Watchers

by S. T. Boston

  “God, when did you become such a square?” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “You worry too much. Just chill and have fun. We've been planning this road trip long enough. Besides, that park is massive, I'm sure no one will care if we park the RV for a night. If they do, just play the dumb tourist, although they might find it hard to believe if you say you couldn't read the signs. I guess you could always put on a ropey French accent.” He grinned and folded the food-stained map up, before sliding it back into his bag. Draining the last of the Budweiser from the glass, he stood up and kicked back the chair. “Right, I'm going for a quick piss. Try and finish that beer by the time I get back. If we hit the road now, we stand a chance of seeing some of the approach into the park in daylight. Oh, and for God's sake, relax. You're on holiday now!”

  Watching Sam disappear through the swing door to the gents' room, Adam picked up both glasses and returned them to the bar. His was still half full.

  He was paying for the meal by the time Sam came out of the toilet, still adjusting his zipper. Collecting his bag from the table, he joined Adam at the counter. “Ready for the off then?” he said, patting Adam on the back encouragingly.

  As they stepped out into the car park, they could see it was nearing the end of rush hour. An eclectic mixture of oversized American cars and trucks still jostled along West 44th Street, all trying to reach the interstate. Adam could see storm clouds forming in the west over the distant mountains, which were just visible on the horizon. “I'll drive,” he said hastily, as he snapped the keys from Sam's hand.

  “Like hell you will!” objected Sam, grabbing them back. “For one, you were never any good at drinking, where as I have army training in it.” He shot Adam a smile. “Secondly, we have some pretty hairy roads ahead and as good a driver as you are, I'd rather be in control. Plus, I've spent far more time driving on the left. I handled some big old trucks back in the army, often on dirt tracks and passes, so I am, by far, the most qualified.”

  Adam could tell his friend was only half joking and half serious. In truth, he didn't care for driving. In the dream, Sam had been behind the wheel, so Adam was desperate to change something, even just a small detail.

  “It's over twelve hundred miles to San Francisco. You'll have plenty of time to get a go,” Sam called back, making his way to the RV. He tossed the keys triumphantly in the air. As they fell, he tried to catch them but failed. He fumbled desperately for purchase before they slipped through his hand and clattered down a drain, “Shit!” he cried, kneeling down onto the tarmac and peering through the grate.

  “Nice work,” muttered Adam, as he joined him on the ground. “Do you have any idea how much the rental firm charge for lost keys? They make you pay to replace all the vehicle locks and ignition!”

  “Sorry,” Sam replied a little sheepishly, “it wasn't like I planned to do it.”

  Adam peered into the darkness. The keys were only about seven inches below the grate, resting on a pile of leaves. Thankfully, whoever was in charge of maintenance hadn't been too hot at keeping the drain cover unclogged.

  “I can't get my hand through!” said Sam, flattening out his palm and trying to squeeze it in. “You try.”

  Adam leaned over the grate and pushed his hand into the drain, his knuckles striking hard against the metal. He gritted his teeth as he pushed down harder. Suddenly, his bones seemed to move and his hand slipped in far enough for his fingers to hook the large plastic key loop. Gripping the loop tightly, he pulled his hand back before holding them up triumphantly. “Good job I've got girly hands.” He smiled, passing the keys over reluctantly, no matter how bad he felt he knew it was pointless trying to persuade his friend that heading into the mountains was a bad idea, Sam was stubborn, once his mind was set that was it.

  “No, that was some freaky shit,” Sam exclaimed, clasping the keys tightly. “Your hand went all out of shape for a couple of seconds; it looked pretty gross. How did you know you could do that?”

  “I didn't. Just luck, that's all,” Adam replied truthfully, half wishing he hadn't retrieved the keys. If they'd stayed stuck down the drain, it would have put off the trip into the mountains by a good few hours, if not a whole day.

