by Karina Halle
He tugged on his llama and we began the arduous process of walking across rough – albeit beautiful – terrain. It was probably for the best that the blood trail had stopped. I wasn’t in the mood to follow it all the way to a feasting scene. Whether it was beast or bear or whatever, if we interrupted a meal, there was no doubt we’d be needing both of those guns.
I shuddered at the thought and continued. We walked past a flight of brown and grey birds that Mitch almost shot at but thankfully didn’t. We came across the river we had heard, a bright blue-green torrent of rushing water that looked too deep to cross. We followed it for a while until it veered off down a slope. We continued going straight, not up or down, just across the valley, picking our way through loose rocks and deep earth that had been thawed by the sun.
Mitch told us we were close to the campsite when we entered yet another thick patch of forest. The path here was a little bit wider than it had been in the hollow and it was nowhere near as dark, even though the sun had already disappeared behind one of the white mountain spires.
At this point I was dragging my feet and contemplating riding Tonto for the rest of the journey. Too bad Rigby had warned us that the llamas hadn’t been trained that way. Besides, as short as I was, I was no lightweight and would have broken the poor thing’s back.
Dex noticed and had just taken over llama leading duties as well as my backpack, when I heard a faint growling in the darkness behind me.
I stopped dead in my tracks and whipped around.
There was nothing behind us except the ominously gloomy forest. The birdsong that we had been hearing had suddenly stopped, like it was listening too.
“What is it?” Dex asked, bringing Tonto to a standstill.
I waited a few seconds, in case I heard the growl again, before telling him what I had heard.
He looked over to Mitch. “Hey, Mitch, wait up a second will you?”
I heard Mitch mumble something rude but I was in no frame of mind to care. Dex watched me carefully, then let his eyes roam over the forest, as if seeing would help with hearing.
Then I heard it again. A low, low growl, so low that it rolled through the forest like a bass chord, heavy sound in my bones. I sucked in my breath, trying to hear past the beating of my heart in my head.
“That was…something,” Dex said quietly. I took my eyes off the forest and regarded him. He was chewing gum, fast.
“I think we should keep going,” Mitch said blankly. But he still cocked his shotgun with one flick of his wrist.
As curious as I was to find out what the cause of the noise was, I also wasn’t stupid. I nodded quickly and, forgetting all about my sore feet, picked up the pace. Dex and Tonto followed and after a few harrowing minutes we were out of the forest and back into the falling twilight of another small valley.
We were higher up now than earlier and though there was still no trace of snow, the wind that seemed to sweep down the mountain sides and funnel toward us was as cold as ice. We paused to pile on a layer of scarves and it took another thirty minutes of walking at a quick clip before Mitch finally stopped and announced we were at our camping spot for the night.
I was relieved to see that it had been used several times before, the faint sign of civilization bringing a feeble sense of security. There was a wide, flattened grassy area where the tents were supposed to go, a bunch of logs gathered around an ash and charcoal-strewn fire pit and there were even roasting sticks propped up for marshmallows and hotdogs.
None of us wasted any time in getting ready. Mitch knew exactly how to get the tents out and ready and with Dex’s help it took no time at all. I took care of the llamas, which was basically getting the packs off them, brushing them down, feeding them and tying them up to a nearby tree, keeping the lead long and loose so they could graze around them. Mitch had insisted that if we let them loose they would still stick around, but I didn’t want to test that theory way out in the middle of nowhere.
And that we were. I had been to many remote places in my life. D’Arcy Island, Red Fox, but none of them felt as far away and isolated as this place did. It didn’t even have a freaking name that I knew of, we were just in some valley in the Canadian Rockies. The nearest town was miles and miles of mountainous cliffs and steep valleys away. Our walkie talkies still didn’t work, either, giving me that very terrifying feeling of being inconsequential. If I let myself dwell on it for too long, I’d start thinking about those stories where people go camping in the woods and are never heard from again until a hiker finds their frozen bodies twenty years later.
