He was mumbling something under his breath as he approached Grace. It was then that she realized she was all alone on the trail. She never hiked without a companion. She always went out with Charlie or with a friend. Something wasn’t right. The man coming down the trail was now staring at her as he got closer. Grace continued walking, her head lowered; her eyes toward the ground. She felt like turning around and running back down the mountain, or perhaps turning to her right and heading straight into the woods. The only option on her left was a sheer rock-faced cliff. If she ran into the woods, however, she could simply wait until he passed. She would then be able to get back on the trail and keep moving. She looked up again and saw that the man, closer now, was still staring at her. With no further hesitation, she veered to her right, directly into the woods.
She didn’t think about where she was going or how far. She only wanted to have some distance between her and the man when she decided to turn around. She swatted branches and leaves away from her face and clumsily stepped over downed trees and stumps, an ounce of panic in her efforts as she walked deeper into the woods. She didn’t want to turn around, but this wouldn’t be over until she knew he was gone.
When she felt comfortable with how far she’d gone, she stopped and turned around.
The woods were so thick she could barely see the trail. She looked up at the sky, trying to focus on the sound of footsteps. If he, or any other hiker, had been walking down the trail, she would have heard. But there was nothing. She expected to hear the clomping of his boots, but there was no sound. It was as if he had completely disappeared.
Curious, but satisfied she’d lost him, she took a step back toward the trail.
A hand grabbed her arm. Startled, she turned to her left.
It was him. He had followed her into the woods! She tried to run, but his grip held and he pulled her closer to him. Grace screamed as she looked straight into two black, hollow sockets; the man was missing his eyes! All that was left were a few stranded veins inside two dark holes.
As he opened his mouth to speak, worms came tunneling out like hamburger out of a meat grinder. Grace screamed even louder. She swung at him with her free arm and tried to break free from his grasp but he wouldn’t let go. He only pulled her closer, digging his soiled fingernails into her skin. The man’s face was now only inches from hers. She could smell rotted flesh as he opened his mouth even wider. She felt a few of the worms tickle the side of her neck and shoulder as the they gushed from his mouth
Charlie was shaking her, grabbing both her arms. She was having a nightmare. Grace opened her eyes and saw him kneeling over her.
“What the fuck?!” she yelled, thrashing her arms and legs.
“Take it easy,” Charlie said. “You’re having a bad dream. You’re okay.”
Grace, still dazed as sleep surrendered to awakening, started to calm down and allowed herself to let go of the dream. Charlie rubbed her arm as she sat up, clearly shaken. She looked around, analyzed her surroundings. She ran a hand through her hair.
“What was I doing?” she asked.
“You must have had some kind of nightmare,” he said. “You were punching and kicking me.”
She paused for a second, taking in what Charlie had just told her. “I was trying to get away from the man on the trail.” She started to recall the dream. “He followed me into the woods. I—”
“You’re all right,” he said. “There’s nobody following you anywhere. It’s just you and me inside the tent.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm.
She rubbed her hands over her face, slightly embarrassed, and took a deep breath. She looked back at Charlie, apologetically. “I’m sorry, that was just insane.”
“You looked like you were having quite a dream,” he said, exhaling in relief. “But, no worries, I won’t ask you to tell me about it.” He stood up and moved toward the door. “Anyway, we’ve got a mountain to climb. Get dressed. Breakfast is ready.”
Charlie left the door unzipped as he walked out of the tent. Grace scooted toward the edge of the air mattress. She rubbed her eyes, attempting to get her bearings. She could still feel the man’s nails digging into her flesh. He had had a very cold grasp, with skin that felt like wax. She foolishly looked down at her arm, where he had grabbed her. There were no markings. She was finally convinced that the dream was only a dream, likely a result of Roy’s story lingering in her subconscious. She reached across the floor, grabbed a pair of hiking pants on the top of her duffel bag, and began to get dressed.
The sun rose around 7:30, but its rays could barely compete with the clouds that blanketed the sky. The morning dew was heavy thanks to a thick, low-hanging fog. It appeared the weather wasn’t going to cooperate, much like the first time they had attempted to climb the mountain. However, just like they did on their previous attempt, they had come prepared for all conditions. Charlie only hoped that this attempt wouldn’t end in the emergency room.
Grace and Charlie ate oatmeal and drank orange juice for breakfast, just as they did before every hike. Afterward, they made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and trail mix for the journey to the hut. The sugar in the jelly was good for quick energy; the protein in the peanut butter and the carbohydrates in the wheat bread would help sustain it.
They left camp just before 8 a.m. and walked back toward the camp store. The trailhead was only fifty yards from the campground entrance, so traveling by car wasn’t necessary. Scorpion’s Shadow, the first trail on their ascent, was an easy, meandering trek through the woods for the most part, with a gradual elevation gain. They would be under the cover of trees for the next three hours or so. From Scorpion’s Shadow, they would take Jagged Rock Trail. A bit more aggressive than Scorpion, Jagged Rock presented climbers with very rocky, slippery terrain. Also, many exposed roots could easily bruise one’s feet if one wasn’t careful with one’s steps. Many an impatient climber suffered a rolled ankle injury on Jagged Rock.
