Literally Offed

by Eryn Scott

  I curled my hand protectively around my neck, just in case. My eyes refused to close. When we’d arrived earlier today, I’d been reading Alex quotes from Walden as I helped him set up our tent. Now, all of the poetic lines about spending time “without any obstruction between us and the celestial bodies” and “how slight a shelter is absolutely necessary” seemed silly. All I wanted were thick walls and a locking door instead of the flimsy fabric and zipper of the tent.

  As if to prove my point, the volume in the next campsite rose again. Alex cleared his throat. But this time, as our neighbors grew louder, the tone had changed. Instead of the sociable noises of a party, they quickly morphed into the sharp, biting sounds of an argument.

  Swearing, shouting, and the occasional “oomph” of a punch rang through the air. Alex and I sat up. His expression narrowed. He flipped back his sleeping bag and swung his feet onto the tent floor. Hamburger watched Alex, poised to follow.

  “Where are you going?” I hissed.

  “To break up whatever drunken fight is happening next door.”

  I grabbed his arm. “Uh, no you aren’t. You’re not leaving me and Ham alone in here. Plus, I don’t want you getting in the middle of that. We’re on a relaxing vacation. Your first away from the force, might I remind you. You’re not on duty this week.” I moved my hand to his shoulder. “Let the rangers take care of it.”

  Alex’s chest expanded as he pulled in a deep breath. The yelling ebbed and seemed to die out. After a second, Alex nodded, exhaling. “Okay. You’re right.”

  We settled back. I was happy he’d listened to me, but suspected his presence in our tent had much more to do with the fight coming to an end or that I’d asked him to stay. Either way, I snuggled up to him, laid my head back onto his chest, and tried to get some sleep.

  I felt like a tree had fallen on me the next morning. Between Alex stirring at every noise outside our tent, Hammy growling at what seemed like nothing—but could’ve been Nate coming to slit our throats with his unnecessarily large knife—and the sounds from our noisy neighbors, I think I’d gotten something like twenty-seven minutes of sleep.

  Alex rubbed at his eyes, and I noticed they were red and bloodshot just like I was sure mine were. Even Hammy looked like she’d had a rough night as she snorted and flopped back into her bed, hiding her head under one paw.

  “Good morning,” I croaked, my voice sounding gravelly and just as worse for wear as my body felt.

  “Remains to be seen,” Alex answered, making his side of the air mattress. My boyfriend was a bit of a neat freak. He eyed my still-rumpled sleeping bag.

  “Not today,” I said with a groan. “I don’t have the energy to pretend I’m tidy. I need coffee, stat. Though, I’m not sure the instant stuff we brought is going to cut it after last night. I’m definitely not cut out to live the simple life like Thoreau.”

  Chuckling, Alex said, “Well, Thoreau lived by a quiet pond and didn’t have wild neighbors keeping him up until the wee hours of the morning.”

  “True.” I yawned, unzipped the door to our tent, and the three of us stumbled outside into the bright morning light.

  Liv and Carson were just staggering out of their tent, and they blinked blearily at us. It looked like we weren’t the only ones up half the night. Carson’s chin-length brown hair was usually kind of an endearing mess, but Liv’s normally sleek blond hair sat in some sort of rat’s nest on the top of her head, making my hand move to check my hair. Flinching at the frizziness my fingers met, I decided not to further investigate. Carson rubbed his neck, and we stood there yawning for a moment. Alex grabbed Hammy’s leash and walked her around the edge of the campsite to do her business.

  My attention turned to the next campsite. Bodies littered the ground as if a plague had hit the campsite abruptly. The only signs of life were the snores and occasional movements of the guys. They hadn’t even attempted to put up tents, but had thrown sleeping bags onto the ground, fallen asleep in camp chairs or on the picnic table. A leg hung out of one the truck beds parked next to their site.

  “Looks like they eventually passed out.” Liv wrinkled her nose at the sight.

  “More than I can say for any of us.” I turned toward Nate’s tent, remembering our rowdy neighbors hadn’t been the only reason we’d had a hard time getting to sleep.

  I jumped as I noticed Victoria and Nate already sitting around the campfire.

