“The beast with— Never mind. It’s Shakespeare; you wouldn’t understand.”
“We’re not doing that,” Bek snaps.
“Could have fooled me,” he says, and rolls back over to sleep.
Finally, I work out his reference. No, we’re not doing that. We’ve only just decided we’re in a relationship, and having been friends for so long changes the dynamic. I don’t want to ruin anything by moving too fast, and neither does she. Once you go there, there’s no farther to go. I’m okay with taking my time, as much as some parts of me want to rush things. She’s so warm next to me. I swallow, clench my fists, and think about my grandma. That sounds weird, but it’s a helpful distraction.
Dan thrashes around in his bed some more and then sits up. “Great. Now that I’m awake I have to pee. It’s so wet out there, too. You guys are the worst.”
We apologise, and he puts on his boots, huffing. None of us thought to bring an umbrella, so he puts a towel over his head to stay dry before unzipping the tent and stomping off into the night.
“I think he’s annoyed,” Bek says. There’s a pause, and we listen to the rain splattering the dirt outside. “So you used to come up here with your folks?”
“All the time.”
“Are you okay being back here? Since your mum and everything.”
I sigh. Mum died three years ago from a spontaneous, catastrophic stroke. She was healthy, and there were no warning signs. It just happened. One day she was here, and the next she was gone. Dad still isn’t coping well. “It’s okay. In some ways, it’s nice to be back. It helps me remember her. She used to love the mountains.”
Bek rubs my arm. “I didn’t really get to meet her. What was she like?”
“She was a good mum. I won’t sugarcoat it—she wasn’t perfect, and we had our differences. It was definitely her way or the highway. Literally. Once, she made me get out of the car and walk down the side of the highway. We were fighting about something or other, and she just left me there and drove off. Ten minutes later, just before I was about to panic, she came back with a huge grin on her face, and everything was forgiven. She had a wicked sense of humour. I miss that most of all, I think. She always wanted another child, but that wasn’t possible, and I know that made her sad sometimes. They looked into adoption, even had the process started, but then she died, and it all fell apart. It bugs me she never got a chance to have another kid.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m not the only one who’s had it bad. Your family isn’t exactly 50s sitcom material either.”
Bek snorts. “That’s understating it.”
“How’s the new dad, anyway?”
“He’s all right, I guess. Trying too hard, like he wants to replace my real dad. That’s not going to happen. Lyle’s adjusting, but he’s younger, so it’s more important for him. The worst part is Mum keeps trying to poison us against Dad. She doesn’t get that whatever happened between them didn’t happen to me. We have to deal with the fallout, but her fight with him isn’t mine. He was always good to me.”
“I don’t think my dad will ever remarry.”
She sits up a little, propping her head up with her hand. “No, he doesn’t seem like the remarrying type.”
“I honestly don’t think he’s ever going to get over Mum dying. It changes you. It’s definitely changed me. I don’t think he’ll ever open himself back up again, not if it means risking another loss.”
The rain clears a little, and it’s easier to hear. Footsteps slush in the mud towards us, and the zipper opens with a huff. Dan bursts in, completely soaked. “So, that sucked.”
“You seem a bit … moist,” Bek giggles.
Dan and I both groan. She knows we hate that word.
He shakes water out of his hair. “Seriously, though, I’m saturated. Close your eyes, I’ve gotta change.”
“Nothing we haven’t seen before, buddy.” Bek smirks. “Remember that time at my place when Hud stole all your clothes and you got locked out of the bathroom?”
“I’m trying to erase that memory from existence. Your mum still gives me a weird look every time I come over.” He opens his suitcase and swears. “Stupid damn rain soaked all my stuff. I have literally no dry clothes. I’m gonna die of hypothermia, and it’s all your fault for waking me up! Fine. I’ll just have to sleep in the nude. My sleeping bag will keep me warm.”
“There is absolutely no way I’m okay with that,” says Bek.
“I’ve got some spare clothes,” I offer.
