by Hunter Shea
“That would kick anyone’s ass,” Autumn said. “As far as I know, there’s never been that many amassed in one location in the United States. I’m not even sure if there have been recorded instances of them at all in the state of Washington. I’ll have to check when I get back to the hotel. They also don’t typically grow out in the open like that. You usually find them clustered under trees like regular mushrooms.”
“Even as a vegan, there’s no way I’d ever eat those,” Carrie said.
Latrell inspected the camp stove, most of the parts lying about. “If we can’t get this together, we may be eating energy bars. Good thing I got us some wood.”
“Campfires are really frowned upon out here,” Seth said, getting back to work. “And it’s been especially dry this season.”
They were gathered in a flat clearing by Merritt Lake. Evidence of numerous campers could be found in the marred soil. “Dude, look around,” Latrell said, arms sweeping across the vista. A boulder-strewn cliff was opposite them, the dull rush of a waterfall behind a bend in the lake. “We’re the only people here. I promise we won’t get in trouble.”
Seth shook his head. “It’s not about getting in trouble. It’s about respecting the land. This was my father’s favorite place in the world. I’m not gonna be the one to burn it to the ground.”
Everyone grew silent. Even Latrell, who loved to debate, clammed up.
They were all out here, after all, to help Seth scatter his father’s ashes in Merritt Lake.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry,” Latrell said.
Seth shrugged. “No worries, bro. I will get this together. It’s just old and finicky.”
Setting her phone aside, Autumn said, “Don’t forget, after we cook a delicious meal on Seth’s stove, save any empty plastic bags. I want to bring some Devil’s Fingers back with me, especially the white ones. I can’t tell you how rare they are.”
“I remember when you used to not be weird,” Carrie said, putting an arm around her and laughing. They had met in their core math class freshman year. Both had been about to pledge Kappa Ki sorority, though a night at the coffee shop debating the merits of pretending to be sisters with girls bent on humiliating them convinced them to start their own unofficial sorority—of two. While all the Kappa Ki cunts, as Carrie referred to them, acted like whores and fools to dig their hooks into every athlete that walked past their sorority house, Autumn and Carrie had landed two of the good ones without even trying.
Not that Autumn and Carrie had been angels.
Just not Kappa Ki cunts.
“And I remember when you used to enjoy meat,” Autumn said.
“Who says I don’t?” Carrie replied, pointing to Dan emerging from behind an evergreen tree.
He carried something in his hand, waving when he saw them.
“You won’t believe what I found,” he said.
Chapter 3
“Did you steal this from some campers?” Carrie Danvers asked, holding a pair of woman’s low-waisted jeans against her hips.
“Found ’em back there covered in pine needles,” Dan said. He had laid out his other booty—two T-shirts, a black bra, baseball cap, panties, boxer briefs, socks, and khaki shorts.
“Looks like someone got scared out of their clothes and ran for the hills like in a cartoon,” Brandon said. He picked up the ball cap. “The Mariners. At least we know they were locals.”
Latrell grabbed the cap. “Not necessarily. I’m from Pennsylvania and I’ve been a Seahawks fan all my life.”
“That’s only because you knew the Steelers would never sign you, Creedmore,” Dan joked. He and Latrell had been on the football team at the University of Maine. Both had suffered career-ending injuries in their senior year. Life after sports was very different than how they’d imagined it to be, but Dan was happy being a fitness coach and Latrell had just been promoted to manager at the sports-equipment store he’d spent so much of his time at from the other side of the counter.
“What can I say, I’m a nonconformist.”
Brandon sniffed the bra. Tina slapped it out of his hand.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Wait, I’m not some panty sniffer.”
“No, you’re just a bra bloodhound,” Carrie said.
“That’s not what I mean.” He picked it back up, passing it to Tina. “What does that smell like to you?”
She recoiled, pushing it away. “I am not smelling some other woman’s bra.”
“It smells funky, almost like old garbage or something.”
