Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 8

    "Hey, has anyone heard from Ronnie and Brandon?" Ted poked his head into Jake's hotel room, where he, Jeremy, Rob, and several of the crew were hanging out watching a movie.

    "Uh, no, they went on a hike, remember?" Jake asked, looking around at Ted.

    "Yeah, just thought they'd be back by now," Ted shrugged. "They left before noon and it's almost time for dinner."

    "Brandon's probably just running Ronnie ragged. They had a lot of steam to work off," Rob chipped in. "He'll be complaining to us when they get back tonight, I bet. They brought snacks, they'll be fine."

    Ted nodded. "I'll leave you guys to your movie, then," he said with a wave, and ducked out of the room.

- - - - -

    Brandon picked his way carefully across the rocky ground, hoping with every fiber of his being that he would find Ronnie's phone on the mountainside somewhere. He couldn't quite remember where Ronnie had originally fallen, so he watched the ground carefully as he moved, sweeping his eyes back forth across the ground, looking for the telltale glint of glass. He had been hiking on uneven terrain for hours now and he was starting to feel the strain. His feet felt bruised and his knees were beginning to shake, but he pushed himself to keep up the pace.

    Every passing minute, he was painfully aware that he had left his seriously injured friend behind alone, with no way of moving from the rock he rested on. He needed to find the phone as quickly as possible and head back to help Ronnie - clouds were starting to move in. If Ronnie got sick because Brandon had left him alone on a mountainside in the rain...whatever horrible illness he ended up with would be on Brandon's head. Guilt gnawed at his stomach at the thought, making him feel rather nauseous.

    It must have been at least forty minutes into his search when he finally spotted the gleam of the dying sunlight reflected off of the fractured glass of a phone screen. With a stifled cry, he scrambled toward it. In Ronnie's fall, the phone had bounced a long way down the mountainside, far out of his reach, but as Brandon examined the ground, he saw a decent path down the steep slope.

    Quickly, he slung his heavy backpack off his shoulders and nestled it securely against a rock - he would need all the balance he could get here. He inched slowly toward the edge of the cliff, desperately trying to ignore the several hundred foot drop just a stone's throw beyond the phone's resting place.

    Very carefully, he placed his feet less than an inch apart as he moved slowly down the mountainside. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Nearly a full ten minutes later, he finally reached the ledge. He stooped to pick up the phone, careful to avoid the shattered glass screen, and pressed the power button. Nothing. He held it down for three, five, ten seconds...nothing. Fuck. The fucking phone was broken.

    A rush of despair washed over Brandon, overcoming the light of hope that had kindled in his heart at the prospect of calling for a rescue. Hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

    How are we going to get off the fucking mountain now? He sighed heavily and zipped the phone securely in his jacket pocket anyway as tiny drops of water landed in his hair, speckling his cheeks and the sleeves of his jacket - the rain had begun. He cursed and shook himself. There would be time to dwell on their plight later; he needed to get back to Ronnie before the rain became heavier.

    Taking a deep breath, Brandon raised his head to examine the mountain again. He would need to take the same path back up. He grabbed a rock that stuck out a few inches from the dirt as a handhold and took one cautious step up, then a few more.

    Another - he could almost reach the top of the slope if he stretched for it - suddenly the ground crumbled away beneath his foot and he fell backwards with a startled gasp - seconds later he felt an explosion of pain as his back made impact on the rocky ground and a sharp, sickening crack filled the air. His head slammed into a jagged stone and he fell into silence and utter blackness.

- - - - -

    As the first raindrops fell, Ronnie decided he was officially worried. He knew he could never make it all the way back to find Brandon, and he would only be a liability in any case, but a growing dread had built a desolate chamber inside his heart as he waited. Please be okay, B. Come back.

    Sighing, he looked up at the sky, cursing the stony clouds. He knew he couldn't stay in the rain - that was just asking to get sick. Suddenly the thought occurred to him with a jolt of anxiety that Brandon might also be stranded out in the rain...but he grudgingly accepted that he truly could be of no help to anyone with a freshly broken ankle.

    Ronnie, however, had sat in the drizzling rain long enough. He removed the windbreaker from its place keeping his ankle warm and slipped it over his shoulders instead, zipping it firmly up to his chin. He swung his backpack over his shoulders and fastened the chest strap for extra stability, and decided he should begin the search for shelter.

    He slowly lowered his legs to the ground off the side of the rock and followed with the rest of his body, supporting his weight on his arms and right leg. Once on the ground, he carefully flipped over so that he could crawl, using only his left knee for support and keeping his foot and ankle in the air. It was a painful position and each impact of his knee into the rocky dirt send shivers of pain through his ankle and foot, but enough was enough. He couldn't afford to sit in the rain for hours without even a proper coat.

    The process was agonizingly slow and painful, but after perhaps twenty minutes - that's another twenty minutes Brandon's been gone, a nervous little voice in his head announced - he spotted an overhang of about two feet, where the ground underneath was protected from the rain and there was a glorious patch of dry, dusty dirt. He forced himself to crawl faster, and finally huddled gratefully against the side of the mountain, pressing his body as close as possible to the dirt. His knees, he noted idly, had taken a vicious beating on his journey, and dried blood streaked his shins in little rivulets and mixed with the mud, disappearing into his socks.

    Having solved his own immediate problem, Ronnie rested his head on his battered knee and allowed his thoughts to drift back to whatever circumstances that could possibly have kept his friend away so long.

    He would have expected the quest for his cell phone to last perhaps half an hour, maybe an hour at the very most...it had now probably been at least an hour and a half, maybe even two. Had Brandon decided to continue down the mountain and find someone to help? Ronnie scrapped that idea quickly; Brandon wouldn't have left him alone longer than he needed to, and certainly not without first coming back to explain his plan...so where was he?