  Sam climbed up into the driver's seat of the RV; the large captain's chair was more akin to something you'd find in a lounge room. It was definitely not the kind of vehicle to drive if you happened to be a little tired, as one could easily fall asleep behind the wheel. Turning the key in the ignition, the massive 6.8ltr engine purred into life. He fiddled with the on-board SatNav for a few moments, and the screen blinked as the device obtained a GPS lock before an overview of their route was displayed. “I've programmed in Trail Ridge Road for now,” he began, “it's a long-ass road, but from what I saw on Google Earth it has a few places we can stop, so we'll just play it by ear. Time to turn the first eighty odd miles.” He grinned with enthusiasm.

  Adam eyed the device; the route took them out of the city and right into the heart of the Rocky Mountains National Park. There was no doubt it was going to be a spectacular drive. He just wished he felt better about the whole situation.

  “I hope you brought enough spending money for fuel,” laughed Sam, “according to the brochure this baby only does fifteen miles to the gallon.” He swung the RV out onto West 44th Street and joined the slow-moving traffic heading for the interstate. “Guess these will be going cheap soon, when they start backing off on the production of petrol and diesel engines. Wasn't the guy who developed the new hydro engines one of those poor bastards who went missing in Malaysia?”

  Adam rolled his eyes. It had been all over the news for the past two weeks, repeatedly proclaiming that one of the missing men had indeed been Euri Peterson, developer of the hydro engine. Sam had never been good at current affairs, unless it was a war or conflict he was directly involved in. “Yes, where have you been? Under a rock?”

  “That's some strange shit that happened out there, I can't believe there's still no sign of those guys. You were there, what do you think?” Sam guided the RV up the on-ramp and joined I70. They were soon cruising at a steady fifty miles an hour.

  “No idea, mate,” said Adam, gazing at the distant mountains. The sky was looking more threatening by the minute and he swore he saw the odd flash of lightning in the clouds. A big storm looked to be brewing and they were heading right for it. “I missed out on all the action, I'm kind of glad I flew out straightaway now, despite the stupidly long delay. Lots of reporters wasted their time and money hanging around, waiting for a story to break that never did.” He took a pack of gum out of his bag, passed one stick to Sam and popped one in his own mouth. “Looks like it might be a bit of a wild night,” he said, changing the subject and gesturing toward the clouds.

  “Yeah just spotted that. Hopefully we can find a place to park up before it really sets in.” Sam reached over and turned on the radio. News reports were still speaking about the memorial, the three missing delegates and prompting people to go to the FBI website to look at the picture of Robert Finch, the head of President Remy's Secret Service Team who had also vanished like Lord Lucan. After a few minutes Sam clicked the radio off, tired of hearing the same old news.

  I70 took them out past the Denver city limits. Gradually, the terrain started to turn more rugged, pine covered hills rising to the side of them. For a few miles the westbound lane rose up above its eastbound partner as it wove through the landscape. As Sam had predicted, they left the interstate just past a small town called Idaho Springs. The majority of the town seemed to exist right by the side of the interstate, nestled between two hills. Now motoring along Route 40. the first small town they came to was Empire. Sam pulled the RV into a small tin-pot petrol station and topped up the fuel.

  “I'll grab a few supplies as well,” he called after brimming the tank. Adam watched him head across the forecourt and into the wooden shack that served as a shop. Inside Sam grabbed a six pack of beers and a variety of nasty-looking corn snacks, along with a pack of bottled wa
ter and a six pack of Pepsi Wild Cherry. Paying at the old wooden counter, the cost of the fuel compared to the UK almost made him smile. Back in the cab, Sam steered the RV out onto Route 40 and continued on through Empire. They both marvelled at how antiquated the place still looked; the town hall and sheriff's station resembled something from a Wild West film. Just on the other side of the small, quaint town, the first large drops of rain began to hit the windscreen, causing the automatic wipers to spring into action. Adam's uneasy feeling grew as the rain picked up pace with each passing mile.

  “You feeling okay, mate?” asked Sam, noticing the pallid look on Adam's face. Reaching down, he tore open one of the stupidly large bags of cheese snacks. “Try one of these, it will either kill or cure!” he joked, stuffing a handful into his mouth.