Autumn took it, knowing he wouldn’t stop until someone humored him. Suffering the briefest whiff possible, she handed it back. “It is ripe. Maybe a field mouse died in it.”
He flicked the bra into a nearby bush. “Shit. That’s how people get the hantavirus.”
Autumn patted his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure you don’t have the hantavirus.”
“Not comforting, coming from a future botanist. I need someone from the CDC or a ratologist.”
“Why would people leave their clothes behind? I can see the underwear because…you know, things happen. But you kinda need your pants,” Carrie said.
“Maybe they found something they wanted to bring back and made some room in their packs,” Autumn said, thinking of all the Devil’s Fingers she was going to cram into her own.
“There were boots, too,” Dan said. “I just didn’t feel like carrying them.”
“Now that’s weird,” Latrell said.
“Perhaps—and don’t dismiss me out of hand—they were abducted by a Sasquatch,” Brandon said.
“I said it’s weird, not stupid,” Latrell said. “You sure you’re not high?”
“Not yet. However, we are in the epicenter of Bigfoot sightings. Washington State is loaded with them, if you believe the squatchers.”
“Which I don’t,” Latrell said, grabbing a cold beer from the cooler he and Dan had lugged up the trail. He tossed one to Dan.
“They were probably sleeping and got dragged off by a family of hillbillies,” Tina said.
Latrell got her a beer. “Now that I can believe.”
Autumn toed the pile of clothes. She got on one knee to smell them without anyone else thinking that’s what she was doing.
It smelled like…
“That’s right, you old bastard! I beat you! Woo! Yeah, baby!”
Seth jumped up and down, taunting the camp stove. “Who wants brats in beer?”
“Not me,” Carrie said.
Everyone else was starving. They’d made the several-mile hike and were now at an elevation of just over 5,000 feet. No one had eaten more than a few bites from a granola bar since breakfast. Some of them had lost that breakfast by the field of Devil’s Fingers. Even Autumn, who usually ate as much as a hamster, felt her stomach grumbling.
Latrell and Dan parked the cooler next to the stove, digging for the bratwurst. Seth went to his backpack and removed the small urn with his father’s ashes, placing it on a flat rock. He patted the lid of the urn. “Wish you were here for one more round of brats by the lake.”
“To Mr. Willard,” Latrell said, spilling some of his beer onto the dry earth. Dan and Tina followed suit. Autumn, Carrie, and Brandon grabbed beers to do the same. Only Autumn noticed the lone tear that Seth quickly flicked from his cheek.
* * * *
Two hours later, their bellies were full and heads buzzing from the beer and the bottle of Patrón that Dan had brought along as a surprise. Autumn couldn’t remember the last time she’d done shots like that.
Oh yes, it was back when they were all together at UMaine. Now, she was the older undergrad on campus who preferred books to parties. And that was fine with her. She’d sown more than enough wild oats with this crowd.
She sat on Latrell’s lap, his strong arms wrapped around her, his breath on her neck. She never felt
safer than when he held her like this.
Seth knocked back another shot of tequila. His face was flushed, eyes starting to roll in his head if he moved too fast.
“So, when do you want to, you know…” Carrie said to him.
He looked at the urn. “Right around dawn, my dear Danvers. That’s when Pop and I would head out to do some trout fishing. He was always happiest right at dawn.”
Tina took the Patrón bottle from him and handed it to Dan. She kissed Seth on the forehead, cradling him to her chest. “I think that’s beautiful. It might be best to stop now so you’ll be able to wake up at dawn.”
“Woman, I can handle my liquor,” Seth said, his tone hard to read. Seth had always been a complicated drunk. Unlike Brandon, who mercifully got quieter and pensive, or Latrell, who got giddy. Carrie was the one who had a tendency to flash clubs and bars when she had a little too much in her. Autumn had been known to join her a time or two, but it didn’t seem as racy when your breasts were as small as hers. Whereas with Carrie, every wet T-shirt contest or flash was just shy of porno.
