If Trees Could Talk (It's Not About The Hike)

IF THE TREES COULD TALK

(It’s not about the hike.)

Gerry Aubrey

Copyright 2015 Gerry Aubrey

Published by Gerry Aubrey at Smashwords

ISBN: 978-0-9966273-0-6

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

About the Author

Dedication

DEDICATED TO:

RAY

GARRY

BILL

JEFF

and

ALAN

This book is a fictional story set in north central Pennsylvania.

The locations are real, but any similarities to actual people or events is coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

MAN DOWN

It was Saturday morning. The group awoke in dribs and drabs. Ross and Clark were out of their tents first. Clark had been part of the crew for thirty-five years. He introduced Ross to the group fifteen years ago. Ross was an ER doctor who Clark met at his health club. Clark was the top attorney in a small office of the American Civil Liberties Union in Harrisburg. Ross fired up one of the gas camping stoves while Matt crawled out of the tent he shared with Drew. They were lifetime friends, having met in junior high school. Tom shared a tent with Mitch. They worked together for over ten years selling roofing for the same company. Mitch went to another roofing company while Tom started a home inspection company, but they stayed in touch and remained close friends. The others teased Mitch and Ross about their seniority. Mitch and Ross were the new guys. Matt and Tom had started the hiking tradition. Clark joined the next year.

They formed a circle over the smoldering fire ring. Drew was the last one up.

"What are we going to do for coffee?’ Tom asked, knowing that Drew had broken his coffee press the previous morning.

Do you have more grounds? Ross asked.

Tom retrieved a baggy of coffee from his pack.

Let me have it, Ross continued.

How many cups does this make? Ross asked as Tom tossed him the measured zip-sealed bag full of fresh coffee.

That’s enough for one load in the press. It makes about eight cups, more like four of these mugs, he explained as he lifted his multi-purpose stainless steel coffee mug.

Let me have the mug, too, Ross requested.

Tom handed him the mug. Ross proceeded to dip it into the pot of boiling water and scooped four heaping cups of the water into another pot. He placed the pot on a second burner he had started. Within thirty seconds the water was in a rapid rolling boil. Ross dumped the coffee grounds into the pot, turned with a smile, and said, Army style. Improvisation is often a necessity in the woods.

I have more coffee in my pack, Tom offered.

Let’s see if we can get this stuff down first, Ross replied looking down at the brown bubbling caldron.

Throw in a few cat’s tails and the eye of a newt and we may have something there, Tom added. The pine needles are a nice touch. Tiny hemlock needles rolled in the water.

Ross pulled the pot off the burner with a metal camping pot holder.

Turn the heat up, Drew requested from his tent.

Heat? I’m in a T-shirt and shorts and I’m sweating, Ross bantered back. The heat would take its toll this day.

Where’s the coffee? Drew asked.

Give it a minute for the grounds to settle down, Ross responded.

Where’s your press, Tom? Drew asked.

In my pack in pieces since you broke the fucking thing, Tom shot back.

I didn’t break it. It was broken when I picked it up. I was just trying to clean it and be a good guy. You just over reacted. Geez Tom, you just have to chill sometimes, Drew retorted with a twinkle in his eye.

Easy does it, Tom. Isn’t that your saying? Drew continued.

Yes, Yeahh it is, but when they tell you that, they didn’t have assholes like you in mind, Tom replied.

The usual kibitzing was boiling up along with the coffee.

That’s good coffee, Matt added as he lifted his cup to the others. They refreshed the pot with more grounds and more hot water as the breakfast scene played out.

You can throw that press out, Matt teased Tom. This coffee’s better.

Fine, see if you get my coffee next time. Those grounds are mine, too. Bring your own grounds. Tom responded in feigned agitation. Both smiled during the exchange.

The group packed, moving in a low gear this morning. This was the final day with almost twenty miles behind them. They had eight more in front of them. It was a bold undertaking for a group of men on the downhill side of middle age. They were all in their mid-sixties except Mitch who was about ten years younger.

How about if you guys go get the car, I’ll hike down to The Manor, and you can pick me up there? Matt suggested as he verbalized the thought many were harboring.

Ross was the first one ready to hike. Tom had filtered drinking water for everyone but was now busy packing. Mitch had packed up their tent and was almost ready. They chatted some more. Ross was chaffing at the bit and ready to hike.

All were ready except Drew. We’re heading out, Ross announced. Are you ready? he asked, looking straight at Drew.

Yeah, I’m ready, he falsely proclaimed.

Clark orchestrated a two-way radio check with Drew and four of them headed up the hill.

The first miles were pretty much uphill with few switchbacks here and there. A steady thousand foot climb lay waiting. There was a very sharp uphill turn about two miles out. You had to grab hold of a small collection of trees that served as hand rails while rocks anchored in the roots served as steps. It was the biggest challenge of a very difficult hike.

