In truth, it sounded like heaven. I lifted my head, forced open my eyes, and nodded. She reached into a canvas bag that lay at her feet and pulled out a bottle of pills. Handed me two and took one for herself.
Popping the Coke tab, I swallowed the pills gratefully. “Thank you.”
“Just don’t tell Elvin,” Maggie warned.
“I won’t.”
She gave a nod. “So you the one fucking that girl?”
“What?”
She shrugged. “Well, one of you has to be. I saw the way she was looking at you. You’re either boning her or you’re her gay best friend. That’s a compliment, you know. You got a cute face, kid.”
“Thanks?” I forced down more Coke and tried not to blush. “I’ve got a girlfriend, though. That’s not her.”
“I didn’t ask about girlfriends.”
I blushed harder. “So, uh, what kind of church are you with?”
This made Maggie laugh. “What’d Elvin tell you about that?”
“Just that he’s a . . . preacher.”
She laughed more. “That he is, damn it. Church of goddamn Elvin. Ain’t nothing like it.”
“Margaret,” a voice said sharply, and we both looked up to see the Preacher standing right behind us, his arms folded, his body blocking the sun. “Have some respect.”
Maggie ignored him. She winked at me before yawning and stretching her body across the blanket like a cat. “Think we got time for a nap, kid?”
“Uh, we’re going to need to get going if we want to get to our campsite before dark. I should probably find my friends.” I sat up and looked around. I didn’t see Avery anywhere.
“Where’s this campsite?” she asked.
“We’re trying to get to the lake.” I gestured toward the summit. “We’ll camp in the meadow by the waterfall, though.”
Maggie lifted an eyebrow. “Not worried about the storm, are you?”
“What storm?”
“Some guy in Willits told me there’s one coming. Could be snow and everything. I wouldn’t go up on that mountain, if I were you.”
“It’s eighty degrees out,” I said, but I was looking right at Maggie and she was looking back at me. She’d said Willits. There was no way they would’ve driven through Willits if they’d come from Arcata. Arcata was north, up on the water, near the Oregon border, and Willits was a hundred miles south of here and inland. It didn’t make sense.
“What’re you thinking about, Ben?” the Preacher asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. You know, we really should get going.” I cleared my throat and started gathering my things. “We’ve got a long ways to hike.”
“Oh, there’s no hurry,” Maggie said. “Stay awhile. At least until you feel better.”
“I don’t think—”
“Stay awhile, Ben.” This came from the Preacher, who wasn’t smiling anymore. “I insist.”
I opened my mouth to argue or, hell, at least do something, when I heard my name being called. Startled, I turned to see Archie and Dunc stumbling from the woods, both with huge grins spread across their faces. Clearly drunk off their asses. Or stoned again.
But for once I didn’t mind, because the next words out of Archie’s mouth were, “Hey, asshole! You deaf or something?”
“Huh?” I asked.
He pointed toward the ridge where we’d sat and spied on the Preacher and the women bathing naked in the water. And there, like the most welcome mirage, was Mr. Howe and the others, all standing in a row, waving frantically, trying to get our attention.
“They’re waiting for us, dickhead,” Archie said. “So hurry your shit up already.”
18.
PERCOCET OR NO Percocet, it wasn’t easy to walk with a migraine, much less hike with one. But I didn’t care. Abandoning my Coke and any questions I might have had about where this group of people had actually come from, I muttered a halfhearted good-bye to Maggie, leapt to my feet, and grabbed my backpack. Once upright, however, the ground betrayed me, tilting in this seasick sort of motion.
But I held it together, managing to stagger full tilt toward Dunc and Archie like a blundering buffalo. My sunglasses offered a slight respite from the sun’s whip-strong glare, and I was relieved to see that Avery was well ahead of us, as usual, apparently having gotten away from the Preacher on her own accord—something I hadn’t been able to do. In fact, she’d already made her way back over the China Spring and was currently climbing out of the gorge.
“Come on,” I gasped when I reached the other guys, not bothering to stop. I lurched right past them. “Let’s go.”
“What’s the hurry?” Dunc asked, loping alongside me.
I glanced over my shoulder, back at the campsite in the woods. “Nothing. It’s just, my head really fucking hurts.”
“Your head? Is it one of your migraines?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit,” breathed Dunc. “How are you even walking?”
I couldn’t very well mention being stoned out of my mind on Percocet, so I shrugged. Looked over my shoulder again.
Saw nothing.
My headache grew worse. I turned around and kept walking. I wanted to get the hell out of there. Actually, what I wanted was to go back in time and change the past so that I’d never come down into this gorge in the first place. Regret, it seemed, was becoming a staple of mine.
Archie caught up with us, wheezing from the effort. “Hey, was that Preacher guy trying to convert you or something?”
“No,” I said.
“Was he trying to fuck you?”
“No.”
Archie shrugged. “Too bad.”
“Did either of you happen to see anyone else around?” I asked. “Another person, maybe? In the woods?”
Archie and Dunc both gave me funny looks. Guilty ones, really.
“What?” I asked.
“We didn’t see anything,” Archie said.
“You sure?”
“Scout’s honor.”
That was laughable, but whatever. We kept going, crossing the stream and keeping our feet dry. It was heading up the steep trail where I really started to fall apart. My whole body went shaky, and the Percocet made me heave. Archie had to take my pack, which he complained about, but Dunc helped me walk the rest of the way. I kept my sunglasses on. My hand over my eyes. The breeze bruised my skin, and I ached with each step.
When we got to the junction marker, Mr. Howe grabbed my arm and Shelby was the first to ask if I was okay. I thought I gave an emphatic yes, but maybe not, because I got the idea people were really worried about my well-being, which was beyond mortifying. Someone mentioned possibly needing to turn back, taking me to a doctor, but Rose took charge, pushing one of the medicated inhalers up my nose and insisting I’d be fine. Then she held my arm and held me together and guided me the rest of the way to Hunters Camp. I clung to her. If my migraines were punishment—and they always were—then Rose was my salvation.
I met a rebel preacher, I longed to tell her. Be careful. He’ll double-cross you. That’s what they all do. But I couldn’t speak, which was for the best. My brain had lost its connection to both my mouth and reason.
Archie, on the other hand, was able to speak just fine, and he recounted our detour into the gorge as loudly as possible, all while walking directly behind me. As if he knew his voice were the last thing I might want to hear.