by Chris Bostic
We let it drop. Everyone knew hiking wasn’t going to be impossible, though my wet socks and squirrel food for breakfast made it no picnic. We’d hiked a lot of the trails before, some of us more than others. It was more the backdrop of man versus world, not simply nature, which made the real challenge.
Granola crunched and faces were splashed with water as we went through the motions. There were no clothes to change into, so the morning routine was even quicker than normal. Mom seemed eager to leave anyway. She paced around the woods, obviously trying to hold back from getting after Maddie about being slow. It didn’t last indefinitely.
“Are we finally ready?” she said, seemingly directing her comments at my sister. I’d found myself a log to sit on while Maddie grumbled about the length of the hike.
“Is it really four more miles?” she said as she tied and retied her boot laces.
“Could be four point one, but that’s once we finally hit the trail,” Dad said, and Mom shot him a dirty look.
“You’ve done that much before,” Mom said. “It’s no biggie.”
“Actually,” Dad said, looking at the map, “I think it could be a lot shorter than that. There’s a couple of old campsites marked on here…this side of Elkmont.” He looked up at Mom. “Any idea if they’re in Nineteen or Twenty?”
She walked over. “Which is closer to Elkmont?”
“Twenty. But it’s still a good ways off the hard road.” He pointed to the map. “They’d have to go up the Jake’s Creek Trail to get to Meigs Mountain.”
Mom nodded approvingly. “That’d take maybe two miles off our trip. Even more if they’re at Nineteen.”
I was mildly interested, but not enough to go check it out for myself. In some ways, it was better not knowing.
Since everyone else was still goofing around getting ready, I pulled off my boots to wring more creek water out of my socks. My feet were a sickly pale, and wrinkly as raisins. I made a mental note to air out my feet as soon as we got where we were going, and to take off my boots again that night. Longer, if possible.
Dad repacked our supplies into the duffel bag and hoisted it over his shoulder.
“Up the hill we go,” he said, somewhat encouragingly.
He strode off for the stream, not waiting to see if we would follow. It was a safe assumption. No one was going to stay behind.
We ended up choosing our own paths initially. The stream was wider where we started, so it was no challenge to pick out one of several different ways to climb like rocky stairs. I kept myself firmly in the middle of the pack. Dad led the way with Austin while Mom and Maddie brought up the rear.
The water flow slowed to a trickle the farther we climbed, and the rocks narrowed up to little wider than an arm’s length. There were more fallen trees and other barricades higher up, which dramatically slowed our pace. By mid-morning, we reached what seemed like the start of the water. The sun beat down mercilessly. Though it was cooler at the higher elevation, my shirt was soaked almost as thoroughly as my socks.
“Let’s take a break,” Dad offered. His cheeks were red.
Maddie slumped onto a fallen log and started to pull her boots off. Before I could follow her lead, she jumped up shrieking. “Ants!”
She pointed frantically at the log and scurried away like they were poisonous.
“Dude, it’s just-”
“Stop,” Mom interrupted Austin.
I sidled over to the end of the log—not scared of the ants, but not wanting them crawling all over me either. “It’s fine over here.”
Maddie shook her head. “No way.” She examined the ground underneath her feet before plopping down on the dirt.
“Take a drink, everyone,” Dad said, doing his usual ‘ignore the problem’ routine.
He handed Mom the water jug, and she took a prolonged drink. By the time it made it to me, there was only a little liquid left swishing in the bottom.
“Finish it,” Mom said. “We’ve all had our share.”
I nodded and downed it in one gulp.
“Guess we’re drinking stream water now,” Dad said.
Mom took the jug back from me. “We’re close to the source. It’s as clean as it’s gonna get.”
She took off for the stream by herself, and must’ve searched around until she found whatever she deemed was the best spot to refill the jug. When she returned a while later, the rest of us were ready for a nap. I was pretty sure Maddie and Austin were already out, and my eyelids were heavy as a tarp from staying up practically all night.
