THE TEACHINGS OF DOÑA DARIA
by Galen Hardesty
Part One
"Scampered?" Daria asked, not sure she was hearing her mother correctly.
Quinn had no such doubt. "What did it look like, Mom?"
Making descriptive hand gestures, Helen said, "Oh you know. Yellow, stripes on the back, powerful hind legs, three horns up here..."
"Come on, I saw where it went!" Quinn said. She ran off, with Helen right behind her.
Daria stared after them, the possible ramifications of this unexpected turn of events still unfolding in her mind. "Okay. Remain calm. Family's gone mad. Must get them back to civilization. But no way to contact civilization because mother made big deal about cutting off all communications."
As Quinn and Helen disappeared into the trees, the forest seemed to close in on Daria, and she couldn't help remembering that they were over twenty miles from the nearest hamlet, which she didn't think qualified as civilization anyway. She was starting to get the feeling that this wasn't going to be quite the relaxing weekend getaway that Doctor Helen had prescribed.
"What to do?" Her gaze fell on her mother's backpack, and specifically on a couple of pockets on the side that looked about the right size to hold a cell phone. She knelt and unzipped the first one. Bingo. "Rely on mother's hypocrisy to see us through this crisis."
A flushed, shirtless Jake ran up, looked around wildly, then pointed. "There it is! Behind that pack of zebras!" he shouted, and took off again.
Daria watched him go, then pocketed her camera, turned the phone on and listened. No dial tone, no sound. She hit 9-1-1, held it to her ear again. Nothing. She tried O, then 4-1-1, then Jane's number. Nothing worked. Either the phone wasn't working or they were in a dead area. Damn! She could really use some help right now. They all could.
A feeling of helpless dread began to grow within her. She could see the headline now. GIRL FOUND DEAD IN DEAD ZONE. The subhead would probably read: CELL PHONE CLUTCHED IN SKELETAL HAND.
Like hell, she thought. I will not be found dead clutching this useless cell phone like a clueless, helpless nincompoop. I'll get myself out of this. I'll get us all out of this.
She shoved the phone back in her mother's pack. With a look of determination, she picked it up and headed back in the direction the nutcases had gone.
At the campsite, Daria dropped her mom's pack, and then her own. She dug her compass and Swiss Army knife out of her pack. She thought briefly of her small pocket telescope that had gotten broken a few years ago, probably by Quinn. Well, it wouldn't have been much use in these thick woods anyway. She took a sip of water, sat down on a log, and considered what to do.
She could hike down to the ranger station and get help, but that was four or five miles away, and her family could be at least that many miles away from this campsite by the time she got there, in three different, unknown directions. This was a National Forest, not a park, and it bordered a wildlife management area, and off to the west there were a wilderness area and a park. Altogether, there was nearly a thousand square miles of wilderness and near-wilderness they could disappear into. She needed to somehow keep them from running off and getting lost.
Unfortunately, running off seemed to be one of the main effects of those damned berries. Maybe that's how they propagated- people or animals ate them, ran off several miles, pooped in the woods, new bushes grew in a new place. The great cycle of life rolled on. Daria looked around her. She was alone. Damn stupid cycle of life.
Daria shifted her position on the log to stay in the moving patch of shade. It reminded her of the passage of time, and that reminded her of her need to somehow get control of her demented family. If she could find them and catch them, she could... what? Wrestle them to the ground and hold them down till the berries wore off? Yeah, right. Maybe she could do that with Quinn, but she needed to restrain her parents too. Tie them up? Okay, provided she could find them, catch them, and wrestle them to the ground. Damn, there was that strength thing again. But they had to be somehow confined or controlled until they regained their sanity. Wait. Strike that. Until the effects of the damn berries wore off. She couldn't do miracles.
Daria opened her knife, walked to one of the tents, and cut the guy ropes off it. Pocketing the knife, she set off down the trail the way the others had gone, coiling the ropes as she went. She'd figure out something. She usually did. She had to. "Brain, don't fail me now," she said aloud.
~*~