Don't Move

by James S. Murray

  “I’m not lying, not about this,” Vargas said.

  Rizzo gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “Ricky, you must un­der­stand, it’s hard for us to believe that Paul simply vanished. There’s nothing in the forest capable of doing what you’re describing.”

  “Bullshit,” Vargas replied. “I saw it happen. What we need to do is call for help—now. You have to believe me.”

  “We’ve got no cell coverage,” Jim said, still standing protectively in front of his family. “With all due respect, Ricky, I don’t believe you.”

  Vargas’s face twisted into a scowl. “With slightly less respect, I don’t give a shit. You’ll find out soon enough if I’m right.”

  “Everyone take a deep breath,” Pastor Rizzo pleaded. “Let’s say that what he’s saying is true—”

  “It’s fucking true, all right. I ain’t going back in those woods anytime soon.”

  “Let me finish, Richard.” Rizzo turned to the group. “If what he’s saying is true, our communication with the outside world vanished with DeLuca. He had the sat phone on him. I suggest we wait until first light to send out a search party.”

  “I say we go right now,” Ryan said. “For all we know, DeLuca could be lying in a ditch, bleeding to death.”

  “But if what he’s saying is true . . .”

  “You can’t be serious,” Ryan snapped back. “You’re listening to a goddamn criminal.”

  “You watch your words, Ryan,” the pastor shot back. At the scolding, Ryan looked away.

  “Wait,” Vargas interjected. “DeLuca’s sat phone was on the ground. He dropped it. But I’m telling you, it’s too dangerous to go back out there.”

  “Do you remember where it was?” Rizzo asked.

  Vargas nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Can you lead us there?”

  “Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—it’s impossible to find the exact spot in the dark.”

  “Okay, so it’s settled. We’ll head out at first light. In the meantime, let’s just hope Paul shows up.”

  “He won’t show up,” Ryan spat. “Vargas has made sure of that. I suggest everyone watch their back tonight.”

  The group exchanged glances. It was clear to Megan that nobody believed the story. Rizzo was doing his best to stop things from boiling over, though he didn’t sound convinced either.

  “So what next?” Maryann asked.

  Rizzo gazed at Vargas for a lingering moment. “I want to hear Richard take us through the events again, exactly as they happened. In finer detail. But other than that, we wait until dawn—”

  “To hell with this,” Ryan interrupted. “I’m heading out to look for DeLuca. The only thing to be afraid of in this forest is standing right there.”

  “You’re not going anywhere, Ryan,” Emma replied sternly. “You’re staying right here with me. We all stick together until we find out what’s going on, understood?”

  The night had set in, plunging the surrounding woods into darkness. Megan had no real clue what to make of Vargas’s story. She didn’t buy it entirely, but one thing struck her while she listened to his tale.

  His fear was real.

  Chapter

  Twelve

  Vargas stormed away from the group, toward the riverbank. The simmering anger building inside was about to erupt and that would only make an already dire situation much worse. He knew that when he lost it, no one benefited.

  Passing between two tents, he resisted the temptation to smash one of them, mostly because he wasn’t sure which one belonged to Ryan and Emma, and which to Megan.

  “Get back here, Ricky!” Ryan bellowed.

  Ignoring Ryan, he sat down on the smooth surface of a log. He could feel their suspicious eyes on him, but he kept his focus on the dark tree line. The fools around the campfire didn’t believe a word of his story. They could shout at him all they wanted, but it wouldn’t change a thing.

  Whatever. I know what I saw. And what I didn’t see . . .

  He grabbed a branch from the log and snapped it off in his trembling hands. It was the best thing in the immediate vicinity to defend himself with if he had to.

  The way those trees thrashed, the speed with which everything happened—whatever in the world had happened—it all seemed unnatural.

  He shook out a smoke and lit up. The first drag felt as if he had inhaled powdered glass. He stifled a cough and took another long pull. Smoother this time, but it failed to calm him. Nothing would right now.

  At any moment, something could rush out of the forest and kill them all.

  How the hell do I get out of this place?

  Vargas glanced to his right. Moonlight shone down onto the raging river. At least two hundred yards wide. Foaming. Water surging around jagged rocks that protruded above the surface. Escaping on a makeshift raft wasn’t an option. He doubted that anything but a fish could survive a run down those rapids.

  The mountain face that abutted the camp was sheer, with no apparent route up. Maybe an experienced climber could scale it in broad daylight. Not him, and certainly not Rizzo, Grandma, and Gramps.

  The woods were the only way out—the woods he dare not go back into. Every direction spelled death. Everyone would realize this soon enough.

  He could overhear the group around the campfire discussing ridiculous hypothetical situations. For instance, maybe he mugged DeLuca for his equipment. Next, and more laughable, was that they had fallen out over which direction to take, leading to a brutal fight. None of their theories made any sense, and he had stopped trying to listen.

  Vargas had already figured out his best option for survival. Live through the night, and head out with the group in the morning. Safety in numbers. Or, more accurately, he would stay in the middle of the group when they eventually made their break. When the time was right, he could sprint for the bus and make his escape. Then he could do what he really came here for—unless whatever took DeLuca came back for seconds.