“Time to go, sleepyheads,” she bellowed, dragging me back to reality.
Austin groaned from somewhere off in the depths of the woods. He sounded as old and cranky as Dad, who turned out to be the first on his feet.
I looked down and cursed myself for not taking off my boots. So much for airing out my soggy feet. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find my feet were permanently wrinkled, but there was no time to dwell on that.
“Where to, Harold?”
Dad pulled the map from his pocket. He turned his head to the sky, apparently using the sun’s position to help him orient the map. If we’d had a compass, it was melted in the pile by the church.
“We’ll stay below the mountaintop in this gap between Meigs,” he pointed to our right at the towering ridgeline, “and the Lumber Ridge range.”
I was relieved we didn’t have to scale the side of Meigs. While it wasn’t anywhere close to clinging to rocks by toe and fingertip, it still would’ve been a tough, but walkable, incline that would’ve burned me out in no time. Fighting our way through the gap toward the trail was going to be plenty difficult.
As if that wasn’t enough, a rumble rose from the valley below us. I turned downstream toward the road reflexively even though it was at least a couple of miles behind.
The rumble grew and came on fast, higher-pitched and much louder than a truck. Seconds later, a pair of swept-wing jets zipped through the sky. The engines roared, but no sonic boom followed. It seemed at first to be a close, unconcerned cruise for them.
The bomb blasts shaking the mountain seconds later were plenty concerning to me.
CHAPTER 26
“Where was that?” Maddie said. Her eyes darted around, though the explosions were clearly not anywhere near our location.
“It’s not that close, hon.” Mom didn’t know I caught her casting a sidelong glance at Dad, letting me know she wasn’t telling the whole story.
When Dad led us off in the direction of the explosions, I thought I had it figured it out. Though unsure how far those kinds of sounds might travel in the woods, I had a feeling the camp might not be in one piece when we arrived.
I kept watching my parents’ faces, seeing if I could pick up on any clues, but they were stoic. Mom left Maddie behind with us so she could help Dad guide, and they seemed to keep their eyes on the horizon more than ever.
All I knew was that we were looking for a trail, but didn’t really have any idea what to expect. On previous trips, we’d hiked some trails that had been paved at one point but deteriorated to broken asphalt. They had been generally narrow, but easily identified. Others had been grassy or dirt but obvious in their size, with trees set back far enough that a truck could’ve driven through.
I expected a smaller kind of path, with leaves pushed aside to reveal bare dirt in a thin row, like the way cows always seemed to follow the same goat path to get to a trough. We were the goats, hoofing it over a rocky, mountainous terrain.
It was sometime after noon when we stopped again, and Mom didn’t bother to offer up food this time.
“Take a quick drink,” she said.
“Everyone doing okay?” Dad asked. He was panting in the early summer humidity. After all, the Smokies were a rainforest, as unlikely as it seemed. But the dark vine-covered woods, abundant plants, and ever-present clouds confirmed it.
“We’re fine, Pops,” Austin answered. I would’ve expected him to be the first to sit—after Maddie, o
f course. Instead, he paced around the little clearing as if looking for something.
I was looking for a stream, but there was none to be found. We were far enough away from the babbling, rock-strewn streambed that the only things remotely close to a water source were little pools that gathered in the lowest points of the valley. There was no way I was drinking that.
Mom passed me the water jug. “Gotta keep hydrated,” she said.
“I will.” But when I looked at how we’d already sucked down half the gallon, I wasn’t sure how much longer that would be the case.
“Let’s keep moving,” Mom said once I handed the jug back to her. She passed it off to Dad, who slipped it into the clothes duffel, which was also partially filled with food. Food that could try, and probably fail, at easing the grumbling in my stomach.
“We should stumble across the trail soon,” Dad said, and I almost called him out on the way he said stumble.
“It’s a wide path,” Mom said. “Used to be an old logging road, so I expect it’ll be plenty obvious.”