As if he picked up on that, Dex had me working extra hard and staying busy. At first I thought he was just bossing me around but he just wanted to keep my mind off things. And that’s why I didn’t mind preparing everyone’s dinner for them, even though Mitch could have been a little bit nicer about it.
At least the fire we had going was strong and hot and I made everyone tea to match. Mitch brought out the bourbon again and we all partook, making hot toddies to wash down the cardboard-tasting pasta.
“Is this the first time you been camping?” Mitch asked Dex.
Dex took a sip of his tea and looked at me briefly. “Perry and I were just camping on D’Arcy Island in November. Why? Am I lacking in the survival skills department?”
“What was on D’Arcy Island?” he asked. He sounded interested but his face looked stony and bored in the campfire glow.
“Ghosts,” I spoke up, watching for his reaction.
As expected he didn’t look too impressed.
In fact, he decided to take out a switchblade from his pocket and start stroking the blade. Yeah, because that didn’t scream psychopath or anything.
“Ghosts,” he repeated, sounding almost insulted. “You guys are fucked up, you know that?”
Dex’s gaze was a few squints shy of a full-on glare. “Is this going to turn into a pissing contest cuz I’m pretty sure I could outpiss you.”
I pulled my coat around me tighter and leaned in closer to the fire. The night was growing colder and possible confrontation between Mitch and Dex was drawing shivers down my shoulders.
“No one’s peeing anywhere,” I said. I gave Mitch a quick glance. “And yeah we’re fucked up. You would be too if you saw ghosts.”
He chuckled coldly. His cloud of breath bounced in the black air.
“So I’m guessing you believe what Rigby’s been spewing.”
Dex scratched at his chin thoughtfully as the flames danced on his face, making the hollows of his cheeks look sharp. His face was getting quite beardy again.
“Honestly, we don’t know what to believe,” he admitted. “Ghosts are one thing and Sasquatch is another. If it wasn’t for the decapitation of Twatwaffle – God rest his soul – I’d be ready to call this whole thing a hoax.”
“You don’t believe Rigby either?”
Dex’s eyes flitted to mine and back to Mitch’s. “I believed he might be doing this to raise attention to his business. Wouldn’t you think that’s more believable?”
For once, Mitch seemed stumped. He shrugged. “I’ve known Rigby a long time. He’s not that type. Yeah, business is down but it’s not like he’s in real trouble or nothing. He lives simple, like I do, like everyone here does. We aren’t hurting for money. Besides, there are always dumb Americans coming here, wanting to shoot some good ol’ Canadian moose.”
Dex raised his brow but declined to comment on the American comment. “So you don’t think this is all a set-up.”
“Nah. I don’t believe it’s real either. Rigby’s got an imagination.”
“And his daughter.”
“She’s a dumb young bitch,” he said simply.
Dex and I were stunned into silence. The crackle of the fire filled our ears and the only thing missing were the chirps of a few crickets.
Dex cleared his throat in a rough manner and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his cutting gaze on Mitch. “Kind of an unfair assessment of a girl who’s only, wh
at, sixteen?”
“Women start as bitches early.”
Then Mitch looked at me, as if I was some sort of example. I cocked my head, running through the many, many things I wanted to say to him.
Yet couldn’t. Because as we sat there, staring at each other across the angry flames, the dark and unforgiving wilderness at our backs, filled with who knows what, he was our only hope of survival. And he had two fucking guns on the other side of his log.
I bit my lip. Hard. Until I tasted copper. I stole a glance at Dex and from the way his jaw was clenched, I could tell he was doing the exact same thing.
“I think it’s time for bed,” I announced, gulping back the tea which was cooled from the mountain air, and got to my feet. I needed to remove myself from the situation before I said something I regretted and I could only hope that Dex would do the same thing.
