The Seventh Taking: A Mountain Mystery

by BJ Bourg

  Charlie picked up a branch, balancing it in his hand. “I thought there’d be more to see at the spots where they disappeared. You know how they have those crosses on the side of the road to let you know someone died there? I thought there’d be at least that, but there’s nothing at all.”

  I nodded. “If we didn’t know about the article and the posters, we’d have no idea what happened here.”

  Charlie tossed the branch into the creek and turned to leave. “Let’s get this done so we can go eat some hard rocks.”

  We took turns taking the lead along Rocky Creek Trail, which was narrower than any we’d seen to that point. Although it wasn’t wide, it seemed well trodden and was easier than expected to navigate. Rocky Creek flowed in the same direction we were walking and zigzagged from one side of the trail to the other. When the creek crossed the trail, we were forced to cross swinging bridges that appeared to be held together by thread. At one such crossing, the wooden bridge hung about fifteen feet above the creek. The trail appeared to dip sharply on the other side of the bridge and return to a level even with that of the creek.

  Before long, I glanced at Charlie’s map and counted the amount of times the creek crossed the trail. Six. On the fifth crossing, and right before the first of three switchbacks along the trail, was the spot where Woody Lawson went missing—and less than a mile from where Joy was last seen. “How many creek crossings did we pass?” I asked.

  Charlie and Brett stopped and turned to me. Charlie scrunched his face, counting in his head. “Four of them.”

  I located the fourth crossing on the map. “We’re almost there.”

  “Is that where Joy disappeared?” Brett asked.

  Charlie shook his head. “Some kid named Woody Lawson from Ohio.”

  “He was the youngest to disappear,” I said. “He was only fifteen.”

  “Is he the one who wanted to try out for the Olympic swim team?” Brett asked.

  Charlie nodded.

  Brett frowned. “What happened to him?”

  “He’d been hiking right along here with his church group and decided to jog ahead, wanting to take the opportunity to get in some endurance training.” Charlie rolled his eyes. “I’ve always had a problem with people who were so dedicated to working out that they felt the need to do it even when they were on vacation.”

  I dug Woody’s poster out of my bag and went over every detail again. The youth leaders had insisted Woody wait for the rest of the group at the first switchback, so there wouldn’t be too much trail distance between them. When the rest of the group reached the switchback an hour later, Woody wasn’t there. The youth leaders assumed Woody had gotten tired of waiting for them and had continued up the trail, so they kept the group moving until they reached the Tipton Bluffs Bypass Trail, which led to the Tipton Bluffs parking lot. When they made it to the church van, Woody was not there, and they started to panic. They searched the bathrooms and surrounding area, but when darkness fell they still hadn’t found Woody. The date was June 19, 2007, and it was the last day Woody Lawson was ever seen. Although it had been six years, the area where he’d disappeared was the closest to where Joy had disappeared, and it might yield some clues.

  I tucked away the poster and map, and we walked on. We knew we were nearing the fifth switchback when the other portion of the trail appeared through the trees to our left. When we reached the bottom of the horseshoe-shaped trail, I stopped and looked around. The surrounding forest was thick with green and brown underbrush, along with spots of orange leaves. “Is this where Woody Lawson went missing?” I asked.

  Charlie nodded. “That’s what the article claims.”

  I thought about that for a second. “How do they know that?”

  “What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

  “This is where the youth pastors and the rest of the church group were supposed to meet him, but he wasn’t here,” I said.

  Charlie shrugged. “Right. So?”

  “How do they know he even made it here? What if he went missing a hundred yards that way”—I pointed in the direction from which we had just hiked—“or halfway to the van? Why did they call this spot the disappearance site?”

  “Good point, Detective Abraham.” Charlie pulled out the camera and took some pictures. “I guess we can’t know for sure where any of them went missing—including Joy. All we know is where she was last seen.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “They all could’ve gone off trail anywhere from where they were last seen to where they were supposed to be and gotten eaten by a bear or something.”

