Backcountry

by Pamela Beason

  As Sam tossed the tube of soap to Taylor, something slick brushed across her ankle bone. A fish, blundering blindly through the silt she’d stirred up, or perhaps coming to check if she was edible. The feel of its slippery skin against her bare foot instantly transported her back to a farm pond in Kansas, a happy time skinny-dipping with Chase on a hot summer night. Cicadas singing, cows quietly chewing as they observed her and Chase in each other’s arms. Had they ever been as light-hearted since that evening?

  A stream of soap slithered over her eyebrow and slid into her right eye, stinging. She deserved that. She wanted to teach these kids to focus on the here and now, and her own mind was forever slipping into the past.

  “Agh!” Ashley yelped, flailing and splashing. “Something just touched my foot!”

  “Anaconda,” Taylor suggested again.

  “Relax! It’s only a fish.” Sucking in a breath, Sam ducked underwater and swished her head in the icy liquid to rinse off, then followed Maya as she ran back toward camp. The three crew girls washed quickly, gasping at the chill, then shot out of the water and galloped in unison for the shore like seals pursued by an orca.

  When the girls were dressed again, Sam showed them how to use a water-filled tarp laid in a depression to wash out underwear and T-shirts. “Don’t wash everything,” she warned. “These could take a while to dry.”

  The bath and laundry did wonders for the mood in camp, and the girls laughed and talked as they helped each other comb out wet hair and dry it with their tiny camp towels. When the boys came trooping back, it was the girls’ turn to march over the hill.

  A small tarn awaited them at the bottom of the slope, little more than a large puddle now at the beginning of September. The still water mirrored the blue sky overhead, and Sam was uncomfortably reminded of Pinnacle Lake.

  Maya squatted on her haunches a couple of feet from the edge of the tarn. “This mud is perfect for finding animal tracks,” she told the other girls.

  Sam dragged her brain back to the present. “Do you recognize any of the prints?”

  Aidan and the three boys had left multiple boot impressions in the mud. Another uncomfortable reminder of Pinnacle Lake. No. She headed off the memory, unwilling to let her mind wander down that dark path again.

  “I know exactly what sort of critter left these.” Ashley waved her hand over huge boot prints recently pressed into the damp soil. “It’s a voltenark!”

  Maya giggled.

  “I don’t know.” Olivia studied the prints, pursing her lips. “Those are awfully similar to pit bull tracks.”

  Taylor nodded. “Could be voltenark; could be pit bull. I never realized the two species were so closely related. Who knew there was interplanetary travel between Vebulaze and Earth?”

  “Moving on,” Sam interrupted the comedy routine. “What are these?” She indicated several sets of animal tracks.

  All the girls recognized the many deer tracks.

  “How about these?” Taylor bent over a dried patch of prints. “They’re bigger, and the toes—hooves?—point out instead of in. But they’re not all so big. There are some small ones here, too.”

  “Excellent observation, Taylor.” Sam studied the girls’ faces. “Any guesses?”

  “Elk?” Ashley ventured.

  “Good guess, Ash, but elk tracks would be even bigger,” Sam told them.

  “Moose?” Olivia guessed.

  “Still bigger,” Maya said.

  “It’s hard to be sure when tracks are in squishy mud, because mud slides around and doesn’t give us a perfect impression,” Sam said. “But I believe these prints belong to mountain goats, like the ones we saw a couple of days ago.”

  Her brain conjured the hunter they’d spotted along with the goats, and she couldn’t prevent herself from taking a quick glance at the surrounding hillsides. Nobody there. She quickly tamped down that disturbing image.

  Ashley put her hands up in front of her face as if she was holding a cell phone, and tapped a spot on the pretend device. “Taking a mental photo, Cap’n.”

  As they circled the tarn, Sam pointed out the tracks of small rodents, birds, and cat paws that most likely belonged to a bobcat. She stopped near several impressions of four toes surrounding a triangular lobed pad. “How about these?”

  Olivia smiled. “Another bobcat!”

  “No, check the bobcat track and then examine this one again.”

  The trio walked back to the bobcat prints and bent over them. They returned after a couple of minutes and kneeled down close to the new tracks. “These have claws!” Taylor remarked.

  “Right.” Sam added, “All felines except for cheetahs can retract their claws, so generally, claw marks won’t show up in cat prints. Canines, on the other hand, can’t retract their claws. This track belongs to either a coyote or a dog that came up here with a hiker.”

  “Another hiker. I knew it. I thought I felt someone watching us when we were naked in the lake,” Ashley said.

  The other girls regarded her with horror.

  “What?” A chill whispered over Sam’s scalp. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Ashley shook her shoulders. “I suspected it was the boys. No big deal; give ‘em a thrill, you know?”

  Was this only teen bravado invented to compete with Taylor’s anacondas? Sam couldn’t decide. Wilderness Quest reserved their group campsites and tried to use less popular paths, but it was always possible that other hikers were in the area. And hunters often traveled cross-country, away from the trails. She wouldn’t be able to completely relax until she led her crew out of the national forest into the safer preserve of North Cascades National Park.

  “We haven’t seen any other hikers today, and I’m pretty sure Aidan wouldn’t let the boys spy on us.” That better be true. “Back to our animal tracks,” she urged.

  “Look at this one.” A few yards away, Olivia dropped into a squat close to another print, her long black braid swinging over her shoulder. “It must be a Saint Bernard!”

  They joined her and studied the elongated pad and four oval-shaped toe prints that ended in claw points.

  “Oh.” Maya’s gaze slid sideways to meet Sam’s.

