Fix My Feet When They're Stumblin'

Chapter 10

A significant portion of the fifth floor of the Fontaine in Kansas City was dedicated to The Killers' band and crew - many doors hung wide open and tension hung heavy in the hallways as stars multiplied in the night sky outside the hotel windows. A group of around thirty men and women had crowded into one massive huddle in the hotel hallway. Raised voices echoed through the halls, many people arguing and speaking over each other.

" - not normal! We should call the cops, get them to start looking!"

"They've both been hiking hundreds of times before, and it's not like they can't take care of themselves!"

"It's only been a couple hours longer than we expected, maybe they just unexpectedly took a longer hike."

"I don't like it at all, they would have called if they knew they would be out longer!"

"Exactly, and they will call if anything goes wrong - "

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!"

Silence fell abruptly as the group turned as one to look at the slim blonde woman who had raised her voice over all of theirs. "Just...shut up. It's my husband out there and this is my call. Shut up, call the cops or the park rangers or something, cancel the flights for tomorrow and the next show - and, well, someone should start thinking about calling Brandon's family, too, before any of that stuff - his wife needs to know."

Three short dial tones broke the silence before Jeremy held his phone to his ear, nodding to Olivia. "Yeah, hi, I need to report a couple of hikers missing..."

Twenty minutes later, the group huddled in the hallways in small groups or sat along the walls, whispering anxiously. Olivia turned the corner, nervously smoothing the hemline of her blouse as she spoke to the police officer next to her in hushed tones.

" - called them at least a dozen times each, both of their phones are just going straight to voicemail, not even ringing."

"And they didn't tell anyone where they were going, specifically?" The officer asked, writing hastily on his notepad as he walked.

"No, just the mountains, but it won't have been too far from here. We had a flight to Colorado in the morning, they normally plan to be back before sunset if we need to leave in the morning."

"Hmm. How did they get there?"

"A taxi, but - "

"Excellent, do any of you know which cab company they would have been likely to use? We can at least narrow it down to a specific group of mountains with the drop-off info from their cabbie and contact their cell carriers for their last known locations - we've got a lot of mountains around here and they can all be dangerous."

- - - - -

Brandon stumbled on a loose stone in the darkness, lost his balance and fell to his knees for perhaps the twentieth time in as many minutes, his dimmed flashlight and bundle of food wrapped in his jacket sliding from his knees into the mud. He hung his head miserably, moaning. His knees and shins were covered in dozens of bloody scrapes and scratches, some with dirt or tiny pebbles embedded into his skin. Traversing such uneven ground had been a challenge before his fall, but it was positively excruciating now. A thunderous pounding echoed in his head and he felt light-headed and dizzy, constantly short of breath. He was having trouble gauging where to place his feet - the ground seemed to race up to meet his steps before he was ready, or to fall away beneath his feet.

Collecting his things and forcing himself to his wobbly feet once more, Brandon pressed on, weaving diagonally across the muddy mountainside - first drifting to the right near the edge of the cliff, then to the left, bumping up against the towering cliff wall, apparently unaware that he wasn't traveling in a straight line.

Trying to distract himself from the tedium of his seemingly endless, tortuous journey, he found himself dreaming of home. He knew Tana had taken their boys to the zoo that week, and his heart ached to think that he hadn't been there. It had been fun to hear them gush about it over the phone, each rushing to be the first to tell him their stories in their excitement - but dad, I got to touch its tongue, it was so slimy - oh, dad, did you know giraffes sleep less than two hours a day?

But he hadn't been able to watch Henry feed a tortoise for the first time, or make them laugh with his infinite supply of dumb jokes - his own personal favorite involved a tortoise and a mob of snails. Brandon hadn't seen the delight on Tana's face as she reached out to touch a rhino, or -

His foot slipped in the mud as he stepped forward and he fell backwards heavily, sitting unexpectedly in the mud for the hundredth time that night. Brandon groaned and buried his face in his hands for a long minute, concentrating on his shallow, shaky breathing as he struggled to regain his composure. He had to keep going - but God, he was so tired. He raised his head slowly and stared vacantly ahead, trying to muster up enough strength to get back up.

Finally, Brandon cradled his makeshift jacket bag in the elbow of his injured arm and pushed himself to his knees with his good arm, rising on trembling legs. He staggered forward, relentlessly punishing his weary body. He had to find Ronnie.

An age later, Brandon suddenly realized that he recognized the wide, flat rock up ahead and forced himself to move faster, heedless of how many times he tripped over the rocky ground in the faint glow from his muzzled flashlight.

"Ronnie!" Brandon called as he approached, barely able to raise his voice over a whisper - it felt like weeks since he had spoken, although he knew it hadn't even been a full day. He coughed, trying to clear his throat, then looked up again, eyes watering.

With a horrible, sinking chill, he realized abruptly that the rock was empty. Ronnie was nowhere to be seen. Already short of oxygen from his damaged chest, Brandon could feel his shallow breaths coming faster and faster, his heart thundering in his ears. Frantic, Brandon looked around the empty mountainside, anxiety tightening his chest painfully.

"Ronnie? Ronnie?"