Spider Gap

by Kristen Joy Wilks

  Something purple winked up at her from the grass. One of Strudel’s booties. Lilly glanced around, making certain no one was looking. Good. She plunged her hand inside the purse, groping around until she located two other booties. Lilly paused in horror. Three, only three little booties had returned with her doggy. Where had he left the fourth one? Could she leave him in the dog purse while she ran back up the path to search? If someone found it…they would know.

  Just as she snatched up her dog purse, pretty sure that Strudel was not going to play nice and remain silent, something hanging from a nearby branch caught her eye. Someone had latched a small carabiner to a tree near the edge of the meadow. Hanging from the carabiner was a packet of beef jerky and Strudel’s missing bootie.

  There was no way it could have fallen out of the pack and attached itself with the jerky to the carabiner. Someone had found Strudel’s lost piece of footwear and they had not revealed her secret to the rest of the campers.

  Lilly thought back to the voice in the forest. It must have been the person talking with Strudel. But who? It had been a male voice, but not Tristian’s. The voice of a student...but all her students were giggling delinquents who hated math. Who in the world would realize that Strudel was hers, place the bootie by her things, and yet not reveal her secret? Lilly picked up the missing piece of footwear and opened the package of jerky. She gave the little dog a nibble.

  Strudel at least, had made a friend.

  Now if only she could do likewise.

  9

  Sleep Running

  Lilly loosened the straps on her pack board and removed the one-man tent she’d found in Gran’s attic next to the sno-cone machine and box of half-burnt pineapple candles. It had taken her thirty minutes of hiking around the meadow, swinging the purse and singing “Jesus Loves Me” before Strudel fell asleep. Now, if she could just get her tent set up before he awakened, she would have somewhere safe to stash him.

  Night had fallen as she coaxed Strudel back into the land of slumber and the moon had not yet risen. It was quite dark, much darker than Seattle. Darker even than night at her apartment, or Gran’s. Although uncommonly dark and nestled at the base of a wooded mountain, Gran’s house was always illuminated by the soft yellow glow of her porch light. The primal darkness of the surrounding forest felt impossibly vast as Lilly fumbled with her headlamp.

  There, a blinding patch of light appeared in front of her as Lilly mashed the headlamp over her hair and flipped the switch. She picked up the tent bag and set out looking for a place to set up. Four tents dotted the meadow already. One for the girls and three for all the boys. Lilly noticed that the other hikers had found the one reasonably flat location in the area. There was a fabulous spot about 100 yards away from the main group. Flat with a springy carpeting of moss and no rocks or roots. But it was close to the forest and if a bear or squirrel attacked, would the others hear her scream?

  Lilly hiked back to the center of the meadow. One patch of open ground lay near the others. It sloped down toward an icy little creek that meandered through Spider Meadows and a few roots broke through the ground near the base of an old rotted-out stump, but she wouldn’t have to sleep alone. She dropped to her knees in the scratchy meadow grass and dumped her tent out of the bag.

  The ground tarp appeared fairly self-explanatory. Lilly spread it across the gentle hillock avoiding the worst of the roots. She found a small bag full of poles, another with stakes, and a folded up bit of fabric that must be her tent. Lilly shook the tent out and turned it upside down, or was that right side up? Did it matter? She plopped the whole mess onto the tarp and busily began cramming tent pegs into all the loops. She didn’t have a hammer, but the ground was still a bit moist after a recent rain and Lilly managed to stomp the pegs in by jumping on top of them enthusiastically. Hopefully, Strudel wouldn’t awaken prematurely, as all of Lilly’s jumping probably felt like a small earthquake from inside the purse where it leaned up against the ancient stump.

  Next, the poles. Lilly snapped the poles together until two, long, springy spears lay before her. She squinted at her directions and then proceeded to stuff one of the poles into the remaining loops. The pole slammed to a stop halfway through the tent. Lilly crammed harder, what on earth was wrong? She braced her toes in the grass and shoved the pole forward.

  Snap!

  Lilly froze.

  Everyone’s heads turned toward her. She knew this because ten blinding headlamps shone in her face, illuminating her blush for all to see. A smattering of giggles reached her ears as the crunch of footsteps approached.

