Reagan's Ashes

by Jim Heskett

  “I have to go to work,” she said.

  “Okay,” Spoon said. He stood up and shook Frank’s hand. “Cheers, mate. Thanks for talking to me.”

  Frank said his goodbyes, and Spoon walked toward the door. He paused as an urge to ask Frank about the clean dollhouse or the shiny sextant struck him, but Anne was already jingling the car keys.

  Outside, Anne took his crutches after he’d gotten in the car, then placed them in the backseat. “What did he want?” she said as she started the car.

  “I chatted to him about Reagan for a minute. He’s a bit of an odd fellow.”

  “That’s an understatement. He’s turning into one of those paranoid old men. I can barely stand it anymore, it’s all about the government coming to steal our guns and tap our phones.”

  Spoon didn’t know what to believe.

  Anne reversed in the parking lot, headed for the street. As she did, a familiar blue Chevy Tahoe parked a few spots down from where they had parked. Spoon braced himself against the car window as he gulped an involuntary breath. Anne hadn’t seemed to have noticed.

  Out of the truck emerged two men. One of them was Tyson, walking toward Frank’s apartment.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  8:10 am

  Reagan managed to sneak a few granola bars from the bear box and stash them in her cargo pants. The pockets bulged, but her cousins hadn’t noticed. The idea of abandoning her stuff and making a hasty escape seemed crazy, but she had to prepare for the worst.

  While Charlie packed up the campsite, Dalton was busy getting stoned. Reagan didn’t say a word about it. She didn’t want to look him in the eye or have any kind of exchange with him.

  They ate a breakfast of oatmeal bars in silence and started along the trail for lakes Nokoni and Nanita. Their destination was on a side trail that branched from the main Tonahutu loop, about six miles roundtrip. She would release Dad’s ashes and they would hike back out and stay at Porcupine Campsite, then hike back to their cars at North Inlet by tomorrow afternoon.

  At least, that was how the day was supposed to go. But with each passing minute, the suspicion grew inside her that Dalton was planning something, and the plan had to do with either the key or the note.

  The area after July camp toward the North Inlet trailhead was the most beautiful scenery yet. Massive round trees slicing the sky with their pointy tops, clear water coursing through deep streams and over dozens of little waterfalls, the clash of summer birds chirping different songs. The smell of pine reminded her of Christmas. The trail itself was free of obstructions, a tamped-down path of pine needles and moist dirt twisting through the trees.

  If only she could appreciate it for more than a second or two at a time. Her mind buzzed like an air conditioner.

  Charlie lagged behind them, farther than usual. He tried his best to present the appearance that his ankle wasn’t hurting, but Dalton’s repetitive mocking of Charlie’s speed didn’t help.

  “Damn it, bro, if you don’t pick up the pace, I’m going to drag you along,” he said as they stopped for their first break, at the turnoff for the lakes.

  “I’m doing the best I can,” he said, wheezing and grinding his teeth.

  Reagan hadn’t wanted to speak to him, but she wasn’t going to let Dalton bully Charlie. “That’s enough, Dalton. He should probably be in a hospital getting that thing looked at.”

  Dalton glared at her and she couldn’t hold his gaze. The look was like ice picks penetrating her eyeballs.

  She wanted to distract herself from his cold stare, so she ran her hands over the trail sign, feeling the indentations of the carved words. Nokoni 2.1 MI Nanita 3 MI.

  With a grunt, she lifted her pack and started toward the lakes. She briefly entertained the fantasy that they might not come with her; that they might allow her this one last day in peace to accomplish what she’d initially set out to do. She considered saying something about how important today would be, but Dalton would only fake sympathy and spit some crap about coming along to support her and she shouldn’t be alone at a time like this and that it’s important to be with family during the hard times in life. Lying, manipulative bullshit.

  They followed as she’d expected. She cursed herself for not standing up for what she wanted and letting fear rule her.

