Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 7

    Ronnie took one last inventory of his backpack, zipping it up and shouldering it. After the events and stress of the last few days, he'd decided that he and Brandon needed a trip into nature to relax and decompress, and their day off was the perfect time to do so. After a lazy start to their day, they'd had a late brunch at the hotel and Brandon had chosen a nearby scenic mountain range to hike up - a good long day without any other people, no reporters, no stress, no work...exactly what they both needed. Normally they asked if any of the crew or the rest of the band wanted to tag along, but Ronnie and Brandon both felt that they needed a day to themselves.

    Ronnie closed his hotel room door and took the elevator down to the lobby, where Brandon waited by the front desk, idly browsing the racks of tourism brochures. At the ding of the elevator door, he looked up and his face lit up in one of his signature grins that reminded Ronnie of bottled sunlight.

    "Let's get the fuck out of here, Ron. Taxi's out front." The drive to the mountain range was over an hour from downtown Kansas City, but Ronnie was so excited for the hike that he barely noticed the time. They thanked and paid the driver and bolted out of the taxi and up the trail. It started as a wide path on a gradual slope in a forested area, but about an hour in, it became clear that they were hiking up a mountain as the incline grew steeper and trees and large plants became sparse.

    The mountain's solid ground had given way to an unsteady, slippery rocky slope after he and Ronnie had hiked for nearly two hours, and their progress had slowed considerably and they had ceased conversation as they carefully chose their footing on the uncertain ground. A strangled cry and sudden rush of rolling pebbles made Brandon freeze and jerk back, spinning in time to watch his friend land heavily in the dirt far behind him, his left ankle turned at a very unnatural angle. Ronnie's face was tight with pain as he knelt unsteadily, his gaze fixed on his ankle. "Ohhhh my fucking god, owwww," he gasped, leaning heavily on his right leg to keep his weight off of the injured ankle. "Um...B-Brandon - I think it's broken," he gasped, raising watery eyes to meet Brandon's.

    "Hang on, I'm coming," Brandon called, making his way across the uneven ground as quickly as he dared. At his side, he bent down so Ronnie could loop his arm across his shoulders and slowly straightened, supporting most of the drummer's weight. He bit his lip, looking around nervously. "Shit, Ron...um...let's find someplace to sit and we'll take a look - no, don't try to walk on it, just hop, I've got you. We'll take it slow."

    Every small jump sent a jolt through Ronnie's broken ankle.  Over half an hour later, the pair finally stumbled toward a large flat rock which was nearly the size of a small mattress and only marginally uneven. They both sank gratefully onto its dusty surface, Ronnie letting out an agonized groan, covered in sweat from the pain and exertion. They sat dumbstruck staring at his ankle, which was clearly broken now that they had a second to get a good look.

    "Oh, shit," Brandon breathed. "I don't know what to do about that, Ronnie...we're way too far in, we can't just turn back. You can't walk on that thing. I'm gonna call Jeremy, see if someone can pick us up maybe." He fished his phone out of his pocket, but his eyes widened in alarm at the "ROAMING - NO SIGNAL" message that blared across his screen when he turned it on. Fingers shaking slightly, he chose Jeremy's name out of his contacts list, put the phone on speaker, and waited. Dead silence was the only answer for several seconds, then a woman's robotic voice announced, "This call cannot be completed at this time. Please try again," and Brandon sighed and closed his eyes briefly in defeat.

    "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Ronnie groaned, slapping his palm against the rock. They sat in silence for a long moment, commiserating with each other, and then suddenly Ronnie started and fumbled around in his jacket pocket. "My phone - it must have fallen out when I slipped - maybe it has service though? It's a different carrier than yours, at least."

    Brandon jumped to his feet, motivated by having a task, something that might help. "I'll go find it," he said, clapping a hand on Ronnie's shoulder and rubbing it briefly in comfort and farewell. He slowly moved across the rocky ground back toward the scene of the incident, keeping his eyes on his feet and taking extra care on the slippery slope. He soon turned a corner and was out of Ronnie's line of sight, and then out of earshot and he could no longer hear the soft crunching of pebbles beneath his friend's hiking boots.

    With nothing left to occupy his thoughts except his newly acquired broken ankle, Ronnie pondered whether it would be wiser to remove his own boot now, before the swelling set in, or to leave it on in hopes of a degree of protection for his injured ankle. After a minute of thought, he conceded that if he didn't take off the boot now, it might never come off. He unlaced the boot, took several deep breaths, and began the painfully slow process of easing the boot off, punctuated every few seconds by yelps and many colorful swear words.

    Once the boot was finally off, he sat back with a groan and wiped the sweat from his face, breathing hard. He had no way of telling how much time had passed, but he noticed that the sun was just starting to set. God, he hoped Brandon found his phone, and that it would work so they could get the hell out of there. If they had to spend the night on this godforsaken mountain...alarmed at the prospect, Ronnie sat up suddenly and roughly unzipped his faded red backpack to take stock of his supplies - a black windbreaker, a lighter, a pocket knife, four protein bars, a bag of trail mix, and three bottles of Gatorade in addition to the large metal water bottle he typically used during their hikes. Not much, but then they had only planned to be gone for five or six hours, not overnight. He knew Brandon had his own supplies though, in the backpack he had taken along on his hunt for Ronnie's cell phone - between the two of them they would have enough food to last a several days without too much impact, if needed - they just wouldn't be especially comfortable.

    He glanced up at the sky - as the sunset had settled, mottled grey clouds had started to move in as well. It looked like it might rain tonight - just their luck. Ronnie sighed, shifting his weight on the rock impatiently as he surveyed the mountain. Where would they take shelter if it did rain? He couldn't see anything very promising from his vantage point. Hopefully there was a cave or something not too far away - Brandon was strong, but still significantly smaller than he was, and Ronnie felt bad for him, having to support most of his weight for any long distance.

    Ronnie's gaze wandered back to the spot where he had watched Brandon disappear earlier...how long ago had he left? It had taken more than half an hour to reach the flat rock he rested on, but Brandon wasn't hobbled by his companion's bum leg anymore. He should have been back by now. What if...spine-chilling visions of his friend's broken body crumpled at the foot of the mountain suddenly filled his head. No, nope, definitely not, not going there, Ronnie thought furiously, pushing the visions away and fighting the sick feeling that arose in the pit of his stomach. Think of something else, anything else...

    He wondered if the rest of the group had started to worry what had kept them out so long. He wracked his brain, hoping they had at least thought to tell someone where they would be hiking, but he didn't remember giving specifics. The mountain they had chosen was a fairly popular hiking spot, though, and they would hopefully consider it a possibility on their own.

    Figuring he ought to at least attempt to do something productive, Ronnie bent down and collected twigs and dead grass from around his stony perch, as far out as he could reach, and stuffing them into an empty pocket in his backpack. Hopefully they would be able to use them to start a fire to keep warm if it did rain in the night.

    With a shiver, Ronnie realized he had already accepted that they would be stranded on the mountainside at least overnight. He pulled his bad leg over the edge of the rock and painstakingly lowered it to its cool surface, careful not to jostle his ankle. His foot felt cold and numb, and his ankle was already swollen to more than twice its normal size. Ronnie tugged his windbreaker out of his backpack and settled it gently over his foot and calf, then crossed his arms and hunched over, trying to keep warm against the ever-growing wind. He fixed his gaze on the spot he had last seen Brandon and sighed. He hated feeling so helpless, but there was nothing he could do but wait and hope he would come back as the sky darkened and the wind began to howl across the mountainside.