“Was I hideous enough?” she asked as she stood up.
“Disgusting.”
As he helped her down, a few stones at the top of the ravine skittered over the falls, hitting the water behind her with a sudden slap. Maggie jumped at the sound.
“Damn,” Tom said, holding her tight as he looked up and around. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Fine. Can I see the pictures?”
He gave her the camera, and she clicked through the photos. The first was a close-up of her and the rock goblin. The second was a wider shot of the falls. And the third was…
Maggie narrowed her eyes at the display screen.
“What?” Tom asked.
She showed him the picture on the camera’s display screen. The falls behind her. The rocky cliff rising ten feet above her. And something else.
The shadow of a man.
They scanned the cliff again but saw nothing. The Goblin Falls were off-trail, but people knew about them and hiked to them all the time. Just another hiker. That was all.
Still, when Tom said they should head back, Maggie said she was ready. She put her jacket back on, then her backpack. She bent to pick up her water bottle, and that’s when she saw them coming down the hill.
She stood up at once and froze in place, hand up to warn Tom not to speak or move.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered. She pointed.
Under her breath, Maggie said, “It’s them.”
And it was them, the lost boys.
One boy stood upright, mostly. The other boy was slung over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. They were shirtless, wearing pants six inches too short but no socks or shoes. Bare feet in the forest in November?
The standing boy struggled under the weight of the other boy. Sweat-damp red hair hung across his face. The boy on his shoulders had blond hair that hung loose and long.
Tom started forward, but Maggie grabbed his arm to stop him. Why? She didn’t know. Instinct. Fear. The uncanny feeling that they’d crossed the border into a story they didn’t belong in…
The one with the red hair met her eyes. Serious eyes. Older-than-his-years eyes. Carefully, he made his way down the narrow game trail, then walked right past them as if they weren’t there, carrying the other boy to the bank of the falls. He went down on one knee and gently eased the other boy onto the soft earth in the lone patch of sunlight.
When Tom opened his mouth, Maggie shook her head. The boy with red hair had an animal’s quiet readiness about him. One wrong word, and he might bolt like a deer, take flight like an eagle, vanish like a ghost.
The eyes of the other boy were open, but he was clearly confused, dazed. Head injury?
They stood a few feet away from the boys, watching them warily.
“Can you get a signal on your cell?” she whispered.
He opened his flip phone, then shook his head no.
The blond one on the ground let out a groan. Before she could stop him, Tom rushed to them, knelt, and reached out toward the boy on the ground.
It happened so fast, fast as a cobra striking. The red-haired boy struck out with his arm and caught Tom by the wrist.
Tom froze. Maggie gasped. Her heart hammered in her chest so hard she thought she might faint. She ran to Tom’s side.
“Jeremy.” She said it sharply, trying to break the spell.
Because it was Jeremy, of course. Jeremy Cox, whose name or face she would never forget again. And if he was Jeremy, the other boy was Ralph Howell.
Jeremy looked at her.
“It’s all right, Jeremy,” she said. “I’m a nurse.”
He still had Tom’s wrist trapped like a vise.
“You,” he said to her, stern as a four-star general. “Not him.”
She nodded. Jeremy released Tom’s wrist.
“Run for help,” she told Tom. “Right now. Go!”
He didn’t argue. He seemed relieved to get away from this moment that asked more of him than he had to give.
In her backpack, Maggie kept a small first aid kit, a flashlight, and her stethoscope. She checked Ralph’s pupils, breathing, heart rate, and temperature. All good. All strong.
“Help me roll him,” she said. They rolled Ralph onto his side so she could check his back for injuries. Damp leaves stuck to his skin. She peeled them off one by one, revealing long, narrow scars. Deep animal scratches? A run-in with barbed wire?
She touched the scars. They were older wounds, long healed. Gently, she laid him onto his back again.