  Lilly turned her back on her would-be rescuer and assessed the damage. Her tent pole had snapped in half. Now how was she supposed to sleep? Strudel would wake up any moment and she had nowhere to hide him.

  “Here.” Strong, tanned hands smoothed the fabric of the tent, tracing over all the pegs that held it fast. “You’ve hooked one of the loops for the pole into a tent peg and secured the whole thing to the ground.” Tristian yanked out the offending stake and handed it to Lilly.

  She accepted the wretched thing and forced a smile. Could he see that her expression was little more than a furious grimace? Nope, she’d just looked directly into his face while wearing a headlamp. The man couldn’t see a thing. “Thank you.” Lilly stared down at her still-flat tent. Maybe if she had a piece of gum she could glue the pole back together. If only she’d saved that hat her students had so kindly decorated for her.

  A tearing noise made her jump. “May I?” Tristian held out a strip of duct tape.

  Lilly nodded. Once the pole was braced together with copious amounts of the shiny silver tape, she picked up the pole once more. “Thank you, I can handle it from here.” Lilly hoped her handsome rescuer would believe her and hustle off to rescue some other damsel in distress. Strudel would not sleep forever. In fact, she was amazed that his siesta had lasted this long. Perhaps there was some residual effect from all the “Good Doggy” her fur baby had lapped up so enthusiastically on the drive here?

  Tristian nodded, his headlamp bobbing. He walked back toward a blazing camp stove where someone was frying sausages and boiling water for cocoa.

  The night felt colder all of a sudden and was definitely darker after his retreat. Lilly glanced longingly at where his broad back had disappeared into the darkness. She shook herself and concentrated on the task at hand. There was no reason to be ashamed of that longing glance. There were sausages frying and revitalizing cups of cocoa. Who wouldn’t spare a sigh at the sound of frying food when one had dined exclusively upon trail mix and bottle upon bottle of neon sports drinks all evening?

  The duct tape had lumped up into a sticky mass that bulked up her tent pole and ensured that it was not nearly as easy to slide through the nylon sleeve as its un-mangled counterpart. The mutant pole wobbled theatrically and gummed up the fabric, but finally, with some stretching and straining and a bit of sweat glistening on her forehead, Lilly crammed the thing through and “pitched” her tent.

  Strudel’s long silky coat now resembled a mass of ropy dread locks. The sweeping beauty of the black and white fluff Lilly had brushed to perfection that morning was gone. No. Lilly shut her eyes in horror. While her pup’s hair had taken on a somewhat ropey texture, Lilly had never heard of someone adding pinesap and half a crunched grasshopper to their long hair, whether styled in dread locks or not. Strudel’s fur no longer resembled any style whatsoever. It was more like… an untamed Kraken of hair. Or perhaps a blob monster that absorbed anything unfortunate enough to come across its path.

  She settled the mess that used to be her soft and stylish pet down on the foot of her bed and stared at the catastrophe of fur. There was no help for it. She would just have to dive in and see what happened. Lilly crawled into the tent after him with a purple slicker brush in hand. She tugged out burrs and sticks and even a few tangled beetles from Strudel’s flowing locks. An hour later, after Strudel was perhaps more bald than before but free of sticks and grime, Lilly
cautiously unzipped the tent and peered out. No one had seen her dog. He was clean and safe and snoring soundly on the end of her sleeping bag. It was time for a little dinner.

  Lilly hobbled over to where she had seen the camp stoves glowing blue in the darkness. The blue glow was gone and only the light of a single lantern remained. Students licked their fingers of the last sticky residue from what appeared to have been a feast of S’mores.

  Tristian pulled out a board game in a small decorative tin. “Did you get your stove going all right?” Tristian glanced up from the game.

  “Oh, um. I’m good.” Stove? She was supposed to bring a stove? Lilly thought of the packets of Ramen noodles and the bags of freeze dried meals that filled her pack. Not too appetizing without hot water to reconstitute them.

  “Want to join the game?” Tristian held up a pair of pink plastic pigs that they were apparently tossing like dice. He also indicated the small tin that pictured a crashed dirigible half-buried in a hostile desert landscape.

