Seven-Sided Spy

by Hannah Carmack

“We are not going to find answers here. Come on.” Tim nudged his way past them and headed into the endless woods. Da Vinci laughed, impressed.

  “Don’t know why you are hesitating. Seems like our only option,” Tim added.

  “It is.” Diana started walking begrudgingly.

  Da Vinci hung back from the two of them for only a moment, his gaze drifting up to the stars. “We’re going to be okay,” he said aloud. Tim and Diana looked back at him curiously.

  Tim spoke steadily. “Of course, we are, Da Vinci.”

  Diana hummed. “Da Vinci—and here I thought Niccolò was pompous.”

  NPS

  SEPTEMBER 3, 1963

  Only crazies and thrill-seekers would go after the goddess. That’s what Marco told them. But yet, there he was, neither crazy nor thrill-seeking, riding into the misty mountains on his motorbike. It’d been only a few days since the goddess escaped from a remote KGB facility hidden in the bluffs of Bryson City, North Carolina. Marco was a freelancing agent, so when the KGB approached him and asked if he could locate her so they could bring in an extraction team, he had the luxury of saying no. In this case, he told them no, dozens of times. But the bounty on her head kept growing and the KGB were relentless in their pursuit of him. A spare million dollars didn’t sound so bad after a while, so he said yes.

  He was confident enough in his skills. He’d done bigger jobs. But, before he could start tracking, he needed a local to show him the area, because a local could accomplish what a map couldn’t. They knew where the people were. A local could show him just how frequently traveled paths were. He couldn’t risk running into a pedestrian hiker on a mission like this. Besides, he knew the goddess wouldn’t be hiding just anywhere. She’d be deep in the hills and as far from the KGB as someone could get in twenty-four hours.

  There were three requirements for locals on a mission: intelligence, loner status, and a willingness to walk away after the mission was complete. Smart enough to get Marco in. Unknown enough not to be missed if they vanished. And a lack of interest that ensured they wouldn’t follow up after everything was said and done. However, on this specific mission, there was a fourth variable that was unavoidable: they had to be black. It had been a long time since Marco stayed stateside. In his time overseas navigating ruins and tramping around, he’d forgotten how blatantly racist and dangerous Americans were. He needed someone black like him, anyone lighter would draw unnecessary attention. This far South, a guy like him could go missing and never turn back up. He had to be careful. All tips and intel pointed to Ruby Starr.

  The theory that she was just the local for the job did not dissipate when Marco finally laid eyes on a tiny girl in a horrid ensemble. She was propped up against a giant van decorated with a painted mural of the stars. She wore a gray dress accented with every color known to man and presumably two known only to galactic travelers. Her wrists were densely populated with bangles, and her outfit was topped off with a pair of hiking boots.

  Marco pulled in behind her van and peeled off his helmet. His curls sprang out like coils. Ruby’s attention shifted toward him. She beamed like she’d seen him before or they were old friends, meeting up after a long break. He mustered up a sad excuse for a grin in return and slid off his bike, pressed the kickstand in place, and walked toward her, scanning the road for anything suspicious.

  When she smiled, two perfect, craterous dimples showed on her cheeks. “That’s a smooth ride you’ve got there. Are you Marco?”

  “I am. I’d guess you’re Ruby.” He extended his arm and shook her hand.

  “Smooth ride and a smoother accent.” She gave him a sly look. “Where are you from?”

  “Brazil.” Now that he was close, Marco could see that her horrid fashion sense was easily overlooked because of the dreamy look in her eyes and the cascade of waves her curls made right before they stopped at her chin. “So where do we start?”

  She turned to the giant bluffs before them and then looked back at Marco. “Run it by me again. What do you want? It sounds a little ridiculous and I just want to hear you say it.”

  “I want to see every trailhead in this part of the park, but I don’t want to hike any of the trails. I’m planning on camping here once Hazel Creek reopens and I just want to get a feel for where hikers tend to be. I don’t actually want to hike all the trails. That sounds exhausting. I just want to see them.”

