As I watched her climb out of the car, I could tell that something was wrong. The driver of the car was saying something to her; his words, though indistinguishable, sounded pleading. Pamela offered a curt “thank you” and shut the car door, staggering a little as she stepped back. Even from a distance I could see that she wasn’t okay. She was leaning to one side and her steps were awkward.

I had once read about people crawling to Mecca to atone for their sins. I wondered if, on some level, Pamela saw this journey as her penance. Maybe she really was willing to walk herself to death. I didn’t want to think about it. I continued on past two more signs.

Wall Drug, USA. Just Ahead

Homemade Lunch Specials. Wall Drug

A few minutes later I looked back. Pamela was farther behind than I thought she would be. Actually, it looked like she hadn’t taken more than a few steps since she’d left the car. I continued walking but turned back less than a minute later. Pamela was facedown on the ground.

I dropped my pack on the side of the road and started jogging back to her.

As I neared her I grew more anxious. She wasn’t moving. When I was maybe a hundred feet away I cupped my hands to my mouth and shouted, “Pamela!”

Nothing. I shouted again, “Pamela!”

She slowly raised her head so that her chin touched the asphalt. She looked at me with a confused expression. When I reached her, I crouched down next to her. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes darted quickly back and forth. Her face was scraped on one side, and her skin was bright red. Her lips were cracked. Her mouth was moving but she was having trouble speaking. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“When was the last time you had something to drink?” I asked, taking a water bottle from my waist belt.

“Long time,” she said, her words slurred.

I held the bottle up to her lips. She opened her mouth and I squirted the water inside. She gulped heavily, though much of it ran down the side of her mouth and face. She stopped drinking only a few times and drained the bottle in less than a minute. When the bottle was empty she lay forward again, her face in her arms.

She lay there for another fifteen minutes before she rolled to her side. “Thank you.”

“Would you like some more water?”

She nodded. “Yes.” Her speech already sounded better.

I brought out my other bottle, which was only half full. She held it herself this time and quickly drained it. When she’d finished the water I handed her a Clif Bar from my pants pocket. “Here, have this,” I said, peeling back the wrapper. “You need some carbs.”

She ate the bar quickly.