It will be such a shame to wipe out his “Christian witness” afterward. She laughed silently to herself. The look on Marta’s face will be priceless! I’m sure there will be some disappointed looks from the remainder of the group as well. Well, Marta, it’s time to rearrange your view of Mr. Goodie-Two-Shoes.
BRENT HAD JUST lathered up when he heard approaching footsteps. With the soap on his face he couldn’t open his eyes. He didn’t need to.
“Bet you’d look good without that tarp surrounding you.”
It was Tara.
Brent’s heart skipped a beat, then threw itself into overdrive. “Umm… Tara…”
“Oh, don’t worry, Brent. I’m not looking. Though maybe I’d like the chance to.”
Different trains of thought immediately beckoned for his attention. How he’d love to say something inviting and flirtatious at this moment. Thoughts of Coach Chamberlin also came to mind. Now God came to mind.
But this was his chance! Maybe.
It was amazing to Brent just how fast testosterone could inject into his bloodstream.
“Cat got your tongue?”
He could hear her step closer. He pulled the cord to release water from the hanging shower bag. He quickly rinsed the soap from his face then looked at her as she took another step closer.
“Tara. Uhh … you’ve got to stop.”
“Stop? Stop what?” she said with a teasing lilt in her voice.
“You know what. Trust me; part of me wants what you’re offering.”
Tara feigned shock. “Offering? Why Brent!” She covered her mouth with her right hand. She came closer.
“Tara, someone’s going to come out here looking for one of us.”
“Not likely. Everyone’s either looking at silly birds or packing up, and I just happened to pack up my gear first thing this morning. I’m efficient like that. They think I’ve gone to use the bathroom.”
“But, Tara…”
“But, nothing, Brent,” she said, suddenly serious. “I need you to know something, and I needed a private moment with you to express it.”
Brent was curious to know what she wanted to say, but he knew that her use of the word express didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to talk. This is torture!
He thought about calling out to God for help, but part of him didn’t want help.
A memory sparked:
“The other part is a good decision, backed up by commitment,” George had said. “If you go into this trip wondering how far things might go with her, you’re going to be looking for and hoping for opportunities.… Opportunities to take things—or allow for things to go—farther. My guess is that you’ve already imagined some of those things. … You want this girl to come to Christ, but the biggest thing that you can do to hinder that is to compromise for the sake of a good time. Make sense?”
It had made sense. God, I need help here. Help me! he begged God silently.
“Can you express from right there?”
“I could, but it would be much more pleasant to express myself closer.”
Brent’s heart was pounding like crazy. His pulse was loud in his ears, but not so loud as to not hear that still small voice. 1
“No, Tara. No. I can’t.”
Tara pursed her lips in mock disappointment. “You don’t like me.”
Brent knew he was being played. But he also knew that he would have enjoyed it if he hadn’t given George Chamberlin his word… if he didn’t have a relationship with Christ. But he did have a relationship regardless of what the testosterone, now coursing through his body, was screaming for him to do.
“Tara, it’s not that. I do like you, and I think you know that. But I’ve got another relationship that I’ve got to honor.”
A true perturbed look came across Tara’s face and anger flitted across her eyes. “You’ve got a what?” She blinked.
“Hold on a sec. Okay? Just … just … hold on a sec.” Brent reached up and pulled the cord again and allowed the water to course down over him to quickly rid himself of the soap that was beginning to dry on his skin. He grabbed his towel and quickly dried off. He grabbed his clothes that he had draped over one wall of the tarp and put them on. Stepping out, he towel dried his hair while approaching Tara.
Tara was now brooding; arms crossed, head tilted down, and with a chilling look in her eyes.
Brent stopped a yard away from her. “Tara, yes, I’ve got another relationship. And it’s a relationship that you already know about. It’s with Jesus Christ.”
She stared at him for what seemed like minutes, then said, “You’re kidding me, right? You’d prefer a relationship with an invisible God to a flesh and blood woman?”
“Tara, there is room for two relationships, but one has got to take precedence. And that relationship, in my life, is always going to be the one with my God. The very same God that loves you, Tara.”
He took a step toward her.
She took a step back.
“Whatever you say,” Tara said with a flat voice. She turned around and began walking back toward camp.
Brent stood and watched as she walked away.
The taste of victory, apparently, wasn’t always sweet.
1 Go to Appendix B to read about the “still small voice”
When Brent got back to the campsite he saw Tara, backpack already on, helping Karen to adjust the straps on her pack. She looked up at him and her face went cold.
What? She hates me now?
Brent took the shower tarp, shower bag, and water containers over to where Eric and Terry were finishing with their packs.
Terry looked up at Brent and said, “Good. That’s the last of the gear. You sure you only took a five-minute shower?”
Brent knew he said it with a smile, but he couldn’t help getting defensive. “It was less than five minutes.”
Eric heard the uneasiness in Brent’s voice. “You okay?”
“Yes,” he said, looking over to Tara.
“Something going on between the two of you?” asked Eric, also looking over at Tara.