  It was Tristian who asked, but every eye turned toward her, waiting for her answer.

  Lilly blushed and looked away. These kids didn’t want her company. What had she been thinking, barging into their hiking trip as though she knew what she was doing? She mumbled some kind of negative answer and stumbled back to her tent.

  Lilly dined on cold Ramen noodles and water from her canteen before falling asleep in a heap, one root pressing under her shoulder blade and the tent inexorably slumping toward the bank of the creek. One evening down, three more to go. Why had they chosen the long weekend for this infernal trip? Lilly bit her lip as silent tears refused to stop running down her cheeks, and forced herself into an uneasy slumber.

  Several hours later, a scream broke the stillness of the night.

  Pounding footsteps followed.

  “Stop!” someone yelled and additional sounds of running shook the ground.

  Lilly struggled out of her sleeping bag. What was going on? She yanked at the zipper on her tent as the running grew closer. Was there a bear or a rabid raccoon?

  “She’s going toward the creek. Stop her, stop her. Oh, no!”

  Whatever it was, the attacking creature was coming her way. Lilly tried to stand, forgetting that her tent wasn’t tall enough for such luxuries. Her face squashed against the humid nylon ceiling and she was just turning to sit back down when something hit her smack in the chest. Lilly fell back, clawing at the suffocating fabric that pressed against her nose and mouth. Her aggressor was strong and determined and plowed right over top of her. Lilly rolled onto her face as the creature smashed both Lilly and the tent straight to the ground.

  Something trod upon her back, stomped on her head, and pushed her face beneath the ice cold creek water. Lilly choked and scrambled out of the creek. She scrabbled against the grassy bank, her tent making any forward progress impossible as her attacker’s footsteps tore off across the meadow on the other side of the stream. She slipped and rolled backwards. Rising water pressed against the bulging nylon, but the slope fell out beneath her and the tent slipped into the creek moving gently downstream with the icy flow.

  “Juan, you get Miss Park. I’ve got to catch Cloe.”

  Lilly thrashed and cried out. Strudel, he would drown if she didn’t find him. Her tent bumped against a root and then spun around before washing down the stream once more. Rocks smacked her legs and gravel bubbled up through the partially open zipper.

  Strudel yipped.

  Lilly spun toward the sound. She clawed past her floundering sleeping bag and yanked her pup into her arms.

  Hands reached into the tent and without thinking she placed the small dog into them.

  The tent tumbled over one more time. Lilly’s face mashed against the grassy bank and she pressed her hands against the slick nylon, trying to gouge into the dirt for a hold. The tent jerked sideways as students descended upon the run-away dwelling and tugged her to a stop. She sucked in a clean breath and got her feet under herself. After a violent struggle with the wet zipper, Lilly wriggled free.

  Pale light slanted through the surrounding forest as the moon peeked over the surrounding peaks.

  Juan chased after her tent, pulling it to shore with a swift tug.

  Emily threw a towel around her shoulders and Owen spread her soaked sleeping bag out on the grass to dry.

  Lilly sat down on the grass and sobbed.

  Tristian walked across the dark meadow with a hand clamped on Cloe’s shoulder. “Don’t fret, you guys. She was just sleep walking…or running. Cleo’s awake now.”

  Lilly jumped up from the bank and ran back up the creek toward her campsite. Strudel? Who had taken him? She turned and scanned the pale, half-circle of faces that stood behind her. Who could she ask? That awkward, silent moment revealed a soft sound coming from inside her dog purse. Snoring.

  Thankfully she had placed her handbag on the bank outside the tent. Lilly backed away from the children and sank onto the sloping grass where her tent had once stood. Snoring on a towel, just inside her purse, lay Strudel. Someone had dried him off and apparently given him a hunk of jerky, for he lay curled up tight with a bit of dried meat sticking out of his mouth. Lilly glanced across the meadow at the mob of children. Who was Strudel’s rescuer and why had they hidden him for her once again?

  Lilly retreated to the “out” to change. At least her clothes had stayed dry in the pack. Although, in lieu of a sleeping bag, she would have to slumber beneath a pile of Strudel’s doggy coats.

