by Winnie M. Li
“I’ve been to Morristown.”
She wasn’t expecting that. Morristown is one random place to be bringing up, an unspectacular suburban town like all the suburban towns that make up New Jersey. Not that many people would have heard of it.
“Huh,” she says aloud, almost conceding her surprise on that one. “Where are you from?” Pressing her point.
He shrugs. “I’m from here and there. All over, really. I’m in Armagh a lot. Sometimes I’m in Dublin.”
She realizes then that it’s true, he doesn’t have a Belfast accent. So maybe he is from Dublin. Maybe there is something to him being lost.
Whatever the case, she doesn’t want to be talking to him any longer.
*
See that, see that?
You mention Uncle Bernie’s Morristown and she goes all ‘Okay, maybe this boy’s not so bad after all.’
Pat you on the back there, boy.
But Jaysus is this beour a tough one. So American and direct. The other girls giggle but she shoots it right back.
Makes it all the more interesting. How we going to crack this chestnut?
He shifts a look around, buffers still on the go. Here’s two of them, man and wife, united in fat-arsed matrimony. They walk past him and the beour, but take no notice.
Too many people. Wait and see where she goes.
“So what you doing here?” he asks her.
“I’m just going on a walk.”
“Where you going?”
“Up to the Belfast Hills and around.” She gestures, pointing up the glen.
Lookee here. His territory.
Keep talking to this one. Keep her friendly.
“Why you going there?”
She shrugs. “Just wanted to have a look around.”
Fuck me. What beour goes walking around on her own, just like that? She after something else?
He peers closer at her, but can’t read her face. Maybe. Beour on her own. In the woods. Maybe.
“You know, I been other places. Not just Morristown.”
“Like where?”
Up ahead is the bridge with the Glen Road. Other side, there’s less people. Other side, you’re almost there.
*
Ten minutes of talking to this kid and she’s had enough.
He’s not even making any sense, nothing interesting. He’s just ruining the walk for her.
They pass under the bridge, the one the guidebook mentioned. She feels a chill, walking in the shade, under the rumble of the road. Their voices echo momentarily in the darkened space, bouncing off the metal underside of the bridge.
“Ah, I’m just, you know… kidding,” he says.
Well, it’s not funny. How do I get him to go away?
They emerge from the underpass, and she’s surprised to see how deserted the park is here. The path deteriorates, a scraggle of cleared ground stringing its way between scrubby forest. It climbs up a steep slope to the right, until it’s on the same level as the street they just passed under. She sees a thin grey man, walking his thin grey dog. He’s heading towards them.
“Hey, listen,” she says to the kid. “It was nice talking to you, but I have to call a friend now.”
The kid still hangs about, uncomprehending. Or refusing to.
“So, um, I’m gonna go now and make this call.” She gestures to a boulder on the side of the road, where she’ll sit.
“Oh, so you want me to go then?” the boy asks.
“Yeah, if that’s okay.” Really, just get the hint now.
At this point, the man with the dog passes by them, and she nods to him. The man nods back.
“Oh, okay then,” the kid says. He shrugs and wanders off down the path, up the glen somewhere, and she’s glad to be rid of him.
She doesn’t wait to see where he goes, she wants to appear busy as soon as possible. So she sits on the boulder and flicks through her phone. Calls Julia.
But the call doesn’t go through. There’s not enough signal in this remote place, surrounded by trees with the walls of the glen on either side. She frowns, wonders if that’s a problem.
No, she’s just overreacting.
Yet for some reason, she tries to call again, and speaks aloud, into the unconnected phone.
“Hey, Julia. It’s me, Vivian, just saying hi. It’s a little after 1:30 and I’m in the middle of a hike here in Belfast, but I’ll be back in London tomorrow. So, uh, speak to you later.”
She finishes the pretend call.
A car drives past her on the road, and she sits for a moment longer, thinking.
The kid is nowhere to be seen. Then again, other people are nowhere to be seen. The road is silent now. And it’s just herself and the trail ahead, picking its way through the forest.
At last. She’s all on her own.
*
Heh, knew it was gonna happen. Beour acts all nice and friendly, but sooner or later she’s gonna stick her nose in the air and say fuck off.
‘Oh really, could you just go now?’
Fuck her. We’ll see about that.
No one just tells me to go away.
But yeah, hide, just for now. Crouch among the trees and wait. You know where she’s going anyway. Up the hills. You’ll be following her the whole time.
He peers from behind a tree, sees her, slim and dark, sitting on that rock. Phone to her ear.
Not one of them fancy iPhones, but still a good phone.
But that’s not what you’re after, is it?
*
Not a soul around and finally you have the whole forest to yourself. Let’s get this hike started.
She consults her guidebook again.
The path is now unsurfaced as it passes through surprisingly beautiful woodland, seemingly miles away from its setting in Belfast’s western suburbs.
