by Katie Cross
Kimball frowned. "Huh."
I shot Devin a quick glance. Ridges furrowed his brow. I turned back to Kimball, unsure how to read Steve's tense shoulders and Kimball’s contemplative stare. Did Kimball have somewhere to be, or something? Why rush through the hike?
"Will that work?" I asked.
"Should be fine for now." He waved a hand, a frown on his face. "We'll just keep track of time as we go."
"Are you concerned about it?"
"Nah. We're good."
Startled by the strange interaction—and unusual questioning—I turned back to my water bottle and focused on rehydrating. The simple beauty of rustling grass drew my gaze in a momentary distraction from the heavy air.
The trees we'd just trekked out of gave way to a mountain meadow with a few late-spring wildflowers that nodded in a breeze. Beyond those, Nightingale Pass and the two peaks we'd eventually summit loomed in the far horizon as imposing slate sentinels.
"I want to be done for the night," Steve said.
They were the first words I'd heard from him so far, and he said them to Kimball. His jaw was tense, gaze challenging. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment before Kimball finally nodded.
"The man needs a break," he said brightly. "Thirty minutes should do it."
"No. I want to camp."
Another moment of tense silence swelled. My gaze darted between them in shock. For friends, they really sucked at getting along. Which one would throw the first punch?
"We can make camp here," I said to stave off the rising agitation, "or we can take an hour off, then hike a few more miles before we camp." I eyed Steve. "First night is always the roughest if you're still acclimating."
Again to Kimball, Steve said, "Camp now. We will make up the time tomorrow." His eyebrows rose, as if questioning whether Kimball would challenge him. Kimball smiled in a saccharine way I didn't entirely trust.
"Stevie declares it, and it is so," Kimball said with a sweep of his arms. "We camp here tonight."
Devin stood not far behind me, his pack at his feet. He had a canteen in his hands while he scoured the meadow with his gaze. Then he pointed out a little spot I'd already been eyeing. "That would be a good spot there to camp," he murmured. "Not too close to the creek."
Kimball glanced over. "Being near water is a bad thing?"
"Only because of sound," I replied. "You want to be far enough away that you can still hear."
"Like if something is approaching?"
"Yeah."
"Huh."
"Looks good to me," I said to Devin.
The campsite would be ours alone. I’d never seen another person around here, plus we'd veered off the main trail and through a game track I'd found while hiking with Thor. This meadow wasn’t a well-known part of the mountain. Quaking aspen trees lined the edges of where Devin pointed, fluttering together like bright green coins. Did he remember that I loved the sound of the trees overhead? That seemed like something the old Devin would recall, then camp beneath because he knew I loved it.
Same Devin, I thought.
Yet, it wasn't entirely true.
"Let's set up camp then," I said to stop that thought. "Do you need any help with your tents?"
"I got mine." Kimball rolled to his knees, then sprang up. "Stevie-boy will be sleeping under the stars."
Steve stared into the distance now and didn't say a word. A suspicious feeling started to crawl up my back. Something here wasn't right. Sleeping under the stars wasn't entirely unusual on a backpacking trip, but it was odd for a guy like Steve. Most flatlanders feared animals, even when they slept in a tent. Rarely did they feel comfortable without a canvas covering.
"You sure?" I asked Steve.
He didn't look at me, but he nodded. Kimball grinned, his smile wide, and turned to the meadow.
"So, boss. Where do you want us?"
10
Devin
Thirty minutes after the decision to camp had been made, I called out to Ellie. "Hey, E. Let's go filter some water. I'm almost out."
Ellie glanced up at my casual statement, eyed me for a second, then nodded. She retrieved her water filter from the pack and followed. We strode side-by-side through the knee-high grasses without saying a word. Kimball wrestled the canvas of his tent while Steve lay on the ground, his hat over his face. His even breathing likely meant he'd fallen asleep, but I couldn't really tell if he'd let his guard down like that.
