The Seventh Taking: A Mountain Mystery

by BJ Bourg

  “Abe, they’re doing all they can. They’ve been looking since Tuesday, but—”

  “Tuesday? She’s been missing since Tuesday and they’re just now calling us?”

  “Son, the last thing on Mr. Vincent’s mind is filling us in on Joy’s case.”

  “We have to go to Tennessee!”

  There was a long pause. Finally, Dad said, “I’d love nothing more than to go out there to help them, but I can’t. I’ve used up all of my vacation time already. Besides, they have forest rangers trained for this kind of thing. If anyone can find her, it’s them. I doubt we could contribute—”

  “If you can’t go, at least let me. I want to go help. I need to help!”

  “Abe, you know your mom would never allow it.”

  “Can you talk to her? Convince her to let me go? I’m sure Charlie can come with me. My truck’s got new tires. It’s running good—you said so yourself. All I need is gas money. We can sleep in a tent—”

  “Abraham, stop. There’s no way your mom will let you. It’ll cause a fight, and you know it.”

  “Dad, please!” I choked back the tears. If anything happened to Joy I would never forgive myself. I had to do something. Had to get her back. Had to make it right.

  “I’m sorry, Abe. I really am.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Seven Weeks Later…

  “Abraham Wilson, are you listening to me?”

  I tossed my rucksack in the back seat of my pickup truck and went over the contents in my mind. Satisfied I hadn’t forgotten anything, I bent and grabbed my hiking boots and a smaller bag from the cement driveway and placed them on the floorboard. I slammed the door, looked first at my phone and then at the distant sky. An orange glow was forming in the east. Charlie needed to hurry or we’d be late getting—

  “Abraham! I’m talking to you.” Mom’s voice was shrill.

  Startled, I turned. “Wait, what?”

  “Don’t text while you drive,” she repeated.

  I nodded.

  Mom left her perch on the front steps and lunged forward to squeeze my neck. She didn’t let go.

  “It’s okay, Rose,” Dad called. “He’ll be fine. He’s been running around the swamps since he was four-and-a-half. He can take care of himself in the wilderness.”

  Mom released her death grip and wiped a stream of tears from her face. “I know, Dudley, but this is the first time he’s driven that far on his own, and it’s so dangerous out there. I can’t help but worry. They still don’t know what happened to Joy and what if he gets in some kind of trouble and—”

  “That’s why God invented cell phones,” Dad reasoned. “He’ll call often to let us know he’s okay.”

  I stared down at Mom. She was tall for a woman, but not at that moment. She actually seemed almost as short as Charlie. Her shoulders were hunched and her head hung low. It was a pathetic sight. “Would you feel better if we cancelled the trip?” I asked.

  Her eyes lit up. “Yeah, I’d love it—”

  “Not gonna happen,” I said.

  Mom punched my arm. “That’s not funny, Abe.”

  Dad chuckled.

  I stifled a smile. “I’m sorry for toying with your feelings. You know I have to do this.”

  Mom nodded her understanding, then folded her arms across her chest. “My little boy has grown up to be a man. I’m worried, but I’m proud of you for doing this.”

  “I just need to see for myself.” Bobbling headlights and the hum of an engine drew my attention to the street. “Mom, please go inside. I don’t want Charlie to see you like this.”

  Dad guided Mom up the steps and into the house. “Call when y’all get to the cabin,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Dad stopped in the doorway and turned to face me.

  “Thanks. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try to find her.”

  “Son, you do realize the search has been called off and you’ll be on your own, right?”

  “I just have to look for myself. I’ve got to try and make it right, you know? The counselor said it would help me get some closure.”

  Dad nodded, then followed Mom inside.

  When I turned, Charlie had already parked his car at the far corner of our driveway and was dragging his rucksack from the trunk. The passenger side door opened, and Brett Lester stepped out.

  “What are you doing here?” I wanted to know.