  Nokoni and Nanita both emerged every year from the snowpack runoff of the surrounding mountains. The trails to each required tough hiking to the crest of a bowl, and then steep descents to the lakes themselves at the bottom of those bowls. Dad had wailed and moaned with each step, pretending that he was close to passing out. Reagan had giggled like a schoolgirl.

  She tried to focus on that memory, laughing at Dad’s silliness as they hiked a section of trail made from manually-carved steps on boulders, her knees and hamstrings screaming with exhaustion.

  After more than twenty miles on the trail with a too-heavy backpack and a chafing rope hipbelt that didn’t properly distribute the weight, she was ready for all this to be over.

  Fill the empty casket. Close the empty casket.

  If she could just release the ashes, then she could worry about Dalton. Maybe he would let her have this moment.

  Halfway up the trail, a massive downed tree lay across the path. It sat three feet off the ground, at least two feet in diameter and covered with spiky branches like the sharpened pins on a music box. Passing it would not be easy.

  “We should take off our packs,” she said. “And watch out for the branches.”

  They all took off their packs, and the thought struck her that the urn taped to her belly might scrape on the tree. Her shirt was baggy enough to hide it, but not if it caught on a spike.

  Dalton went over the tree first, and a branch snagged his pant leg, tearing it a little. He grunted and ripped it free. “Motherfucking tree. Ruined my pants, you little dipshit.”

  Charlie lifted Dalton’s pack and hoisted it over the tree to his brother, then he threw each leg over the obstruction. He had less trouble than Dalton. “Hand me your pack,” he said to Reagan once he was on the other side.

  She held it out to him and put one foot on the log. She could try to stand on it and jump over, but she might slip. She slid down until she was straddling it, barely avoiding a wooden spike right in front of her crotch. The temptation to place a hand on the urn grew strong, but she resisted. Flipping her other leg high and then down, she found herself on the other side, staring at her cousins.

  “Way to make a big show of it,” Dalton said, snorting.

  She said nothing, only tied herself into her pack, and continued along the steepening trail.

  When they broached the crest of Lake Nokoni, Reagan paused to take in Ptarmigan Mountain, a collection of flat-topped spires jutting above treeline. The lake below seemed small, with piles of scree resting at the base of the surrounding sheer cliff. Trees dotted the sides of those angled cliffs.

  She had to pee, and the thought occurred to her that if she left her pack on the ground, Dalton might search it again. Taking it with her was out of the question, because she’d have to climb over several downed logs to find a secluded spot.

  The key and the note were in her pockets, so she dropped her pack to see what would happen. “I’ll be right back.”

  She walked along the crest and found a spot downhill and between two trees to go to the bathroom. As she squatted, she closed her eyes and listened to the wind rustle the branches of the creaking trees, the birds calling above her. The duct-taped urn against her stomach felt heavy when she leaned forward.

  She watched a mountain squirrel on a nearby rock study her. The furry little creature with its broad and long bushy tail stayed perfectly still as their eyes met. “I’m not going to hurt you, little guy,” she said, but the squirrel twitched and scurried off into a slim crack between two rocks.

  She pulled up her pants and trudged back up the hill toward her cousins, and as soon as she’d reached enough elevation to see them, she spied Dalton bent over her pack, rustling
and digging. She’d expected this, but still, her breathing became faster as her heart pumped.

  “Dalton, what the hell?”

  He stood up and stared, no longer embarrassed as he’d been the first time she’d caught him.

  “What are you doing in my pack?” she said as she narrowed the distance between them. Watching the cold expression on his face sent a lump into her throat that threatened to choke her. I can’t stop him, Charlie had said. The words echoed in her head.

  “Nothing. Just looking for something.”

  “What were you looking for?”

  He didn’t answer, only stood over her opened pack and blinked. A shudder ran through her as he flexed his hands as if preparing to punch someone. She now saw that whatever reason he’d come here, he wasn’t going to feign support anymore. He was going to push harder now.

  “Stay the hell out of my pack.”

