Backcountry

by Pamela Beason

  “Ready?”

  She jerked her head up, startled.

  Troy stood in the doorway with a much younger man beside him. “The kids and the gear are loaded in the van. You ready, Sam?”

  “Not really.” She stood up anyway.

  “Did you watch the videos?”

  “Yep. That’s why I’m not ready.”

  Troy covered the distance between them with a few long strides and wrapped her in an awkward hug. “We got lucky this time. None of these kids are too hard core; we didn’t have to lock up a single one last night and let me tell you, that’s pretty rare.”

  “Good for them. Good for me.”

  “You have your notebook with all the exercises; you’ll be fine. And Aidan and Maya have done it all before. Speaking of which...” He gestured to the young man to join them. “This is Aidan Callahan.”

  Aidan’s appearance was as Irish as his name. He was nearly as tall as Troy, with reddish brown hair and freckles dotting his face and arms. His cheeks and chin looked freshly shaven.

  Troy patted the young man on the back. “Aidan is in his last year of college. This is his third year with us, and we’ve known him since he was a kid. If he comes back next summer, he’ll be a field guide. For now, he’s your dependable second-in-command.”

  Aidan shot Troy an indecipherable look, then turned to her. “I’ve got your back, Sam.”

  She shook hands with him. “Glad someone knows what they’re doing.”

  Aidan gave her a little salute, and then turned toward the door.

  “You’ll be fine,” Troy reassured her for the second time. “Remember that you get a two-day break halfway through when the counselors come up to relieve you.”

  At least she had that to look forward to. With luck, Chase would be able to escape from work again in ten days and they could spend the time together.

  Troy gave her a final quick squeeze. “Thanks again, Sam.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I might march them all off a cliff.” Hefting her backpack from the floor, she squared her shoulders and followed him to the parking lot.

  * * * * *

  “You can’t do this to me! Nobody does this to me.” The muscular youth hurled a volley of curses in Sam’s direction, and then spat on the ground for good measure, narrowly missing the toe of his new hiking boot.

  “Yeah,” someone else in the group growled, the sound nearly drowned out by the slam of the Wilderness Quest van door.

  Sam, bent over her pack, took her time zipping the pouches before she stood up to inspect her clutch of hostile teens. Her crew had made the trip behind a blackout curtain in the windowless back of the van, company policy to ensure they couldn’t see the route they were taking. Her two peer counselors, Maya and Aidan, rode in back with them, keeping the kids calm during the trip into the mountains. Sam had accompanied the driver up front.

  The teenagers now stood in a semicircle in front of her, fidgeting, fingering their back pockets, sneaking glances at her and at each other. With no cell phones to focus on, they were uncertain about where to put their hands or eyes.

  Devoid of cosmetics and jewelry and distinctive clothing, their appearance varied from their intake photos. Each wore an orange bandanna around his or her neck or forehead, or in the case of Olivia, twisted into a headband. Without makeup, Taylor’s face was surprisingly freckled, and Ashley, raccoon eyes scrubbed away and piercings emptied, turned out to be a pretty girl whose delicate features could pass for a fourteen-year-old’s.

  The teens were outfitted in identical boots and multi-pocketed pants. Their long-sleeved blue Capilene shirts had their names printed front and back in bold white letters for easy identification, which seemed a bit ominous in itself.

  The spitter was Justin. The boy with the dragon tattoo was a foot taller and probably a hundred pounds heavier than she. With his buzz cut, dramatic tatt, and bulging muscles, he could have recently emerged from a prison yard where he’d pumped iron. Judging from the expression on his square face, the kid wanted to punch her. Wanted to punch anyone, or possibly, everyone. He had the build to inflict serious damage, too.

  The other five stood sullen and awkward. Shy Olivia, her long black hair woven into a braid down her back, focused on the ground. The youngest, Nick, whose shirt was again too big, stared at the distant horizon to the north, where the endless peaks of the Cascades blended into the Coastal Range in British Columbia. The other three faces were frozen into defiant glowers aimed at Sam and the two peer counselors on either side of her.