  “What if they tripped and fell off one of those cliffs back there?” Brett asked. “Or fell off a bridge like the one back there? They could’ve plunged to the bottom of the mountain and never been seen again.”

  I nodded. “The first thing the park rangers do is search the trails when someone goes missing and then they start searching off-trail. But if they don’t know exactly where they went off the trail, it would be next to impossible to find them.”

  Charlie sat on a nearby rock. “Aren’t y’all tired?”

  “No,” I said, “but my back aches from when you pushed me on those rocks.”

  Charlie laughed. “I wish I would’ve had the camera in my hand to shoot that. It looked like you were moving in slow motion, with your body all twisted like a pretzel. Even your scream came out s-l-o-w-l-y.”

  “I didn’t scream.”

  “Yes, you did,” Brett said. “You screamed like you were being murdered.”

  “I didn’t scream, and I wasn’t twisted like a pretzel. I went down gracefully, like a sleek panther pouncing from one rock to the other, stalking its prey. I landed lightly on my back in the guard position, luring my opponent into my trap, where I would’ve arm-barred him into submission had he even tried to mess with me.”

  “Yeah, that’s not how it looked from where we stood,” Charlie said.

  I waved him off and stretched my back, wondering what was wrong with it. I had tried to ignore the dull pain as we hiked and was successful in doing so, but now that we’d stopped, it was starting to intensify. I’d broken a bone in my back a few years earlier when I’d jerked the wrong way while grappling one of the linemen from football. I was hoping I hadn’t aggravated the injury.

  Charlie reached into one of his pockets and pulled out his phone. “Still no service.”

  “What time is it?” Brett asked.

  “Almost four.”

  I glanced up at the trees, trying to see through the thick green leaves that covered the forest like a heavy canopy. Other than a few tiny slivers of blue, I couldn’t see the sky. “It looks more like eight o’clock.”

  Charlie nodded. “The forest is either getting thicker or the weather’s getting bad because it’s definitely darker than it was when we turned onto this trail.”

  Almost as if on cue, thunder rumbled in the distance. “Holy smokes,” Brett said, “what if it starts raining?”

  “We need to hurry. I want to make it to where Joy disappeared before the rain comes.” I scowled. “I unpacked my raingear this morning.”

  “I did, too.” Readjusting his rucksack on his shoulders, Charlie strode down the trail and called over his shoulder, “Last one to the end of the trail is a wet rat.”

  Brett and I followed Charlie. Our legs pumped like pistons as we made the brisk descent down the steep trail, fueled by the approaching thunder. After fifty yards, Rocky Creek Trail horseshoed again and that switchback set us on our original course and the creek was once again flowing along the trail. It was on our right this time, and there was something about it that gave me pause. I stopped to try to figure it out.

  “What is it?” Charlie asked, looking back at me.

  I studied the creek for several seconds. “There’s something different about it.”

  Brett readjusted his bag. “Who cares? We need to get out of here before that storm reaches us.”

  It suddenly occurred to me and I pointed. “Look—the rocks a
re gone.”

  Charlie shrugged. “And?”

  “That happens in the Ozarks.” Brett shook his head. “If we don’t get out of here in a hurry, we’re going to be swimming.”

  “I’m not worried,” Charlie said. “It’s impossible for me to drown.”

  Brett cocked his head sideways. “I heard someone at school say you could hold your breath forever.”

  “Not forever—four minutes,” I corrected.

  “Wow! That’s awesome!” Brett said.

  “Don’t encourage him.” I glanced at the clouds gathering overhead. “He could damage his brain holding his breath too long.”

  Charlie laughed. “That’s a myth. My brain will be fine.”

  “Is it true you pulled a stunt on the girls’ swim team freshman year?”

  “He stayed under water for over three minutes and pretended he drowned so one of the girls would give him mouth-to-mouth.” I laughed. “He came alive right quick when the coach started to put his mouth on him.”

  Brett stared at Charlie as though he were a super hero. “When’d you first realize you could hold your breath for so long?”

