by Forthright
Captured on Film
Songs of the Amaranthine, 6
Captured on Film
Copyright © 2021 by FORTHRIGHT
ISBN: 978-1-63123-074-5
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or shared in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the author. Which is a slightly more officious way of saying what I’ve always asked. Play fair. Be nice. But by all means, have fun! ::twinkle::
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because unlooked-for things can be treasures
Table of Contents
Dare You
Guilt Trip
Aspen Hollow
Course Correction
Saddle Sore
Nature Calls
Twelve Miles
Longstanding Rivalry
Some Weather
Better Together
Credibility Issues
Blue Blazes
Easy Pace
Night Noises
Base Camp
Stomping Grounds
Shutter Bug
Onto Something
You First
Feels Bad
Stay Put
Small Comfort
First Light
Natural Disaster
Cave Dweller
Language Barrier
Honey Mead
Borrowed Clothes
Answer Me
Recluse Code
Second Moon
Tipsy Star
Star Wine
Missing Pieces
Popularity Contest
Come Home
Long Sleep
Show Dog
On Tiptoe
Complaints Filed
Clink Cups
Warming Welcome
At Home
Dare Together
Star Potential
Dare You
A clatter of knocks on Caleb’s door startled him so that he nearly lost his balance. Teetering on the next-to-top rung of a six-foot stepladder, he sourly muttered, “Rude.”
He hated ill-mannered people. And inconsiderate behavior.
Staying home was supposed to spare him from such things.
Nessie shot from the plush cushion that took up most of the space under Caleb’s computer desk and scrabbled on bare planks until she found purchase on the Turkish rug. Bouncing as high as she could, her baying drowned out Caleb’s grumbling as he worked his way back to the floor.
The pummeling of his door didn’t cease, only changed tempo.
Couldn’t be a courier. Groceries had been sent up earlier, and he wasn’t anticipating any further deliveries until after the weekend. But really, Caleb already knew who it had to be. This wasn’t Nessie’s stranger-danger bark. And her tail was whipping fast enough to stiffen egg whites.
Doggie bliss on this level only meant one thing.
Caleb grudgingly released all his locks in order to face the grinning fool whose battered boots were firmly planted in the center of his pristine door mat. Which had been chosen because it did not say “welcome.”
“Hey, bro!”
Caleb barely recognized his younger brother. Too much hair. Too much beard. He warily returned the greeting. “Josheb.”
Squatting to rough up Nessie’s fur and tug at her long ears, Josheb laughed. “Well somebody’s glad to see me! Aren’tcha, girl?”
That was fair. Caleb wasn’t exactly glad to see his brother. Maybe a little relieved. Josheb was always off on some adventure, usually in some godforsaken off-the-grid thicket of wilderness. Doing things that required survival training. And surviving in general.
Josheb’s smile had gone lopsided. “Is that for me?”
Caleb glanced at the lightbulb in his hand. “I was in the middle of something.”
“Need help?” Nodding past him, he cheerfully added, “Heights are more my thing, right?”
Silently stepping back, Caleb invited his brother inside with the sweep of an arm.
Josheb tossed a mammoth duffle through the door first. It landed with a clang. He eyed Caleb critically. “You stopped growing.”
“Lose the boots.”
With the glint of challenge in his blue eyes, Josheb ditched the footwear and stood tall. Preening. As if a couple of inches mattered in the long run. Competitive much?
Caleb shut the door but hesitated over the locks. Maybe Josheb wasn’t staying?
His brother was already halfway up the ladder, hand outstretched. Deciding to let the idiot put his extra inches to good use, Caleb passed along the lightbulb.
Completely at ease at the tippy-top, Josheb screwed it back in place.
“I need the one next to it,” said Caleb.
Josheb extracted it and held it up to the nearby skylight. “I don’t think this one’s burnt out.”
“Neither was the last one.”
That earned him a stare. Josheb finally asked, “What? You rotate them like tires, or something?”
Caleb produced the microfiber cloth tucked in his back pocket. “They don’t need to be changed out. I’m dusting them.”
Josheb looked around Caleb’s apartment like he was seeing it for the first time. “You’ve got nothing better to do than dust lightbulbs?”
“I have a maintenance schedule,” he retorted stiffly. It wasn’t like his loft needed a lot of upkeep, but he was diligent, even with details. Changing the subject, he asked, “What are you doing here?”
His brother ran a hand over a dark blond beard. “Hear me out.”
Okay, this was already bringing back bad memories. “No.”
“I came to invite you.”
“No.”
“Remember how Dad would take us camping?”
Caleb held up a hand. “Invite Dad. He’d be thrilled.”
Josheb’s eyes narrowed. “I’m making this official. I dare you, Caleb Dare.”
“You can’t.”
“Can, too. Just did.” From his doubly superior height, Josheb smirked. “Live up to the name, or live down the shame. You know what’s riding on this.”
He did.
As one, they both looked to Nessie, whose tail thumped the floor.
Guilt Trip
“I’ll walk Nessie.”