  To a naïve observer, the kids in front of her could be mistaken for a teen club. They were actually closer to a chain gang, without the chains. They were essentially prisoners. Her prisoners, for the next three weeks.

  She needed an attitude adjustment. Not prisoners, she decided, more like soldiers.

  Why had she agreed to be a drill sergeant when she’d never gone through boot camp herself?

  The van’s engine roared to life, and the driver—Andrew? Anders?—gave Sam a brief wave on the last leg of his three-point turn. Don’t leave me here, she felt like screaming.

  Instead, she sucked in a breath and took a step forward. “I know you’ve already had a long day.”

  “Ya think?” snarled Justin, his voice a deep baritone.

  Eighteen-year-old Gabriel shook his head. He was as tall as Justin, but puffy instead of muscular, with a spray of pimples across his forehead, and another crop sprouting in the fold between his right cheek and nostril. “I can’t fuckin’ believe they took my tablet. And my phone.”

  “No swearing, please,” Sam said.

  Fists clenched at his sides, Justin took a step forward. “What the fuck you gonna do about it?”

  Aidan stiffened defensively beside her. Sam thrust a hand in front of him to signal the college student to stop whatever he was about to do, and then repeated the company mantra. “No swearing, please.”

  Then she put her hands on her hips in an attempt to appear authoritative. “This is how it’s going to go, crew. In your backpacks, you each have a one-person tent, a sleeping bag, an inflatable sleeping pad, and enough clothes to keep you comfortable for the next three weeks.”

  There was a collective intake of breath among the teens.

  “Gawd.” Gabriel shook his head. “Did the apocalypse arrive yesterday?”

  “This is, like, cruel and unusual,” Ashley announced.

  Most had probably imagined that they would be stuck in this hellhole for twenty-four hours, or maybe two days, max. With food caches and individual tents and the latest hi-tech clothing, the Wilderness Quest expeditions were actually quite cushy compared to similar youth therapy outings, but these kids seemed unlikely to appreciate that.

  Although the August day was sunny, the breeze blowing up the valley was cool, a reminder that September would arrive in a week, along with autumn at this altitude. “If you’re cold, unzip your pack and put on your fleece or your windbreaker.”

  Nobody moved. Maybe they were warm enough, but she suspected they all wanted to appear tough right now.

  “You also have items in your packs that belong to the whole group, cooking gear and first aid kits and such. You need to take good care of everything; this is our survival equipment.”

  “Now, pick up your packs and buckle them on.” She hefted her own and slid her shoulder through the strap. “We have five miles to hike before we can eat and sleep tonight, and it will be dark in a couple of hours.”

  Justin plopped down on the ground. “Fuck. I’m not going.”

  “Me neither.” Taylor, the tall sixteen-year-old, tossed her long blond ponytail in defiance, folded her legs, and sat down a foot away from Justin. “This is bullshit.”

  Well, crap.

  Sam gritted her teeth. She’d expected rebellion along the way, but not minutes into the job. She reviewed her few hours of training. No pedantic lectures, teach lessons on outdoor skills, no special treatment, enforce personal responsibility, discourage bad behavio
rs. What the hell was all that supposed to mean?

  “Suit yourselves. The rest of us are going to go have dinner.” Her jaw clenched, she strode to the two seated teens and quickly removed a cook set from the bottom of Justin’s pack and a bundle of collapsible poles strapped onto Taylor’s.

  She stuffed the cook set into the pack lying in front of Olivia’s feet. The small dark girl’s lips twitched as if she might cry, but she remained silent. When she attached the poles to Nick’s pack, he said, “Shit.”

  “No swearing, please.” Sam took a dramatic last look at the cloud of dust left behind as the van disappeared down the road, and then cinched her pack strap around her waist. “Let’s go.”

  She set off down the trail, glad to be facing the jagged peaks of the north Cascades instead of the teens. Behind her, she heard murmurs from Maya and Aidan as they flanked the trail, checking that boots were tied and pack straps cinched as their charges passed. The plan called for Maya to step into the middle of the line. Aidan would follow last. Sam felt footsteps behind her. She guessed that the closest would be Ashley, the sixteen-year-old runaway with purple-tipped hair. The busty girl had looked the most alarmed by the foreign environment in which she found herself. Skanks were apparently not outdoorsy types.