  The campfire flames illuminated the faces in a heated debate about the group’s next moves. It was mostly Ryan and Jim, with ideas full of bravado yet lacking in logic. Megan had sat a few yards away from everyone else to avoid getting sucked into the wild speculations.

  It was fair to say that panic had set in, and for obvious reasons. DeLuca was missing. Night had fallen. Something sinister must have happened in the forest.

  Megan looked away from the flames, up at the starry sky. Even now, months after the accident, she still couldn’t stand the sight of fire. But she had to fight that particular demon on her own.

  Right now a far more pressing situation existed.

  “Let’s see what happens during the next few hours,” Rizzo kept saying, perhaps to convince himself as much as the others.

  In the distance, Vargas stared out from his log at the dark tree line. Through all his repeated interrogations, nothing about the events in the forest had changed in the slightest, which Megan found interesting. He didn’t appear to be acting. Also, liars often overelaborated or inadvertently changed the details. He had done no such thing, telling the same story since he got back to camp.

  And while she was no expert in reading microexpressions on people’s faces, she knew a bullshitter when she heard one. He wasn’t bullshitting.

  But how could a person simply vanish? And what could this hissing be that agitated him?

  “Richard,” Rizzo called over to Vargas. “Are you positive you two didn’t just lose each other along the way?”

  “I already told you.”

  “Tell us again,” Ryan insisted.

  Vargas shifted uncomfortably on the log. “The dude was right behind me and just vanished.”

  “Did you call out his name?”

  “Of course I did. No response, except for that sound coming from the trees.”

  Once again, nothing cha
nged in his story, regardless of the question he was asked.

  The fact remained, DeLuca was missing. This put Megan on edge. Regardless of the guide’s apparent incompetence, he had found his way here without a problem, and it made no sense that he would leave without telling anyone.

  Megan got to her feet.

  “Where are you going, Megan?” Rizzo asked.

  “Let me speak to Ricky,” she replied. “He might find it easier with just one of us talking to him.”

  “Good luck with that,” Ryan said. “Try to find out where he buried the body.”

  “Shut up, babe,” Emma snapped. “Ricky is many things, but he wouldn’t attack one of us then come back here. I mean, why?”

  “I’m telling you, we should pack up right now and head back. Better than waiting here for him to pick another one of us off.”

  “Hike miles in the dark without a guide? No way. Besides, if we make it to the bus, we don’t have the keys.”

  “I’ll get that bus started, with or without keys.”

  Ryan shook his head while staring at the fire. Nothing would convince him that Vargas was telling the truth. It was clear that none of them believed the story. Not even Pastor Rizzo. They were all going around in circles.

  Megan headed over to the riverbank, where Vargas was halfway down another cigarette.

  He peered up as she approached, and shuffled along the log to make space.

  Megan sat by his side. “How’s it going?”

  “I’d be a lot better if I hadn’t been chased through the forest and then accused of lying about it. Hell, even you don’t believe me.”

  “I never said that, did I?” Megan replied, locking eyes with Vargas. “So let’s solve this together, Ricky. Is it possible somebody followed you down here?”

  Vargas shook his head. “We’re a looong way from the Bronx. You seriously think some pimp with a beef would come out to this godforsaken place?”

  “Okay, fair enough. Is it possible DeLuca got lost or ran away when you weren’t looking?”

  Ricky shook his head. “Don’t you get it? One second, he was there; next second, gone. Poof. Now, how does that happen?”

  Megan looked away, trying to come up with other possible explanations.

  “Look, I know what you’re trying to do,” Ricky added. “But I said what I know and exactly what went down.” He drew on his cigarette and blew the smoke away from Megan. “Those guys over there would shit themselves if they’d walked the last hour in my shoes. They should be shitting themselves right now. Whatever took DeLuca is still out there.”

  The moon brightened his face enough for Megan to see the truth in his taut features, his stressed eyes.

  That look was not easily faked.

  She, for one, believed him.

  Chapter

  ThiRteen

  The first glimmer of dawn gave shape to the trees at the clearing’s edge. Megan stifled a yawn, though she had never really fallen asleep. No one but young Connor had managed to get decent rest. The naivete of youth must have kept the enormity of the situation from the front of his mind, and he’d spent the past few hours in his tent.

  The longer DeLuca stayed missing, the more frayed everyone’s nerves got. Smoke drifted from the last embers of the campfire. The scent of burnt wood hung in the cool air. Ryan and Emma had their sleeping bags wrapped around themselves, deep in conversation as they brewed coffee on a portable stove.

  Closer, Vargas sat slumped against the log, still distraught. He had fallen asleep briefly during the night but soon jolted awake, like a dog spooked by its own tail. Other than that, he had mostly kept silent, giving Megan the distinct impression that he, like her, was a loner. But he came by it naturally, at least, rather than by self-imposed exile from society.

  As far as things in common went, she supposed that was about where they began and ended.

  Across the clearing, Jim and Maryann were busy packing away their tent. The old couple moved slowly, likely exhausted after getting no sleep. Every few minutes, Jim peered over to the log, maintaining a brave face, and gave Megan a smile of encouragement while Maryann ordered him about.