  “No thanks,” replied Adam, shaking his head. “It's just that beer, I don't think it's sitting too well.”

  “Ha! See, I said you were no good at drinking.” Sam laughed through a mouthful of food. Reaching over he clicked the air-con up a little and cranked one of the outlets toward Adam. “Get a little air, just don't open the window. I have a feeling it's going to be raining cats and dogs in a minute.” Adam relaxed into his seat, enjoying the cool air in his face.

  Around ten miles outside of Empire, Route 40 began to twist and turn up into the mountains. Adam was actually glad he wasn't driving. Sam was a terrible passenger and would no doubt have been shouting at him to watch out for this and look out for that, whilst continually clutching what he called the 'Fuck me handle', above the door. The light was failing fast, but they could both see the ravine to their left. The driving conditions continued to deteriorate as the rain upped its assault on the RV's windscreen. Thankfully, after a few miles the road that seemed to be coiled like a snake straightened out. Adam swore he saw Sam breathe a small sigh of relief as the ravine ended and the trees came back to meet them. Within a few more miles they were on a regular, tree-lined road with no risk of plunging to their deaths. As the miles clicked by the rain stepped it up another gear, slamming into the roof of the RV like ball bearings – even with the wipers on full, they struggled to keep up with the deluge.

  The dirty, wet night was suddenly torn away by a blast of white light as two helicopters thundered their way overhead, and Sam swerved momentarily before regaining control of the wheel. The helicopters followed the road for a few hundred yards, their Midnight Sun searchlights snaking along the wet tarmac before banking left, illuminating the trees and river. “Jesus!” cried Sam, struggling with the steering wheel as he worked to prevent the RV from losing its rear end on the saturated road. “Those guys can't have been higher than sixty feet!”

  “Are they military?” Adam croaked, watching the spotlights as they slowly disappeared into the distance. The sudden shock had left his mouth dry.

  “Hard to tell,” Sam replied, slowing the RV . “Could have been. Sounded like Cobras – I know the US Marines use them. Look, there are two more on the right.” He gestured out of the side window.

  Adam could just make out the searchlights through the trees and rain. “I wonder what the hell they're looking for?”

  “Most likely some kind of training exercise,” Sam replied. “They do love sending you out on stupid tasks when the weather is bad, toughens you up.” He paused for a few seconds as the choppers' disappeared behind a large, pine-covered hill. “Maybe they're looking for people illegally camped in the car parks,” he grinned, firing Adam a sly wink. Before Adam could issue a comeback, an array of blue lights began closing in on them from behind. Sam slowed the RV to a crawl, shaking his head in annoyance at a second disruption. Flicking on the indicator to let them know he was aware of their approach, Sam pulled as far over as he could and watched as three jet black SUVs tore past, far too fast for the conditions, the blue lights in their grills bouncing off the rain like nightclub strobes. “Well, someone's definitely up to something,” Sam pondered, watching the vehicles vanish around a, right-hand bend. “Might be a good time to get off the road and bunk down for the night. The SatNav says we're on Trail Ridge Road, so we should see a few rest areas soon.”

  “Maybe we should push on,” Adam interjected. “Who knows what's going on?” He was feeling so nauseous, the Mac 'n Cheese seemed as if it wanted to make a re-appearance.

  “Nah, I'm beat; plus, I want to get in a hike like we planned. I'm sure this weather will clear by morning. The guide books say it's really changeable here.” Sam leaned forward and flicked on the stereo before craning his neck over the steering wheel, as if the extra few inches would afford him a clearer view of the road ahead.

  Adam knew what song would be playing before it came through the RV's speaker system, it was Annie's Song, just like he'd heard in his dream.

  “My God, you look like you're going to throw up! I'm definitely stopping!” said Sam, his voice full of concern. Adam couldn't reply, time had slowed down as the world turned black and white, like a slow-motion video replay. “Seriously, mate, you look rough.” Sam had half an eye on the road and half on his friend. He spotted the small wooden 'rest area' sign in the headlights. “I'm pulling in here!”