  The path back twisted through midnight dark trees for some time before it broke into the meadow. Lilly stopped cold as she beheld a beautiful site.

  Tristian, his pajama pants still soaking wet up to the knee, was driving in the last tent peg as he pitched her recently-flattened temporary dwelling. Her tent was standing and habitable, shaken out and clean with her sleeping bag drying on the grass beside it. Tristian turned and walked away, never seeing her, not waiting around to be thanked.

  Lilly caught her breath, realizing it was not the fact that their fearless leader was currently shirtless, and in possession of a pleasing assortment of well-developed muscles, that made her wonder if she had ever seen a more handsome man before in her life.

  10

  Honey Bears and Bees

  The sound of birdsong woke Lilly as the sun crested the mountains that rimmed the arachnid-shaped alpine meadow where their tents were pitched. It was far too early to rise, but her tent grew sweltering quickly. When the marmots added their shrill whistling to the birds’ raucous calls, Lilly threw off her covering of doggy coats and sat up. A couple of mosquitos buzzed against the nylon ceiling, clearly wishing to vacate the premises. At least they hadn’t bit her.

  Lilly scratched at her ankle and reached for a clean pair of socks. She froze. Her leg was unrecognizable. Unsightly white welts covered both legs, turning her skin into a sorry caricature of a lunar landscape. She glanced at her arms and gasped. Bumps, bumps, and more bumps. Lilly ran her fingers over her face and realized that a similar desecration had occurred. She glanced up at the softly buzzing insects and slowly picked up Strudel’s most fearsome jacket, the leather biker’s coat with the red paisley lining.

  Not being accustomed to mortal combat within the confines of a small tent, Lilly’s attack accomplished nothing more than scattering her belongings into a tangled heap of instant oatmeal packets and doggy gear, and turning her hair into a static-y nest fit to house a family of birds.

  Strudel yipped and leaped in circles around the interior of the tent, attacking the leather coat whenever Lilly slowed for a moment to take more careful aim at one of the marauding insects. Panting and exhausted, Lilly slipped into a pair of pants and a long sleeved T-shirt and picked up Strudel mid-yip.

  It was a good thing she’d woken early. She had to exercise Strudel until exhaustion made his ride in the dog purse bearable. That would take time. Lilly put his African safari jacket on, along with the purple booties and harness. The interior of the tent m
ight be as humid as a jungle excursion in the rainy season, but the brisk mountain wind could chill her fur baby until he was laid waste by a cold if she did not employ caution.

  The other tents were silent as Lilly scrabbled through the dew-soaked grass looking for her sparkly exercise shoes. There, over by her drying sleeping bag. Lilly turned the sodden bedding over to catch the morning sun and carried her shoes back to the tent’s small vestibule.

  When Lilly crammed her foot inside the sneaker, an alarming squelch gave her pause. Slowly, she removed the foot. It was dripping with a thick golden substance. Lilly bent over and sniffed. Sweet…with utmost caution she brought a tiny smidge of the substance to her tongue. Honey. Her Shoes were full of honey.

  Whoever had taken care of Strudel last night, they had not stopped this unprecedented attack upon her footwear. Lilly considered her puffy pink slippers with the giant conversation heart on the toes. No, not a good option for either walking a small, rambunctious dog through the forest or climbing a glacier. She would have to clean her tennis shoes.

  Four pairs of socks later, Lilly’s shoes remained moist and sickly sweet. She had tried handfuls of grass, but that left weeds plastered inside and it had taken the socks to finally remove them. This would have to do. Lilly put on her final pair of socks and slid her feet inside. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a disgusted groan. No, Strudel must be exercised. She would endure.

  Lilly clipped a leash onto Strudel and proceeded into the woods at a quick jog. Perhaps motion and perspiration would do for her shoes what grass and socks could not? Her footfalls did not sound entirely normal and her heels squirmed and slid whenever she took a step. Lilly gritted her teeth and sped up the path to the “out”, Strudel bounding at her side. She was careful to keep to paths that she had traversed the day before; becoming lost would not improve this ridiculous hike and would only give her students more reasons to despise her.