Matt hung back and left with Drew a couple minutes later. All were now trudging up the trail in silence. They were breaking a sweat from the hill and the heat. Hard hikes equal less conversation. Breathing is reserved for energy, not wasted on small talk.

The group spread out. Tom glanced over his shoulder. He saw Matt as a tiny speck way down the trail. He saw no trace of Drew. Tom reached the first of several switchbacks and once he turned the corner, there was no view of Matt or Drew. They began to hit their stride. They were on the trail about thirty minutes with the first mile scaled.

They navigated the steepest climb of the trail as they took turns going through the natural maize. Slippery footing added to the challenge. They huffed and puffed their way over another mile or more. The trail began to level off. Ross and Clark were in front with Mitch and Tom a hundred yards behind them.

Clark received a beep on the two way radio. He pushed the call button and answered, Drew, is that you? No answer. The call light lit again and no one was there. Clark stopped, responded, but again, there was no reply.

Tom and Mitch had caught up. Clark called ahead, Hey Ross, wait up. Something’s not right. I think I’m getting a message from Drew, but he’s not on there. Ross came back to the group. The light on the radio lit again. There was no one there. Ross grabbed the radio and put it to his ear. About thirty seconds went by and again the beep, the light, but no verbal communication.

Drew’s in trouble, Ross said. He dropped his backpack in one smooth motion. Get my pack, we’re going back, Ross announced over his shoulder as he began racing back down the trail. The remaining hikers looked at each other and froze.

Clark broke the paralysis as he reached down, grabbed Ross’s pack, and said, Let’s go! Clark, Mitch, and Tom turned on their heels and headed back down the trail.

Their movement was brisk, but Ross was now out of view. He broke a sweat as he accelerated to a jogger’s pace. The path was narrow, jagged, and slippery. A turned ankle could be disastrous. He looked up and realized he was about to run over Matt. Where’s Drew? Ross barked as he shot past Matt.

I don’t know I haven’t seen him since early this morning. He was slow… Matt stopped talking as he realized Ross was out of ear shot. Matt stopped. He looked down Ross, then back up the trail. He surveyed the situation and followed Ross back down the trail.

They all moved at an accelerated pace. Nothing like the pace set by Ross, but they were hustling by trail hiking standards. Ross was soon at the precipice of the steepest climb of the day. It was about thirty feet straight down: a labyrinth of tight trees and tricky footwork. He steadied himself using the trees. His feet slid out, but he didn’t fall. As Ross descended, he saw Drew.

The right side of Drew’s face was visible. The left side was pressed into the mountain, driven by the weight of his pack. His face was dotted with pine needles and dusted with dirt from the forest floor. A visible eye was wide open, but blank. Ashen skin was almost blue around his eye as he lay motionless.

Ross was face to face with death. Drew had slid down the hill several feet from the steep climb. It looked like he lost it midway through the gauntlet and fell. The radio was on the ground inches from his right hand. Ross reached down and felt under Drew’s jaw for a pulse. Nothing.

He tried to flip him over, but the pack was in the way. Ross released the straps, and tried to yank the pack off his shoulders. He needed to lift Drew out of the pack. Ross hugged Drew as he lifted him and drug him to level ground. His legs were between Ross’s legs, forcing him to waddle back down the hill. He laid him down, and then felt for breath with the back of his hand. Nothing. He confirmed that Drew was dead.

Ross grabbed Drew’s head and jerked his chin upward. He pinched Drew’s nose and pulled open his mouth, grabbing the lower part of his jaw. He breathed into Drew covering his mouth with his. Ross’s sweat dripped on Drew’s face. He was breathing heavily. Drew’s chest rose involuntarily with the influx of air. Ross repeated it. He stopped and felt Drew’s chest. Ross cupped his hands together over Drew’s heart. He pushed down-hard. He repeated it with all the force he could muster. Again, again, he pushed. Ross counted off thirty compressions. He returned to the breathing. This was life and death.

Matt was the next to arrive. He saw Drew’s pack first and knew there was trouble. He climbed down the rock stairway and saw them. He was hit by the chilling contrast of Ross’s red skin pressed against Drew’s grey cheek. It was the color of death. Matt’s heart sank as he stood in shocked disbelief. Sweat continued to run down Ross’s cheeks, dripping off his nose, his forehead was beaded. His saturated shirt clung to him.

Matt dropped his pack. Ross heard it hit the ground. Watch what I am doing, he said as he shifted to do compressions. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, four, five, he verbalized. He then returned to the breathing. Matt watched Drew’s chest rise like a camping mattress filling with air. It then subsided. The compressions are rapid, Ross yelled over his shoulder without missing a stroke. The pace should be about a hundred a minute, but thirty is recommended. Ross was breathing heavily.

