“What are they doing?” I asked Avery.
“I don’t know.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey! What the hell are you two doing?”
Dunc whipped around at the sound of her voice. His dark curls were hidden beneath a grimy baseball cap. He put a finger to his lips, then waved us closer. We slipped our own packs off and crept toward him.
“What’s so goddamn interesting?” I sniped as we approached. “You’re on the wrong trail, you know.”
But this time it was Archie who turned to look at us, and the wicked gleam in his eye told me depravity was a relative thing.
“We found girls,” he said. “And they’re naked.”
—
I sprawled on my belly next to Dunc to gaze down at the view below. Rather than naked girls, however, what I saw first was a stream. It was the China Spring, I supposed. Sparkling like a gift, it dazzled as it ran swiftly through a narrow gorge of granite, a good fifty yards below us, before widening across a pebbly valley shaded by a thick grove of aspen and pine trees.
After a moment, the sun dipped and glinted, the wind whispering through the valley to shake leaves from the branches and ripple the water, and that’s when I saw them—the people in the spring. There were two of them. And yes, they were females from what I could tell, and by that I mean they weren’t actually swimming, but wading. Waist deep.
That got me scrambling forward, scraping my knees again. My earlier guilt remained, sharp and gutting, but voyeurism suited me. Besides, the women didn’t notice us. They were too busy bathing and washing clothes. They soaped their underarms and scrubbed their hair and rinsed their shirts. Bubbles pooled downstream, coming to rest along the shore like pearls that had lost their oysters. In the trail guide, I’d read that China Spring was a drinkable water source, fed straight from the earth, but I can tell you right now I had no intention of drinking anything other people washed their underwear in.
“God, they’re, like, old ladies!” Avery exclaimed, startling me. I looked up and saw she had her camera out. She was zooming in with that big lens of hers, and her comment pretty much shattered my voyeuristic fantasies. Archie, it seemed, felt the same way.
“Old ladies?” he echoed.
“Well, they’re definitely not young,” she said. Then she pointed excitedly. “Hey, there’s a guy, too!”
We all followed her line of sight, and sure enough, a man—also naked—was walking out of the tall grass and straight toward the pebbly beach. I put my hand over my eyes and squinted. There was a whole campsite back there, set up beneath the tree line. A not-at-all-legal campfire smoldered in a ring of rocks and a ragged beige tent with a large stain on the roof had been pitched downwind. Whoever was sleeping in there was sure to get a lungful of smoke. The man, meanwhile, strolled to the water’s edge. We watched with bated breath as he put his feet in, put his hands on his hips.
“Nasty,” breathed Dunc. “Think he puts bug spray on his dick?”
I made a face and sat back on my haunches.
“Well, he’s not old.” Avery continued to peer through her lens. “At least he’s not all wrinkly.”
Dunc snorted. “What’s he doing, then? Skinny-dipping with his mom?”
“I don’t think that’s his mom,” she said.
“Hey!” a voice called. “Hey, you! Get down here.”
“Oh, shit.” Avery scrambled back from the cliff’s edge.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s the naked guy,” she said. “He’s talking to us.”
16.
“C’MON NOW, KIDS. Come on down and say hello. That’s the polite thing to do. We won’t bite.” We all peeked over the edge again, and the naked man, who had very dark hair and very pale skin, stood in the water and waved both arms at us, a gesture that might’ve seemed friendly enough if he’d had, you know, clothes on, but as it was felt more than a little off-putting.
“Think we should go down there?” Avery whispered before waving back to the dark-haired man.
“No,” I said.
“Hell, yes,” Archie said at the exact same time.
I shot him a dark look. “The guy’s with his naked mom, remember? And what was that crack about not biting us?”
Archie crawled to his feet with a grunt. “When’d you get to be such a puss, Gibby? Ain’t no one down there going to bite us. Not unless we want them to.”
“No way,” I said. “We have to catch up with the rest of the group. We’re already behind as it is.”
“Ah, shit. Now they’re putting clothes on.” Dunc gestured with a whine of disappointment.
Sure enough, the three bathers had wandered back toward their camp and were pulling on clothing. One of the women, however, remained topless and went to hang her wet clothes in the sun. She had brown skin, glistening and sweaty from the heat, and her breasts were small, supple, reminding me of my Rose, who I missed with sudden urgency.
“We have to go,” I said again. “This doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right about any of it. We shouldn’t be here.”
“Come on, Ben,” Avery pleaded. “You said we had plenty of time.”
“Come on, Ben,” Archie taunted, using his best girlish voice.
I ignored him to glare at Avery. “Why do you want to go down there anyway? They’re just trying to get a look at some tits.”
She lifted her camera.
“Seriously?”
She nodded.
“Well, I don’t think it’s safe,” I said.
“Why wouldn’t it be safe?” Dunc asked.
“What, haven’t you seen Deliverance?” I snapped, and no, the irony did not escape me.
Even Avery looked scornful. “Oh, please.”
“Ave . . .”