  He backed up and raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got it, cuz.”

  She waited until he’d moved away, zipped up the pack, slung it over her back, buckled the shoulder strap and cinched the hipbelt. She started the descent for Nokoni, now sure that Dalton was going to do something terrible, with no idea what to do about it.

  ***

  11:45 am

  They spent no time at Lake Nokoni, instead pushing straight past the lake toward the next destination. She didn’t stop or look at her companions, didn’t ask them if they needed a break.

  The rising switchbacks between Nokoni and Nanita were even less forgiving. The dirt trail often broke into tall rocky steps, and sometimes she had to lean on hiking poles to keep balance.

  Reagan kept running through the possibilities. Dalton knew about the key, she was sure of it now. If he couldn’t find it in her pack, he would eventually realize that she was carrying it on her instead. Either he would try to take it from her by force or he would wait until she slept and then take it from her. How could she possibly set up camp next to him tonight, knowing he might come into her tent?

  How far would he go to get this key?

  In high school, she’d once witnessed Dalton fighting another kid in the parking lot after school. Something about the kid bumping into Dalton’s car, scratching the paint. As a crowd gathered, Dalton held the kid by his hair and punched him in the face so many times that blood from the kid’s shattered nose sprayed Dalton’s shirt with red polka dots. If the Economics teacher hadn’t intervened and pulled Dalton away, who knows what he would have done.

  If it came to it, the Swiss Army knife in her pocket was hardly a great tool for self-defense. The longest blade was maybe three inches, and likely never sharpened in its life. Plus, the idea of stabbing her cousin was more of a fantasy than telling herself they wouldn’t come with her to the lakes. She’d known him his entire life. They had grown up in the same neighborhood, played as kids, partied together when they were older. Facing off against him in some kind of high-noon draw-first Western duel seemed ludicrous.

  But, then again, here they were. There was a real danger here, even if she didn’t fully understand it. Either she would do something or he would do it first.

  A boy scout group approached along the same trail, single file in their tan shirts and shorts. Reagan, Dalton, and Charlie stood to the side of the trail as a dozen of these kids and three adults passed. Charlie offered them salutes, but Dalton said nothing. The flushed and sweating adults mumbled some words of encouragement about how close they were to the next lake.

  Reagan smiled politely, taking in the faces of these kids who looked at her and saw an adult. She didn’t feel like an adult. More like a panicking child who wished she could trade places with them and be innocent again.

  After the scouts passed and she continued again on the trail, another ranger appeared over the crest, hiking toward them. Reagan’s heart soared at the sight of this tall and slender man in a Stetson hat. She could grab him, explain the situation, and he would help her. He would make her safe.

  But that was crazy. She had no evidence of anything. Dalton had rummaged in her pack twice, had acted like a jerk, and had said some suspicious things on the trail. He’d made no direct threats about anything. Without evidence to convince him, the ranger might as well have been another boy scout.

  Didn’t matter. She had to say something.

  Dalton seemed to sense her anticipation because as the ranger approached, he pulled close to her.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Reagan said, so nervous that her knees started to buckle.

  “Morning, ranger,” Dalton said, placing a hand on Reagan’s back. “How’s the lake today?”

  The ranger stopped walking and sipped from a water bottle slung over his shoulder like a canteen. “Good, good. Forecast says no rain, thankfully, so you’ve come on a great day.”

  Dalton produced a hearty laugh. “Ah, that’s great to hear. You have a wonderful day, now, and take care of yourself.”

  The ranger smiled, waved, and continued past them.

  Dalton’s fake-enthusiasm jabbed at the back of her neck. He’d meant those words for her as some kind of warning. Her hands felt slick with sweat, and the oatmeal bar she’d eaten for breakfast crept back up her stomach and perched at the base of her throat. Her body felt out of control. Something bad was going to happen, and soon. The future was in motion and Reagan now had to decide what part she was going to play in it.

  Dalton eyed her. “You should smile more. You’d be a lot prettier if you smiled more.”

