“Daddy…”
“I know, baby,” I said.
“Should we try the phone?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I want to find something, anything to climb so I can see where we are, a clearing to get a signal, something.”
We went on a little farther. The trees seemed to be spacing out farther and farther, and then we saw an amazing sight in the distance: a house.
“Daddy!”
“I see it!”
We both started jogging, but as we came through the trees, we discovered it wasn’t a house, but an old log cabin. “Cabin” was a kind word for this shack. It was all of a box, with wooden shutters over the two windows in the side, and a door of wooden slats that looked weathered and worn.
“What is it?” Abby asked.
“Some old cabin, maybe a tanning hut, probably a couple hundred years old.”
“Why would people sunbathe out here?”
“No, leather tanning for wild game.”
“Oh. What do we do?”
I looked at the sky. The last of the light was fading. “Help me climb on to the roof. We’ll see if we can get a GPS signal, get our bearings. We’ll use the cabin for shelter tonight, and maybe in the morning, set out again.”
“Okay,” she said.
Together, we climbed a stack of firewood that was on the side of the small cabin and made it on to the roof. As I looked out in the darkening sky, I could see a vast forest. I had clearly lost my way more than I realized. I could at least see the slope of the hill we were on, and the forest stretching beyond, and I thought I saw what looked like lights in the far distance, a sign of civilization.
“Let’s check the phone,” I said.
I took it out and turned it on. My daughter was right up next to me, looking at the screen. It popped up with 2% battery. We both gulped, but then we gasped.
“We have a bar!” Abby screamed. “Call 911!!!”
“No, wait. We have to be smart.”
Abby gave me a look. “911 is stupid?”
“No, but we don’t have enough battery for a conversation with 911, and we don’t know where we are. Let’s use the GPS to get a location first. Then we’ll text it to your aunt. She can call 911 for us. She has more than 2% battery.”
“Oh, okay.”
I opened the GPS and we both held our breath as the indicator spun. Then it snapped to our location with our GEO coordinates.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Abby said.
I screenshot it and then put it in a text. “Wait, you don’t have your Aunt Elise’s number saved?”
“Um, no.”
“Damn it. Who do I text then?”
“Oh, Keith maybe?”
“Are you crazy? What would he do the information? Wait, I’ll text myself.”
I put in my own number, which popped up on its own. Nice to see my daughter at least kept my number in her phone.
“But how will she see it?” she asked.
“My phone is in my room at her house. The moment she realizes we’re missing, she’ll check it.”
“It’s not locked?”
“No, you know I never lock my phone.”
I pressed send, my heart thumping in my chest. Then the phone went black.
“What happened?” Abby said.
“It turned off,” I said. “The battery died.”
“Well, did it send?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Oh, my god. We’re going to die out here.”
“Abby, we’re not. It sent.”
“It did not; you said you don’t know.”
“No, I saw the little check mark. I think it went though.”
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