“Let’s hope,” I muttered. “Soon.”
Planting one boot in front of the other, I pushed aside another low-hanging tree limb and passed it back to Maddie. She nodded appreciatively, but didn’t appear to have the energy to speak. That hadn’t stopped her from taking a giant share of the water earlier.
My boots felt like concrete blocks. We were fortunate the terrain had flattened out into a valley of sorts, though it was still a rough path. Any more climbing and I might’ve been just as done as Maddie.
She limped behind us, and I found myself slowing to stay even with her.
“You okay?” I asked once Austin moved on ahead.
She scowled. “Peachy.”
“How’s your feet?”
“Blistered.” She paused to suck in a big breath. “This is brutal.”
I tried to be supportive, but it wasn’t easy seeing how I had nothing to offer. “You’re doing fine. My feet are killing me too.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
I would’ve thought she could’ve seen how I was struggling too. “You hear that squishing sound?” She nodded, so I continued. “That would be the sound of pickled feet and blisters. I need to get these boots off so bad.”
“We will, won’t we?”
“What’s that? Get our boots off?”
“Find the trail.”
“I think so, sis.” I looked ahead at our parents slipping through the trees, thankful we still had them in sight. They were on a mission, and apparently not about to slow down or even bother to check on us. “It’s gotta be close.”
Mom confirmed that a minute later. She waved excitedly, and stood at the edge of a slender clearing in the woods.
“Here it is!”
Maddie and I didn’t exactly run on ahead to catch up to them. The path was everything I expected when I finally got a good look. It was grassy and wide, big enough to drive on. I turned to Dad with a question.
“The campsites are on this trail?”
He nodded. “Yeah, Nineteen’s about a mile from here.”
“Don’t you, uhm, think that’s kind of a terrible place to hide?”
Mom knew what I was getting at. “Yeah, it’s maybe kinda foolish.” She ran a hand through her hair. “They probably should’ve gone somewhere else instead of using a site already on the map.”
“Not just that.” I gestured at what was basically a grass-covered roadway cutting through the woods. “You could drive a truck through here.”
“They used to,” Dad said. “It’s an old logging road from the early nineteen hundreds.”
“Great,” Austin muttered loud enough for everyone to hear him. “We wasted half the day walking over here for nothing.”
Mom waved for us to start walking. As she led us down the path, she said, “Not necessarily. It’s a huge park. The camp’s probably fine.”
Just like the church, I thought. Only it hadn’t gotten bombed like the jets had maybe done to the camp. Austin might have been right about it being a wasted trip, but it didn’t bother me to go find out. My feet and my back weren’t happy about the hike, but my mind needed something to do other than cower in the woods behind the church.
Mom set a fast pace. She seemed to have boundless energy, though her face told a different story. Sweat ran in rivulets from her brow until it seemed like a person couldn’t drink enough water to make up for it.
The sun was fully overhead, and we suffered because of the openness of the path. It was almost enough to make me wish we were back slogging our way through the forest, but the scratches on my arms reminded me otherwise. They stung from my perspiration.
“Not much farther,” Dad said.
“Thank God,” Maddie whispered.
I tried to smile encouragingly, but it came out as more of a grimace.
Even as tired as we were, it didn’t take very long to make it a mile. By the time the sun finished burning my nose, we were rounding a gentle curve in the path toward Campsite Nineteen.
Mom hurriedly directed us to the side of the path as a clearing bowed out ahead on a patch of flat ground. Though it looked empty, she waved us up against the trees bordering the old logging road and crouched in the shadows. It felt amazing to get out of the sun.
A gentle breeze rolled through the woods, adding some natural air conditioning to the sauna. My shirt was stuck to my back, but the air felt cool on the wetness. Before I could enjoy that too long, Mom was working on a plan.
“I’m gonna go on ahead to scout it out,” she said. “Y’all wait here and keep down.”
