Not that we don’t all respect you.
Sean orders, Okay, everyone
pay attention. The morning
routine goes like this: up at
daybreak, sleeping bags rolled
up and stashed in your backpacks,
ten minutes for bodily functions
(please go in separate directions),
breakfast, teeth, and then off we go.
I drag myself out of my cocoon,
roll it up tightly as I can manage,
then reach for a cup of coffee to
fight the black hole of sleeplessness
I have pushed myself into.
I hope Sean and Raven will
take it easy on us the first
day. I doubt I can cope with
a marathon.
Tony
After a Scrumptious Breakfast
(Egg McMuffin-flavored
substance, in a foil pouch),
Raven and Sean start
handing us things to stow
in our packs, on top of
our already wrinkled clothes.
Rope. More foil pouches.
(Guess we have to carry
our own gourmet goop.)
One roll of toilet paper
each. (Guess MREs don’t
make for megadumps.
Hope they’ve got laxatives
along!) Antibacterial
soap. (For hair and skin,
safe for the environment.)
Flint and steel. Fire-starter
tinder. (We’re trusting this?)
Featherlight thermal
blankets. (Thank you,
NASA.) Pocket hand
warmers. (Where are
we going, anyway? To
the Antarctic?) Lip ice.
Mosquito repellent. Sunglasses.
(Awesome idea.
The glare out here is
killer. Sure glad someone’s
got the system down.)
A minifishing kit, with one
hook, one bobber, one sinker,
and a small reel of line.
(Hope Phillip’s watching
this. If so, he’s smiling.)
“Hey, Phillip,” I whisper.
“Are you there, somewhere?”
Finally, Sean Gives Each of Us
A whistle on a long red
cord, just right to go
around our necks and
hang in easy reach.
Three short blasts
means you’re in trouble.
Everyone has to give
theirs a try. The noise
scatters a warren of jackrabbits,
out on a scouting
expedition. What do rabbits
eat out here, anyway? Sand?
Before we head out,
we’re going to buddy
up, Raven says. Always
keep your buddy in sight,
or at least know where
he or she is at all times.
Raven assigns partners,
choosing Lori for hers.
Vanessa and Dahlia.
Justin and Sean. Which
leaves Conner and me.
A week ago I would
have been fine with that,
ecstatic, in fact. But this
thing with Conner eighty-sixing
his meds has me worried.
He buried his Prozac again
this morning. I know
quitting cold isn’t always
a problem, but it can be
What if he drops off
the deep end? “How
responsible for our
partners are we?” I ask.
Conner Shoots a Curious Look
In my direction. Hell,
maybe he’s worried
about looking out for me.
Good question, replies
Sean. And the answer
is: ninety-nine percent.
“What about the one
percent? Can you be
more specific, please?”
I can. If your buddy
decides to run off into
the night, don’t go too.
Everyone takes a minute
or two to digest the buddy
system thing. Now, Q & A:
Q: What if my buddy breaks a leg?
A: Blow your whistle. We’ll
triage on site, call for help.
Q: What if she won’t participate?
A: Encourage her. Get in her
face if you have to.
Q: What if that doesn’t work?
A: Blow one long blast on
your whistle; leave it to us.
My turn. “And what
if your buddy flips
out completely?”
Sean looks at Conner,
looks back at me. Is
that really a concern?
I turn toward Conner,
assess the dark circles
around his sleep-deprived
eyes. He smiles a very
strange smile and gives a
little shrug, and I say,
“Guess not.”
Vanessa
Buddies with Dahlia
Wonderful. She and I have
probably exchanged
a hundred words in
the last fifteen weeks.
But hey, I guess
that’s the point.
Challenge by Choice—
the way to form lasting (?)
friendships. I decide to break
the ice. “Are you into hiking?”
You kidding? Most hiking
I’ve ever done is from
my house down to
the corner 7-Eleven.
What about you?
“I’ve been a few times,
with my grandma. She’s in
pretty good shape for her age.
She likes to hike Mt. Rose
Meadows, and we did part
of the Rim Trail, too.”
Holy crap! She must be
in pretty good shape.
Is she old, or what? ’Cause
my grandma is older than dirt.
I shrug. “Almost sixty.
But she always seemed
younger to me than
my mom did. My mom
was born ancient.”
Your mom is the crazy
one, right? Straight
to the point.
So I’ll give a direct
answer. “She was.”
Before I Have to Offer Details
Raven rounds us up.
Okay, everyone ready?
Today’s leg isn’t really
difficult. It’s more to assess
what shape you’re in
than to really challenge you.
Our goal is ten miles
before nightfall.
Ten miles isn’t difficult?
I’ve never walked more
than five at any one time
with Grandma. But I guess
I’m up to the task.
Raven and Lori take the lead
as we start up a gradual grade
on a wide, well-maintained trail.
Keep a nice, steady pace
and watch your posture,
or your backs will curse
you. Don’t over compensate
for the weight of your packs,
Raven instructs.
Right about now, I start
to feel the weight of my
pack. Immediately, I want
to compensate—a major
trick of the mind?
I glance to my right,
see Dahlia is fighting
the same urge. “Wonder
how long it takes before
our backs start swearing.”
I woke up this morning and my
back was already cussing big-time,
Dahlia replies. If you can’t h
ear
it, you need a hearing aid!
Two Hours Later
My back is cussing too.
In fact, with all the spinal
swearing going on, you almost
can’t hear the moans
and groans of our feet.
Finally Raven directs
us off the trail, into a little
clearing in the sage. We’ll
take a breather here.
Everyone drink water,
even if you don’t think
you’re thirsty. Believe
me, you are, and staying
hydrated is vital.
Water never tasted near
this good before. I polish
off a bottle, realize I can’t
just toss the empty.