The trees that surrounded the burbling, snow-run-off stream embraced us as we stepped into them. This creek would die down within a few weeks and verdant green hills would crackle into brown under the baking sun. The process of life often struck me as unequivocally sad when spring faded.
Ellie dropped to one knee and unrolled the filter bag. Her furrowed expression made her seem burdened with thought.
"So," I drawled. "Something is weird."
She leaned back on her haunches. "Yeah. There's an odd dynamic going on between them."
Odd? She had to be kidding. There was an almost feral dynamic between them. The fact that Ellie didn't have red flags waving over Kimball's vague story or concerns about the fact that Steve had no tent, no real hiking ability, and no words was more surprising than the weirdos on this trip.
But this was her gig, so my approach to this topic had to be careful.
Ellie glanced at me over her shoulder while water trickled from the stream and into the filter bag. "Steve put on a long-sleeve shirt over his sweaty one. Think I should wake him up and tell him to change?"
"He'll figure it out when he's cold from the sweaty shirt tonight."
Her frown deepened. "He doesn't have a tent, either."
"Weird, right?"
"A little."
"C'mon, Ellie." I crouched next to her so I could drop my voice even further. The strange acoustics up here were always unpredictable. Sounds bounced in weird ways and I didn't want them to risk hearing us. "I don't think this whole trip is a good idea. We need to go back."
"What?"
"I don't feel good about this."
And the last time I didn't feel good about something, I almost added, people died.
"I . . ."
The words stuck in my throat, and I wasn't sure what to really say next. Explaining my deployment ghosts, the ones she didn't know about, wasn't on the table right now. Maybe I was being too sensitive or queasy over these two weirdos, but I didn't think so. Steve might have been a quiet guy, I could accept that. But this situation was a step beyond quiet.
I just . . . I didn't know how to peg the situation down.
"There's animosity between them," I murmured, more for my own sake than hers. "For being 'friends', they sure don't speak at all, do they? And Kimball is obsessed with time, for some reason. Supposedly, they came to the mountains to relax, but Kimball seems pretty wound up. And Steve? Has this guy ever set foot on a mountain in his life? No. So why is he here? Why did he challenge Kimball about stopping? Something is wrong."
She straightened, a full bag of stream water dangling from her right hand. "People who have never climbed mountains pay for guides all the time. It's why they pay for guides. Argument point invalid."
"Okay, in general, I'd agree. But that guy? No. He's not at all excited about this. He's acting like he's obligated."
She scowled. "You want me to cancel my first overnight guide because their situation is weird?"
Stated that way, my case didn't sound as strong. The incredulous tone of her voice certainly didn't help, either. The more I spoke this out loud, the less certain I felt. I sat in the grass next to the stream and sighed. Unfortunately, there was a chance I was being too paranoid. That I read into comments or situations too much to help keep myself and Ellie safe.
Life back from deployment got weird in strange ways.
"I don't know," I said.
The flash of irritation in her gaze faded. She hung the unfiltered bag off the branch of a nearby tree, then looped the other bag on a nearby bran
ch next to it. Clean water trickled into the second bag while she settled next to me.
"I can't cancel the guide unless I have a real reason to believe that they mean us harm, or that all of us aren't safe. Just because their dynamic is a bit . . . off . . . doesn't mean anything about us."
The way she said us gave me too much of a physical thrill. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't. There was too much hope in me to give up on us yet, even if she'd been as distant to me as Steve was to Kimball.
"You're right."
She sat next to me in the grass, close enough that our arms almost grazed each other. For a moment, I could forget Steve and Kimball. Could just stare into the trees across the stream and remember when this was our every day. When the world always seemed bright and okay because Ellie was at my side.
So, how had I not understood then?
Why did it take a fellow Marine dying in my arms for me to see what should have been blatantly obvious?
