Captured on Film (Songs of the Amaranthine Book 6)

by Forthright

  “Any hope for a bathroom?”

  “Shovel’s clipped to my backpack,” Josheb replied with a wink.

  Caleb knew the drill. Didn’t mean he had to like it. “I’m going to stretch my legs.”

  His brother waved him off. “No rush. We’re making great time.”

  Stepping off the road felt like slipping into a different world. Far from home, yet familiar. How often had Dad taken them camping? Seemed like every weekend, though it was probably more like once a month. When they weren’t on a trip like this, they were planning the next one.

  Last year’s leaves rustled under his boots while this year’s batch quaked overhead. Caleb aimed for a pine whose drooping boughs would shield him from view. Nature’s call dealt with, he turned back toward the road, but a shimmer in the shadows caught his attention.

  Strange.

  Caleb probably should have turned right around and walked away, but … he couldn’t. Even though he was reluctant to go any nearer, he couldn’t help himself. He did try to be careful about it. Edging along with slow, soft steps, he waited breathlessly for something to happen.

  The stone column was roughly four feet high and etched with lines that glittered. A trick of the light? No. Couldn’t be. The delicate patterns appeared to be lit from within. Once he was closer, he could see that a crystal had been mounted onto the column—big as his fist and pale green. Was that what was calling to him?

  Wait.

  No.

  He wasn’t like Josheb, prone to whimsical notions. Rocks didn’t call out. Right?

  “Rocks will cry out, and trees will clap their hands,” he whispered, slowly reaching out until his fingertips rested against cool crystal. “Hello?”

  Did the light pulse? Maybe. Just a flicker, really.

  Was that a hum? He could almost feel something. Not a buzz like appliances gave off, not a machine hum. This was more like music. A sustained note.

  This couldn’t be natural.

  But it felt … right.

  His camera was back with the rest of his gear, but Caleb fumbled for his phone and snapped one picture. Partly to prove to himself that he wasn’t imagining things. Column and crystal were right there on his screen, looking like they’d been lifted from the set of a fantasy film. But the glowing lines hadn’t picked up. They were fine as threads. He could still see them.

  Zooming in he tried again.

  No luck. Which probably put them in the figment category. In other words, stuff he couldn’t explain or prove. Figments had only ever caused him trouble. So Caleb whispered a firm, “Goodbye.” And walked away.

  Twelve Miles

  “Ride up with me for the last leg,” Josheb offered.

  “But Nessie …!”

  “… was fine. She’s having the time of her life.”

  Which Caleb couldn’t deny. “All right.”

  Josheb pulled a canteen out of his bag and passed it along. “Getting hungry?”

  “Too rattled to think about food.”

  But his brother was eyeing him closely. “What’s got you rattled?”

  Caleb dropped his gaze and kicked at the rutted road. “Maybe you should ride in the trailer for the last leg. See how you enjoy off-roading without suspension.”

  Josheb snorted and swung a leg over, scooting forward to make room. Caleb settled in behind him. “No touching,” he gruffly ordered.

  “Oh, you’ll want to hang on.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  With a brief look that was hard to read, Josheb started the engine, pointedly slapped his palms onto the handlebars, and didn’t let go.

  Twenty minutes later, he shouted, “This is Quaking Creek.”

  Caleb only grunted. But mentally, he plotted their position on the map he’d memorized. They were two-thirds of the way there.

  They crossed more streams and runnels that somehow merited names. Slaughter Creek. Broken Bend. Shrill Creek. Clanless Spillover. Lost River. “Is it just me, or are all these names unnecessarily ominous.”

  Josheb grinned. “What? Like stranger beware?”

  “Shrill, broken, quaking, lost? Come on. They’re horrible names.”

  With a shrug, his brother changed the subject. “What do you want for dinner?”

  “Actual food. I refuse to eat grubs and roots and … and bitter herbs.”

  “How ’bout a plate of shrimp. Maybe a side of mashed potatoes? Some of that fancy-schmancy kale?”

  Caleb grit his teeth. “It’s not the same!”