Hang on to those bottles,
says Sean. We’ll refill them
when we get to the creek.
Anyone hungry? Tough!
Lunch isn’t for an hour.
Backpacks up. Let’s go.
Sean and Justin trade
places with Raven and Lori.
Conner and Tony move
behind them, in front
of Dahlia and me.
As Tony passes, he touches
my arm. You okay? ’Cause
I’m one sore puppy already.
“Woof, woof,” I joke.
But right now it doesn’t seem
too funny.
Conner
We’ve Been Walking
For three days, uphill, loaded
with heavy packs. Oxen.
That’s what we are, just like
those whose time-smoothed tracks
we follow. I keep wondering
if we’re going somewhere, or
just wandering at random, not
even Sean knowing our final
destination. The weather
is typical spring in northern
Nevada—tepid during the day,
and that’s a very good thing.
Hiking these hills in the heat
of July would be insane.
So far the grade isn’t bad,
the trail well marked and dry.
But we haven’t covered near
the distance Sean and Raven
expected to, mostly due to
Lori’s insistence that she
“can’t take another step.” That’s
bull, of course, but her less-than-
adequate speed has kept us from
taking full advantage of
the relatively easy terrain.
Things only get harder from
here—steeper, more slippery—so
unless the bitch grows wings
our progress will slow even
more. Not sure why it matters,
especially if wandering at
random actually is the score.
I Decide It Isn’t
Because as we set up camp for
the night, I hear Raven and Sean
discussing tomorrow. Seems
our first real test is in sight.
So what do you think? Are they
all up to the gorge? asks Raven.
Guess we’ll find out, answers Sean.
Anyway, we haven’t had a fall yet.
I’m a little worried about
Lori. She’s not exactly fit.
She will pose a challenge,
but hey, no guts, no glory.
“Glory” is not in her dictionary.
I hope “vertigo” isn’t either.
She’s your buddy, sweetheart.
Just show her the rope-a-dope.
Should be an interesting
day. I’ll be sure to let Lori
and Raven go first. That
way I won’t miss a thing.
I unroll my sleeping bag,
smoothing the sand beneath
best I can, wishing the stone-free
surface was soothing
enough to actually let me
sleep. Four nights without
drifting all the way off into
deep REM refreshment
has left me disoriented.
So far only Tony has
a clue, but with my thought
processes bordering on bizarre,
that’s likely to change any
time. Maybe exhaustion will
conquer my brain tonight, beat
it into sublime submission.
With a Nod
Toward early homo erectus,
Tony lights this evening’s
fire, using only flint and steel.
Around bites of pepperoni paste
he asks, How did humans
ever survive? I mean,
people consider themselves
so clever, but really,
learning to light a fire like
this had to be an accident,
or a direct communication
from our Great Dad Above.
Sitting close to the blossoming
fire, Justin squirms visibly.
I wish you wouldn’t use
terms like “Great Dad Above.”
Tony smiles. Why not? Do
you really think He cares
about terminology? I bet He
worries more about how few
of His greatest experiments
believe He exists. With just
that mustard seed of faith, think
what people might achieve.
“Faith is for little children
and giant fools. Don’t tell
me you believe in Santa, too!”
Defiant, I hardly slur at all.
Tony grins. Of course, and
the Tooth Fairy, too. All fairies,
in fact. Then he grows serious.
I’m sorry you’re afraid of truth.
Me too.
Tony
I Am Firestarter
And I feel powerful.
Strange, because I
never felt that way
lighting a match,
which really is an
awesome invention.
But conquering flint and
steel gives me a kind
of primal satisfaction.
So far only Conner,
Dahlia, and I have
figured out how to do it.
Vanessa comes over,
gives me a high five.
Way to go, Tony. If
I ever decide to go
camping again, I’ll
invite you to come.
“Promise? Maybe we
could bring along
a sleeping bag for two.
It would have to be
a whole lot warmer than
these half-ass units.”
No doubt about that.
She sits beside me,
real close, and for about
the thousandth time,
I’m amazed at how
she makes me feel.
As inconspicuously
as possible, I slide
my arm around her
waist, put my mouth
against her ear. “I don’t
ever want to lose you.”
Losing Her
Would snuff the light
out of my life—a light
I never believed I
could find again after
Phillip died. Yet here it
is, sitting right next to me.
Shit. Damn. Fuck.
On the far side of
the flames, Dahlia
is working her hiking
boots off swollen feet.
Check out this blister!
Raven moves into
paramedic mode,
rushing to Dahlia’s
side as if she’s having
a baby or something.
She pokes and prods.
It’s ugly, all right
Vanessa, get the
first
aid kit. First, we need
some rubbing alcohol.
Okay, this is going
to hurt a little….
Quit screaming. It
can’t hurt that bad!
Now, use this
ointment Dab it
all over the blister,
then leave it exposed.
Dahlia keeps yelling.
You want me to go
barefoot? I’ll freeze.
A blister like that needs
air. Later we’ll fix you
up with a moleskin.
Dahlia Bitches Until Bedtime
I could kick her ass,
but not because she’s
causing a major scene
over a minor problem,
making a mountain (ha-ha)
out of a moleskin.
No, I’d like to wring
her scrawny neck for
taking Vanessa from
my side to go play
nurse’s aide. I can still
feel the warmth of her.
I settle into my sleeping
bag, wondering at this
change that has come
over me. Not only do
I love Vanessa, I think
I want to make love to her.
Next to me, as if reading
my mind, Conner says,
You’re really in love with
her, aren’t you? Do you
want to be with her … I
mean … you know?
I keep my voice very
low. “I’m really in
love with her, yes.
She makes me feel
like no one ever has.
As for the rest, maybe.”
I think you should. You
told me once you weren’t
really sure who you are.
Being with Vanessa
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