Crossing the boulders was no mean feat. I was loath to get my feet wet, and the sun weighed heavy on my back as I picked my way over, rock by mossy rock. I had no clue what had gotten into Avery in the first place. This wasn’t like her—all cocksure impulsiveness and questionable judgment. Although, hell, considering what we’d just done, maybe it was.
I stepped onto the far shore, and that’s when my head started to hurt in earnest, a dull throb that circled my left eye socket with cheerless predictability. My stomach weakened, as well, but I continued moving, continued heading toward the unknown—an encounter that hadn’t been on any map and one I wasn’t prepared for.
The back of my neck began to sweat.
My legs itched from the grass.
The sore call of a bird rang out, echoing down the gorge. It was one I recognized—a killdeer, its tittering song both mournful and sad—and I walked faster, the sun melting my resolve as I struggled to reach the girl ahead of me who couldn’t be bothered to look back. Then the bird cooed again—killdeer, killdeer, killdeer-deer-deer—and this time I shivered in response, chilled suddenly, even in the heat.
—
The man we’d seen from the ridge headed straight for Avery. He didn’t follow any path but cut his own, arrow true, through the long grass and yellow reeds. His black hair fell almost to his shoulders, and it turned out he’d put on pants, but not a shirt. The man wasn’t tall but he was muscular, his chest covered in a pelt of dark hair, and I didn’t like the way he smiled at Avery as he closed in on her, a look both long and wolfish.
But the man kept smiling, even as the rest of us rushed to catch up with her. He smiled not only at Avery, but at me and Archie and Dunc. He looked us each in the eye, right in a row, with this strange, glittering type of intensity, and there was something so genuine and disarming about the way he did this that I began to doubt my initial reaction to his presence. Maybe I’d been wrong to judge the guy before meeting him. Maybe my irritation stemmed more from my budding migraine, as well as my own guilt-stained insecurities—of which I had plenty. Maybe this guy was perfectly, absolutely, one hundred percent normal.
When we were all there, standing right in front of him—me wincing and queasy, the other three seemingly far more eager and pleased with themselves—the dark-haired man threw his arms open wide and beamed.
“Jesus saves!” he cried.
17.
AH, SHIT, WAS my first thought, and I don’t care how that sounds. It wasn’t as if I had a problem with Christianity as a whole, or even Jesus, himself—although I’d never counted myself as a believer. But I happened to know full well that people who went around greeting strangers with forceful exultation and references to their Lord and Savior were usually born-agains. I also happened to know that being born twice usually meant you’d fucked up the first time around and were almost certain to fuck up the second. In that way, I guess, history really was good for something. Not for changing the future but for being able to say, I told you so.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Avery’s smile falter at the stranger’s words—she seemed to be having the same doubts as me—but in the next instant the man had his arms wrapped around her in this giant bear hug. He wasn’t groping her ass or anything, but seeing his hairy chest pressed against her made my skin crawl. I also caught sight of a large tattoo covering his right shoulder: It was a thick black circle inscribed with the same twin Xs I’d seen on the State of Jefferson seal on the drive out here. The infamous Double Cross. Well, you can bet that didn’t make me feel any better about the guy, and when he released Avery and turned to me, arms still wide, I stuck my hand out instead.
The man hesitated, then shook it vigorously. “Praise the Lord, son. Praise the Lord.”
I said nothing.
He kept holding on to my hand. Eventually, I pulled it back. Let him do the whole greeting thing with Dunc and Archie, who were both grinning and cracking up and looking like fools, which I guess they were.
Avery cleared her throat. “We’re on a hike,” she said.
The man turned to smile at her again. In addition to his black hair and pale skin, he had very blue eyes, the kind that glowed bright like a warning. “Why, that’s a beautiful thing for you young people to be doing. Absolutely beautiful.”
“I’m Avery,” she told him. “This is Ben and this is Dunc and that’s Archie.”
The man kept smiling. “Your Benjamin’s not too fond of me, I see.”
“My name’s not Benjamin,” I said.
“Maybe Ben doesn’t like to see half-naked men.” Avery held her camera up and pointed it at the man.
Click.
“Well, I’ll try not to take it too personally, then,” he said smoothly. “I’m Elvin, by the way, but you can call me Preacher, if that’s easier. If that’ll help you remember who I am and what it is I stand for.”
“Alvin?” Dunc said.
“Elvin. With an E.”
“Like an elf?” I asked.
The Preacher turned to me, and while he was just as genuine as before, just as intense and glittering and odd, he also appeared determined to see right through me. I stood there, unmoving, under the cool weight of his gaze and the warmth of the day and with my head beginning to erupt, in all its molten pain.
“Yes,” the Preacher told me, those blue eyes soaking me in, trying to soak me up. “Like an elf.”
“Why don’t you have a Christian name?” I asked.
The Preacher’s grin grew wider. “Did I say I was a Christian?”
“But you just—”
“Come now,” he purred. “I want you all to meet the two lovely ladies I’m hiking with today. They’re just getting decent, you know. They’re a little upset, seeing as how you came across us bathing. But that’s understandable. It’s just you young people, you surprised us coming along that trail like you did.”
This made even Archie frown. “But anyone could’ve come by. It’s a public trail.”
“Yes, it is.” The Preacher’s gaze turned skittish, darting up the gorge and back again. “But, you see, we’re very private people.”
—
He led us through the grass, all the way to the campsite, where a clothesline had been strung between trees and a pile of camping supplies sat dumped haphazardly beside the fire pit, including a cooler, a few well-worn canvas folding chairs, and a card table with a portable propane stove set on top of it.
It was also where the two women we’d seen earlier—both now fully dressed—sat together on a pair of threadbare tartan blankets spread out in the sun. It turned out they weren’t that old, although they weren’t young either. Both had leathery skin and lines around their eyes that reminded me of my mother—markers of that type of age not counted in years. They also had dyed black hair, which didn’t make either of them appear younger, just ragged and unkempt. A little scary, too. Standing awkwardly beside them, I thought I caught sight of something dark moving among the trees, in my periphery, but when I turned to look, I couldn’t make out what it was.
“Hey, is someone over there?” I asked.
One of the women, who had a silver flask in one hand and a black brace on the wrist of the other, shook her head. “Don’t think so. Maybe you’re seeing things.”