Autumn and Carrie had made it a point to keep that bit of information from Latrell and Dan. What the boys didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.
Resting her head against Latrell’s chest, she looked up at the pink and purple sky, ragged trails of clouds crisscrossing each other.
“It’s so beautiful out here,” she said. “I mean, look at that sky. I can only imagine how many stars we’ll be able to see in an hour.”
“A whole lot more than we see from our yard in College Park,” Latrell said. After he’d proposed (on her birthday), they decided it was best for her to move in with him so they could save on rent money for the wedding. He’d followed her to College Park where she’d transferred her credits to the University of Maryland. Their little apartment was smack in the middle of the not-so-bustling downtown, but there was enough ambient light to obscure nature’s nightly light show.
“Those clouds look like big tic-tac-toe boards,” Tina said, tugging Seth closer to her when he made to reach for the Patrón.
“Those aren’t clouds,” Brandon said.
“Oh, and what are they, Mr. Science?” Dan said, chuckling as he crushed his beer can.
“Those, my large and in-charge friend, are what those in the know call chemtrails.”
Carrie said, “You mean contrails.” When everyone looked at her, she added, “The vapor that trails from a passing plane. I’m blonde, but not a moron.”
Giggling, Autumn interjected, “Well, blonde for now. What’s the real color of your roots?”
“Bite me,” Carrie said, smiling.
Holding up a finger, Brandon said, “On the contrary. What you’re seeing are chemtrails. I’ve been watching them ever since we started eating. Did anyone hear any planes flying overhead?”
They shook their heads, scanning the sky.
“Exactly. They were flying so high overhead, we couldn’t even hear them. And look at the pattern. Air traffic control must have been drunk off their asses to allow those flight patterns.”
Brandon had a joint tucked behind his ear but had so far neglected to light it. Latrell flipped it off his ear. He didn’t even scramble to retrieve it.
“I think you’re in need of your vitamin kush,” Latrell joked.
“Oh sure, pick on the guy who prefers safe weed to toxic liquor,” he said. “Just like the chemical cocktail in chemtrails.” He took an exaggerated, deep breath. “Suck it in, boys and girls. Uncle Sam has big plans for you, and you don’t get to play in the New World Order if you resist.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Majors?” Carrie said. “You sound like one of the tinfoil-hat crew.”
“And maybe I am. Normal contrails dissipate quickly. Chemtrails remain in the sky far longer. Now, what’s in them is anyone’s guess. Could be attempts at altering the weather. Some say population control. All those research dollars going into cancer research and instances of cancer just keep on rising. Makes you think. Other people think whatever’s in those chemtrails is mind-altering, making us more compliant to suggestion, both direct and subliminal. You know, like all those commands people saw with those special Ray- Bans in They Live.”
“Dude, you really need to light up that joint,” Latrell said. “You make way more sense when you’re high.”
“Make fun all you want. Just keep looking up. Those trails aren’t fading away. Whatever’s in them is slowly falling on our heads and there’s nothing we can do about it out here.”
For a tense moment, no one spoke, Brandon’s words hanging just as heavily in the air as his supposed chemtrails. Everyone was sky gazing. If they weren’t clouds, Autumn wondered, why would planes fly in such a crazy pattern?
Don’t let him make you crazy, she thought. This was the same Brandon who got them all to believe the reference section of the UMaine library was haunted by the spirit of an overachieving student who’d killed herself after failing a literature test. They’d even gone on a ghost hunt the end of sophomore year, sneaking into the library after it had closed. They’d never seen a ghost, but they did spot the security guard before he busted them.
Their silent contemplation was broken by the buzz saw of Seth’s drunken snoring.
“Someone want to help me get the guy who can handle his liquor into our tent?” Tina said, struggling to get out from under him.
Latrell and Dan each grabbed a side, lifting Seth as if he were a newborn. Brandon followed them, Autumn assumed, to make sure Seth was properly tucked into his sleeping bag.