Not much of a path, really. As she continues walking, the glen becomes narrower, more thickly forested, and the sides of the glen steeper and higher. Yet the stream, which runs in between, is now wide and shallow, ambling its way around sandbars and overgrown banks. The guidebook describes a wooden footbridge, but she sees only a ruined post or two, standing mid-stream. She paces up and down the bank, examining closely. There’s no obvious way across.
The water’s shallow enough that she could try splashing through, but then she thinks about tromping around in wet feet for the rest of the five-hour hike. She has a spare pair of socks with her, but wet shoes… Best to avoid wet shoes.
She’ll have to go across barefoot.
Irked to be wasting so much time on this, she lowers herself down a steep bank to reach the gravelled foreshore of the stream. Another moment, and she bends over to undo her shoes and socks.
“Hullo,” someone says above her. “I know how to get across there. It’s dead easy.”
That smart-ass kid again. What the fuck is he doing here? It’s like he’s just popped out from behind a tree, his white jumper dancing around on the bank above her.
Annoyance takes over, and perhaps a little bit of discomfort. Something tugging inside her. She pushes that away. Focuses on the trail.
“Oh, is it?” she asks, challenging. Back to the usual tit for tat.
“Yea,” he says. “You just go there, there, and there.”
He points it out as he speaks – low stepping stones where someone could potentially jump across, but it wouldn’t be easy. She also notices he doesn’t pronounce his th’s: dere, dere, and dere.
“Well,” she says, “I’ve already taken off my socks and shoes, so I’ll just wade across.”
The kid scrambles down the bank so he’s on the same level as her now.
He grins and seems to do a jig in front of her.
What is this kid’s problem?
He bounds across the stream, jumping across the stones he pointed out, his feet still dry.
“Very nice,” she says, begrudgingly. “I’ll take the long route.”
But wait a second, didn’t he say he was lost before? This
kid seems to know the terrain pretty well.
She wades across, the cool water lapping at her ankles, and she’d find this relaxing, if it weren’t for this kid watching her.
Once she rejoins him on the far side, she sits on another rock to mop her feet dry and put on her socks and shoes.
As she does this, she notices him looking at her bare legs. He’s only a kid…
But at the pit of her stomach, a small lump of unease starts to swell.
*
Hah – did you see the look on her face just then?
Bet she didn’t expect to see me again. Your friendly local pavee boy, here to show you the way.
This beour… who takes off her shoes to cross a little stream like that? Scared of the water, is she?
She’ll be scared of more, once I’m done with her.
See, now, who’s in charge? Who knows how to get across the stream?
Nice legs, though. Nice and smooth. What’ll it be like to stroke them legs, push them apart, reach inside…
Look look, but not too obvious. See, she sees you looking at her.
She’s a tough one. Won’t wilt.
Say something. Her shoes are back on, she’s raring to leave.
“See, my way was easier.”
“Good for you,” she says back. “I just didn’t want to get my feet wet.”
Go on. Be cheeky. Just the two of us standing here next to the stream. No one else around.
“Maybe we can walk together.”
*
I did not sign up for this. A Saturday afternoon hike on my own. Not with some annoying kid as company.
“Look, that’s very nice of you, but I kind of want to do this hike on my own.”
Silence from the kid for a moment. He nods and keeps on staring at her with those pale blue eyes.
“You sure? I can show you the way.”
Ten minutes ago you were lost, and now you offer to show me around? Fucking dodgy kid.
“No thanks, I sort of want to be on my own.”
He shrugs. They’re both standing on the sandy bank of the stream and she turns to go.
Only, there’s no obvious path from here. Up the slope, apparently. That’s what the guidebook said.
She doesn’t want this kid behind her. She turns back, trying to make it obvious that she wants him to go first, but not as her guide.
“Ladies first,” he insists, and gestures for her to go ahead.
She wants to roll her eyes at this, but shoots him a peeved look instead. “Fine.”
How fucking ridiculous. Just get away from him.
To start up the slope, she parts the bushes in front of her. Her silver watch glints on her left wrist and she catches him looking at it.
That lump of unease pulses again.
But she heads up the slope. There’s nowhere else to go. No proper path, so tromp through the underbrush and get away from this kid as fast you can.
*
Here we go, true colours being shown. Fucking Chinky bitch is making it clear now.
Well, it’s not exactly your choice, now is it, bitch?
Teach her a lesson.
Sketched that nice watch she had, there’s rich takings here. That watch, that phone, those legs, that pussy.
All up for grabs. No one ever comes up this way, not this far up the glen, so she’s all yours.
Let her go ahead. Right now, she don’t know you’re following her. So stay low and creep up.
It’s now or not never with this beour.
Throbbing harder harder, getting this close.
This is always the best part. You work yourself up, right before you strike. Almost like you can’t bear it no more.
Creep creep.
Now.
*
Something, something is making her walk faster than she normally would. It’s not an easy stroll, this part of the trail. She’s crashing through the bushes uphill, ferns crushed underfoot, and brambles catching at her hair. But she just wants to get away, as far as she can and as quickly as she can.
The sooner she can get to the open hills the better.
So up, up the slope, there’s no other way. She’s lost the path, if there ever was one.
