Before I know it, a hand is covering my mouth and my arms are pinned at my side.

"Who are you?" is hissed into my ear, sending chills up my spine.

They remove their hand so I can answer. "My name is Emma Lehman. Amil directed me here. I was Assigned to the Field Steward and ran away from my Posting. I am looking for Theo. Theodore Kallin." The words, the truth, rushes out of me before I can think better of it. What if it's a trap. Did I just screw myself and Theo?

I'm released and find myself looking at an older woman with a sweet looking face, but clearly a stronger body. She sounds much nicer when she says, "Amil, good man. And Theodore, he's been quite the addition. Makes the food we have taste a whole lot more edible. Follow me. And drink this," she hands me a bottle filled with water, "you need it more than I do at the moment." I gladly down half the bottle and follow this woman towards the worn-down wooden cabin. The woman says, "We've been expecting you, Emma." As if that's not ominous or creepy or anything but a simple greeting. My reputation precedes me.