“No.”
“Brent,” responded Terry, “you’re using one-word answers.”
“What?”
Eric looked at Terry with a knowing smile. “When you clam up and don’t form actual sentences there’s something wrong.”
Brent sighed. I can’t just tell them what Tara did.
“Tara came back to the campsite,” said Terry, “…from your neck of the woods… looking a little peeved. Something’s definitely up.”
Brent looked over to see Tara, Marta, and Karen walking over to them. “Not now.”
Eric took the hint and diverted conversation. Panning around the group he asked, “Everyone ready?”
Four of the six nodded yes. Tara and Brent just looked at each other—Brent, with a question in his eyes and Tara, with daggers in hers.
“Great! Terry, check one last time to make sure that the fire pit is cool, will ya?”
Terry did and then they were off.
It was already in the mid-to-upper 70s as they started along the path. Brent suspected that both temperatures and tempers could be hot today.
THEY HAD BEEN hiking for about an hour and a quarter. Eric and Terry were in the lead; Tara, Karen, and Marta followed, and Brent took up the rear. It was mostly a quiet walk; just snippets of chatter among them. They had been advancing upward along the path when Marta saw movement below the ridge to their left.
She gasped and froze.
What Marta saw made no sense. Her brain tried to steer to a rational conclusion, but instead took an off ramp to panic.
BRENT WATCHED MARTA tense up and stop. He looked down to where she was staring and his eyes went wide. How had none of the others noticed it? He called out a hushed “Hey!” to the rest of the group. Everyone stopped and turned to look at him. He pointed downward off the ridge.
About 30 feet from their location stood the most massive pig any of them had ever seen. It must have just wander
ed out into the open, as it appeared that it had not, as of yet, seen them.
Tara got excited. “A wild boar!” she exclaimed a little too loudly.
The boar startled and looked up at them. It was a male; it’s tusks way too apparent. Terry and Eric immediately drew machetes from their packs.
What I would give for a hunting rifle just about now, thought Brent.
The ridge wasn’t steep enough to keep it at bay. The animal certainly had free passage up the slope.
The boar’s stiff, black hair pointed upward from its back. The thing had to be at least 300 pounds. The slight rise to the ridge and its own massive weight would be the thing’s only resistance should it decide to charge.
“Marta,” Brent began to whisper, “I want you to slowly, carefully ease your way toward Terry and Eric.”
Marta gave a nervous nod that Brent didn’t see and started stepping toward the other guys. The boar grunted as it perceived the movement and directed its attention toward her. After a moment, though, the beast redirected its stare to Brent, who was apparently the larger threat.
Male versus male.
Brent reached back to feel for his machete.
Terry quietly told the girls to slowly—very slowly—move past Eric and him. As they began to do so, the boar again glanced their way, but only for a moment. It re-fixed its eyes on Brent.
God, I could really use your help here, Brent prayed. His right hand finally found the grip of his machete and he began to draw it out.
The girls were now past Terry and Eric. Eric told them to keep moving along the path. With the girls safely away, Terry and Eric slowly released the buckles on their packs and lowered them to the ground. Eyes were now fastened on the dangerous scene ahead of them. They didn’t see the move Tara was beginning to make.
Tara slowly reached into the right thigh pocket of her cargo pants and took out a camera. She lifted it to her eye and snapped a picture of the massive swine, the flash of which caught the animal’s attention and agitated it even further.
Eric turned around immediately and glared at her. With a hiss in his voice he told her to move!
The boar appeared to shiver and tense, looking back and forth between the two men and the one. Its eyes settled again on Brent and the beast began to paw the ground with its right hoof.
Oh God! This thing’s going to charge!
The boar grunted loudly. Then, letting out a horrendous squeal, it charged.
Brent ripped the machete out if its sheath and brought it before him. As he did, another startling sound pushed through the air.
Terry let out a terrible scream and started running down the pathway toward Brent, angling toward the ridge and the beast. Eric followed suit with his own yell, both of them with their machetes bared for an encounter.
The boar stiffened and dug its front hooves into the dark, damp peat, skidding to a halt. It appeared unsure of what to do about the new threat. It stood and grunted and squealed loudly again as Terry and Eric made it to Brent’s side.
Eric whispered, “We should get out of here.”
All three of them began a backward march up the path. The boar’s irritation was growing again and they could tell that it meant to make another run at them. Every step backward seemed to take forever. Brent’s pulse was throbbing in his neck and fingers. Adrenaline coursed through his system. He breathed hard.
Slowly they continued backward toward the three women. Terry and Eric reached their backpacks, and the three of them paused just long enough to grab the packs and sling them up to their right shoulders. Continuing their backward trek, they finally made it to a curve in the path where the trees formed a precarious natural barrier between them and the boar. There was a rising sense that they were now safe, but none of the three wanted to turn around quite yet.
Marta was beside herself with fear. She half screamed, “Come on! Come on!”