  “When I was about three. I used to lie on my face in the bathtub and hum. I didn’t think it was a big deal until my mom came in screaming one day. She thought I was dead.” Charlie walked to the edge of the creek and studied the rising water, chuckling. “It was great. From that moment on, I loved freaking people out. My record’s four minutes. I want to be able to hold it for six by the time I’m twenty.

  “You’d better stop,” I warned. “It’s too dangerous and—”

  “Hey!” Charlie said. “Something moved in the trees across the creek.”

  Brett and I rushed to where he stood and followed his gaze. The trees were thick, the shadows dark.

  “Where?” I asked.

  “To the right of that giant tree—the one shaped like a V.”

  The tree had algae or some sort of green stuff growing at the base of it. I detected no movement anywhere near it, other than the swaying of the surrounding underbrush. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Something was there!” Charlie nodded his head in excited certainty. “It walked across the open space behind that V.”

  “Was it a bear?” Brett asked.

  Charlie shook his head. “It was weird. It walked like a person, but it wasn’t shaped like a person.”

  “Big Foot?” I could hear the fear in Brett’s voice.

  I was surprised Charlie didn’t laugh or make fun of Brett.

  “Big Foot doesn’t exist,” I said. “It could’ve been a tree swaying in the wind. It’s hard to make out things in the shadows.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Brett said.

  “We’ve come this far,” I said, “and I’m not leaving until I see where Joy disappeared.”

  “Why don’t we come back tomorrow, when whatever Charlie saw is gone?” Brett offered.

  “We’re close.” I pointed in the direction we had to go. “It’s just down the trail. Maybe twenty minutes. We need to get there before it starts raining and washes more evidence away.”

  “But what about the river? The water’s come up about three feet already.” Brett looked up to the tops of the mountains. “It must be storming something fierce up there.”

  “Abe’s right,” Charlie said. “It could’ve been a tree swaying.”

  I knew instantly Charlie was only trying to make Brett feel better. I tried to penetrate the shadows, wondering what he saw.

  “The rain is coming fast,” Brett said. “We need to turn around before we get caught in it.”

  “We won’t be able to make it back to the truck before the rain hits anyway,” Charlie said. “Let’s go see where Joy disappeared and then get to higher ground.”

  I turned from the river to look at Brett. “You in?”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I’m with you guys, but let’s hurry so we can get away from the river bank. It’s dangerous during a storm.”

  Propelled by a sense of urgency and fear, we hiked as though we were in a power-walking marathon. No matter how fast we walked, we couldn’t get ahead of the rumbling thunder barreling down on us. The forest grew darker, and it became difficult to see more than a dozen feet ahead of us. The wind became stronger. The trees rocked back and forth. They groaned and squeaked as they rubbed against each other. Leaves broke free from the branches above and, after being tossed violently about, rained down onto the forest floor. I could smell the rain coming.

  “Abe, you need to check your map.” Charlie had to raise his voice so he could be heard over the wind and thunder. “There’s a split in the trail. That’s got to be where Rocky Creek meets up with Rocky Ridge.”

  I hurried forward, reaching for the map as I walked. “That can’t be.”

  “We passed it?” Brett asked.

  I stretched out the map. The cool wind whipped it around and I had to fold it tight in order to steady it. I looked to my right and couldn’t see the river. According to what Mr. Vincent had said, Joy disappeared along Rocky Creek Trail where the river ended in a seventy-foot waterfall. If I was reading the map right, we’d overshot the waterfall by a mile. “Are we sure this is the end of Rocky Creek? I never noticed the waterfall.”

  “It would’ve been hard to hear because of the thunder and wind,” Charlie reasoned.

  Brett pointed to a rugged sign almost hidden by waist-high weeds. “Yep—that way is Rocky Ridge Trail and that way is Tipton Bluffs Bypass.”

  Charlie consulted the news article on his phone. “This is where Katherine Turner disappeared. We passed Joy’s spot.”