  “He told his mom and dad we were going camping,” Charlie explained. “They were so happy he finally made friends that they said it was okay.” Charlie threw his bag in the backseat of my truck, and Brett did the same. Charlie walked back to his car and returned with an expensive-looking camera.

  “Whoa! Where’d you get that?” I asked.

  The mischievous grin I’d come to know formed at the corners of his mouth and spread across his face. “I borrowed it from my mom.”

  I shook my head. “Roughly translated, you stole it.”

  Charlie shrugged. “I’m spending my inheritance early. Sue me.”

  I turned and slipped into the driver’s seat. Charlie settled in to my right, and Brett squeezed in the back with the gear. I’d begun to back out of the driveway when Charlie leaned forward, pushed back his brown hair and squinted.

  “Is that your mom?” he asked.

  “Huh?” I hit the brakes and turned. The curtain on the kitchen window was pulled wide, and Mom was standing in her thick green robe, waving like she had when I went off to kindergarten that first day. Even from that distance I could see tears glistening on her face.

  “Ha!” Charlie was doubled over in laughter. “She acts like you’re leaving for death row.”

  “My mom’s worse than that,” Brett said.

  I shook my head, backed out, and headed up the street. I asked Charlie, “What’d your mom do?”

  “She didn’t even wake up when I left. She told me goodbye last night, and we exchanged nods, like two adults.”

  “Bull,” I said. “I bet y’all held each other tight and cried like newborns.”

  “You know better than that. She’s kicking me out when I turn eighteen—you think she cares about this trip?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” I frowned. “You’ll turn eighteen before we get back. Do you mean to tell me you’re coming back a homeless person?”

  “Who said I’m coming back?”

  I smirked. “What’re you going to do? Grow a beard and become a mountain man?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe become a mountain man, but you’ll never grow a beard.”

  “Hey,” Charlie said, “that hurts. Take it back.”

  I didn’t respond as I accelerated into the curve and merged onto Highway Twelve and headed east. Mathport was finally in our rearview mirror. I smashed the reset button on the odometer and held it until it displayed all zeroes. “Six hundred and ninety miles to go.”

  “You think we’ll find her?” Charlie asked.

  “I really don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know what we’ll find when we get there.”

  “Is it true her parents and the law gave up?” Brett asked.

  I nodded. “They insist she ran away, and they’re probably right.”

  “Dude, I’m sorry.”

  I waved my hand. “Let’s try to stay positive and have fun. We’ll stop at her aunt’s house in Birmingham first. If she’s not there, then I’ll start to worry.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her dad about Birmingham?” Charlie asked.

  “Would you want someone giving away your location if you ran away?”

  “Good point,” Charlie acknowledged. “But why didn’t you tell your dad about Birmingham?”

  “Because he’d tell her dad.”

  “So,” Brett began, “if Joy’s in Birmingham, we won’t get to go to the Blue Summit Mountains?”

  I shook my head.

  “Won’t your dad be pissed he rented a cabin for nothing?” Brett asked.

/>   “Maybe,” I said. “But I think everyone will be so happy to have Joy back that they won’t care.”

  Charlie looked at me, squinted. “If Joy is in Birmingham, she won’t want to be found.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “What will you do?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, we were approaching the Mississippi state line, so Charlie shoved his mom’s camera out the window and snapped a picture of the welcome sign.

  “You’d better be careful not to drop that camera,” I warned. “Your mom will kill you.”

  He replaced the cover to the camera lens and tucked it under the seat. “I’m not worried.”

  “What’re you taking pictures of anyway?” Brett asked from the back seat.

  “The state signs. I want proof I’ve been there.”

  Brett chuckled. “Haven’t traveled much, have you?”

  “My mom doesn’t believe in spending money on trivial things like family vacation.”

  I checked my mirrors for traffic behind me, but there was none. It was Saturday and most normal people were sleeping at this time. The only traffic we’d seen since leaving Slidell was the occasional big rig that would steadily overtake us from behind and pass us. Each time it happened I was tempted to set pace with them, but Dad would kill me if I got a ticket, so I was reluctantly content to trudge along at the snail’s pace of sixty-nine miles per hour.