  Ruby was not the kind of local you contracted or clued in. This mission was on a need-to-know basis. So a well-crafted lie would have to do.

  “That’s dangerous, ya know.” Ruby nudged him with her elbow. “This part of the park is closed for a reason—treacherous terrain, bear attacks, inaccessibility, dangerous happenings. Sure you can handle it?”

  “Do you think I’d be here asking you for help if I thought I could do it on my own?” Marco smirked, not smugly but teasingly.

  “Should have thought of that one,” she whispered to herself. “You’re not with a commune, right?” Her tone shifted, watching him now with a skeptical eye.

  Marco was taken aback by the question and the image of him in a commune. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Not my bag, why?”

  “All right.” Ruby’s position seemed to shift from closed to open as she stepped closer to him. “Let’s get shaking.”

  Even though she had completely ignored Marco’s question, he followed her into the bluffs, tying his riding jacket around his waist as they ascended. He had no desire to walk the paths most traveled, but he needed to know them. The goddess was a tactical genius. Investigating the trails with a local was just a swift way to figure out where she wasn’t, so he could start to focus on where she was.

  The initial hike was steep, and Marco could easily see why this part of the national park was closed. The path was choked with leaves, fallen tree trunks were scattered around the area, and the sun was especially hateful at this angle.

  “We’re going to want to move fast. We’ve only got about six or seven hours of light left. And man, you’ve given me a big order to fill.” Ruby reached the top of the bluff and instinctually turned around to offer her hand to him. He took it and she helped pull him up over the eroding edge. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such an ambitious request, actually. I’d say ambitious hiker, but you don’t seem to want to hike.”

  “Is there a lot of business around illegal tour-guiding?” He took in the view. It was nothing but treetops as far as the eye could see. The whole world looked as though it were an overgrown arboretum.

  “Some here, some there, mostly black folks and communes. Can’t really go through the Park Service. The visitor’s center is, uh, pretty pale.”

  “So I heard.” After one good look at her lumberous legs, he didn’t doubt that Ruby was in the mountains a lot. She moved like a tank, careless, unafraid, and unstoppable. She stepped wherever she pleased.

  “It’s a nice way to pick up some cash. Plus, I was coming out here tonight, anyway. Your job was really good timing.” Ruby grabbed hold of a tree limb and hoisted herself up and over a fallen tree trunk.

  “Out here?” Marco repeated, slightly annoyed that he might have very well caused an unwelcomed wanderer to join him in the woods that night.

  “Nah, out on Lake Fontana. It’s amazing out there at night with the stars all lit up. Like the skies are above and below you.” She then snapped her fingers to draw Marco’s attention. “So twenty feet that way, there’s a trail. About two miles down that path, there’s a fork. One way’ll take you all the way out to Andrew’s Bald, and the other will take you deeper into the creek.”

  “Does this one tend to get a lot of foot traffic?”

  “Not much. Since the CCC ended, this entire area has been off-limits to the public, and for the most part, they keep their distance. Too afraid of bears and stuff. Buncha babies.” She guzzled water from a canteen and kept her pace strong. “If we keep heading this way, then I can show you a few more paths before we have to turn back and go to a different starting point.”r />
  “Buncha babies,” Marco repeated skeptically. “Are you not afraid of bears?”

  “Black bears are docile creatures.” Ruby paused for a moment and then added, “Besides, I have enough bear mace on me to stop an entire horde of them if the time comes.”

  “What? Where? There is no way you have room for all that on you.” This girl was in layers among layers of fabric and had a backpack that served more as fashion than function.

  Ruby gave a single loud Ha! in return. “Nice try, but I’m not gonna tell you. That’s my only line of defense in the event that you’re actually a creep.”

  “You think I’m a creep?” He laughed.

  “Nah.” She turned her head just enough to peek at him. “I’ve picked up hitchhikers scarier than you.”

  Marco stopped, rebuilt his pride, and then continued on. Surely he had to look at least slightly menacing. He was fit, seemingly brooding, scarily knowledgeable, and worldly, but apparently not intimidatingly so. He thought of all this while keeping the same stoic expression on his face.