“All right, fine. No in-tent nakedness. Actually, I might have some spare clothes in the car. I’ll head up there and grab them.”
“The car’s a good ten-minute walk away. You’ll just get wet coming back again,” Bek says.
To get up here, we went as far as we could by vehicle and then carried our gear the rest of the way.
“I’ll sleep in the car then, at least until the rain stops.” He rummages around in his bag for the keys. “Behave yourselves, guys.” He unzips the tent, and steps out into the night.
“Bye,” I call, but he’s still cranky and doesn’t respond. His footsteps crunch away until we can’t hear them anymore.
Bek closes her eyes and tries to sleep. Outside, a tree branch cracks in the wind, and I could swear I hear an animal scream.
I’m five years old, camping in the mountains with Mum and Dad. The night is still. They’ve given me my own tent, which makes me feel like a grown-up. It's a few years before we get swags, so this is my first foray into independence. It’s cold, though. My parents are asleep. The moon shines on my tent through the trees, casting rippled shadows on the canvas. Something woke me up, but I don’t know what.
The zipper on my tent moves.
I wake to silence, sweating after my dream. The rain has stopped, and it drips off the trees in bursts. Bek is rustling around in her bag.
“You all right?” I ask.
She sighs. “Yeah, can’t sleep. I’ve woken up so many times I’ve given up trying. Want to come for a walk?”
“A walk, in the middle of the night, in the mountains. What could possibly go wrong?” My sarcasm comes across too harsh, and she looks hurt. “Sorry, that came out worse than I expected.”
“I’m going for a swim.”
“Okay, sarcasm back. It’s freezing out there.”
“I saw this documentary on ice swimming. These people jump in holes in the Arctic, and they say it makes them feel alive, like a natural high.”
I shake my head.
“Come on, Hud. Have some fun. Besides, I’ll need someone to keep me warm.” She smiles.
That last part convinces me. “Fine, but I’ll hold you to that.” I grin.
“I’m counting on it. Anyway, I’m getting changed. Don’t come out till I’m done.” She picks up her bikini and takes it outside the tent. I find my swim shorts buried in the bottom of my suitcase. When I put them on, they’re wet from the tent leak. It feels gross.
“You coming?” she calls from outside. I grab my torch and our towels and leave the tent..
The night is still now, the wet slush underfoot the only sign a storm came through. The weather changes quickly this high up, but it looks clear for the moment. The clouds are gone, and the stars have emerged from their blanket. Up here, you can see so much more than in town. The Milky Way is a prism of colours, not just white but red and orange and blue. I feel so small, for a moment, like I’m floating through space. We all are, in a way. We just happen to be attached to the ground.
The air feels clean, the rain has washed it crisp, and I breathe it right in, feeling it reach the bottom of my chest. Ahead on the path, Bek looks beautiful. Her white shirt glows in the starlight, so much so that I hardly need the torch to see. I’m lucky to be here. Lucky to have her. This morning, I never would have thought I’d be her boyfriend. Now, I can’t imagine anything different. I’m high—from the mountains and the stars and the most beautiful girl on the planet. My smile ref
uses to budge, and I’m fine with that.
We round a corner in the dark, and the clearing opens up into a huge pool of water. The rain has charged the waterfall, and it crashes even harder than usual onto the rocks at its base. We found this place two days ago, when we first came up here. We’ve practically lived here since, although I’ve never been up here at night. The moon reflects off the rippling circles edging out from the waterfall’s base and reflects up into the trees that rim the edge, making them shimmer like they’re alive. The water itself is dark but not threatening. We’ve spent enough time here to know the pool is just rocks at the bottom—nothing nasty like hidden branches or places water snakes could hide. Up north, this would be crocodile territory, but we’re safe this far from the tropics.
Bek wades in. I follow, gasping as the water hits me. It’s freezing, having come from somewhere even higher in the mountains. I duck my head under the surface for a moment, and the waterfall fades to a muffled roar. The water’s so cold I can’t stay under for long, and I come back up, shivering. Bek is halfway across the pool now, and I swim to catch up. She reaches the edge of the waterfall and tries ducking her head under it, but the water’s running too hard to be pleasant.