  Sam chewed on her lower lip. This had to be some sort of record, losing a third of her group on the very first day out. Hell, she’d lost them in the first ten minutes. Clearly she was not cut out for this job. Could she really leave Taylor and Justin behind? Should she turn back?

  The clouds to the east and north were already tinged a light mauve by the sun descending below the horizon, but the sky overhead was clear. At this altitude, it would be cold tonight, but there would be stars.

  She’d been told that sometimes all the kids complained as they walked; sometimes no words passed their lips for hours. Sam was glad the remaining kids in her group had chosen to suffer in silence, at least for now.

  When she rounded a bend of the mountain ridge, she paused. The hikers bunched up behind her. Sam held a hand above her eyes to shield them from the setting sun as she looked back. To her great relief, a lithe silhouette trotted along the mountain trail, ponytail swinging as Taylor jogged to catch up. Twenty yards behind her was Justin’s hunched hulk, jaw clenched as he stomped down the path.

  “I’m starving,” Ashley grumbled.

  “Me, too,” Sam lied. In truth, she’d had lunch after she had arrived in Bellingham at noon.

  It was company policy not to feed the kids lunch on their first day. Hungry hikers were more likely to stick with the group.

  “Shouldn’t we at least get snacks?” Gabriel whined.

  “No snacks.” Sam experienced a twinge of guilt about the yogurt-covered almonds she’d consumed on the drive up. “We’ll fix dinner when we get to camp.”

  Aidan stepped aside to allow Taylor and Justin to pass him and join the line of hikers. When her crew was complete, Sam set off on the darkening trail at a faster pace, wanting to arrive before they needed to dig out the headlamps in their packs.

  Somewhere to the east, a crack reverberated across the ridges, and the muscles in her neck tightened in response. This trail was in the national forest; shooting was allowed. It was no doubt hunting season for something nearby. The Wilderness Quest jackets and packs were bright orange for that reason.

  A second crack didn’t follow the first, so maybe it wasn’t a shot after all.

  Or maybe the sound had only played in her imagination? She was afraid to ask any of the others. They were more than a hundred miles from Pinnacle Lake, two counties north of the murder site. But ever since the deaths of her friends, her brain had been working overtime, conjuring nightmare scenarios. The killer was still out there.

  Chapter 3

  They made it the five miles to the first night’s camp with only minor grumbling from the kids, but then, it was only five miles. The sun was already below the ridge when they arrived, and the air was rapidly cooling.

  Dropping her pack, Sam surged into drill sergeant mode. “Aidan, Maya, show the crew where their tent sites are.”

  The two peer counselors quickly positioned the teens in a rough oval, each standing on a relatively flat spot in a clearing ringed by firs and pines. Wilderness Quest prepared all their group sites, even creating some new campsites, with the permission of the Forest Service and Park Service.

  “Okay crew, we need to set up camp ASAP,” Sam told the teens. “Drop your pack on your tent site, pull the headlamp out of the right side pouch and put it on so you can see what you’re doing. Have any of you ever set up a tent before?”

  After several seconds, Nick tentatively raised his hand.

  “Used a camp stove?” she asked next.

  Another long pause, and then Nick’s hand went up again.

  “Teacher’s pet poodle,” Ashley sneered.

  Nick dropped his hand and glared at her through eyes squeezed almost shut.

  Justin emitted a couple of shrill barks, sounding like a yappy Chihuahua.

  “Knock it off,” Sam ordered. “It’s getting dark, and it’s getting cold. Pull some warmer clothes out of your packs. You’re all responsible for setting up your own tents. And then blow up your sleeping pads and unroll your sleeping bags inside.”

  A collective groan went up, punctuated by a few muttered expletives.

  “Everyone must complete those tasks before we can start on dinner, so help each other as needed. Nick can show you how. Taylor.” She pointed to the tall girl. “When that’s all done, come tell me.”