  “Good morning,” Nate said, holding up a honey-colored Bittersweet mug.

  Victoria gave a sheepish wave.

  I was about to wave back when a sharp elbow landed square in my gut, making me double over. Liv was a blond streak as she shoved past us, to the fire. But when I saw what had caught her interest, I understood the rush. Next to Nate sat a portable version of the espresso machine he used at Bittersweet, syrups, milk and other coffee house paraphernalia. A small generator hummed next to him. Sad visions of gross instant coffee disappeared and I raced forward, stopping just behind Liv.

  “Nate, you brought—?” It was as if Liv couldn’t make herself utter the word until she was sure.

  “To share?” I asked, eagerly, fingers clutching Liv’s arm as we waited for his response.

  Nate dipped his head, his thin lips curling up into a satisfied smile. “But of course, I brought enough to share with all of my friends.”

  I held my breath for a second, glancing at Liv. The tone he used when he said “friends” made my stomach churn, but I really needed good coffee after the night we had. Liv’s eyes narrowed for a second as she seemed to go through the same thought process. But his story was about slitting throats, not poisoning the campers… my tired, caffeine-deprived mind rationalized.

  “He spent all week perfecting the gear,” Victoria said, speaking her first complete sentence since she’d arrived yesterday. “Was even up tinkering with it a few times last night.”

  Liv and I froze, watching her, waiting for anything else to come out of her mouth—a warning maybe—but that seemed to be it.

  “Well I’m in,” I said, plopping into the seat next to Nate.

  “Make that two,” Liv said, sitting to my right.

  I caught Alex and Carson shaking their heads at us from the corner of my eye, but I didn’t care because moments later Nate was handing me a steaming mug of delicious-smelling coffee.

  “Kanpai,” I said, holding my mug toward Liv as I pronounced the Japanese version of cheers.

  “Yamas,” she said, picking Greek in our continued efforts to bring culture to our drinking, both alcoholic and non.

  Pulling my mug back to me, I closed my eyes and breathed in the cinnamon-scented steam for a few moments before taking my first sip. Even the smell of the coffee seemed to take the edge off my too-little-sleep headache. From the first taste, I was in heaven. It was frothy; cinnamon and vanilla flavors danced with a light sweetness and then the smooth taste of life-giving, energy-providing coffee hit me.

  “Best. Day. Ever,” I said, keeping my eyes closed, taking another sip.

  “More like Nate saves the day,” Liv said next to me.

  When I finally opened my eyes, Nate was watching us, beaming. Alex and Carson, upon seeing us still alive, seemed to make up their minds about the coffee being safe and asked Nate for their own mugs.

  After our coffee and a quick breakfast of granola bars and apples, we packed some lunch and water into backpacks and headed out for a hike.

  Thanks to Nate’s coffee, the effects of our sleepless night were sufficiently hidden underneath layers of caffeine and sugar. The sun shone brightly through the tall pine trees, and a cool mountain breeze brushed through the forest. I clipped Hamburger’s backpack around her middle and snapped her retractable leash on to the hook between her shoulder blades.

  With one last glance over at our still soundly sleeping neighbors, we locked up our valuables then started out toward the trail nearest to our campsite.

  Each long pull of fresh air through my nose seemed to wake me up even more, in
vigorating any remaining sleepiness dormant inside. I smiled at the soft crunch of our boots on the dried pine needles lining the trail. Hammy’s collar jangled quietly, mixing with the musical bird songs echoing around us in the tall pines.

  Our group snaked silently through the trees for a few minutes. Alex and Hammy stuck with me in the lead, and Nate and Victoria brought up the caboose behind Liv and Carson. Conversations began to spring up as people pushed ahead or fell back, our group finding a nice fluid arrangement as we hiked.

  When we’d walked for a good ten minutes away from the camp, I leaned down and unclipped Hammy’s lead. We hadn’t seen a soul since the campsite, and she was good enough at listening without her leash, especially now with all of Alex’s training. She looked back at Alex when she realized the leash was off and he gave her a quick nod.

  “Stay close, Ham.”