  “It’s not that different. But you’re safe for today, brother dear. I packed your favorite.”

  That stumped him. “Which favorite would that be?”

  “Guess.”

  For the remaining few miles, Caleb made increasingly implausible guesses. The road ended in front of a small cabin tucked under a grove of cedars, almost as if the entire trail had been one long driveway.

  “Twelve miles to the mailbox,” he remarked.

  Josheb stood and scanned their surroundings. “Right. Everything inside, including Nessie.”

  “It’s not as if I’d leave her out in the cold. Figuratively speaking.”

  “Me, either. Too many bear tracks.”

  Caleb glanced at the ground. The afternoon was getting on, but there was plenty of light to see by. Even so, he didn’t see tracks. “Are you trying to scare me?”

  Jumping to the ground, Josheb strolled along one side of the cabin, disappearing briefly behind it before circling around the far side. “Elk, deer, squirrel, mouse, and any number of birds. Bear’s the only one I’m worried about, for Nessie’s sake. Though a skunk or porcupine would be a nasty surprise.”

  The cabin wasn’t locked.

  One room. Four bunks built into the walls. A cast iron stove and its pipe, both of which had been painted a smoky blue. Kindling in a crate. Canned goods on shelves over a sink that had an honest-to-goodness hand pump. The calendar on the wall beside the door was almost sixty years out of date.

  “Seems about right,” Caleb muttered.

  The windows were small and smeared with grit. Nothing he couldn’t fix with some water and a paper towel. But otherwise, the place seemed straightforward, snug, and so much better than a tent.

  “This won’t be so bad,” he remarked.

  Josheb opened the front of the stove and grabbed kindling. “Don’t get too attached. We’re not staying.”

  A sobering reminder that this wasn’t their destination. More like the starting line.

  Longstanding Rivalry

  “Canned ravioli?” Caleb was surprised into a chuckle. “We’re not nine, you know.”

  Josheb arched a brow. “That’s why we each get our own can.”

  “I thought we weren’t packing in a bunch of stuff.”

  “We’re not. But I’m not opposed to the occasional treat.” With a smirk, Josheb added, “Starting tomorrow, you’re at my mercy.”

  Caleb and Josheb were a scant year apart. Close enough in age and looks to have been confused as twins for most of their lives. Back before Josheb entered his grizzly phase.

  “Doesn’t all that hair get in the way?”

  “Nope.” Amusement glinted in Josheb’s eyes. “Is that follicle envy I detect?”

  “Nope.” Caleb accepted an open can of ravioli and a fork.

  Digging into his own dinner, Josheb pointed between them. “Think of it as a lazy man’s attempt to distinguish himself. I got tired of being called Caleb just because I’m taller than you.”

  It was only a slight edge. Hardly worth mentioning.

  “And once it got to a certain point, it seemed a shame to submit to the shearers.” Josheb chewed ruminatively before adding, “Girls like the hair.”

  “And the patriarchal beard?”

  “Not so much. But I like not shaving.” He cheekily added, “For the right girl, maybe I’ll buy a razor again.”

  Caleb supposed they had that in common.

  While Josheb had always been friendly wi
th girls, even dated a few, he wasn’t the sort to settle down to any one thing. Always on the move. Always moving on.

  For Caleb, it was a weird mix of awkwardness and lack of opportunity. It was hard to meet girls when you never left your apartment. Or made an effort to strike up conversations. Or make eye contact, for that matter.

  Nessie was the only female in either of their lives. And in a way, they were rivals for her affection.

  Caleb gave her ear an affectionate tug.

  Josheb fed her a ravioli. From his fork.

  Probably a point in his favor, as far as Nessie was concerned, but … eww.

  Some Weather

  Getting to sleep was as hard as Caleb’s allotted bed. The bunk was a veritable slab. His sleeping bag’s zipper jingled faintly every time he moved. Summer nights were chilly at this elevation. And Nessie had abandoned him in favor of curling up with Josheb.