“It’s cold!” I shout as I reach her, as if she doesn’t already know. I have to yell to be heard over the noise. My teeth chatter.
“It’s amazing!” she yells back. She seems more alive, like the icy pool has pumped her with adrenaline. Her eyes glisten in the light, and the stars reflect off the water and bounce off her chin. The pool is only waist deep here, but now that I’m wet it’s warmer in than out. Bek sinks low, until the water is just under her nose.
“No,” I protest. “Don’t do it.”
She lifts her mouth above the surface and sprays me with water. It’s cold as ever. “Lighten up, Hud. If we’re gonna date, you’ll need to learn to have a bit more fun.”
I wipe my eyes and smile. “So we’re official, then?”
“What, you think I just kiss whoever? Speaking of which, time to find Dan. I need to make out with him too,” she teases.
“Sorry. Dumb question.”
“Yes, and it deserves another spray.” She covers me again with freezing water, although this time it doesn’t feel so cold.
“I think I might be going numb. I’m not shivering any more. Isn’t that the last stage of hypothermia?”
“I think the last stage of hypothermia is death.”
“You know what I mean.”
She wraps her arms around me. “Better warm you up then.” She pulls me in close, and we kiss. I’m getting good at this, if I do say so myself.
My foot brushes something furry, and I jump away, toppling her over in the water. She shoves me gently in protest.
“Sorry,” I say. “Something’s in the water.” It brushes my hand, and I snatch my arm away and take a step back. Something floats under the surface, something big. “Probably just a branch or something.”
“Or a dead critter,” Bek offers. “Gross.”
Bek moves back, and so do I. Once we’re far enough away to feel safer, I duck my head under the water. Whatever the thing is, it’s not moving, so it’s not dangerous. But it’s definitely gross. I wade closer and put my face under again. Hair. There’s hair in the water. I grab a stick floating nearby and poke at the hair. It floats around in the current and reveals a face.
Dan’s face.
And he’s not moving.
I grab the hood of his jumper and resurface. “Bek, it’s Dan! Help me!”
She swims over and grabs his feet. We clamber over the rocks back to the water’s edge. She’s scared, but doesn’t look as scared as me. My hands are on fire, pumping with fear. My heart is racing. I want to be sick, but I can’t. Not till we get him out of the water. Despite my best efforts to keep him above the surface, his head hits a rock as we get him into the shallows, clunking on the bottom. We lift him up on the bank and place him on the dirt. I’m sure I’m supposed to roll him over, although I don’t remember if he’s meant to be on a particular side. It’s probably not going to matter. He’s not moving at all. I try to slow my breathing.
“Hud, look at his face.” Bek is really scared now, but not for the same reason as me.
I brush his hair back and jump, taking a few steps back in the shallow water. I swear again.
“What happened to him?” she asks.
I can’t answer that. He’s not just dead. He’s different. Drained. Emaciated. It’s like he’s been dead for months. Years. His skin is stretched tight over his bones and darkened like a mummy. His face is frozen the way it must have been when he died. Mouth open, eyes wide and looking straight at me. He looks terrified.
I throw up in the water.
Dan’s body stares at me as we try to compose ourselves and make a plan. The wind has picked up again, and we’re both freezing despite the towels wrapped around us. We might also be in shock, which doesn’t help the shivering. We speak through chattering teeth.
“Our phones. Back at camp,” I suggest.
“Doesn’t matter. There’s no reception up here, remember? Not even the emergency network.”
I stand up and pace to try and warm up. “We could drive farther down until we get reception.”
“Dan took the keys. You think they’re on him?”
I swallow. “Only one way to find out.”