  Sam strolled to her own tent site, sandwiched between two Douglas firs and thankfully positioned twenty yards from the group. Doing her best to ignore the whining and insults flying among the kids behind her, she donned her own headlamp, then quickly assembled her tent frame, snapped the green nylon tent and rain fly onto it, rolled out her sleeping pad and bag, and crawled in on top of them. Pulling a phone, compact power pack, and earbuds from her pack, she hid them beneath her sleeping bag. She extracted her long johns to sleep in, shoving them to one side. She was in the process of pushing her spare clothes into her sleeping bag stuff sack to create a pillow when Taylor approached.

  The girl shuffled her feet in the dirt. “Ummm?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think they’re all set up.”

  Sam poked her head out, and she and Taylor simultaneously blinded each other with their headlamps.

  “Sorry.” Sam ducked her chin to move the beam out of the girl’s eyes. “You think or you know? It’s your job to check.”

  Even without the benefit of the headlamp, Sam could feel Taylor rolling her eyes. “I know they are.”

  “Okay, then.” Sam slid out and straightened, wishing that she stood taller than Taylor’s shoulder. It was a challenge to seem commanding at armpit level. “On to dinner, then.” She strode toward the oval of eight yellow one-person tents. “Chore assignments, Maya?”

  Maya gestured toward the cooking supplies she and Aidan had laid out on top of a stump. “Justin, Taylor, fill these two large pots with water from the stream. Gabriel, Olivia, Ashley, you’re going to open packages and chop vegetables and sausage. Nick, get the stoves ready.”

  “What are we having for dinner?” Nick surveyed the supplies.

  “Spaghetti with tomato sauce and sausage,” Aidan said. “And French bread.”

  Taylor made a face. “I don’t eat pasta. Or bread.”

  Sam shrugged. “Suit yourself.” At least she had the no special treatment act down. “Just FYI, all of you, this is the cushy evening, when we have gas stoves to cook on and matches to light them with. From here on out, you’ll be making your own fires using the bow-drill method.”

  Making fire without matches or lighters was a survival skill the kids would learn to be proud of. She’d been pretty proud of herself when she’d mastered it for the first time four days ago.

  Justin snorted. “Right. Like that’s gonna happen.”

  “You s
aid sausage?” Ashley chimed in. “I don’t eat meat.”

  “You can pick out the summer sausage, then,” Aidan told her. “We only have one pot to cook the sauce in.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ashley’s face twisted into a scowl. Several purple-tipped strands of hair were glued to her forehead, transforming her into a teenage gargoyle.

  “Nope.” Aidan grinned. “And after dinner, you can all help set up the screen around the toilet. We call it the Box with a View. You’ll see why.”

  Sam suspected her male peer counselor might be enjoying his dominant role a bit too much, but the sociology major was the most experienced staff member in camp.

  “Let’s get cooking,” she ordered.

  Aidan handed Justin and Taylor each an aluminum pot. “I’ll show you the stream.”

  Justin’s pot dropped to the ground with a clang. Folding his arms across his chest, the tattooed teen snapped, “I ain’t no slave.”

  Sam crossed her own arms. She was going to develop an ulcer in record time. A tension headache was already gnawing at her forehead.

  “All right then,” Maya said mildly. She faced the others. “Gang, Justin has decided not to eat tonight. Who wants to do his job and get his share?”

  Sam mentally blessed the girl.

  Gabriel jogged over and picked up the pot. “I’m starving.” He turned to Aidan. “Let’s go.”

  Taking two steps forward, Justin ripped the pot out of Gabriel’s hands. He tapped Gabriel’s headlamp upward on the other boy’s forehead, snapping the light off. “I oughta pound that headlight into your brain, game boy.” Then he stomped off after Aidan and Taylor.

  Gabriel pulled his headlamp back into place on its elastic strap. Now pointed downward, the light cast his moon-shaped face into Halloween shadows. “Game boy?” he shouted after the departing trio. “I’m a Master Wizard!”

  “Uh-huh,” Olivia drawled from behind him, somehow managing to make the two syllables sound sarcastic. She ripped open a plastic bag of herbs, scattering a few flakes across the toes of her boots.