  As I drove, the rise and fall of the rolling Mississippi hills threatened to rock me to sleep. The only sound in the cab was Charlie’s heavy breathing and an occasional movement from Brett. I thought about turning the radio on, but I’d have to search for a station—

  Wait, what?

  I jerked my head around and saw Charlie leaning back in his seat…sound asleep. I shook my head. I was not going to struggle to stay awake while he floated around in a fantasyland flirting with beautiful girls and doing God knows what else. An idea occurred to me, and a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I glanced in my rearview mirror. No cars in sight. I looked back at Charlie. His mouth was open and a stream of saliva ran from his lip down his face and dangled off his chin. His chest rose and fell in rhythmic fashion. I bit my lip to keep from laughing and waved for Brett to watch and keep quiet. I took a deep breath, smashing the brake pedal as hard as I could.

  The front of my truck dipped violently as our speed dropped from sixty-nine to next to nothing, and the rear of my truck slid sideways in the road just a little. Charlie’s body lurched forward, but stopped in mid-flight when the seatbelt locked into place. This caused his head to snap forward and downward. His chin bounced off his chest. He screamed like Mom when she’d see a cockroach and clutched at the dashboard, staring wide-eyed. “Oh my God! What happened? Did we wreck?”

  Brett and I burst into laughter. I resumed my normal speed. Tears flooded my eyes and made it hard to see the roadway in front of me. “Dude,” I said between violent bursts of laughter, “you should’ve seen your face!”

  “God, that was great,” Brett said.

  Charlie glanced around, dazed. He felt himself for injuries with hands that shook. “I thought we were dead. Why on earth would you do that?”

  “You fell asleep, and if I can’t sleep, you can’t sleep.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  “Oh, right. Your eyes were closed, you were dripping drool all over my truck, and you were about to start snoring—but you weren’t sleeping.”

  “I’m serious. I wasn’t sleeping.”

  “Then why were your eyes closed?” Brett challenged.

  “I was staring at the back of my eyelids.” Charlie stifled a grin. “I saw a mole on my right lid and I was trying to see if it might be skin cancer.”

  “In the future, leave that to your doctor. In the meantime, work on keeping me and Brett awake.” I started laughing again. “You should’ve really seen your face. It was priceless.”

  “Laugh now, but y’all better not go to sleep before me—ever.”

  Brett chuckled and leaned against his bag. “Nothing you do can top that.”

  CHAPTER 3

  When we were about an hour away from Birmingham, I stopped at a little gas station in Tuscaloosa. I stepped out and shot my thumb at the pump. “One of y’all want to pump while I pay?”

  “I’m allergic to fumes.” Brett rearranged our bags and stretched out on the backseat. “Wake me when we get there.”

  “I’ve got it.” Charlie walked around the truck and grabbed the handle of the hose. “You want me to drive the rest of the way?”

  “Yeah, that’d be nice. I can hardly keep my eyes open.” I walked inside the convenience store and paid for eighty bucks of gas. When I walked back outside I slipped into the passenger’s seat and winced when my knees hit the dashboard. Charlie stuck his head in the driver’s door, allowing the fuel to pump.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I keep forgetting just how short you are.”

  “I’m not short,” he said. “You’re just a freak. Your legs are stilts.”

  I grabbed the release button beside the seat and tried to slide it all the way back, but it snagged on something.

  “Hey, get off me,” Brett protested.

  “Move to the other side. Charlie’s so short you’ll be able to fit a small elephant back there.” When Brett was clear, I reclined as far as it would go, pulled my seatbelt on, and closed my eyes.

  “Want something to drink before we leave?” Charlie asked.

  I shook my head, not opening my eyes.

  “I’m going to sleep, too,” Brett said.

  “Losers. I’ll be right back.”