“Oh, Hud.” Bek stands too. I look at the body again. I’m going to have to look through his pockets for the keys. I walk around the back of the body so he’s not looking at me. I don’t want to get too close to that awful, stretched face. He looks a little less like Dan from this angle, which makes it a tiny bit easier. Crouching, I place one hand in his wet pocket. His leg feels solid, like I’m brushing against stone instead of skin, like whatever killed him sucked all the water out or something. His pocket is empty, and I have to come around the front to check the other one. I roll him onto his back to get to it, and there is a snap from somewhere inside him, like something’s breaking. My head spins, but I hold it together. The other pocket is empty too.
“Nothing.” I rinse my hands in the pool, but they still feel dirty. “If he had the keys on him, they’re in the water somewhere.”
“No way we’re finding those in there,” Bek says. “Besides, they’re probably still sitting wherever he died.”
“You don’t think he died here?” The words are hard to say.
She shakes her head. “The car’s further up the mountain than we are. If he was heading up there, he probably died in the upper part of the river and—”
“Washed down here,” I finish. But neither of us will talk about how he died. I have no idea what would do this to someone, and it doesn’t look like he died naturally. Something killed him. Something that’s still out there.
Bek slumps down on a log. “So, no phones, and no car. This is why they always say to take an emergency beacon.”
“Yeah, well, hindsight is twenty-twenty,” I snap. I’m still creeped out from touching his body.
A few minutes ago, this place was magical. I was living the best night of my life, like a spell had been cast over my world. Now the spell is broken, and this place is death. The shimmering water is no longer beautiful; the moonlight in the trees isn’t breathtaking. They’re sick. Nasty. Evil. For the second time tonight, I feel eyes on me, watching from the darkness among the trees.
The memory once again slithers around the base of my brain.
I’m five, and the zipper on my tent rattles. It opens slowly. It’s not Mum or Dad. I know it’s not. Whatever it is, it’s wrong, and it’s coming for me. If I stay quiet, maybe it won’t see me. I close my eyes to shut it out. I wish I had zipped up my sleeping bag, but it’s too late now. Don’t move, Hud. Don’t move. Something touches my right foot. I shut my eyes tighter.
“Whatever we do, we can’t stay here,” I say, to break the silence and stop my mind from running wild.
“There was a hut at the base of the access
road. It looked empty, but maybe there’s a phone there, or a beacon or something,” Bek says.
I need to hold it together as well as she is, but some part of me knows what’s going on, the same part that’s bringing back that forgotten night from my childhood. I don’t want to remember, but I have to now. It might keep us alive.
I agree with Bek and lead the way back to our base camp to get to the access road. I hate leaving Daniel like this, but there’s nothing we can do for him now, and maybe we shouldn’t disturb the crime scene any further. After watching enough TV, I know cops like people to leave things as they were. Still, Dan’s eyes burn my back as we walk away. I swallow, and try to keep him out of my mind. I don’t feel much of anything at the moment. I’m numb, which somehow feels worse than crying.
I’m so sorry, man. We’ll come back for you.
The stars are different on the way back. The night sky was comforting, awe-inspiring as we walked here just ten minutes ago. Now, the stars are sucked up by the void of cold, empty space. Measureless, endless, terrifying. I’m so small. We’re all so small, and so blind. I don’t even understand my own world, let alone the endless worlds out there floating dead in the vacuum of space. My tiny life is nothing compared to the infinite. I can feel gravity. It weighs on me heavy, like the earth is trying to crush me.
I’m breathing too fast, and suddenly I feel dizzy and a bit sick. Taking a deep breath, I slow myself down and try to focus on the moment. After Mum died, I started having panic attacks. They’ve been better recently, but tonight threatens to tip me back over the edge. I can’t afford an attack right now, not when our lives are in the balance.
The weight on my chest lifts, and my head clears a bit.
“I can’t stop thinking about his eyes,” Bek says, breaking the silence. I never told her about my attacks, but conversation helps, so I’m thankful. “What could do that to someone? Fire?”
“It wasn’t fire,” I say. “His skin wasn’t burned, just dried out.”
“Remember that guy who went missing up here a few months ago?” There’s tension in her voice.
The Dark Unseen Page 2