Austin started to object. “I didn’t see anything-”
“The camp goes back into the woods. The tent sites are back in the trees,” Mom said sharply. “You didn’t think they’d be that out in the open, did ya?”
“Burn,” Maddie taunted our brother.
Austin shot her a nasty look, but surprisingly kept his mouth shut. Maddie would probably pay for that comment later, but I enjoyed it.
Dad was about to protest, but Mom shushed him too. “I’ll be right back, Harold. Just sit tight, okay?”
He bobbed his head obediently and turned to us. “Let’s get comfy. Knowing you mother, this could be a while.”
I didn’t wait for permission to pull my boots off. My soft, squishy feet were enjoying the cool breeze before Mom slipped out of sight. Rather than follow the trail, she took off through the woods. She slithered like a rattlesnake toward the camp, which had obviously not been bombed out by the jet.
“This is fun, huh?” Austin said to no one in particular.
“You’re just mad ‘cause Mom-”
Dad interrupted Maddie. “Enough, children. Save your energy.”
“Whatever.” Austin stood up and paced behind the three of us. “I’m going to catch up with her.”
Before Dad could object, he took off through the woods. I felt better that Mom had someone with her, and not having Austin around was an added bonus. Maybe Dad was thinking the same thing, not that I was going to ask him.
I couldn’t ask. Dad was curled up by a tree sawing logs a second later.
“He’s so loud,” Maddie said with a frown.
“Yeah, good thing there’s no one around to hear him.”
“Sounds like a bear.”
She wasn’t far off with the suggestion, but I added, “More like Sasquatch.”
“Yeah, that’s it…Dad-squatch.” Maddie chuckled. It was her first smile in ages.
The comparison was ridiculous. Our Dad had never allowed himself more than a hint of facial hair, let alone a winter coat. Nevertheless, I imagined him plodding through the hills, stealing beef jerky from unsuspecting campers. The visual was a nice respite from the drudgery of the morning.
“Do you think there really is a Big Foot?” Maddie asked.
“No way,” I replied without giving it any thought.
“Why not?”
“Because people have all these
game cameras out in the woods taking pictures of deer and turkeys and whatevs, and no one ever gets a Big Foot picture.”
“There’ve been pictures. I’ve seen ‘em on TV.”
That took me by surprise. Although Maddie watched a lot of terrible television shows, I didn’t think she’d shown any interest in the ones with people looking for Sasquatch. Not that they’d ever really found him. The pictures were all grainy and probably Photoshopped.
“I mean, maybe,” I admitted, but mostly to keep from arguing with her. “There could be some kinda creature. I just figure it’s some kind of mountain man.”
She wrapped her arms around her legs and pulled them up against her chest tightly. “I hope we don’t run across one of them.”
“Gotta be better than the Feds, sis.”
A reply stuck unspoken in Maddie’s mouth. A rustle in the brush off to our side seized my attention. It grew increasingly louder, much bigger than a simple squirrel.
I sat rooted to the ground as a dark shape burst into our resting place.
Our brotherly Big Foot said, “Wake up, losers. I can’t find Mom.”
CHAPTER 27
“Dude, you scared the crap out of us.” Maddie said.
“Speak for yourself,” I told her even though it was a lie.
Austin ignored us to go shove on the Dad-squatch. “Pops, wake up!”
“Wh-what?” he said all blurry eyed like he’d stared at his computer for far too long.
“Mom’s gone,” Austin said. It wasn’t frantic, but there was a surprising hint of concern in his voice. “I looked all over the camp, but…”
Dad sprang upright. “You kidding me?”
“Not about this.”
Dad looked over at Maddie and me, and swallowed with an exaggerated cartoon gulp. “We’d better go check it out.”
I yanked my socks and boots on and climbed to my feet ready, but apprehensive, and offered a hand to pull Maddie up.
“The camp’s deserted,” Austin said as he jumped out into the middle of the logging road. He led us fifty yards down the trail to the wide place in the woods.