  “I could scare the hell out of you,” he said. “But because I’m a kind man, I will not.”

  “Man.” She snorted, hiking forward faster. She stepped without care, her ankles teeter-tottering left and right as she took a chance on each unstable rock she trusted. “Please. Ghosts, aliens, yetis, they don’t scare me. I love ’em. I’d study them if I could. I watch The Twilight Zone with the lights off, and that stuff’s really scary.”

  Marco just let the thought of yetis resonate in his mind for a minute. He followed in her steps carefully to ensure he didn’t injure himself. “I could tell you some things about Area 51 you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Like what?” Ruby spun around like a snapping shark, and Marco was nearly positive she’d lose her balance and he’d have to stop her from falling down the thousand-foot elevation, but she stayed strong, no help needed. She looked at him with hope, her eyes wide and brimming with possibilities. Marco suppressed a smirk.

  “Well, it starts in the ruins of Greece…” He began spinning a tale for her that reached from Greece to Roswell. It was perfect really. He’d tell a story. She’d be distracted enough not to notice him scanning the trail and jotting notes. After one story, she demanded another, not rudely, not brashly, but eagerly.

  This was the kind of local Marco loved, someone with an appreciation for storytelling. However, Ruby had a bad habit of interrupting. Just as the CIA was reaching into an alien spacecraft, she’d ask what color the aliens were. Just as explorers from worlds unknown came over the hills of Tibet, she’d ask about the weather on that day in history. Luckily, Marco found her questions insightful and endearing. She was making him craft a truly fleshed-out story. He had started innocently enough, names were changed, locations moved around, and facts omitted, but the stories were mostly true, but after the first three tales, he switched completely, fabricating his stories just to see what she’d believe. He quickly learned that Ruby was not gullible. In fact, she was brilliant in something Marco had always considered a pseudoscience.

  Ruby cut Marco off mid-alien attack in the Himalayan Mountains. “Okay, now that one’s bull. Aliens would never do that.”

  “Do what?” Is this where the line was going to be drawn? Marco thought.

  “Uh, speak English.” Ruby hung her hands in midair, emphasizing the obscenity of Marco’s story. “Aliens are crazy-brilliant, sentient beings. Do you really think they’d pick a language as Germanic as English?”

  “You got me.” He could feel the sun beating on his back. He was warm inside and out.

  “I thought so. As fake as that accent of yours.” She winked at him before spinning around and setting foot into a shallow stream.

  “My accent isn’t fake.” Although the mission to find the goddess was his top priority, this was a fun detour. “I’m from Brazil.”

  “Sure, and aliens speak English,” she replied.

  Marco couldn’t find it in himself to move. He stood, slightly stunned, resisting the urge to laugh. “So aliens can crash land in Greece, but I can’t be Brazilian?” He poked fun at her, finally mustering up the competency to move one foot in front of the other and cross an incredibly wide stream dribbling down the side of the bluff.

  “The Greece story wasn’t fake, was it?”

  “No, no, that one was totally true,” he lied, but she looked relieved. They walked in silence for a few more minutes. The longer they hiked, the more elevation they gained. Eventually, the clouds created a fog around the two of them, but her comment was still digging at him. “But you do understand, if I can’t be Brazilian, you certainly can’t be a Floridian.”

  Ruby slipped and Marco grabbed her from behind just in time to stop her from falling face-first. Once she regained her balance, she embarrassingly pulled herself from Marco’s grasp and turned around, a can of bear mace in her hand.

  “What kind of accusation is that? I’m not from Florida.”

  Marco’s heart rate spiked. Why would she lie about this? He backtracked, analyzing every interaction they’d had since first meeting. What did she have to gain from lying? Where had she pulled that bear mace from? Had she had time to put a bomb on his bike? Could she have a gun buried somewhere in her layers of scarves and dresses? If he hadn’t been working for the KGB, he would have suspected the KGB. He considered the situation at hand for another second before determining that odds were she wasn’t a spy, but the idea of her actually being one was now eating away at him.