Tina, the lone outsider who still hadn’t gotten comfortable with their group, poured herself a shot of tequila. “Looks like I’m not getting lucky tonight,” she said. It was a rare joke coming from the beauty queen.
Autumn wanted to give a little sisterly support and tell her she wasn’t the only one, but decided letting everyone know her Aunt Flow had come to visit was a little TMI.
Instead she said, “They’re the ones who get lucky. We just endure.”
Autumn, Tina, and Carrie shared a laugh that kept rejuvenating each time one of them looked the other in the eye. Autumn’s ribs were hurting by the time Latrell returned.
“What’s so funny?”
Trying to catch her breath, Autumn said, “It’s…nothing….just us…”
Something snapped in the brush behind them. Whatever it was, it sounded large…and heavy.
Laughter dying in her throat, Autumn jumped to her feet, reaching out for Latrell.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Latrell said, tense as a drumhead.
One thing was very clear.
They weren’t alone.
Chapter 4
“Who’s there?” Latrell barked in his best tough-guy voice.
Their campground would have been silent if not for Seth’s ragged snoring.
Dan snatched his fishing pole.
“You thinking we have a land-trout situation on our hands?” Brandon said.
“Do you ever shut up?” Dan said.
“You dormed with me junior year. I think you know the answer to that. Now, let’s see what we have here.” Brandon traipsed into the brush. The sky had darkened considerably over the past few minutes. Without a fire, he disappeared quickly into the black.
“Idiot,” Carrie said. “It could be a bear and he’s walking to it like he wants to shake its hand.”
“I’ll get him,” Latrell said.
Before Autumn could stop him, they were chilled to the core by Brandon’s high-pitched screams.
Not again! Autumn thought.
They went from inertia to a mad dash toward Brandon’s tortured cries in a split-second.
“Brandon, where are you?” Dan shouted.
Autumn’s head reeled, both from the booze and this being the second time in a
day they’d had to sprint to save someone who sounded as if they were in mortal danger. Autumn wished she’d gone to the gym more, worked on her cardio.
They were all city kids, except Seth. Maybe this was nature’s way of telling them they didn’t belong here.
Tina and Carrie used their phones as flashlights, illuminating the way. Latrell and Dan, naturally, led the group.
They found Brandon standing under an evergreen tree, hands plastered to the sides of his face like Munch’s The Scream. As soon as he saw them, his hand fell to his sides.
Pointing at the ground, he said, “You’ll never believe it.”
“What the fuck, man?” Latrell said when Carrie shined her light on a thick, fallen branch.
“I just wanted to see if you all loved me and cared enough to crash headlong into potential danger to save me,” Brandon said.
“How about I crash your freaking head?” Dan said.
Carrie gasped. “Brandon, just slowly walk toward us.”
Autumn struggled to see what Carrie was looking at. She’d left her glasses in the tent. She wasn’t Mrs. Magoo, but distances in the dark were a blur to her.
“What?” Brandon said.
Before he could turn around, Carrie barked, “Don’t! Just keep your eyes straight and start walking.”
Brandon’s expression went from mirth to deep concern. “What the hell is behind me?”
“Just shut up and walk, bro,” Dan said, shifting Carrie behind him with a massive arm.
“Will someone please tell me what’s behind me?” Brandon said, taking a tentative step.
Rustling in the grass to their right made him stop.
“Oh man, oh man, get me the fuck outta here.”
“Keep coming,” Latrell urged him.
Brandon’s fear was contagious. Autumn felt just as in the dark as he was. She jumped when Carrie touched her shoulder.
Now they heard hurried shuffling. Brandon shrieked, breaking into a run.
A blur rocketed from the pitch. Brandon disappeared from view.
“Help me!” he cried.
They ran to the sound of his voice, though Autumn wondered if they should be scampering toward the camp instead to find some sort of weapon.