  Pastor Rizzo leaned against his backpack, staring pensively into the forest. It was one of those moments when Megan could almost cut the tension in the air. She could imagine what he was feeling. He had begun this trip with such optimism and hope. Now it was all falling apart. He was a good man and didn’t deserve this stress.

  The plan the pastor had circulated during the early hours was to leave at first light. Find the sat phone to call for help locating DeLuca, then head for the bus. That time had come, though nobody was moving with any real urgency.

  Megan wasn’t surprised. A lack of assertiveness had infected the group. And so had a creeping fear of what might lie ahead in the forest. Whether they believed Ricky or not, everyone was spooked.

  When it came to management skills, Rizzo scored low. Not that Megan could blame him. This situation had catapulted him far out of his comfort zone. Her former self would have taken charge by now, but since the death of her husband and son, she was content to remain a mostly passive observer.

  Right now, Rizzo was the best they had.

  Megan hadn’t given up hope for the bungling tour guide. People didn’t just vanish. Then again, deer didn’t get yanked into the treetops either.

  She needed something to take her mind off the coming trek until Rizzo called everyone to move out.

  “Can you give me an honest answer?” she said to Vargas.

  “Depends on the question.”

  “Did you come on this trip for pleasure?”

  He eyed her for a lingering moment.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Well, I certainly didn’t come for this shit.”

  With that, Vargas groaned to his feet and dusted himself down. Not saying another word, he walked over to his tent and took it down. Jim and Maryann woke Connor, and soon, everyone had packed their gear.

  The group assembled by the cold firepit, exchanging nervous glances.

  Beyond the clearing, only birdsong came from the forest.

  Megan checked her watch. Almost six a.m.

  “Okay, team,” Rizzo said with feigned confidence, “Richard will take us to the spot where Paul went missing. We’ll find his sat phone and call for a search party. With a bit of luck, we’ll find his keys too.”

  “Never saw those,” Vargas said.

  “It doesn’t matter. If we can’t find the phone or keys, we’ll continue toward the road anyway and call for help when we get cell coverage. Okay?”

  The group murmured its assent.

  “I said okay, people.” Rizzo clapped his hands, trying to cheer everyone up. “Look sharp.”

  Ryan kept putting the stink-eye on Vargas. He evidently still didn’t believe a word of his story.

  At this point, Megan didn’t care. The camping trip had twisted upside down and inside out, and she simply wanted to get back to the comfort of home. This “relaxing weekend” had morphed into something worse than she could ever imagine, and it wasn’t over yet.

  Rizzo heaved his pack over his shoulder. “Follow me, guys.” He headed for the tree line at a fast, purposeful walk.

  Megan followed, pocketknife in hand, just in case. She glanced over her shoulder to take one last look at the clearing. The secluded Eden, with its mountain backdrop and the rapids, was unutterably beautiful. But she hoped hell wasn’t waiting for them once they left this little paradise. She’d already been there and had no intention of going back.

  Ryan waited for Vargas to follow Megan into the forest. He didn’t trust the bastard an inch. With DeLuca already gone thanks to this second-rate gangster and Olympic-class bullshitter, he vowed to himself that nobody else was going down. Especially not him or his girlfriend.

  Vargas slowed
his pace. Ryan did, too, staying behind him. He assumed that he himself was the next target since he posed the biggest physical threat.

  Emma walked by his side as he waded through the undergrowth of ferns and skunk cabbage. Jim, Maryann, and Connor left the camp last. The older couple had a hard time stopping the boy from darting here and there off the path. The kid was excited, searching for wildlife and shouting every time he came across a mushroom.

  “Isn’t he sweet?” Emma said. She clutched Ryan’s hand.

  “Oh. Yeah, sure,” he replied, distracted. That kid was the last thing on his mind.

  Ryan continued forward, treading carefully on the damp ground. He watched Vargas like a hawk as they pushed deeper into the forest. Closer to the apparent point where DeLuca went “missing.”

  Sooner or later, he expected Vargas to make his move.

  And when he did, Ryan would be ready.

  Chapter

  FourTeen

  A knee-deep layer of mist hugged the undergrowth. Vargas moved through the ferns, scanning nervously in all directions for the slightest movement. The sun had risen enough to send thin spears of light through the trees, illuminating the sparser parts of the forest, though the air remained cool.

  Every snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made Vargas flinch. He had visions of the blood dripping onto his face, of being hunted all the way back to the campsite.

  Any minute now, it could happen again.

  He told himself to relax. Not look like a chickenshit. Not get too paranoid, even though he had every reason to. He listened intently for the strange hiss that had heralded DeLuca’s disappearance. Of course, the sound hadn’t returned, making him look like the liar they assumed him to be. He could feel the group’s doubts about him growing by the minute.

  Perhaps the daylight would protect them. After all, whatever he encountered had happened at nightfall. Still, he wasn’t taking any chances.

  And then there was the danger of that asshole, Ryan.

  Vargas hated having his back to the enemy. Out here, besides the unseen attacker who took DeLuca, the jacked-up mechanic was his biggest foe. The only one in the group capable of inflicting serious damage.