30. My Machu Picchu

Survival was no longer in my hands alone; strangers had answered my whistle with a wave. But how could they find me? I had no red flare or blue fairy and, unlike Hansel, I left no breadcrumb trail. They had been headed my way until they disappeared completely. Change-of-heart? Enjoy precious hours onsite, or follow an enigmatic sound somewhere offsite? Over and over my whistles met silence. But then, there was a sound. A faint sound. And so began a whistling and shouting back-and-forth until four people appeared—stopped short by the ledge that was barely wide enough for one. (100)

Rescue Me, Fontella Bass