Catching Butterflies

Two Away

Two

Away“So, which way do we go?” Beth's head swivelled.

I stepped up next to her and contemplated each direction of the crossroad. There were no signs, and it resembled the road we'd travelled—dusty, long, and deserted. Left or right, neither promised help.

“Let me know when you've figured it out.” Beth released the buckle on the backpack and allowed the heavy load to drop. She sank to the ground, pulled her legs up and rested her chin on the top of her knees.

Unable to decide, I sighed and did the same. Moments later my sister laid flat on her back, with ankles crossed, hands folded on her chest, and her eyes closed. Shallow breaths produced a slight rise and fall of her belly, the only part of her body that moved. Even an ant crawling along her forearm, did not cause her to flinch.

My fingers plucked at the green leaves from various tiny plants around me. The broken stem released a sharp woody scent as I rolled it between thumb and index finger. Each leaf's subtle differences amazed me, their shape, colour—different yet the same. Every one designed to capture energy from the sun and turn it into nourishment for the plant. Photosynthesis, another remembered word.

Paying no attention, I pulled out a weed with three leaves fixed to a dark green stem. Two leaves reminded me of arms and the single leaf at the end, a pointy head. The greenery was familiar, but I didn't know how. The little 'body' twirled between my fingers as leaves of three, chanted in my ear.

“Let it be!” The plant dropped from my hand.

“What?” Beth spoke but didn't stir.

“Leaves of three let it be. Stand up!” I said louder than planned and scrambled to my feet.

“Why?” Beth moved to a seated position.

“Poison Ivy.” Whether it was the name of the plant or the word 'poison', I couldn't be sure, but it caused Beth to jump to her feet.

My eyes scanned the forest edge and spotted the offending plants. The weeds crept from the forest and gathered in patches along the roadside. I investigated where we rested; our weight had flattened everything underneath us. I crouched lower and inspected the ground; a loud sigh of relief escaped my lips.

“What?” Beth said.

“It's okay. There isn't much here, just the odd plant, but I had to go and pick the closest one.”

“What is it?”

“A weed that can leave an itchy rash.” I wiped my palms on my pants and smiled but behind my grin I worried. Not because I'd touched it, I had a vague feeling I'd done so before without consequence. But while my memory grew stronger daily, Beth remembered little. I only hoped it was because I had been off the drug given to us at C.E.C.I.L. for longer.

“What's with you and itchy th-things?” Beth's eyes rolled, and her lips pulled into a half-smile.

I laughed and shook my head. The question made me think of my mosquito bite, and I scratched my arm.

A sudden gust of cool air whipped a lock of my light brown hair against my cheek. I lifted my chin and stared up at the sky. Grey clouds edged with white swirled against a steel blue backdrop. In the distance the sky darkened.

“Definitely going to rain soon; we better decide.”

Beth glanced up before turning her gaze on me. Blue eyes brightened as though a beam of light shone across her face. “Heads or tails?” she said.

“You remember that?”

“A game, sort of, helps with deciding. Now, heads or tails?” She repeated.

“We don't have a coin.”

Beth's brow furrowed. After a few seconds she squatted and dug a small rock from the ground. She held it out in her palm. “Heads or tails?”

“Which is which?” I poked at the flat, round stone in her hand.

Beth sighed as though I'd asked a stupid question. “This side is clean.” She pointed to the rock. “This side,” she pushed the stone over, “is dirty. Clean is heads, dirty is tails.”

“Okay. Heads, left, tails, right?” My eyebrows rose to meet my hairline.

“Fine. Now heads or tails?”

“Heads.”

Beth tossed the small rock up into the air. It tumbled in perceived slow motion, flipping and rolling as gravity pulled it back to earth. The flat stone landed in her outstretched palm and she closed her hand. She uncurled her fingers one at a time to show the dirty side. “Guess we're going right,” she said and reached for her pack.

No longer intimidated or fearful that cameras watched our every move, I observed the trees as we walked. The branches swayed and squeaked as they rubbed against each other in the wind. The leaves rattled. Part of me wanted to climb and ride the rocking limbs, wanted to experience the motion, the freedom. But I kept my feet on the earth.

A bird flew in front of us, its flapping wings the only sound other than the hushing breeze.

“No bugs either,” I said, noting the surrounding stillness.

“What?”

“Since the wind picked up, the birds stopped singing, and I haven't swatted away any buzzing insect.”

“Yup, I noticed. What do we do if it rains?”

The bottom of my t-shirt once again rode up under the strap secured around my middle, and I had to straighten it out. While it had been enjoyable to play in the rain earlier that morning, it had left us soaked. Much to our relief we'd found the clothing we now wore. And though we each had one other change of clothes in our packs, I did not intend to wear mine right away. The aim was to stay clean and dry.

“We should look for shelter.”

Beth stopped and waved her hand at the surroundings. “And where do you suppose we'll find th-that?” She crossed her flailing arms.