  When he finally did drift off, Caleb was caught up in a confusing dream. He was a star trapped in a stone. Then a bee in amber. Or was he a moth?

  The click of the cabin door woke him, and he struggled against his prison, only to realize it was just his sleeping bag. Josheb was coming in, bringing a gust of damp air and Nessie, whose claws clicked on the wood floor.

  It was morning. Barely.

  “How soon can you be ready to go?” Josheb asked softly.

  Caleb wasn’t all that comfortable in this cabin, but he was suddenly reluctant to leave its safety. A roof and a door and a stove had to be safer than a tent, especially when facing nature’s unknowns. Still, he said, “Fifteen minutes, more or less.”

  “I want to get as far as we can.”

  Something in the way he said it put Caleb’s back up. “Why?”

  “Fresh tracks.”

  “What kind?”

  “Bear.”

  Caleb frowned. “You think those guys who were spooked just saw a bear?”

  “Guess there’s a chance, but … this isn’t where they saw it.” Josheb started rolling up his sleeping bag. “We have a long hike to the site. And we might run into some weather.”

  Caleb knew the map. And the number of miles they could hike on a good day.

  But nature didn’t conform to anything resembling a schedule, which is why he begged for mercy barely a third of the way to their first campsite.

  “I can’t do this,” he muttered. Then louder, to be heard over the rain, “Josheb, I can’t.”

  “Giving up already?” Josheb’s teasing tone grated against Caleb’s nerves. “It’s just a little rain.”

  He white-knuckled Nessie’s leash. Rain wasn’t the problem. He could have put up with a little rain.

  “Something wrong?” Josheb backtracked to where Caleb stood. “Hey. Bro?”

  Yeah, something was wrong. The light rain had stirred up hundreds of tiny figments. They were kind of a cross between a newt and an insect, silvery and slippery, with powerful back legs. Every step Caleb took, they sprang up like a field full of grasshoppers all around him, trailing light that burned into his retinas. He blinked dazzled eyes, barely able to see.

  “What’s with you?” Closer, softer, Josheb asked, “See something?”

  Caleb flinched away from his brother’s hand. “I’m not doing the thing for you.”

  Josheb’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re seeing stuff anyhow?”

  “Oh, for the love of …! If I could stop, I would!”

  His brother gaped at him. “It’s always on?”

  Eyes shut. Teeth gritted. “Constantly.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Far from it.” Caleb had lied so much about the things he could see. It was something of a relief to tell the truth.

  Josheb was the only person who’d ever believed Caleb. Because if they were touching, Josheb would glimpse the same things. Maybe that was why the idiot believed in so much other nonsense. It was Caleb’s fault. He never should have told his brother about the figments. Never should have started “the thing.”

  The secret they’d shared had become the wedge that drove them apart. Because Caleb had learned to resent Josheb, who only came to him in order to see something beyond him. Treating his own brother like one of his fine-tuned instruments for paranormal detection.

  One brother believing in all the things he couldn’t see.

  One brother wishing he was blind to unbelievable things.

  Better Together

  “Show me?” begged Josheb, offering both hands.

  Caleb glared for all he was worth, but he already knew he’d give in. He didn’t want to be alone in the strangeness, so he seized his brother’s wrist.

  “Ow!” Josheb protested. “Ease up a little … whoa!”

  Tightening his grip, Caleb held his breath and waited for Josheb to say something. Anything.

  “Are you kidding me?” Josheb swore softly and stepped closer to him. “They’re like … creepy little comets. The afterimages are killer. How long’ve you been putting up with this?”

  “All my life.” Through gritted teeth, he begged, “Get them off.”

  “Aw, geez. You never did like bugs. Hang on.” And Josheb, who’d never minded anything, started picking figments like fleas. “On second thought, I think they’re amphibians. But you don’t really like any of the creepy-crawlies, so moot point.”

  “Very moot.” As his brother casually tossed aside figments like it was nothing, Caleb began to relax.

  “Don’t let go.” Josheb sheepishly added, “Please.”

  “Because you want to see.”