After Jagged Rock came Silver Lake Trail. Ironically, the trail with the least intimidating name was also one of the most dangerous—very steep with exposed rock. This trail posed a problem for most inexperienced climbers, as endurance was the key to mastering Silver Lake. Of course, if you were able to survive and make it to the hut, you were doing all right.
The last trail was Arrowhead. Arrowhead started at the hut and ran straight to the summit. Arrowhead was like Silver Lake’s older brother—its bigger, badder, more intimidating, excruciatingly exhausting older brother. If Silver Lake was a ten-out-of-ten, then Arrowhead was a thirteen. Just as steep and with even more exposed rock, Arrowhead was more a test of mental gumption that anything else. Endurance was crucial on both the Silver Lake and Arrowhead trails, but endurance alone wasn’t enough. Anyone in good health could endure Arrowhead’s physical challenges; it was the psychological challenge that ultimately defeated many an aspiring climber. The trail was only four feet wide. On one side, trees, brush and thicket; on the other, a three-hundred-foot drop. If hikers were able to survive the climb, mentally, all they had to do after that was make it back down.
Charlie and Grace were about an hour into Scorpion’s Shadow, still battling the fog, when Grace started thinking about her dream again.
“You think that guy knew he was losing his mind before they even got to Arrowhead?” she asked.
“Are we really talking about this again?” Charlie asked, rolling his eyes.
Grace, who was walking ahead of Charlie, stopped and turned around. Because he was walking with his head down, he almost bumped into her.
“Well, what if we run into someone like that?” she asked
“Gee, I don’t know. What if?”
She paused and glared at him to prompt a more sufficient response. He only stared at her blankly. She placed her hands on her hips and arched an eyebrow. No reaction. Finally, she took in a deep breath, ready to unleash a verbal rage on him, when he held up his hands in surrender.
“Fine, fine,” he began. “If he was losi
ng it, then he wouldn’t have known he was losing it, hence the phrase ‘losing one’s mind,’” he said, smiling. “If he knew something was up, then clearly, he hadn’t lost anything at all.”
Grace wasn’t impressed. “You know what I mean,” she said. “What if someone tries to attack us? Are you going to defend us?”
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I have a plan.”
“What plan?” Grace asked dubiously.
He stared at her in silence. Grace folded her arms and waited to hear his plan. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. She could see the wheels of thought turning in his head. She knew this look only too well. He was considering whether or not to divulge something. Something important. Something to which she might otherwise be disagreeable. Then, the light bulb flickered above her head.
“You brought your fucking gun, didn’t you?” She glared at him.
He shrugged. “Yeah.”
Charlie had bought a gun a few years ago, before they were married. At the time, there had been several break-ins in their neighborhood. Faced with the lack of security, Charlie had become uncomfortable; they didn’t own a security system or a dog. So he bought a gun. Grace had implored him to return it, but Charlie insisted on having a weapon in the house. To Charlie, it was a safety precaution. To Grace, it was an unnecessary weapon of violence. Ultimately, they compromised; the gun would stay locked away in a box and never come out. Then, he proceeded to take it out every weekend to practice shooting targets at a local gun range. It was easy for him to sneak around since Grace had been attending grad school on Saturday mornings. But one Saturday, class was let out early and Grace came home to find him cleaning the gun after a morning of target practice. She moved out for a week. She swore she wouldn’t move back in until he got rid of the gun, but after many apologies and much groveling from Charlie, she finally moved back in. There was only one condition: the gun stayed in the box and she kept the key. Charlie agreed, and that was that.
Then, on one glorious Saturday morning, when Grace opted to ride her bike to school, Charlie removed the key from her keychain, drove to the hardware store, and made a copy.
“I can’t believe you brought that thing,” she said.
He tried to defend his choice. “Just pretend like it’s not there. It won’t even come out of my bag anyway.”
“Then why do you have it with you?!” she insisted.
“Because I feel safer with it!”
Grace threw up her hands and continued hiking up the trail. Arguing was counterproductive at this point, and it wouldn’t lead to any resolution. Not to mention, it would unnecessarily expend a lot of much-needed energy.
Things were quiet for the next hour. They hiked up Scorpion’s Shadow, single file. Charlie led the way. He had always been the stronger hiker, but since his injury, he’d begun to realize his limitations. So, rather than struggle to keep up with Grace, he set the pace.
His mind wandered back to past arguments. He thought about how long the silent treatment would last this time. Sometimes Grace would come around in a couple hours, as if nothing had happened. Those were the quick arguments. Other times, she might be livid for twenty-four hours. This kind of anger usually followed the long, drawn-out arguments. Granted, they hadn’t argued long, but the issue of the gun had long been a bone of contention. He wasn’t holding out hope for a quick resolution, which was unfortunate since they were on vacation. He was content to walk along in silence for now and allow Grace time to cool off.