I gathered up my toothbrush, wet-wipes and a roll of toilet paper out of the tent. I fished my flashlight out of my pocket and made my way past the men, who were staring at each other like that pissing contest was about to erupt at any moment. The fact that no one was speaking only added to the awkwardness.
I didn’t go too far to do my business, keeping their shadowy figures and glowing fire in my line of sight at all times. They could probably see me if they tried to and I was glad Mitch’s back was to me. He was creeping me out more and more and I wouldn’t have put it past him to be a peeping Tom of some sort.
By the time I was done, somehow not feeling refreshed or clean or anything, Dex was spitting out toothpaste into the fire. Mitch was staring at the flames with some super nutso look on his face, the bottle of bourbon in his hand. He was beyond drinking out of cups now and was just swilling from the bottle like it was water.
I couldn’t have been happier when Dex finally crawled into the tent, his flashlight bobbing as he held it between his teeth.
It wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be. The tent was a lot thicker than your standard model, the sleeping bags were heavy and insulated and the mat beneath the tent did an excellent job of retaining heat. And yes, I was a tiny bit disappointed that we weren’t sharing a sleeping bag like the last time we went camping together, but I wasn’t about to request that I crawl into his. I had my limits and I think I blew past them the other night when I tried to put his dick in my mouth.
I wiped that mental image out of my head and settled back into the sleeping bag as he zipped the tent shut. Like I had done, he kept every item of clothing on for warmth and just crawled right into the bag.
“I was thinking about sabotaging your sleeping bag so you’d have to get in here with me,” he said with a grin, quickly zipping himself in.
My face grew hotter than the rest of me. “Thinking isn’t doing.”
He rolled over, his face now inches from mine.
I moved my head away. “Get away from me, I stink.”
“You don’t stink. You smell like Perry.”
“That’s gross.”
“Baby, I could drown in your scent.”
I looked at him askance and saw the gravity in his hooded eyes. He was totally serious.
“But,” he went on, voice low and rough, “if you need to get clean from head to toe, I’m offering my tongue.”
I wished that image hadn’t caused more heat to flash over my body, this time between my thighs.
I eyed him steadily. “You really are something, you know that?”
The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “I do.”
“Is this you trying?”
“This is me playing.”
Figured. I rolled away from him and put my back to his face. “Of course. What else is new?”
His arm came around my body and he brought me back toward him, spooning me through his sleeping bag. He gently brushed my hair away from my neck, the skin shocked from the cold air, and rested his chin there, speaking low into my ear.
“I’m not about to try anything with Heston’s understudy out there. You know he’s drunk, armed and listening.”
A shiver rolled through me, lighting my nerves. If Mitch hadn’t been sitting just outside the tent, would Dex be trying something? And would I have had the guts to turn him down?
Somehow, I really doubted it.
I didn’t know what to say to Dex about that, so I swallowed my fears and anticipation and tried to sleep. With his arm around me and body pressed up against mine, I didn’t once think about being in the middle of the mountains with Mitch and some beast. I just thought about his hot breath on my neck, wishing I could fall asleep like this every night.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dawn was just breaking when I woke up. Our tent was shaking and I was frozen in a half-asleep fear before I realized that it was Mitch who was doing it.
“Wake up you bastards,” he said, his voice slurring terribly. “Get the fuck out here.”
I sat up beside Dex who was unzipping his sleeping bag in the dim light. The air was freezing cold, colder than it had been all night, and I wanted nothing more than to stay bundled up. But when Mitch was telling you to get up, you got up.
Dex opened the tent flap and stepped out into the grey morning. I hurried to shove on my boots and trundled after them, careful not to trip on my loose laces. Mitch was standing by the fire, like he’d never moved all night. The bottle of bourbon was empty at his feet and he was swaying back and forth, his eyes fixed on a spot behind us.
I followed his eyes straight to the front of Mitch’s tent. In the grey mist of early morning, a bloody llama carcass laid there, a gruesome mixture of white and red.