  The dog snorted and then pranced in a tight circle around the group as we continued to walk. Today’s hike wasn’t so much about elevation as the destination. There was a beautiful waterfall a few miles from where we were camping I thought might make a great lunch destination.

  As we walked, I thought of the many times I’d been camping with my family. Dad and I would always disappear for hours, wandering the woods, quoting Thoreau, and drinking in the peaceful sounds of the forest.

  “Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads,” I said, quoting one of Dad’s favorite lines.

  Everyone seemed to settle, relaxing into the wild around us. Even Alex, who I knew thought the author was highly overrated, nodded. Finally, away from our noisy neighbors and the bustle of the campground, I started to feel the peace envelop me too. The smoky scent of campfires was slowly being replaced by the sweet smell of wildflowers as we headed toward the ridge. Everything seemed perfect.

  Simple. Quiet. Thoughtfu—

  Hammy’s furious barking cut through my focus, making my eyes fly open in surprise, just in time to see her race into a bush at the side of the trail. “Ham, no,” I yelled after her. To no avail.

  I looked to Alex. She always listened to Alex. His face darkened as he called to her. “Hammy, heel.”

  Nothing. My forehead creased in worry as her barking only became more intense. We ran over to where she’d disappeared. Alex parted the woody branches of two large rhododendrons and we slipped through to a small clearing.

  And froze.

  Hammy stopped barking as she saw us, her tongue lolling to the side happily. She sat down, almost as if saying, “Oh good, you’re here. Look what I found.”

  My gaze crept past my small dog to the boot, to the leg, and then the body. The man was lying on this stomach, his face turned to one side. And he was still. Stomach dropping, I sank to a kneeling position, calling Hammy to me, away from the man. Now the dog trotted happily over to me, letting me gather her up in my arms, snapping the leash back on her just in case. Once Alex made sure I had a hold of her, he held up a hand. It was then that I noticed the rest of our group had followed us into the clearing. They were staring, eyes wide at the body as Alex stepped closer.

  I could see Alex’s jaw tighten as he knelt next to the man and peered around at the face, hidden behind a mop of short, curly brown hair. My stomach dropped as I recognized that hair.

  Waiting, hoping Alex would check for a pulse or shake the man awake. But Alex didn’t, he cleared his throat and looked back at us, shaking his head. I stood and took a few steps to the right.

  And that’s when I saw it—the reason Alex didn’t bother to check for a pulse—the sticky blood coating the dried grass in the clearing, pooling below his throat. I hugged Hammy tight to me as Alex stood and backed up until he was standing next to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  His brows furrowed.

  “I should’ve let you go out and break up the fight last night,” I continued, pointing to the two embroidered symbols on the guy’s left sleeve. While I didn’t know the design on the left—it looked like the top portion of a star—next to it was a marmot, our local university’s mascot.

  In addition to the sweatshirt, I remembered that curly brown hair.

  Recognition lifted Alex’s features and he sighed. The man lying facedown, dead in the forest was definitely one of the keg-stand crew from the campsite next to us.

  3

  I’d assumed the fight we’d overheard last night was a simple drunken brawl, something that would fizzle out after the guys were pulled apart and their friends intervened.

  I glanced at the blood beading on the blades of grass.

  A line from the beginning of Walden came to me. Thoreau had said, “Men hit only what they aim at.” This was no accident. Someone had wanted this guy dead, and they’d made sure their aim was true.

  “I don’t have any reception,” Alex said, as he frowned at his phone. “Any of you?”

  After a quick check, we each shook our heads; none of us had service this far out either.

  Alex’s jaw tightened as he looked around. “We’re going to have to go back to the campground and tell the rangers, then. I can stay here and make sure nothing disturbs the body.”

  Mind abuzz, Alex’s words didn’t seem to register. My gaze tiptoed over to the man’s throat, to the very edge of a long cut in his skin. Shivering, I had to look away. Then it hit me. Nate’s scary story. Slitting throats—well, throat, in this case. Nate’s large switchblade. I’d been unable to sleep half the night worrying about Nate’s terrible tale coming true, and in a way, it had. Did the creepy barista have something to do with this?