A few steps back, Grace wasn’t even thinking about the argument. She was using this time to replay her dream over and over. She hadn’t experienced fright like that since she was a little girl. Her dreams didn’t often wander into such territory. She was convinced it had been Roy’s story that had gotten to her. But then why didn’t she also dream about the woman? Sure, the man had been talking nonsense just before he fell to his death, but he had a wife and she saw the whole thing. Why didn’t Grace dream about the wife as well?
She stopped.
“I’m still mad at you,” she said, looking at the back of Charlie.
He stopped and stood there, ashamed. He didn’t turn around right away. He knew better than to try and establish any eye contact with her.
“I was just thinking about my dream again last night,” she said.
Her tone told Charlie that what she really meant was, “Yes, I’m still thinking about it!” However, the fact that the first words out of her mouth didn’t include “gun,” “inconsiderate,” or “asshole” shone a glimmer of light into the end of the doghouse.
He slowly turned around.
“What about it?” he asked.
“I didn’t like it,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t dream about those kinds of things.”
“Roy probably got you worked up with that story, that’s all.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. At least, it feels that way to me.”
Charlie saw his opening grow a little wider. He took a few tentative steps toward her.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
She took a deep breath and sat down on a giant boulder. “Well, we’ve been hiking this trail for almost three hours now and we haven’t seen any hikers. We didn’t even see anyone at the campground. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
Charlie knew she made a good point.
“And, this goddamn fog hasn’t lifted since we got here.” she continued.
“Yeah, but you know what the weather’s like here,” he said. “It’s probably sunny with blue skies at the summit.”
Grace heaved another breath of frustration. “Okay, fine. It’s foggy. That I can deal with. It’s just—” She stopped and stared at the ground.
“What is it?” Charlie asked. When she looked up, he noticed genuine fear in her eyes.
“It just feels like there’s evil here.” she said. She wasn’t even sure what she meant or why she said it, only that it had been precisely what she was feeling at that moment.
“Evil?” Charlie asked. The word hung out there like a dark, malicious presence enveloping them both. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I can’t explain it,” she said, clearly frustrated. “It’s in the air, on my skin. I can taste it, you know?”
Charlie was concerned now. Grace had never been one to talk like this in all the years they’d been together. Feelings of “evil” were certainly new to her, and to him. His eyes darted back and forth as he tried to think of something to say, something that would comfort her.
“Never mind,” Grace told him. “We should keep moving.”
She stood there, impatiently, her eyes again scanning the ground. It was Charlie’s cue to get moving. The discussion was over, at least for now. Charlie turned and continued up the trail. They walked in silence, both of them pondering exactly what Grace had meant.
Chapter 4
The sky was like a giant, gray comforter, but the overcast conditions, while disappointing, hadn’t slowed their progress. They persevered through the dense fog and mist. They had been hiking for several hours on Silver Lake Trail, but despite the cloud cover, Grace could still make out the position of the sun. It was low. Her feet were sore from the hike up Jagged Rock, her legs numb from the physically demanding Silver Lake Trail. Each leg felt like a fifty-pound weight; her thighs burned with each uphill step. She would sleep well tonight. If we ever get to the hut, she thought.
Grace had taken the lead about halfway up Silver Lake. She had initially refused, but Charlie insisted he could keep up. She looked back at him now. He labored uphill, head down, bearing down on his hiking poles for support. The ring of sweat that once appeared around his collar had now grown into a large, very long “U” that stretched down to his waist. He must have sensed her staring back at him, because he looked up at her and smiled. She smiled back at him. She knew he was in pain, but she admired his determination.
“Only ten more minutes,” she said.
“Y
ou said that a half hour ago,” he said, panting. “And a half hour before that.”
She laughed and faced forward again to mind her footing. She had forgiven him hours ago, but now she felt pity as she listened to his feet stumble on loose rock as he slogged up the trail. Charlie was in top shape, certainly cut out for a hike like this, but watching him lumber up the mountain using his poles as crutches, she was certain his knee was bothering him. He hadn’t complained about it, but knowing Charlie, he wouldn’t say anything about it anyway. And she wasn’t going to ask, either.
Grace had first met Charlie ten years ago at a nightclub. A friend of hers had invited her out one night to see the band that was playing. Charlie was the singer. Grace felt an immediate attraction to Charlie, a well-built man of average height. She found his on-stage confidence to be magnetic. She was, therefore, surprised by his reserve and modesty when she first spoke to him, which only added to the mystery that became Charlie.
She had to know more about him, so she attended more shows and, little by little, Charlie caught on to what was happening. It wasn’t long before they began seeing each other more often, outside of the performances. Within a few months, Grace knew everything about Charlie: where he grew up, where he went to school, his favorite color, and his best friend. She was amazed at how quickly she had fallen in love with the man singing on stage.
They were married two years later in a small ceremony in central Connecticut. The marriage was in October; Grace had always dreamed of having wedding photos with the fall foliage in the background. The Red Sox would go on to win the World Series just a few weeks later. Charlie called it, “a good omen.”
Grace’s eyes fixed on the trail ahead. They were coming to a clearing. She noted a large gap in the landscape. At first, she wasn’t sure if it was simply a break in the trees or something else.
Dead Summit (Book 1): Dead Summit Page 3