  “Hell, yeah. But also because we’re better together. Don’t you think?”

  Caleb muttered, “I hate this.”

  “Yeah, I know. Man, I hate you.” His tone held no rancor. In fact, his eyes were as bright as his smile. “Want me to pitch the tent?”

  “Yeah. Away from them.”

  Josheb scanned the area with a critical eye. With a little twist, he adjusted his hand so he could grip Caleb’s wrist. Locked together, they scrambled uphill, away from the worst of the silver springers. Within ten minutes of Josheb choosing a campsite, Caleb was inside their tent, burrowed down in his sleeping bag.

  “Hang out in here while I look for dinner.”

  “Don’t you mean hide out in here?”

  Reaching inside to touch Caleb’s forehead, Josheb peered around their campsite, which was arranged beside a narrow stream. Polecat Creek, if memory served. “Nothing to hide from, yeah? So rest up, warm up, and work up an appetite.”

  Zipped inside, Caleb curled on his side and listened to raindrops ping off the top of their tent. It was a different color than the one they’d used as kids, but it still brought back memories. The sounds, the smells. The feel of the ground under his body—uneven and unyielding.

  Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his taste for roughing it. Sure, he liked his creature comforts, but away from home, there were actual creatures to consider. At first, he hadn’t realized he was seeing things. How was he supposed to know? It wasn’t as if any of the stuff he saw was scary. But “imaginative” descriptions of strange animals were only cute when you were little. After that, you earned strange looks, a reputation for lying, and appointments with therapists.

  Caleb was dozing when Josheb next checked on him. “Hungry?”

  “Depends. What’s on the menu?” He could smell smoke and something savory.

  “Fresh fish. Come on. Rain’s stopped.”

  The fire was tiny, but it did the job. They ate standing up, and Caleb offered to fish for seconds. Josheb produced a couple of beers, which he’d chilled in the creek. Caleb wanted to call him out for packing non-essentials, but he was too grateful to be petty. By the time they’d eaten their fill, the day was dimming.

  “Early bedtime,” decreed Josheb. “We’ll try to make up for lost miles tomorrow.”

  They sprawled in the tent, Nessie between them, and Josheb poking his nose out the partially unzipped flap. Caleb grumbled when his brother touched his arm. />
  “Don’t be stingy,” Josheb whispered, his eyes fixed on something outside. “You live in a beautiful world.”

  Beautiful? Caleb snorted. “I don’t want to look.”

  “I do.” His brother spared him a wink. “I’ll keep watch.”

  A surprisingly comforting sentiment. Maybe—just maybe—the Dare brothers were better together.

  Credibility Issues

  “I’ve been wondering,” Caleb said over breakfast the next morning. “What are we supposed to do if we find this thing?”

  “Take pictures.”

  “Won’t people assume you shopped them?”

  Josheb cradled a blue-speckled enamel coffee cup against his beard, breathing in the steam. “Co-witness testimony?”

  “They’ll assume we’re in it together.”

  “Because we are. But you come off more trustworthy.”

  Caleb inhaled his own faceful of steam before taking a cautious sip. “They’ll dig up files from that year Mom made me go to counseling. Undermine my credibility.”

  Josheb grunted. “You’re good with a camera. Take pictures for me. Document the whole hike. Ever snap any figments?”

  “Never tried.” He’d been too busy wishing he could unsee the things to consider confirming their existence.

  “Try.” Josheb scratched and yawned. “Maybe science-y folks will perk up if you bring back pics of an undiscovered species. They’ll name it after you. Claim to fame.”

  He liked taking pictures. It’d give him something to do while they hiked. And it was worth considering … what if bigfoot was elusive because he couldn’t be seen by just anyone? Getting a picture would be impossible if the photographer didn’t know where to point and click.

  Which reminded him. Pulling out his phone, Caleb brought up the snapshot he’d taken the day before. “Ever seen anything like this?”

  “Never. Where’d you see it?”

  “Here.” Caleb gestured vaguely at the trail behind them. “Yesterday. When I was stretching my legs.”