  “I'm fine,” managed Adam, breathing hard. “Just keep going.” He felt his nails bite painfully into his palms as he clenched his hands tightly into fists. It was too late. Sam flicked on the indicator and swung the RV onto the gravel track. Adam watched the headlights illuminate a sign that read 'STRICTLY NO CAMPING.'

  As John Denver launched into the first chorus, Adam spied a stag from the corner of his eyes and cried out to Sam. “Watch out for the—”It was almost too late, the animal had darted from the trees and stood, frozen and doe-eyed in the lights.

  “Bloody hell, you've got sharp eyes!” cried Sam. As he jammed on the brakes, the open pack of cheesy snacks slid along the dash and spilt all over the cab in a hail of small orange balls. The stag stared at them for a few seconds before taking flight into the woods. “That was a close one,” he chuckled nervously.

  Adam's fingers dug harder into his sweaty palms with every second as he fought to keep his dinner down. The urge to vomit was overwhelming. Gradually the RV bumped its way down the long gravel track, and just as it had in his dream, the lane opened out into a car park, a mighty redwood forming a natural roundabout in the centre.

  Adam knew she would be there, as sure as night follows day, just as he'd known what song would be playing on the radio when Sam turned it on. When Sam swung the RV around in the car park, he saw her. Adam's heart stopped for a split second. She looked dead, mud was caked through her blonde hair, blood oozed from a wound on her thigh, and yet her dirty white clothing luminesced strangely in the headlights of the RV, just as it had in his dream. There was just enough of her body clear of the raging, angry river to keep it from being swept away. Suddenly, time seemed to catch up in a hurry. Colour flooded back into everything, snapping him from the waking, dream-like state.

  “Fuck me, there's a body over there!” cried Sam, jamming on the brakes so hard, all four wheels instantly locked in protest, bringing the RV to a skidding halt on the wet gravel. The vehicle had barely stopped moving before Sam was out of the door and soaked by a torrent of rain that immediately drenched his clothes, plastering his shirt to his skin. “Give me a hand, for fuck sake!” he called back as the door swung shut. Adam felt himself moving. With each passing second, he kept expecting to wake up safe in his bed back home. This time, however, it was even more real. Throwing his door open, he launched out into the rain. The deluge immediately soaked him to the skin as the sound of the thunderous downpour filled his ears. “What the hell is she doing out here?” shouted Sam, racing toward the body. Adam could only just hear him over the rain and the raging torrent of the river. Slipping and sliding on the wet riverbank, they managed to drag the body clear and turned her onto her back. The sight of her face made Adam catch his breath, she was as beautiful as in his dream had suggested, despite her pallid colour.

  “Help me get her into the
RV!” shouted Sam, picking her up beneath her arms.

  As he lifted her body, Adam caught sight of a small, metallic object about the size of a credit card. It fell from the girl's hand and bounced on the wet gravel. Adam eyed it for a split second; it almost seemed to be glowing in the darkness.

  “Hey, snap out of it and give me a hand!” yelled Sam, struggling to keep his grip under the girl's arms.

  Adam bent down and scooped the object up, stuffing it into his pocket before lifting her legs. For a split second as the object dropped into the depth of his pocket, he'd been certain he felt it vibrate.

  Gradually they navigated their way across the waterlogged car park; Sam reached the side door of the RV first and threw it open. He hauled the girl's limp body up and into the living quarters as Adam guided her feet. “Get her up onto the bench seat,” Sam instructed, pulling the dining table out of the way in one swift movement. The clean linoleum floor was swiftly covered in a mixture of mud, gravel, water and blood. Sam bent down and supported her under the arms once again. “On three we lift, okay?” he encouraged. “One, two, THREE!” They hauled her up onto the seat and immediately regretted not covering it with something as the clean, fresh velour covers were subjected to the same filth that was all over the floor.