There would probably never be an answer to that question, but a dozen possibilities rotated through my mind. Maybe I hadn't been ready to recognize my feelings for Ellie. Maybe it was only after leaving that I understood what she meant to me.
Even if young Devin hadn't known how much he loved her, at least he had recognized that we had to have a chance to be apart. Her reliance on me had been too strong. She had pivoted her world in whatever direction I took mine. Didn't matter what she wanted or thought. Even then I knew it wasn't good.
Now here we were. Me, a Marine, rotating through paranoid thoughts about safety and terrible men and the things they do when their mind is in the wrong place. And Ellie who was attempting to create her perfect life . . . without me in it.
She'd certainly stopped her dependence on me.
"I won't retract my suspicion," I said when those thoughts shuffled away. "But I will at least concede that it may be too early for me to say we need to call the trip off and get back." My gaze met hers. "I want this to be successful for you, Ellie. But I also need you to be safe."
Her gaze held mine for a long moment, then she nodded.
"I'll keep my tent close to yours, just in case," she said. "We'll be far enough away they can't eavesdrop on us speaking, and we can put our tents in the brush where you can hear their approach."
Relief rippled through me. "Thank you."
While the wind shifted through the trees, we enjoyed the calm meadow. This moment was probably the best I'd had since being home because we didn't say a word. Just like old times. The water trickled from the dirty bag to the clean one, so I let my thoughts roll out again. Just having Ellie sitting next to me changed the magnetism of the planet. Like everything else came into alignment with her at my side.
And it wasn't just a warm body that I needed; I wasn't lonely. Other attempted girlfriends had left me feeling empty. Like part of my body had been taken away. A segment of my soul walking around out there in the world without me.
A hole that only the Wild Child Ellie could fill.
She leaned back on her hands, the picture of casualness. "So," she drawled. "You asked me a big question on the canoe the other day. Do I get to ask it back?"
"What question is that?"
"What makes you happy now?"
I answered before my better sense got the best of me. "Being here with you."
"Oh."
A beat passed while she soaked that up. In an attempt to recover the amiable air that had come with the question, I continued. "But I'll take the mountains as a close second and hiking as third."
"Can you do those things where you're stationed?"
"In LeJeune?" I shrugged. "Not really. It's on the east coast of North Carolina, so it's great if you like the ocean, but terrible for the mountains. I've driven across the state to Asheville several times, but they’re not the same. Helpful, but there's no replicating this."
She smiled gently. "Yeah, there really isn't. Do you like the ocean?"
"I do."
Her pitch increased, as if she were scandalized. "Better than the mountains?"
I laughed. "No, never. Of course not."
"Right answer.” She grinned, then sobered a little. “None of the things that make you happy are there, then?"
Although she strove to keep her tone neutral, her attempt failed almost dramatically. There was something probing and searching in her words. If any part of my Ellie lived under the steel plates she'd formed since my absence, she'd be worried that I was depressed, lonely, or bored.
Boredom wasn't an issue, but the others were.
"It's fine. Livable. I love the guys, my brothers, for the most part. But it's not my place. It's not where I belong."
"I can understand that," she murmured. "But I'm sad your everyday environment doesn't fill you with joy, like mine."
My thoughts filtered back to my parents.
"It's worth it."
She nodded, then shivered as a breeze trickled past with a cool breath. I nudged her with an elbow.
“When did you become such a wuss in the cold?”
She sent me a casual glare, and I laughed again. Her faked annoyance faded into a smile of her own.
"I'm just teasing. You're killing it, Ellie. You're doing a great job up here."
"Thanks." She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, then shook her head, as if to get out of her own thoughts. "I . . . I really want this."
"You'll get it. Do you need a long-sleeved shirt?" I asked. "You can borrow one of mine. You look cold."
For a half a second, I could have sworn she considered the offer, but then she shook her head. "No, thanks. I have my own. I'm not all that cold."
A sound from behind us drew her gaze back and she sighed. "I should go check on Kimball."