But it was too late. Archie crowed, “Squeal like a pig, Gibby!” and grabbed Avery by the waist, pulling her up to standing. She giggled while he did this, which I hated. I also hated what came after: watching them parade down the hillside trail, arm in arm, with Dunc following right on their heels, as if they were all setting off on some grand adventure.
But I grabbed my backpack and went after them. What else could I do? I tried not to give the appearance of resentment. Or bitterness of any kind. Any more whining on my part would no doubt be used against me once we finally got down to the water and met the trio of naked swimmers. That was the type of humiliating interaction that had happened to me before and was bound to happen again.
I also tried not to get caught up in the weird feeling of doom rattling around inside my chest or the funny tingling in my scalp. Bad omens both, especially together, but in the end, there was no point worrying. My migraines had a way of doing what they wanted. They could come on fast or not at all, but either way, out here in the woods without my medication, there wasn’t one damn thing I could do about it.
—
The path leading us into the canyon was steep. My scalp tingling persisted, eventually giving way to vertigo, and soon I was staring dumbly at my shoes to keep from falling. We’d almost reached the bottom of the trail when Dunc paused in stride, turning all the way around to look at me. His eyes were sleepy, the way they always were.
“You doing okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I feel kind of dizzy.”
“From hiking?”
“I guess.”
“Maybe you’re hungry.”
“Maybe.”
“Or thirsty?”
“Sure.”
Dunc reached his hand out and helped me down the rest of the way, a gesture I was more grateful for than embarrassed.
“You still think this is a bad idea?” he asked.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Then we’d better not let her get away from us, don’t you think?”
Her? I glanced up. Avery, being
bolder and faster than the rest of us, was already picking her way across a shallow portion of the stream. A line of boulders had been arranged just for that purpose, and she stepped on each carefully, arms held out for balance, that damn camera still dangling from her neck. Useless as always, Archie had stopped to pour dirt out of his shoe, leaving Avery to approach the strange trio on her own. I hurried forward.
Tried to catch up.
Crossing the boulders was no mean feat. I was loath to get my feet wet, and the sun weighed heavy on my back as I picked my way over, rock by mossy rock. I had no clue what had gotten into Avery in the first place. This wasn’t like her—all cocksure impulsiveness and questionable judgment. Although, hell, considering what we’d just done, maybe it was.
I stepped onto the far shore, and that’s when my head started to hurt in earnest, a dull throb that circled my left eye socket with cheerless predictability. My stomach weakened, as well, but I continued moving, continued heading toward the unknown—an encounter that hadn’t been on any map and one I wasn’t prepared for.
The back of my neck began to sweat.
My legs itched from the grass.
The sore call of a bird rang out, echoing down the gorge. It was one I recognized—a killdeer, its tittering song both mournful and sad—and I walked faster, the sun melting my resolve as I struggled to reach the girl ahead of me who couldn’t be bothered to look back. Then the bird cooed again—killdeer, killdeer, killdeer-deer-deer—and this time I shivered in response, chilled suddenly, even in the heat.
—
The man we’d seen from the ridge headed straight for Avery. He didn’t follow any path but cut his own, arrow true, through the long grass and yellow reeds. His black hair fell almost to his shoulders, and it turned out he’d put on pants, but not a shirt. The man wasn’t tall but he was muscular, his chest covered in a pelt of dark hair, and I didn’t like the way he smiled at Avery as he closed in on her, a look both long and wolfish.
But the man kept smiling, even as the rest of us rushed to catch up with her. He smiled not only at Avery, but at me and Archie and Dunc. He looked us each in the eye, right in a row, with this strange, glittering type of intensity, and there was something so genuine and disarming about the way he did this that I began to doubt my initial reaction to his presence. Maybe I’d been wrong to judge the guy before meeting him. Maybe my irritation stemmed more from my budding migraine, as well as my own guilt-stained insecurities—of which I had plenty. Maybe this guy was perfectly, absolutely, one hundred percent normal.
When we were all there, standing right in front of him—me wincing and queasy, the other three seemingly far more eager and pleased with themselves—the dark-haired man threw his arms open wide and beamed.
“Jesus saves!” he cried.
17.
AH, SHIT, WAS my first thought, and I don’t care how that sounds. It wasn’t as if I had a problem with Christianity as a whole, or even Jesus, himself—although I’d never counted myself as a believer. But I happened to know full well that people who went around greeting strangers with forceful exultation and references to their Lord and Savior were usually born-agains. I also happened to know that being born twice usually meant you’d fucked up the first time around and were almost certain to fuck up the second. In that way, I guess, history really was good for something. Not for changing the future but for being able to say, I told you so.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Avery’s smile falter at the stranger’s words—she seemed to be having the same doubts as me—but in the next instant the man had his arms wrapped around her in this giant bear hug. He wasn’t groping her ass or anything, but seeing his hairy chest pressed against her made my skin crawl. I also caught sight of a large tattoo covering his right shoulder: It was a thick black circle inscribed with the same twin Xs I’d seen on the State of Jefferson seal on the drive out here. The infamous Double Cross. Well, you can bet that didn’t make me feel any better about the guy, and when he released Avery and turned to me, arms still wide, I stuck my hand out instead.