“Holy shit,” I swore, turning my head and immediately heading back into the tent. My first instinct was to grab the camera and if Dex hadn’t looked so disgusted, I could have sworn I saw a hint of pride in his eyes.
“What the fuck?” Dex asked as I came back out and hurried to turn the camera on. He took a few steps toward the carcass, getting into the shot but not going any farther. I couldn’t blame him. My pulse was raging and it was only by looking through the viewfinder that I could look at the corpse without wanting to hurl everywhere.
“What…oh my God, he has no head,” Dex said, putting his hand to his mouth. He looked back at Mitch for explanation and I swung the camera over on him.
He didn’t look too good. He was drunk off his tree, his eyes still fastened on the dead creature.
“I fell asleep here,” he said, waving at the logs. So I wasn’t too far off with my assumptions. “I woke up just now. Saw that.”
“Is it…Twatwaffle?” Dex asked, peering back at it.
“Yup. The other llamas are still here. Surprised they didn’t warn us. You guys hear anything last night or are you both too useless?”
I took my eyes off the screen momentarily and glared at him. “We were sleeping. And no, we didn’t hear anything. At least I didn’t.”
“Me neither,” said Dex. “Jesus.”
“Can’t save you now,” was Mitch’s dry response. He then spat in the smoldering ashes in the fire.
“But he’s been gutted…”
“What?” I asked in alarm, craning my neck to get a better look.
“Yeah, come look,” Dex said, walking forward, covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve. “He’s been sliced up from top to bottom. Fuck man, he’s just been emptied out.”
“Guess all the good stuff is inside,” Mitch commented. I heard a bottle clink and turned to see him stumbling toward us. I quickly moved out of the way and he went up beside Dex to gawk.
“Who would do that?” I wondered, chewing my lip.
“What would do that,” Dex corrected. “This is definitely a what now. No way would Rigby go through all of this.”
“It’s almost like it’s teasing us,” I mused quietly. “Like it’s showing us what it can do.”
Mitch snorted up through his nose and then spat again on the llama. The sight made my blood boil.
“Can you be any ruder?” I sniped. My tone made me cringe in
ternally but Mitch only shot me a deadly look.
“You’re believing Rigby now?”
“Well I really doubt a bear did this,” Dex countered, stepping back from the llama carcass and coming over to me. He laid a supportive hand on my shoulder. “So yeah, I guess maybe we should start taking at least part of his word as truth.”
“You two are suckers.”
Dex opened his mouth to say something but I quickly stepped on his foot to get him to shut up. Just because I got away with talking back didn’t mean he would. He looked down at me, brows dark and angry, and I tried to quiet him with my eyes. It took all the grinding of his jaw to comply.
I took in a deep breath and looked around me, trying to figure out what was happening. It was growing brighter by the second as the sun was climbing above the mountains, still hidden by the low clouds. But it was growing darker in my heart. Whatever left the llama there had been outside our tent during the night. It hadn’t come after us, for whatever reason, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t out there, hiding in the gloomy trees, waiting for our next move.
“So now what?” I asked Dex feebly. “Now that you and I think the beast is real, what does that mean? Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, go back?”
“Oh we aren’t going back,” Mitch piped up, a dangerous edge in his tone. “We aren’t going back until I kill this motherfucking creature. I told you I’m a hunter. I hunt and I kill and I’m going to be doing both those things.”
Fuck, I thought in frustration. We should have taken our chances the other day and made a go for Rigby’s while we were able to.
Dex gave me a short, understanding nod then looked back at Mitch. His wiped at his beard and then smiled and I could feel the change coming over him, like he was trying a new persona.
“All right Mitch,” Dex said in a reasoning voice. “We won’t go anywhere. But what do you suppose we do now that we are out here. Wait for it to show up again?”
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do. We’ve got guns and nothing but time.”
Actually, we didn’t have a lot of time. Our supplies would only last us so long. It’s not like we were lounging on a beach in Cabo.