  “You have an accent, Ruby. There is no reason to lie.” He laughed nervously. “It’s not clear to other native-English speakers, but for me, it’s pretty easy to hear.” He braced himself in case she swung at him.

  Instead, she turned and scowled. “Are you a cop?” She sounded irritated, done with whatever conversation they were having.

  “No,” Marco replied, falsely defensive.

  “Swear so?”

  “Yeah. I’m not a cop, Ruby. Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Not a PI, either?”

  He laughed again. “Not one of those, either. What are you so worried about?”

  Her face reddened with shame. “Ah, shoot, Marco, I’m sorry. It’s just the motorbike, the nice leather jacket, the accent. Then you said I was from Florida like you’ve got some secret intel or something. I don’t tell people where I’m from for a reason. You don’t need to know why, just that I don’t like to talk about it.”

  Any alarm in Marco’s mind dropped. He was always so paranoid. He’d rushed to a conclusion again. She wasn’t some deep-undercover spy, or a KGB cover-up, just a kid doing something illegal.

  Ruby groaned loudly, irritated with herself. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing. You’re the third person I’ve done this too.”

  “It’s fine. You should at least admit I’m right, though.” Marco snorted, following her as they reached the last mapped-out trailhead. The sun was beginning to set and time to hunt was rapidly approaching.

  “Well, you aren’t. Right, I mean,” she said. “This is the last crossing. There are about three smaller trails that intersect here, two to the west, one to the south. The higher up the mountain, though, the less chance you’ll have of seeing other people. Like I said, there’re more bears up that way and less accessible bluffs. It’s dangerous up there.” She traced the ground with her foot. “I feel obligated to tell you that someone like us probably shouldn’t be camping out here alone at night, anyway. It may not be as bad as other places, but there’s still a lot of hostility.”

  “Thanks, Ruby. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Trust that I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

  It was as they descended the mountain, that Marco drew her in again. “It is a shame that you’re not from Florida, because one of the greatest heists I’ve ever seen happened there.” His words peaked her interest and, he led her through yet another story. As they walked down the mountains and talked, Marco laid out a mental map of the terrain as well as his gam
e plan for the evening ahead. The hike down felt significantly slower than the hike up, allowing Marco’s anxiety to build. He decided to pass the time by telling Ruby one last story. This one about Thailand, a man called the Dragon, and an unbelievable break-in. She was listening, but her excitement and questions were gone. When they were back at Ruby’s van, he felt just a hint of sadness.

  “So, how much do I owe you?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she gushed. “This was such a blast. Free of charge. And I almost maced you, ya know? Doesn’t feel right, taking your money.”

  Marco grinned. “No, no. I insist. I have more than enough cash already.”

  Her smile shifted to a smirk. “Why do I feel like you’re not here to camp?” she asked. “For real. Don’t worry about it. This has honestly been the best hike I’ve had in a long time. Plus, you’ve basically given me enough Area 51 information that I could probably break in there myself if I tried.”

  “Definitely don’t.” Marco laughed aloud, but was gravely serious inside. “Definitely don’t,” he repeated, thinking of what truly was in Area 51. He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a beaten leather wallet. “Twenty?” He thumbed through the bills.

  She groaned dramatically. “Marco, please don’t. I just can’t take your money.”

  “Fifty then.” He shifted his gaze from his wallet to Ruby. She was heavily sighing in an overly dramatic fashion.

  “I just can’t accept.” She put her hand to her forehead and pretended to wither. “If you really want to give me something, take me for a spin on your motorbike.” She stayed in her dramatic pose, but she was now peeking over at him.

  Marco laughed, deeply, happily. Ruby was a doll, a sweet and kind of weird doll but a doll nonetheless. “I can make that happen.”

  The next thing he knew, Ruby was holding onto him tight as they rode through the Carolina hills, the wind rushing against his face and cooling him off after a long day of hiking. Ruby squealed with excitement as the twists and turns came, the bike drifting as they flew past cascades and moss-ridden mountains. Marco grinned as he felt one of Ruby’s arms tighten around him and the other release so she could cut the air against her hand.