The man hesitated, then shook it vigorously. “Praise the Lord, son. Praise the Lord.”
I said nothing.
He kept holding on to my hand. Eventually, I pulled it back. Let him do the whole greeting thing with Dunc and Archie, who were both grinning and cracking up and looking like fools, which I guess they were.
Avery cleared her throat. “We’re on a hike,” she said.
The man turned to smile at her again. In addition to his black hair and pale skin, he had very blue eyes, the kind that glowed bright like a warning. “Why, that’s a beautiful thing for you young people to be doing. Absolutely beautiful.”
“I’m Avery,” she told him. “This is Ben and this is Dunc and that’s Archie.”
The man kept smiling. “Your Benjamin’s not too fond of me, I see.”
“My name’s not Benjamin,” I said.
“Maybe Ben doesn’t like to see half-naked men.” Avery held her camera up and pointed it at the man.
Click.
“Well, I’ll try not to take it too personally, then,” he said smoothly. “I’m Elvin, by the way, but you can call me Preacher, if that’s easier. If that’ll help you remember who I am and what it is I stand for.”
“Alvin?” Dunc said.
“Elvin. With an E.”
“Like an elf?” I asked.
The Preacher turned to me, and while he was just as genuine as before, just as intense and glittering and odd, he also appeared determined to see right through me. I stood there, unmoving, under the cool weight of his gaze and the warmth of the day and with my head beginning to erupt, in all its molten pain.
“Yes,” the Preacher told me, those blue eyes soaking me in, trying to soak me up. “Like an elf.”
“Why don’t you have a Christian name?” I asked.
The Preacher’s grin grew wider. “Did I say I was a Christian?”
“But you just—”
“Come now,” he purred. “I want you all to meet the two lovely ladies I’m hiking with today. They’re just getting decent, you know. They’re a little upset, seeing as how you came across us bathing. But that’s understandable. It’s just you young people, you surprised us coming along that trail like you did.”
This made even Archie frown. “But anyone could’ve come by. It’s a public trail.”
“Yes, it is.” The Preacher’s gaze turned skittish, darting up the gorge and back again. “But, you see, we’re very private people.”
—
He led us through the grass, all the way to the campsite, where a clothesline had been strung between trees and a pile of camping supplies sat dumped haphazardly beside the fire pit, including a cooler, a few well-worn canvas folding chairs, and a card table with a portable propane stove set on top of it.
It was also where the two women we’d seen earlier—both now fully dressed—sat together on a pair of threadbare tartan blankets spread out in the sun. It turned out they weren’t that old, although they weren’t young either. Both had leathery skin and lines around their eyes that reminded me of my mother—markers of that type of age not counted in years. They also had dyed black hair, which didn’t make either of them appear younger, just ragged and unkempt. A little scary, too. Standing awkwardly beside them, I thought I caught sight of something dark moving among the trees, in my periphery, but when I turned to look, I couldn’t make out what it was.
“Hey, is someone over there?” I asked.
One of the women, who had a silver flask in one hand and a black brace on the wrist of the other, shook her head. “Don’t think so. Maybe you’re seeing things.”
“Maybe I am,” I mumbled.
“Come sit.” The same woman patted the ground beside her. “We were just about to eat lunch.”
I sat, because I didn’t think I could stand much longer and a
lso because she told me to. Dunc and Archie, however, remained standing. They were disappointed by the company and the women and weren’t even trying to hide this.
“You know what,” Archie said. “I’ll be right back. I need to go do something.”
“Me, too,” echoed Dunc.
To me it was clear they were going to get high, but the Preacher barely acknowledged their departure, not turning to watch as they jogged off into the woods, vanishing into the shadows and the trees. His attention was fixed solely on Avery, who was fiddling with the buttons on her camera.
“You’re a photographer?” he asked.
Avery glanced up, gave a shy smile. “Trying to be.”
“Well, the light’s perfect down by the water,” he said. “I could sit for you, if you’d like.”
“Ave . . . ,” I said in a low voice.
“Yeah, sure,” she told the Preacher. “I would like that. Thanks.”
Before I could interject, the two of them headed off toward the riverbank, walking side by side as Avery continued to mess with her settings. I was about to go after her, only the second woman beat me to it. She leapt to her feet, a dark scowl scrawled across her face, and hurried after them. Seeing this calmed my nerves. Somewhat.
Despite telling me to sit, the woman beside me seemed wary of my presence. She was the smaller of the two women, darker-skinned, too—the one who’d made me think of Rose from afar. Up close, however, there was no comparison. Where Rose was a bud, all the promise in the world, this woman was far past her bloom. Her beady eyes latched on to me, watching me closely, and her thin lips twisted into something sour before taking a swig from her flask.
“I’m Ben,” I offered.
The woman started to cough, a phlegmy sound that wrinkled my nose. I didn’t hold out my hand.
“Maggie,” she said finally.
I tipped my head toward the stream. “This is a nice camping spot you found.”
When I Am Through with You Page 8