The Journey Home by Brandon Wallace Page B

a compass, huh?”
    Jake didn’t answer. He turned away. I blew it again, he thought.
    â€œWait!” Taylor said. “I know! We can look at the sun to find which way to go.”
    Jake threw his arms up at the sky, where the fog completely hid any sign of the sun. “Maybe when the fog burns off.”
    Taylor sighed. “Or we could turn back? Follow the road back to the highway?”
    For a moment Jake wanted nothing more. But then he imagined a patrol car pulling up, and police asking questions that he and Taylor wouldn’t be able to answer. For one horrible second he saw Bull’s bones on a morgue slab, coveredwith a sheet. Jake was angry with his dad but didn’t want him to go to jail.
    â€œI say we keep going,” he said. “Between the two of us, we should be able to find our way through these mountains to Thermopolis, compass or no compass. What do you say?”
    Taylor smiled. “I’m in. We’ve got to live up to our Wilder name, right?”
    Jake slapped him on the back. “Right. C’mon, let’s pack up.”
    After a hasty breakfast of jerky and biscuits, Taylor rescued his snowboard from their shelter, and the boys set off. Guessing which way was north based on their travel the previous day, Jake led. It didn’t take long to realize just how big a task he’d taken on.
    â€œMan, this is deep,” he muttered, slogging through the layer of white beneath him.
    â€œYeah, you want me to break trail for a while?” Taylor asked.
    â€œSure. We can trade off.”
    â€œWe should make Cody do it,” Taylor joked. They both looked back to see the dog trailing behind, content to let the boys do the hardest work.
    Despite the deep snow, the boys made decent progress—at first. Without warning, the gulley suddenly ended, forcing them to slog up a steep slope to a ridge above them. They continued following that, but then the ridge abruptlychanged directions. They zigzagged along the ridge until finally, after a couple of hours, they stopped and looked at each other with dismay.
    â€œJake, we’re even more lost than we were before,” said Taylor.
    â€œYeah, I know,” admitted Jake. “Let’s stop for a minute.”
    Jake spread out the foil blanket for them to sit on while Taylor broke out the last of their deer jerky.
    â€œDo you have any idea where we are?” Taylor asked.
    Jake looked all around them. The sun still hadn’t shown itself through the fog, so their map might as well have been toilet paper.
    â€œNo,” he said, “but let’s head this way.”
    Making his best guess, Jake led them up into higher ground, following whatever ravines or contours looked promising.
    Soon, as they continued, the land ahead of them rose up much more steeply—almost into cliffs. It took them almost two more hours to reach the summit of the rocky pass. At the top they collapsed on their packs, as tired as they’d ever felt before. Even Cody seemed exhausted.
    â€œWhat do you think Mom’s doing now?” Taylor asked.
    Jake looked out at the wintry landscape. He let the question hang in the cold air. The truth was, he didn’t want to even imagine an answer—it would be all too easy to think the worst.
    As they lay there, the fog eventually began to clearfrom the ridge they were perched on. For the first time that day, the sun made an appearance, a silvery orb tracking across the horizon. Feeling the dim warmth on his face, Jake opened his eyes, then stood up to get his bearings. Taylor joined him.
    Jake realized that they’d actually gone farther west than he’d intended. He began studying the terrain to see which way they should go next, when Taylor exclaimed, “Jake, look! Is that a house down there?”
    Jake turned and squinted. At first he saw nothing.
    â€œRight there,” Taylor said, pointing.
    Then Jake spotted it, a small structure in the canyon below