Caleb scrambled to get between his brother and the door. “Not without me.”
Sporting a knowing smile, Josheb asked, “Afraid she’ll run away with me?”
“You’re not a … a fit parent.” Which sounded stupid, so he tried again. “You’re not stable enough to take care of her.”
Josheb reached past him for the leash that hung on its peg beside the door. “We chose a bloodhound so we could track down adventures. Remember?”
“That was a long time ago,” Caleb grumbled.
Dropping to one knee to clip the lead onto Nessie’s collar, Josheb grabbed her face. “What do you say, old girl? Want to run a little wild? Put your nose somewhere new?”
“I hate camping,” muttered Caleb. Ever since the last time, when he’d been plagued by all the tiny creatures that were supposedly figments of his imagination.
There were reasons he lived on the twenty-second floor of an urban highrise. His loft was as far from grassroots as he could get.
“You’re the one I need,” said Josheb. “I can’t do this without you.”
“This.” Caleb wasn’t ready to give in just yet. “Define this.”
“A tip came in at the paper I’ve been working for. Editor in charge gave me first right of refu
sal, and I jumped at the chance. If this pans out, it’ll be the story of the century!”
Caleb cringed inwardly. His brother didn’t write for any sort of reputable paper. He wrote largely speculative articles about bizarre happenings and unidentified creatures.
“Don’t look so skeptical!” Josheb promised, “This time, it’s the real deal. And it’ll be a good chance for us to hang out. Maybe work through some stuff.”
He closed his eyes. “Please, don’t make this about brotherhood and bonding.”
“At this point, it’s about your good name.”
Thinking fast, Caleb said, “No swamps.” Never again.
“Scouts honor.”
“No crossing international lines.”
Josheb laughed awkwardly. “Couple of state lines. Half a dozen, tops.”
“I want the whole story.”
“Done.”
“I want the map.”
His brother’s shoulders went limp with relief. “You got it.”
“I need a week to prepare.”
“Hey, now! We’ve gotta follow up before the trail gets cold.”
Caleb wasn’t going to get caught up in his brother’s reckless pace. “If I’m going, I will go prepared. It takes time to plan and pack. And I need to put my affairs in order.”
Okay, that sounded more ominous than he’d intended.
Josheb looked ready to argue, but he shut his mouth and tugged at his beard. “Three days?”
“Five.”
Desperation crackled in his final bid. “Four days.”
It was enough. “Done. But I won’t do the thing.”
The look on Josheb’s face said it all. This wasn’t about brotherly bonding or old times. This was about the right tool for the job. And Caleb wasn’t a fan of being used.
“What if it’s … absolutely necessary?” asked Josheb.
Caleb knew he might not have a choice. Even so, he grimly repeated, “I’m not doing the thing.”
Aspen Hollow
The next morning, Caleb found a tent pitched in his living room, its poles firmly lodged in his Turkish rug. But Josheb was gone, as was Nessie. With little else to do, Caleb started the coffee pot and the computer and settled in to work.
An hour and a half later, the apartment door opened, bringing in a damp, outdoorsy smell. He looked up in surprise. Sure enough, raindrops showed on the skylight. Even more surprising, Josheb held Nessie on the doormat until he could wipe her paws.
Like a civilized person.
Caleb nodded his thanks. Nice to know Josheb could be gracious in victory.
Turning her loose, his brother shook a bakery bag invitingly before retreating into the galley kitchen to help himself to coffee.
Caleb caught the sound of the toaster oven timer grinding down and logged out of TOS. He’d met his daily goal and shored up his accounts. A couple of weeks away wouldn’t do any harm.
Josheb was leaning against the counter. Waving his bagel toward the bag, he said, “Got some of those blintzes you like, too.”
A rare treat. These days, he never went that far from home. As if six blocks was a major journey.
“Where’s the map?” Caleb asked.
“I’ll grab it.”
They spent breakfast crowded over a big topographical map that flopped over the edges of Caleb’s tiny kitchen table. He pored over the lines, concentrating on every detail. His recall was nearly perfect once he studied a thing.
“We’ll start from here.” Josheb tapped a dot labeled Aspen Hollow. “It’s remote. The road we’ll be taking at first used to be a lumber trail.”
At first?
Caleb flicked some of his brother’s crumbs off the map and onto the floor. Much to Nessie’s delight
Josheb traced a line to a river. “We turn off here. Follow it upstream to Quaking Creek. Then it’s trail blazes for a while. I reserved a cabin near here, a place called Red Stag Spring.”
“There’s a rental cabin? Way out there?”
“Sure. They get hikers like us. Or there’s hunting and fishing. Guy I talked to said the last group through there were into battle games, like with paint balls and pellet guns. They left early. Spooked.”
“By …?”
Josheb waggled his eyebrows. “Bigfoot.”
Course Correction
Caleb could tell his brother was making an effort. Staying out of the way. Keeping quiet. Tidying up after himself. Caleb tried not to find it suspicious. Unfortunately, he knew better.