What did the guidebook say? Something about the path climbing high above the stream, and a lookout over a ravine.
Her quads are working hard on an incline this steep, heart beating faster, and getting slightly out of breath, but she’s almost there, just a few more steps, and yes… she’s here at the top. Pause, catch your breath. Look around.
No sign of him, is there?
No, just silence. The calm and quiet at the top of this slope. The edge of a plateau. Unexpectedly beautiful.
And breathe. A deep, relaxing breath.
This is what she came on this hike for. A place removed, away from the press of the city. Filtered green sunlight beneath the canopy. Cows grazing in the field before her. The hum of insects, the smell of manure, the distant tinkle of the stream below. She smiles, almost wants to laugh. She’s free of him, and of the city.
Here’s the path again. Starts striding with new energy along it: fields to her left, steep slope of the glen to her right. Up ahead, she can see a clearing in the tree canopy. That must be where the path emerges from the forest, onto open ground. The Belfast Hills. Almost there.
She’s looking around with anticipation, and delight at her new surroundings. Path, fields, trees, ravine, and…
What’s that flash of white down below on the slope?
She stops short and looks closer.
That’s him. That’s the boy, in his glaring white jumper. Climbing up the slope, and trying to hide behind this bush, and then behind that tree.
Trying to hide, but she can see him.
She can see him.
He’s following her; there can be no mistake.
Her heart seems to hesitate before its next beat.
But beat it does.
And then she has one thought, and one thought only.
Run.
*
Bitch started running.
Musta seen me. So now run, run after her. Chasing, chasing, hound on the hares, or you and the lads closing in on the Maguire boys. You know what’s next – you know what’s next. That tingling sensation, the familiar rush.
She’s yours anyway, no matter how hard she runs. No one to help her around here.
Up the slope now, onto the path, and feet pound pound pounding after her.
See her run. Nice long black hair streaming behind, and that backpack jumping. Run and grab it. Almost.
Shite now, she’s reached the end of the trees already. Get her, get her while she’s just there. Before she gets any farther.
Out of breath, but you’re almost there. Yoke still pounding in your head.
Out of the trees now, out of the trees. And sunlight sunlight, catch your breath, onto the field now, and there she is. There she is.
She’s turning to you. She’s turning…
*
Made it out of the woods, now get your breath back.
But what is this place?
Sort of a no man’s land. No one around. Uneven hummocks, scraps of tarmac, piles of garbage, and just sort of a waste land.
Where is anyone?
She can hear a busy road on the other side of the field. But she can’t see it. Should she head there anyway, just to get rid of this kid?
But there’s no time to decide.
A flurry in the bushes, and here he is. Out of breath. Something different in his eyes.
She turns to face him, finally confrontational. All manners gone. Annoyance has given way to anger now, uncertainty to fear. Her voice is steel, trying to hide the panic that now engulfs her, renders her nauseous.
“What do you want?”
*
You know what I want.
But don’t say it yet. See if you can get closer.
“I… I’m just looking to get back to Andersonstown.”
This bitch is angry now. Probably used that line one time too many. But step closer, get within striking distance.
“Look, I already told you how to get there. Go back down that way, walk down to the bottom of the glen, and you can catch a bus.”
She’s a bossy one, trying to be all in charge. But she’s scared. You can smell it.
Ask her. Now.
“Do you like to have sex outdoors?”
*
It strikes her then, a silent blow, like the bottom of her stomach falling out, and she knows she’s in trouble now.
Do you like to have sex outdoors?
But he’s so young, I don’t get it.
“No,” she snaps back quickly. “And certainly not with you.”
Dread, disgust, some survival instinct immediately turns her away from him, towards the busy road. Get the fuck out of here.
But nothing has prepared her for what happens next.
“Stay right there, bitch!” the boy screams.
His friendly act has been dropped, he’s suddenly feral, menacing, an angry fire alight in his pale blue eyes, and he holds out a threatening arm towards her.
“Don’t move. I just wanna lick your pussy.”
What kind of twisted… Is he for real?
Instinctively, she rears up, muscles tensing. Knowing that he’ll want more.
What do I do?
Get to the road.
“Don’t you fucking move! I have a knife!”
He’s holding his left hand taut behind him, and she’s peering around, trying to see if he actually has a knife.
“I have a knife! I’m gonna slit your throat open! I’m gonna stab you!”
Does he have one? Is this kid serious?
It’s almost as if he’s play-acting, as if he’s flipped a switch.
And yet her heart shudders at breakneck speed now, the fear and adrenaline surge in her blood.
Can I take this kid on? Can I overpower him? Or do I just run, head straight to the busy road?
She’s ready to start sprinting, but she knows her backpack will slow her down. Can she outrun him?
He moves closer, breathing hard and tense, and she’s still thinking: run or fight… What do I do?
Then, from somewhere in the near distance, closer than the road, they hear a motor.
The boy’s eyes move warily toward the noise, and she sees this.
Is there someone nearby?
“Help!” she screams. “Help!” Louder.