The guys backed another dozen steps and finally began to relax. With a quick look at one another they took off running toward the girls. Running was probably not the best way to express what they were capable of doing with the weight of the packs on their backs, but it was getting them where they wanted to be; as far away from that animal as fast as possible.
The girls didn’t wait for the guys to reach them before they, too, turned tail and ran.
“WHAT WERE YOU thinking?” yelled Karen. “Really? You had to take a picture?!”
Tara stared at Karen, unable to reply.
Marta’s turn. “That was stupid. You nearly got them killed!”
Tara turned wide-eyed toward the guys. “I… I didn’t know the flash was on.”
The men, one by one, dropped their packs to the ground.
“Okay, stop,” said Eric. “Relax. Let’s all just relax.”
“But…” Marta began.
Brent cut her off. “Eric’s right. Let’s just stop. Ladies, drop your packs.”
They did so.
“Everybody gather ‘round,” said Brent. And as they did he spread his arms wide and said, “Group hug.”
Terry chuckled, as did Eric, more probably from a need to release tension than from the humor of the suggestion. The girls approached and they all put their arms around each other’s shoulders and waists. Terry bowed his head and the girls responded in kind. Brent and Eric did the same. With their heads touching they just held each other for a long minute.
When they finally looked up and released each other, Brent could see tears in the eyes of all three of the women.
Eric sat on the ground and leaned back on his hands, extending his feet outward. Everyone else followed his lead and planted themselves as well.
“Well, now,” Brent ventured, “That’s something you don’t experience every day!”
The comment produced a much-needed laugh. The tension began to leak out of them.
Eric turned to Tara. “Did you get a good shot?”
At first Tara didn’t know if she should really answer the question.
“Well?” Terry prompted.
“I uhh… I think I did, actually,” she said.
“Good,” said Brent. “Cause no one’s going to believe this story without it.”
They all laughed again.
“You guys were great back there!” said Karen.
Tara agreed. “You know that the three of you are heroes now, don’t you?”
Brent looked to Tara who, in turn, looked him straight in the eyes. There was a look of wonder and appreciation where earlier there had only been contempt.
Terry rolled his eyes. “We were terrified, not courageous.”
Marta retorted, “What do you think courage is? Absence of fear? Nuh-uh. It’s doing the right thing in spite of fear.” She looked to Tara and smiled. “Tara’s right. You three qualify as heroes.”
After a silent moment, Eric deflected the praise by asking, “Did anyone else back there pray?”
Four other hands went up, Tara abstaining.
“You really think God had something to do with us getting away?” inquired Tara sarcastically.
“Why not?” asked Karen.
“Well, it seems obvious to me that it was three men with machetes facing a single animal, albeit a big one. That animal recognized the odds.”
Brent responded, “All the more reason to believe that God intervened.”
Tara produced a questioning look, not believing that there could be any logic in his statement.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a wild boar. Now, just to make it clear, my family was in Florida in a nature preserve at the time, but those boars were still free-range animals. They could have been a cause for alarm if they hadn’t been on the other side of a small marsh area. That’s where we learned from a ranger about how unpredictable these animals are. The bigger the threat that they perceive, the more dangerous they tend to become. They aren’t your everyday turn-their-tails-and-run types. By all accounts…” Brent thumbed backward toward the path behind him. “… that animal s
houldn’t have stopped its charge. It should have come at us with reckless abandon. But it didn’t.”
The group chewed on his words for a moment.
“God, we thank you,” started Eric. “Thank You for saving us, for protecting us. You are a good God, and we take this time to let you know that we acknowledge that. Amen.”
“Amen,” came the group reply … save one.
After a moment, Terry asked, “Is this the end of our backpacking adventure?”
“What?”
“Why?”
“Shouldn’t we report this to the rangers? We can’t let others stumble upon that thing,” continued Terry.
Brent’s head dropped. He sighed. “He’s right. We’ve got to tell someone.”
Eric said, “If we do, it’s going to take quite a while to get back to the trailhead to report this, and before we can even start heading back we’ve got to find the next forest road that intersects this trail. I’m guessing it would have to lead back to the park office. That is, of course, unless everyone wants to go back the way we came.”
Karen interjected with a sigh, “And I doubt that after hiking all the way back to the office we’ll want to come all the way back out here to resume where we left off.”
Brent could see that everyone seemed dejected. It appeared that their four-day trip was coming to a sudden day-and-a-half end.
9:45 A.M.
IT DIDN’T TAKE too long to come across Forest Road 2. They made a right turn off the backpacking trail onto the dirt and gravel road. It might have been able to accommodate two passing vehicles, but it would be a tight fit. It was full of ruts and not exactly conducive to a leisurely walk.
After a half hour on the road they agreed that much of the backpacking trail they had hiked was much easier to trek than this stretch of cumbersome road. They still had quite a way to go to get back to the office—if, indeed, the road was taking them there—and the heat of the day was making it nearly unbearable. There wasn’t anywhere near the amount of shade that they had enjoyed on the trail. The bota bags were being tipped back and drained into mouths more frequently.
Deliver Us From Darkness Page 19