  My body relaxed into the seat. It felt good to let my eyelids close after so many hours of forcing them open. I jerked when I heard a distant click, and recognized it as the automatic shut-off of the pump. I shifted in my seat and started to block out my surroundings. I wondered how close to a full tank eighty bucks had gotten us and if we’d have enough money to get back home or if I’d have to call my parents for more. The sounds of passing cars, slamming doors, honking horns, and people hollering—all normal city sounds—started to fade to a low drone.

  I found myself wondering what I’d be doing right then if I hadn’t broken up with Joy. Would we be sitting back at home somewhere taking it easy? I was certain she wouldn’t have run away. What if she hadn’t run away? What if she was in trouble? What if she was…dead?

  I shuddered and dismissed the thought.

  The driver’s door slammed and broke through my thoughts. The truck rocked slightly as Charlie entered and settled into his seat. The engine hummed to life. Cold air soon blew through the vents. Using my right arm as a pillow, I leaned against the window and exhaled long and slow. I felt the smooth lurch as the truck began to pull away—

  “Holy crap!” Charlie screamed.

  I jerked up, wide-eyed. “What happened? What’s going on?”

  Brett was staring wildly about, his eyes half open. “What was that noise?”

  I stopped short, then shook my head. “I’m not buying it. You’re trying to get us back for earlier.”

  Charlie threw the gearshift in Park and stepped out. I heard someone yelling and turned to see the owner running toward us.

  “Why did you do that?” the owner yelled, pointing at the side of my truck.

  I hurried out and ran around to the driver’s side. I gasped when I saw the gasoline hose hanging from the hole in my truck. It had been ripped from the pump.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said.

  Charlie frowned. “I don’t know how I forgot to put it back.”

  Brett was bent in half, laughing like a hyena.

  “Six hundred dollars,” the owner said. “You’ll pay me six hundred dollars or I’ll call the police!”

  “Chill out, old dude. No need to call five-o.” Charlie dug money out of his pocket, rifled through the bills,
then turned to me. “I need four hundred more.”

  “No,” I said. “That’ll wipe us out. Let him call the cops.”

  The owner shook his finger at Charlie and said, “You’ll be arrested.”

  “Are you kidding?” I asked. “It was an accident.”

  “You’ll pay me six hundred dollars or you’ll both go to jail,” the owner said.

  “I’m using my college money for this trip, and I’m not giving you a dime. Call the cops.” I turned to walk away.

  Charlie grabbed my arm. “Dude, if I go to jail, we’re definitely not finding Joy. Look, it’ll be fine. Just give him the money so we can get out of here and go find Joy.”

  I crossed my arms, shaking my head. “Charlie, if we give him all our money, we’re done. We’ll have to go back home. We won’t be able to afford gas money, let alone food.”

  Charlie leaned close. “Dude, I’ve got this. Trust me.”

  “But I need to find Joy. I can’t go back without at least trying to find her.”

  “It’ll be fine, Abe.” His voice was a whisper. “I’ve got a backup plan. We’ve got all the money we need. Trust me.”

  Suspicious, but curious, I dug the money from my wallet and reluctantly handed it over. “You’d better know what you’re doing.”

  Charlie winked and handed the money to the owner. “No cops?”

  The owner pocketed the money, retrieved the broken hose, and waved us off. “Go away! Don’t come back.”

  I slipped into the passenger’s seat, and Charlie got behind the wheel.

  “This trip is over,” I said. “You and I gave him all our money and this loser”—I shot my thumb back at Brett—“doesn’t have a cent to his name.”

  “No, it’s not over.” Charlie started the truck and tossed something in my lap.

  I glanced down and saw a credit card.

  “The limit’s five thousand dollars,” Charlie said triumphantly. “We’re set.”

  As Charlie drove out of Tuscaloosa for the second time, I lifted the credit card and studied it. “Where’d you get a five-thousand-dollar credit card?”

  “I found it when I broke into my mom’s safe.”