  Red flared. “Why should I care if you think I’m pretty?”

  He shrugged, cinched the shoulder straps on his pack, and hiked past her.

  She stole the Swiss Army knife from her pocket and concealed it in her hand as they hiked the last switchback to the crest of the hill to Lake Nanita.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  1:00 pm

  The second time Reagan caught him going through her pack, Dalton knew he’d taken it too far. Tricky bitch returned only about ten seconds after she went off to piss. He backed off at first, hoping she might chalk it up to him being his usual snarky self, but the look in her eye said she had some kind of clue what was going on. Maybe not all of it, but she knew enough to be suspicious. Or maybe she’d been aware the whole time and had been playing it cool. Difficult to tell; she could be secretive.

  One thing for sure: he was tired of playing the game, being subtle, letting her take her time.

  As they pressed along up the steep trail toward the crest of Lake Nanita, Dalton became increasingly sure he was going to have to take action soon. If she’d found the money, she’d been super-secret-agent about it. Not in her backpack. She’d barely left his sight over the last three days, so if she’d tried stashing it somewhere, he would’ve seen it.

  No, Reagan was purposefully hiding something. And if his spying couldn’t reveal it, he would have to try a more direct approach.

  The problem was Charlie. He still hadn’t committed to the cause.

  Dalton had no doubt that if he stood tall to Reagan and demanded she tell them where the money was, she would do it. Maybe all she needed was a good hard slap to the face. But with Charlie’s help, he stood a better chance of convincing her of the seriousness of the situation. If Charlie sided with her instead, that would add some new elements of complication.

  He watched Charlie hike, grumbling, coughing, grimacing in pain from the ankle he’d twisted the day before. Dalton wished he could pull him aside and make one last plea, but there was never a good time. Reagan watched him like a motherfucking hawk.

  She kept pushing up the trail, her breaths in time with the alternating clicking of her hiking poles against the rocks.

  After they passed the ranger, they trudged toward the crest, with Reagan in the lead, as always. When they hit the rim of Lake Nanita, she stopped. She stared down at the lake below, in the shadow of a giant mountain peak on one side, with smaller mountains surrounding two other sides of the water. Nanita was by far the biggest body of water they’d se
en in the park.

  The anxiety of the moment gripped his chest and twisted him like a pretzel. He looked behind them and the ranger had disappeared from view. He could also see down the trail that led to the lake, and there was no one approaching. This was the clearest view of either side of the trail he’d had all day. If he was going to do something, now was the time.

  “Reagan.”

  She looked at him, and for a split second, he saw the high school junior who’d taken him under her wing when he was entering school as a freshman. The same girl who’d told him which teachers were the toughest, which upperclassmen kids to avoid because they were going to bully him. She’d been good to him, and in that split second, he regretted what he was about to do.

  If he had to get violent, would he even be able to do it? This was his flesh and blood.

  Didn’t matter. Tyson would not allow him to prioritize nostalgia over a debt, and if Dalton came back empty handed… no telling the punishment that would be waiting for him.

  Her eyes held nothing but contempt for him. No mistaking it. She didn’t reply, only continued staring at him while she unbuckled the shoulder strap from her pack, then untied the rope hipbelt, and let the pack fall to the ground. She rolled her shoulders and let out a groan, all the while locked onto his eyes.

  She had something clenched in her right hand, but he couldn’t make it out.

  Charlie finally caught up with them, huffing and puffing. “Are we taking a break? That upwards part may have been the steepest one yet. I can barely breathe up here.” He started to take off his pack.

  “Yep, let’s go ahead and take a break,” Dalton said as he removed his own.

  “Did you want something?” Reagan said. Her lip trembled, but her eyelids were low, like a cat ready to pounce.

  “You know what I want, cuz. It’s time to stop fucking around. I know why you’re out here. If you found it, I haven’t seen it. So instead of all this back and forth and spying and shit, why don’t you tell me where it is and save me a lot of trouble.”