? ? ?
We drove a few minutes more after the swamp, passing a hillock of twisted apple trees and the blackened carcass of an abandoned truck. Ancient stone walls crisscrossed the fields, at places in stunning shape and in others more piles of rocks than anything else. Once I thought I saw something dark and lumbering dissolve into the forest, but I couldn’t be sure; at the time I chalked it up to a play of shadows from passing clouds or simply my skittish imagination.
Rory eased the truck up and over a crest of shale and loose rocks, nosed it into a stand of white birch that skirted the forest, and killed the engine. Silence had its moment before woodland sounds started up again, a whir of insects and the rustle of unseen creatures among trees and undergrowth.
“I never felt so disgusting in my life,” Sandra said, shifting in her seat in her filthy clothes. We laughed, and dried mud cracked and fell in chips off our faces and onto the backseat.
Like a lost tribe of mud people, we followed Rory to a stream just outside the truck, really only a trickle of water that slipped over mossy stones before disappearing under a mess of tree limbs. It was so meager we had to take turns cleaning ourselves, which we did politely. All we could do was splash the worst of it off our faces and arms and legs, not anything like a real soak that would have done the job.
Rory tossed our gear out of the truck bed as if it weighed nothing, leaned our packs up against the birch trees, and locked the doors of the cab. This was it. We were into it now, the wild green world—about to shed even the truck and vanish into the forest. The sun lingered at its apex, warming the tops of our heads. I could feel it beating into the part of my hair. Pia sprayed herself with Off! and we all copied her.
“We’ll get to the river tonight,” Rory said as he rummaged in his pack and pulled out a rag. He soaked it in the stream and wiped his face. “We can really get washed up there.”
Something metal glinted from the side pocket of the pack where he’d gotten the rag. I hadn’t seen too many in my life but knew it was the handle of a gun. I looked away but felt Rory’s eyes burning into me as he stuffed the rag back over it.
Pia hoisted her pack over her shoulders, clipped the belt, and laughed. “We’re going to be so beautiful by the time we get this mud off.”
“Impossible,” Rory said. “You ladies couldn’t get any more beautiful.” The rest of us chuckled politely, but Pia actually perked up at this comment. Rachel gave Rory a long, hard look as she downed a few swigs of water. Sandra grimaced, cursing softly as she worked a wide-toothed comb through mud-hardened hair.
“You know what,” Rory said, “I really like how you all handled our situation back there. You jumped right in, no hesitation. Well, most of you.” He winked at me, and I felt myself redden. “That’s a survival skill.” He knifed a piece of apple and slid it in his mouth.
Rachel wandered over to the entrance of the trail, a subtle opening in dense green forest. “So does anyone, I don’t know, live out here?”
“I doubt it. Bear, moose, that’s another story. If you see a bear, don’t run, whatever you do. Especially a cub. Speak in a low voice and back off slow and gentle.”
Rachel plunked her hands on her hips, her kinky curls in a muddy topknot on her head. “Seriously, Rory, how many bears have you seen out here?”
“None. But I know what their scat looks like, and I’ve seen plenty of it.”
Rachel snorted. “Bear poop? Come on, how do you know it’s—”
“Last year an older couple came out here to camp—a mile away, maybe, near the river—and spotted a cub on the ridge. They got real close. Theory was they wanted to take a selfie with the thing, or that’s what their last Facebook update said, anyway. Too bad mama was watching; you know, just biding her time.”
Sandra put her comb down, eyes wide. “What happened to them?”
Rory snapped his shoulder straps together across his broad chest, yanked them taut. “Nothing good.”
My jaw tightened so hard I got light-headed and had to lean against my backpack for a moment. Rachel took a step toward the trailhead and peered into it as if she could find the answer there. “So come on, what?” she said breathily, her forehead shining with sweat.
“Pieces of them were found, that’s it. So the moral of the story is, don’t do stupid shit, and listen to what I say. Are we good? Ready to roll, ladies?”
We all nodded as we gathered our gear, the only sound soft grunts as we heaved our packs onto our shoulders.
9