I straightened up, righting the tubing that had twisted up between the filtered bags. The water was cool in the bladder, and I couldn't wait to drink it. Everything tasted better up here.
"I'll get a fire ring going," I said.
"Thanks."
She hesitated, then started back toward the tents. I watched her go, unnerved by a pair of eyes that peered out of a small pup tent across the meadow. Kimball looked up, saw me watching him as he studied Ellie, and disappeared inside with a little wave.
"So," Kimball drawled. "About that map?"
Firelight flickered on Ellie's face that evening as she looked up from an empty rehydrated meal package. She tossed it onto the fire, and the edge of the package curled on itself. White formed around the edges as they shrank and collapsed in. Lines of crimson flared beneath it on the coal bed.
"You want to see where we are?" she asked.
"Can I show you the meadow that a haunted cabin is supposedly located in?" He scooted closer to her on a fallen log that doubled as a bench. "Maybe it's not too far away from where we are now."
"You saw it on a map?" I asked.
Kimball didn't look my way. "Yeah, the guy showed it to me."
"And you'll remember?" Ellie asked. "Maps are complicated, especially the mountains. We may not look at the same map."
"Sure." He shrugged. "How hard can it be?"
Ellie refrained from commenting, and only her professional career kept me from laughing out loud.
"What was the story behind this cabin again?" I asked and eyed his closing proximity to Ellie. He kept a short inch or so between them and I had to physically calm the rising hair on the back of my neck.
"A guy died there," Kimball said. "Said it had buried treasure."
My neck tightened. Buried treasure? That's not what the story had been the first time he mentioned it at the beginning of the hike. Steve's gaze flickered to Kimball, then away. So, he caught Kimball's blunder as well. Interesting. I poured water into a tin bowl and used the pad of my thumb to wipe residual rice and teriyaki chicken off the sides.
"Oh, right." I cleared my throat. "I thought you said it was haunted."
Kimball paused. "Oh. Yeah. That too. You know, the ghost guards the treasure. The same old story."
/>
Ellie rummaged through her backpack on the other side of her log, then extracted a folded map. Overhead, stars popped out of an impressive sky. Steve finished eating his second rehydrated meal and tossed the bag into the flames. For all their weird tensions earlier, Kimball was eager to pitch food Steve's way.
Ellie swallowed a bite of her protein bar as she unfolded the map. After a few moments perusal, she tapped on one spot. "We are right here."
Kimball's obsession with this cabin had been weird this morning, but now that he was lying about something, it was my business. I finished wiping the bowl down with my fingers, tossed the water away, stood up, and sat next to Ellie on her other side. Kimball glanced up, but didn't meet my gaze.
"Here's Pineville." A subtle sense of hesitation lingered in her voice. Ellie tapped the map, then drew her finger along a canyon road, through a mountain, and into a very small meadow where we lingered. "This is where we came today."
Kimball made a thoughtful noise, his brow low as he perused the many lines. Finally, his expression brightened.
"I recognize this!"
He tapped to a canyon with lines almost on top of each other, indicating steep walls. Rock and shale, likely, and a stream cut through it. More of a gorge than a canyon, I would bet, but there was some sort of meadow-like place possible in between the lines. Ellie's lips bunched to one side of her face, a sure indication of deep thought.
"I've never been up there," she murmured. "It's pretty out of the way. I believe I've seen that canyon, but never traveled through it."
Kimball flicked the map. "Let's go there."
Ellie turned to him. "You want to go there instead?"
"Yeah! Looks awesome."
"But . . . it's two miles out of the way. Miles that don't have a trail. It'll be brush beating and rock climbing and . . . difficult."
"It'll be fine."
Annoyance slipped into her tone. "Why did you have us start this way if you wanted to go there?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. This is pretty and I like it, but I'd like to chase something a bit more . . . challenging. I wanted to give your route a chance first."