The Courage Tree - Diane Chamberlain [140]
It was neither. Janine saw flashes of color through the trees, but it was a moment before the flashes grew together to form a person. A woman? Yes, it was a woman, dressed in tan shorts, a red top. And she was carrying something on her back. A child. A red-haired child!
“Sophie!” Janine started toward them, moving as swiftly as was possible through the thick undergrowth.
The woman kept walking, her step quick but labored under her burden.
“Sophie!” Janine called again, and the woman turned to glance at her, although she never stopped walking. Janine could see Sophie’s head resting against the stranger’s back. One of her feet was bandaged, and it bounced against the woman’s thigh as she walked.
“What are you doing with her?” Janine yelled as she neared them.
The woman seemed to pick up her pace, and Janine scrambled after her.
“Wait!” she cried, and the woman finally came to a stop.
Janine caught up to them, and Sophie lifted her head from the woman’s back. She was very ill, her color a sickly yellow, her face puffy with fluid.
“Oh, baby,” Janine said.
“Mom.” Sophie reached one swollen arm toward her. There seemed to be no fear in her at being carried by the woman. Or else, she was far beyond caring.
Janine held her daughter’s puffy face between her hands. “Oh, Sophe,” she said. “Oh, Sophe.”
“She’s sick,” the woman said. “We have to get her out of here.”
Janine reached for Sophie. “Let me have her,” she demanded. “I’m her mother.”
“I’ve got a good hold on her for now,” the woman said. “We’ll take turns. It’s a long way out of here, and I’m not really sure which way to go.”
Janine had no idea who this woman was or how she came to have Sophie on her back, but she was not an enemy, of that she felt certain. Perhaps she was a searcher who’d remained behind, out here on her own.
“I have a GPS,” Janine said, “but I also have a cell phone. Let me call for—”
“We have to get out of here now.” The woman looked over her shoulder, and Janine knew that something more than Sophie’s illness was spurring her on.
“This way,” Janine said, pointing. Still holding tight to the soft-sided cooler, she dropped her backpack on the ground to free herself to run, as the woman took off ahead of her. She was not a young woman, yet she seemed hugely strong and agile, and it took Janine a few seconds to catch up to her again.
She had so many questions, yet it was not the time to ask them. They no longer seemed important, anyway. She just took her lead from the woman and raced along next to her, checking the GPS from time to time, her vision blurred from her tears. Sophie was alive!
Branches snapped against her face, and she feared that either she or the woman would twist an ankle on a tree root or fallen branch if they kept up this pace.
“Can we stop for a minute?” she asked after a while. “I want to try my phone to see if I can get a signal.”
The woman looked behind them again. “All right,” she said, coming to a stop, breathing hard. “Let me put Sophie down for a minute.”
Janine helped her lower Sophie to the ground. She had never felt her daughter’s body in this condition, with her skin so taut and discolored over the puffiness.
“Can you sit up, honey?” she asked her.
Sophie barely seemed to hear her, but she offered Janine a smile all the same.
The woman sat down next to Sophie, still breathing hard. Her shirt clung to her back with sweat, and she watched while Janine tried the phone.
“Still no signal,” Janine said, staring at the display. “Look. Let me find some higher ground.” She thought again of the hilltop she’d reached the day before, but was still unsure how to get there. “You can stay here with Sophie, and I—”
“No.” The woman grabbed her arm. “I think we’re in some danger here.”
“From what?” Janine asked. “From who?”
“We just are. We need to keep moving. Can you carry Sophie for a while?”
“All right.”
The woman helped her lift Sophie into her arms, and for just a moment, Janine couldn’t take a step forward. Instead, she buried her head against the hot, damp skin of her daughter’s neck to breathe