If it didn't storm the surrounding thicket offered protection in any downpour. If it involved lightening, hiding among trees was an unsafe idea. “It's not raining yet. Let's continue walking. When it does, the bush is thick and should keep us dry.” I walked past Beth, the sound of her grumpy sigh in my ears.

With my thumbs hooked under the straps, I adjusted the heavy backpack; my lower back ached under the weight. We'd stopped again for a brief rest but the threat of rain kept it short and my body complained with every step.

“How's your back?” I yelled to Beth who was several feet ahead of me.

“Fine.” The gusting wind and rustling leaves muffled her voice. “Yours?”

“Hurts.”

“Want to st-stop again?”

Yes, my body yelled. I wanted to stop, lie on the grass, curl up into a ball, and go to sleep. The wind blew through my hair, and my skin rose into tiny bumps. “No.” A distant roll of thunder spurred me forward. A loud snap from the forest beside me quickened my pace and pulse. “Keep moving.”

“Sh-s**t! Did you hear th-that?” Beth stopped and waited for me.

“The thunder or the snap?” I said as I reached Beth.

“Both.”

We marched in unison, our strides long and steps hurried. Another thunderous boom and Beth clutched my hand.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, and released her grip.

My lips parted to speak, but I changed my mind. Though Beth hadn't regained her full memory her personality had returned. She'd always been the tough and the stubborn one, but underneath was a caring, and sometimes scared young woman who rarely showed her vulnerable side. When she did, she liked no one to notice.

We continued our silent walk, our steps slowed. Ever vigilant, I looked back from where we came. I needed to know how far we'd walked and a small part of me wondered if something followed.

“How long do you th-think it's been?” There was a nervous edge to Beth's voice brought on by the impending storm.

“What do you mean?”

“Since we left.”

Time made no sense; the effect of having lived in a room with a sealed window. Until I saw a setting sun and a rising moon, hours and minutes meant nothing. I couldn't estimate any moment without a reference. While the growing weariness in my body suggested we'd travelled a distance, my brain told me we hadn't gone far; the house was closer than we thought. Several times I had checked to be sure it was nowhere in sight. I looked at the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sun but it had long since disappeared. “Not sure. Could be minutes, hours.”

“Oh,” Beth muttered.

We slogged on, the grinding of rocks and dirt under our feet not loud enough to drown out the creaking trees. The fresh scents and rotting odours of the outdoors blended and drifted to us on the constant breeze. Black clouds covered the sky; the storm was in our near future.

“Maybe we should have gone the other way,” she huffed and stopped.

“Too late for that now.”

“I know.” Beth held out her arm, and I steadied her as she raised her left foot and pulled off her shoe; the bright pink bow bounced with the movement. She turned it over and shook out several small pebbles. “Can't help wonder th-though,” she said as she wiggled her foot back inside the runner.

“If this leads nowhere, then we'll head back.”

Beth turned. “At least it'll be downhill.” She adjusted her pack and continued. Unlike the level, first leg of our journey, this second route had more hills, and we climbed higher.

“Are you hungry?” Beth said as we rested atop a small, yet noticeable incline.

“No.” My stomach rumbled in loud contradiction.

“How far have we walked?” Before I could respond Beth continued. “We've walked a lot, but st-stopped as much too. I don't th-think we've travelled th-that far.”

“It's hard to—” The dark sky lit up with a flash of lighting and interrupted me.

Beth squeezed her eyelids and counted in the manner she had whenever there was thunder and lightning.

From the top of the small mound I could see the two other hills we'd climbed. But the intersection where we'd flipped the rock was not in sight. And it wasn't because we'd travelled a great distance but because a slight bend in the road altered our point of view. The intersection wasn't so far away but hidden behind the trees. I shut my eyes. In my head I mapped out our entire route from the house to the incline where we rested. My stomach sank.

Beth's eyelids remained closed, and her lips moved in silence. Thunder rumbled and stopped her counting. “The storm is… I th-think.”

I nodded, only hearing half of what she said, preoccupied with keeping my sight focused on the foreground. But the need to look beyond overwhelmed me, and I conceded. My eyes narrowed and scanned the forest behind Beth. Seconds later I found what I'd surmised was there. The faint red roofline visible through the trees was the proof. We hadn't travelled far, our breaks longer than our walks, our progress hindered by weakness, our minds stunted by his hunger for power.

“You were right, Beth.” The ghost of the house floated in front of my eyes, and I blinked it away. “We should have waited until we were stronger.” I pointed behind her.

Beth turned, and a moment later her small sharp intake of air showed me she saw what I indicated. “No, you were right. We had to leave, st-staying—” A crack of thunder interrupted her, and she sprang toward me and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Sorry.” She drew away.

“It's okay, Beth.” I didn't stop myself this time. It was okay after what we'd suffered.

Beth's eyes glared at me for a moment but softened as she nodded.

We rose to our weary feet; the storm drew closer and resting would not find us shelter. I reached out and took Beth's hand as we sauntered up the road. Eventually, our steps would take us further away.