He’d just finished suspending all the deliveries that would have come during the next couple of weeks and logged onto the USPS website to hold his mail. They wanted specific dates.
“Two weeks, right?” he asked.
Josheb sat very still, eyes averted.
Giving the matter some thought, Caleb wilted inside. “You said a couple of weeks.”
“Well, there are a lot of variables.”
“Josheb,” he warned. “How long?”
“It’ll probably take us a week to hike in. Once we get to Aspen Hollow.”
Which was already a lengthy cross-country drive.
“How. Long.”
“Six weeks.” Josheb’s stare was rebellious.
Caleb swiftly recalculated and grimly said, “I need another day.”
His brother sheepishly muttered, “Done.”
“What is all this?” Josheb asked incredulously.
Caleb slid another two cans into an already bulging duffle. “Nessie’s food.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“She has a strictly regulated diet.”
Josheb made a rapid tally and shook his head. “We can’t pack in this much dogfood. You’ll break your back. And mine.”
“She needs to eat.” Caleb kept right on stacking cans.
“What’s this other crap?”
He glanced over and bristled. Josheb was pulling ration packets out of his second duffle. “Those are for me,” snapped Caleb.
Without so much as a by your leave, Josheb ripped open one of the crinkling silver, astronaut-approved meal pouches and took a whiff. “No.” His whole demeanor shifted into disdain. “This is a no-go, bro. Absolutely not.”
“I have to eat.”
For just a moment, Josheb looked hurt. But all he said was, “I won’t let you go hungry.”
Saddle Sore
By driving in shifts, they made it to Aspen Hollow early on the third day.
Caleb was more than happy to abandon Josheb’s sorry excuse for a vehicle. Four-wheel drive may have been a plus on the rutted road that pulled them up slopes thick with the miniscule town’s namesake trees, but Caleb preferred cars with doors. Not zippers. The rumbling rust bucket was far from airtight and not quite weatherproof. And Nessie had been carsick. Five times.
She bailed out right behind him, nose to the ground, zigzagging through a search pattern.
He watched her dazedly, wondering what kinds of scents she was finding, when Josheb hustled to get in front of her. Clipping a long lead onto her collar, he roughed up her fur and gruffly said, “Careful, girl. These aren’t safe parts for small fry. Don’t wander off. Either of you.”
Ice trickled through Caleb’s veins. He couldn’t afford to be careless here. What if she’d shot off after some new scent? Lost in these woods could mean landing on some predator’s menu.
Josheb handed him the end of her leash. “I called ahead. Everything’s set. We’ll get breakfast over there, then hit the trail.”
There looked more like a pole barn than a restaurant.
Once inside, Caleb decided it was more of a bar. But the owner had no issues with frying up half a dozen thick hamburgers at seven in the morning. At least Caleb was pretty sure they were hamburgers. Maybe beef tasted different in this part of the country? He added extra mustard and tried not to think too hard about it.
Afterward, he loitered with Nessie outside the rental office.
Josheb emerged grinning and jingling a couple of key
s. “You love me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Family obligation.”
“You love me, and I’ll prove it!”
Josheb jogged away, disappearing behind the building. A moment later, an engine roared, and Caleb dared to hope it was coincidental. But his brother swerved into view on a four-wheeler, a cart rattling along behind it. Braking beside him, Josheb waggled his eyebrows. “Confess your deep and abiding love.”
“We don’t have to walk the whole way?”
“The cabin comes with transport. It’ll save us a twelve-mile hike.” He radiated smug.
Caleb, who never went twelve blocks, let alone twelve miles, was relieved enough to gruffly answer, “May brotherly affection abound.”
Josheb laughed and handed him a helmet.
Nature Calls
“I hate you.”
“So fickle!” Josheb managed to sound cheerful, even when out-shouting an engine.
Caleb grunted as they hit another bone-jarring bump. It was his own fault that he was stuck in the cart with the dog. Nessie was enjoying this experience far more than the car ride, her nose to the wind. Josheb had even lured her into one of their howling contests, something she wasn’t allowed to do in urban lofts. Caleb was feeling both left out and put-upon. A proper pity party.
The metal of the cart was cold and unforgiving.
The road—this was a generous term—was littered with tiny pitfalls.
The air was thick with enough gasoline fumes to choke a forlorn day trader.
And the worst part, the part he wouldn’t mention, was the uptick in interest he was drawing from things Josheb could neither see nor dissuade.
Regrets. Caleb had them. “I want to go home!”
“Can’t hear you!” Josheb sang out.
But after the next switchback, he slowed to a stop and cut the engine. Swinging from the four-wheeler’s seat, he stretched as he smiled toward the sun. “This is great. Pure awesome.”
“A little help?” grumbled Caleb.
One good thing about Josheb. He was quick to act. Lifting Nessie down, he clipped her leash to the trailer hitch before hopping up onto the side of the cart. They locked wrists, and Josheb hauled back. With the extra leverage, he managed to unwedge Caleb.