Are you paying attention? he called out as he continued with the compressions. I’m going to need you to take a shift soon.

What do I do? Matt responded, frozen by the whole development. Matt was a borough manager, not an ER doctor. He had no EMT training. This was foreign to him and he had to learn it fast.

Watch my hands. I want you to take over on the compressions, Ross said. See how they are cupped? See the position? This is all critical. After I give him breaths again, I want you to take a shift on his chest. Now! Go!

Matt pushed down on Drew’s chest. Harder, harder, you can’t hurt him, he’s already dead! Ross barked. Matt pushed harder. His hands trembled. His fingers were turning white. He shook inside. All he could think about was Ross’s instructions.

Rapid pumping! You’re trying to kick-start his heart. You need a lot of torque. You’re catching on. Matt was hyperventilating. Ross stopped him at thirty. Ross repeated the breathing. Matt waited on his aching knees. Two deep breaths later and Ross said, Okay, now hit it hard. We can’t do both at the same time. You’ll just push the air out.

Matt was pushing harder. That’s it, Ross said as he voiced encouragement. Matt’s energy level was increasing. He was pumped with adrenaline, and his breathing stabilized. The next set went smoother. The ground was hard, his arms were weak, his knees ached, and he was wrought with tension. It was an out-of-body experience. He imagined he wasn’t there. He just wanted to flee.

"Okay, after this, we’ll switch. I’ll give him two breaths. Pay attention. You need to position your mouth over his and pinch his nose. Try and get as much air as possible into his chest. Keep his head up so his windpipe stays clear. Ross’s voice jolted Matt back to the urgency of the moment. Matt finished the reps and studied Ross as he breathed into Drew again. Ross took a shift on the reps.

It was Matt’s turn at the breath of life. Matt blocked out the uncomfortableness he felt as he placed his mouth over Drew’s. Matt was squeamish. Ross sensed it.

Don’t worry, he’s not going to give you AIDS, Ross shot over to Matt.

Matt felt pangs of guilt for his feelings.

You didn’t want to do that, did you? Ross said as he pounded on Drew’s chest.

No, it was uncomfortable, Matt confessed.

That’s normal. You passed the heterosexual test, Ross joked as he pounded away. Neither of them laughed. It was too soon for gallows humor. Matt could not dismiss the difference he noticed in the force in his chest compressions and Ross’s.

Everybody has trouble with the breathing. They have tubes you can put down their throats so there is no skin contact. You did very well. I watched his chest, Ross continued as he reassured Matt that he was right on target.

The others arrived. They dropped their packs. As he did the chest beating, he reviewed the instructions he had given Matt. They were laser focused as Ross went over each detail. Ross soon circled off of Drew and Mitch jumped in. Ross hovered over the lifeless form directing each one as they took shifts. They all rotated through so they each had a shift at each phase. Ross was now able to take a break for several minutes.

How long do we do it? Clark asked as he rotated off.

Till he breathes back, Ross said as he dropped to his knees and jumped in for another shift.

How long have we been doing it? It seems like hours. Matt added.

Ross glanced at his watch as it rose up and down on Drew’s chest. About twelve minutes, Ross responded. Mitch seemed to get the hang of it the best. Maybe it was that he was the strongest, maybe because he was coached before in physical activity, or that he played college football. Whatever the reason, he did both jobs well.

He blew back! Mitch yelled. They both stopped. Drew’s body shook like he was tagged by a Taser. He gasped for air as if drowning. He shook, gasped again, and his body dropped. He wanted to breathe more than his body had the strength to provide. But he was breathing. Ross put his head on Drew’s chest.

It’s beating, Ross said as he lifted his head up. Drew’s face was still gray.

Drew started coughing. Ross jumped up into a squatting position and yelled, Lift him. Tom and Clark ran to his feet. No, not there, Ross yelled. Get under his arms, lift him straight up, then you two stand back. There was a gut-wrenching cough. Mitch and Ross lifted him like a rag doll. Ross held the back of his head like a newborn baby. Stand back, Ross yelled.

With that, Drew projectile vomited across the trail. Up came oatmeal, trail mix, and chucks of Spam in a sauce of bile and Tom’s coffee. Another load soon followed. Drew’s body went limp.

Move him away from here and we’ll lay him down again, Ross continued directing. They drug him about fifty feet from the vomit. Ross stuck his fingers in Drew’s mouth and cleaned out the last of it. He wiped his hand on his shorts as he put his head on Drew’s chest. He still has a pulse, we’re good, Ross added.

He looked up from Drew. The four of them looked like they had seen a ghost. This happens all the time. Dying can make you sick, Ross dead panned. No one laughed.