  I’d gotten warm during our short hike and had tied my light, summer sweatshirt onto my waist. Now, with our stopping and with what we’d found, I shimmied back into it, relishing the way the cotton settled on my skin, making me feel wrapped up and safe. Sort of.

  Attention settling on Nate, I noticed he didn’t seem worried, or sad, or even all that disturbed. But really, just because he’d happened to choose a scary story involving slitting throats didn’t automatically mean he was responsible for all throat slitting in the surrounding area. Right? Still I didn’t really want to end up in his group, if we did decide to split up.

  Carson spoke up, breaking up my paranoid thoughts. “Want me to stay with you?” he asked Alex.

  “We really only need one person to stay,” Alex said, looking to Carson. “I need you to get everyone back safely and let the rangers know where to find me.” He was in full cop mode now, serious and all about the task ahead.

  Carson shook his head. “It should be you going to talk to the rangers, Alex. They’ll listen to a cop way more than me. I’ll stay. You get these guys back.”

  Alex agreed and started giving Carson instructions on what to do and say when the rangers showed up.

  “I’m not leaving you here alone,” Liv said.

  He put a hand on each of her shoulders. “I’ll be fine, babe. Please go.”

  She sighed reluctantly, but nodded, and then we were off. Liv linked her arm through mine, and we pulled close as we walked away.

  I clipped Hammy’s leash back onto her backpack, only letting her down after we were a good few minutes away from the body. A shiver spiked up my spine at the thought that, if Hamburger hadn’t been off leash, we would’ve probably walked right by the body, unaware of the small clearing just feet from the main path. It was hard not to wish I’d kept the dog on her leash, though I hated to think of what other animal might’ve found the body if Hammy hadn’t. Had the killer been counting on that very possibility?

  We walked back to the campgrounds in silence, the weight of what happened dragging us down as if we’d pulled the dead guy along after us.

  “I’m sure we don’t all need to go report this. I’ll go back to the campsite with Victoria and rustle up another round of coffees. I think we could all use a bit of a pick-up after that business,” Nate said as the tents came into view.

  My paranoid mind spent a second wondering if Nate was trying to get out of talking to the range
r for other reasons—guilt-shaped ones—but another cup of good coffee sounded too perfect to pass up. Splitting up, the rest of us headed for the ranger’s offices at the entrance to the campground.

  Alex held a hand up as we approached the small building. Liv and I stayed outside with Hammy while he entered. I could see him reach in his pocket, pulling out his badge. Hamburger snuffled around on the ground as Liv wrapped her arms around herself, her face looking pale and wracked with concern. Also feeling like I’d been hit in the gut with one of my big hiking boots, I tried to calm myself down. I listened to the birds chirping in the sunlit treetops, a bass line of buzzing crickets providing the background to their songs. The door swung open with a squeak, and I glanced up to see Alex. His forehead was furrowed, but he gave me a somber nod. It was taken care of.

  “I’m going to stay here and wait for the sheriff. They said he’s only about fifteen minutes away. They’re going to hold everyone in the campground for questioning for a few hours, but we can start packing at least. You two can head back to the site and get started if you want.”

  I placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it tight. I wanted to pull him close, ask him to wrap his arms tight around me until I forgot the blood, the body. But I also didn’t want to seem like a wimp. Alex was focused on his job as a police officer right now. Even though he wasn’t in uniform, I could see the change in him.

  But the faster he could fill the sheriff in on what we knew, the sooner we could get out of here. There was a quick pang of frustration at the idea of cutting our vacation short. This was the last real week of my summer vacation from grad school and the one week my employee in the bookstore could cover for me. I’d been working my butt off for the last year, owning a shop in town on top of my classes at the university.

  And I wasn’t the only one who needed the break. Liv, Carson, and Alex had all started new jobs since graduating last year. We were all overworked, needing the “absolute Freedom and Wildness of nature” to restore us just like Thoreau.

  I recognized the same tight regret about leaving in Liv’s eyes as she looked over at me, but she nodded. There was no way we could stay. If I’d thought last night was scary, I couldn’t imagine another with an actual murderer on the loose.