  I remembered Katherine Turner. She’d stuck out because she was also from Louisiana. She and her high school sweetheart had eloped and gotten married at one of the roadside chapels in Gatlinburg. They were exploring the area of the Tipton Bluffs Bypass Trail when they were separated for a brief moment. Her new husband said he turned around and Katherine was gone—there one second and gone the next. “We need to go back.”

  Brett stared longingly down Tipton Bluff’s Bypass Trail. “I think we should try to get to Tipton’s Bluff through here. According to the map, it’s only two miles from here to the truck. Even if it is rough, I think it would be better than going all the way back.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not rough—it’s impassable. A tornado tore through here last summer and they haven’t been able to clear it out yet.”

  “But what if they did and you just don’t know about it?” Brett asked.

  “We could check.” I tucked the map back in my pocket. Thunder roared overhead and a brilliant flash of lightning startled all of us. “Let’s go back. We need to keep our eyes out for the waterfall.”

  Charlie glanced up at the umbrella of trees overhead. They swayed fiercely to and fro. “Maybe we should start looking for shelter.”

  “Whatever we do,” Brett said, “I have to go—and I don’t mean pee.”

  “You can’t wait?” I asked.

  “Nope—it’s that time of the day for me. My stomach is killing me. I won’t be able to make it back if I don’t go now, and I want to go while it’s still dry out here.”

  “I’m cool with it.” Charlie pulled off his rucksack. “My neck is killing me. I need a break.”

  “Try to hurry. That storm sounds like it’s bearing down on us.” I tore off my rucksack, too, and took a seat on a nearby log. The wind had gotten markedly cooler and pierced my wet back. I shuddered, watching as Brett picked his way off the trail to find a spot to use it. “Don’t go too far.”

  “I’m just going behind that clump of bushes.” The wind and thunder muffled Brett’s voice, but I made out his words.

  CHAPTER 9

  I found myself worrying about Joy. Earlier, I’d been satisfied she was hiding out with her aunt, but now I started getting that panicky feeling in my gut again. What if she really wasn’t with her aunt? What if I walked away and left her out here in the wilderness somewhere—fighting for her life,
just waiting for someone to come along and save her? I remembered the night of our first date, and my eyes filled with tears. I turned and nonchalantly wiped my eyes with my shoulders, trying to dismiss the memory. She was such a good person. Honest and loyal. I scowled. “Why did I break up with her again?”

  I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to see Charlie roll off a log and to a seated position on the ground. “You said something?”

  “Talking to myself.” I looked toward the spot where I’d last seen Brett. “How long does he need to take a crap?”

  “I can usually read a whole comic book on the toilet.” Charlie grunted. “It’s the only place I get peace from my mom.”

  I heard a tapping sound to my right and turned to look. I couldn’t detect the source of the noise. There was another, then another. They increased in number and speed. Suddenly, a marble-sized droplet of rain landed on the bridge of my nose and splashed across my cheeks and I realized what was happening. “Hurry, Brett! The rain is here!”

  More droplets broke through the umbrella of leaves and began pelting us like bullets from a machine gun. Thunder clapped and lightning flashed. I jerked. Charlie and I jumped to our feet and shrugged into our rucksacks.

  Charlie took a step in the direction of the clump of trees and hollered for Brett. There was no response. Charlie turned to me, his eyes wide. I rushed passed him and rounded the edge of the bushes. My heart fell to my water shoes.

  “Brett! Brett!” I stared wildly about. Charlie rushed up, and I shook my head. “He’s not here.”

  Charlie pushed and pulled at the bushes surrounding the tiny clearing. “Brett, this isn’t funny!”

  The rain began to fall harder and faster, and my hair and clothes were soon completely saturated. Cold water flowed down my neck and splashed over my body. I shivered, as I scanned the area. Visibility was low. All I could see through the gray sheets of rain were the dim outlines of the surrounding trees and Charlie standing directly beside me. I trembled, and I didn’t know if it was from fear or the cold.