Get me his pack, Ross commanded as he stayed with his patient. He put the back of his hand in front of Drew’s mouth and nose. He felt breathing. It was shallow, but steady. He checked for a pulse.

What should his pulse be? Tom asked as Clark worked his way back with the pack.

I just want to know he has one, Ross replied.

I have baby aspirin, Tom added. "Anyway we can get it to him?’

You do? Great! Get it out. Get me a couple of spoons, too, Ross replied.

They all scrambled for their packs. Tom had the aspirin and a spoon in seconds, Clark also supplied a spoon. Ross took the two spoons and crushed two baby aspirins between them. Tom marveled at his strength as he thought of his own arthritis.

Ross pried the two spoons apart. He scraped the aspirin off the bottom of the top spoon so it all sat in the bottom spoon. He wet his finger with his mouth. It was the same finger he used to clean out Drew’s mouth a minute ago. He pressed it into the crushed aspirin and pulled open Drew’s mouth. He rubbed his finger under Drew’s tongue. He repeated it until most of the aspirin was under Drew’s tongue. The other campers looked at each other. Ross never batted an eye.

I know you are supposed to give him aspirin. What does it do? Matt asked.

Aspirin reduces platelets in the blood. They can block flow. If there is a tear in the area around the heart, the body wants to clot around it. If it clots, it can kill off that part of the heart. We want the blood to keep moving to all areas around there. If the blood is thinner, it can travel through more vessels. Every little bit helps. The aspirin can be life and death. If someone has a heart attack and they are conscious, they should take baby aspirin.

Why baby aspirin? Matt continued.

It breaks down faster, Ross replied.

Should we get a mattress under him? Clark asked.

No. If we lose him and we have to do CPR again, you want him on a hard surface. The mattress will keep the compressions from working. Always do CPR on a hard surface, Ross explained.

Did you get his pack? Ross asked.

Yeah, it’s right here, Tom offered.

Get out some pants, some underwear, and a towel, Ross continued. I need water, too. Help me get his shoes off. He’s not going to be hiking out of here.

Mitch added, I have a space blanket we can put under him.

Good idea.

With Drew stabilized, Ross began to direct the next move. Tom, go to The Manor and get help. Tell them to call 911 and get whatever they can out here to get him off the mountain. Don’t run. I know you’ll want to. Walk fast, but don’t run. Focus! Keep your eyes on the trail. Take one of the radios. How far is The Manor from here? Ross wanted to know everything.

I don’t know exactly, four, maybe four and half miles, but why me? Tom asked.

Because you going makes the most sense, Ross shot back. He wasn’t up for negotiation.

Why? Tom wanted to stay. He felt he could be more help there.

Why don’t you send Mitch? He can get there a lot faster than I can.

I need Mitch here.

You don’t need me? Tom retorted. "

Look, I know you want to stay here and help. Here’s my thinking; I want Mitch here because he’s strong and he did the CPR the best of everyone. If we have to move him, I want Mitch to help carry him. The same goes for Clark. He’s tall and that may come in handy. Matt is Drew’s best friend. I don’t want to tell him to leave. You are the logical choice.

I’m the slowest of all of us. Sending me for help can cost us minutes, Tom responded, but he was still holding back.

Tom, you know that trail cold. You could do that hike in your sleep and not trip. That’s another reason you should go, Ross added in an effort to win Tom over to the idea of him being the messenger.

I know more about first aid than any of these guys. I took two courses in CPR, a four hour and an eight hour course. I was certified to perform CPR. I think I have the most to offer right here, Tom continued, still challenging the decision to send him off for help.

Tom, I just saw everybody do CPR. I respect the fact you took those courses. It’s nice that you know first aid. It just makes the most sense on every level that you go for help.

He’s right, Clark added. Clark was Ross’s friend. Clark reinforcing Ross’s position was to be expected.

We’re wasting time, Matt contributed. We have to get somebody to go. Tom, we need you to get moving.

It was now unanimous, save Tom’s consent. Matt’s statement closed the deal.

CHAPTER TWO

A PLAN

Give me Drew’s radio so I can stay in touch, Tom conceded.

Good. Give us updates on the radio as you go, Ross added as he again took command of the situation. Also, when you are coming back with help, start calling us as soon as you get in the woods. Tom, don’t forget to watch your step. It’s more important to get there five minutes later than to get hurt and then we have two guys that need help.

What about my pack? Tom asked.

You don’t need it, Matt added.

With that, Tom grabbed his keys from his pack and headed down the trail. He was the one who started the trips and did most of the coordinating each year. Married, the father of three, he spent most of his life self-employed or in commissioned sales job. He looked more youthful than his years. Behind a graying, but trimmed mustache, he hid a mouth that was as quick to smile as to snap. His soft blue eyes aided