  “These prints belong to a bear.” Sam gestured to several impressions in the soft earth.

  A collective intake of breath whispered around their circle.

  Ashley clasped her hands together. “There really are bears here?”

  “We told you that on the first night,” Maya said.

  “Bears.” Olivia’s facial muscles stiffened into a grimace.

  “That’s part of the reason we hang our food when we don’t have those metal safes in camp. Why did you think we call those things bear boxes?” Maya glanced around their little circle.

  “I guessed you were just trying to scare us.” Olivia clasped her braid with both hands like a lifeline.

  “Bears live in these mountains,” Sam reminded them. “It’s always wise to be careful, especially with food, but there’s no real reason to be afraid. You’ve been out here for the last four nights, and so have they.” She stood up and dusted her hands off on her pants legs. “Live and let live, you know.”

  “As long as the bears remember that,” Taylor commented.

  Sam checked her watch. “I think it’s safe to go back to camp now.”

  When they’d all gathered in the group campsite again, Aidan reminded them about the letters they needed to have written to their families by tomorrow morning.

  “Here are envelopes for you to put them in.” He doled out six business-size envelopes, one to each teen.

  Olivia stared at hers, holding the rectangle of white paper out from her as if it were contaminated. “What if we don’t want to write anyone a letter?”

  “It’s completely your choice,” Sam explained. “No judgment. But you might want to remember that your families agreed to go through counseling while you are out here, so they’re spending this time thinking about you and how they want their re
lationships with you to be in the future.”

  “I doubt that,” Ashley scoffed. “I guarantee my mom’s not thinking about anything but work.”

  “Ditto for my dad.” Nick raised a fist and Ashley bumped knuckles with him.

  “If you don’t choose to write anything,” Sam continued, “the staff will send a note to your families telling them that, so they’ll know we didn’t forget a step in the process or leave one of you out.”

  At that news, the previous good cheer on her crew’s faces faded into gloom.

  “You have the afternoon off to write those letters, work on your fire building, write in your journals, or read. You can also explore around the shoreline, but if you walk out of our camp area, you have to tell Maya or Aidan and you have to stay in sight.” She checked her watch again. “We’ll reconvene at six to start supper.”

  Her crew crawled inside their tents. Olivia and Gabriel stayed there. The other four emerged with journals and pens in hand and scattered around camp to write. Nick chose to perch on a rock facing the lake to draw in his journal, his hands moving in long strokes and zigzag motions.

  All six envelopes were grudgingly filled by suppertime. Four kids succeeded in making their own fires, and they all seemed resigned to the freeze-dried cheese ravioli pouches and carrot and celery sticks she issued. Personally, she was already sick of reconstituted food every night, and the Wilderness Quest stash in this camp’s bear box was nearly empty. Tomorrow, new supplies would arrive with the counselor. Did she dare wish for fresh fruit or a taco for dinner?

  The kids all seemed to dread the arrival of the company’s mental health counselor.

  “Do we have to talk to her?” Olivia.

  Gabriel: “Why can’t you guys just let us be?”

  Taylor: “Things are good now, and you’re going to ruin it again.”

  Feeling like the stern teacher all schoolkids hated, Sam reminded them that they were not on vacation. “This program is all about change. The counselor is here to talk to you about how you feel about what you’re going through.”

  “I’m changing into a butterfly.” Taylor thrust out her arms and flapped them. “I feel, well, like I’m going to be a really big butterfly.”

  “I’m changing into a coyote.” Justin threw back his head. An unearthly howl emerged from his mouth.

  Sam was startled when the other five crew kids quickly joined in. Maya and Aidan added their voices, too.

  As their rip-rip-ahrooooo faded, an answering call came from somewhere beyond the surrounding ridges. Real coyotes.

  Justin grinned. “That’s sick!” He howled again, and then waited. After a second, the coyote pack answered back.

  They all howled several more times in growing crescendo until Sam couldn’t tell which noises were her crew and which were the wild canines. Finally, she cut off another round before the howl-fest could slide from awesome to annoying. “Cleanup time. Before bed, you can read your books or write in your journals or play games.”

  She expected Gabriel to especially appreciate the last suggestion, but instead his expression grew dismal. “Games? How? We don’t even have phones.”

  “Before computers were invented,” Sam told the group, “way back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, humans created games that they played with each other. In person.”

  “No duh,” Justin snorted. “My grandparents play cards all the time. Boring. Besides, we don’t even have cards.”

  Aidan stepped in. “There are all kinds of games that are super simple. Marbles, for example. You can use little stones instead of glass marbles.”

  Ashley dismissed that idea. “Kid game.”

  “There are mind games,” Maya suggested. “Where people have to guess what you’re thinking.” She suggested that each one pick an animal to start. “But not the one you already said you wanted to be. Pick an animal you think nobody would ever guess. Sit in a circle so we can go around and each person can ask a Yes or No question. First one to get three correct answers wins.”

  “What’s the prize?” Gabriel wanted to know.

  Maya considered for a minute. “Staff will wash breakfast dishes for the winner tomorrow morning.” She glanced toward Sam, who nodded in agreement. “Unless, of course, Aidan or I win, in which case you all get to wash our dishes. I’ve already got an animal in mind. Someone ask me a Yes or No question.”

  “Does it have four legs?” Nick asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Does it have fur?” Taylor.

  “Yes.”

  Sam was pleased by how quickly they all dived into the game. After Justin correctly guessed a skunk, Ashley questioned whether Maya had given the correct answer to “Is it more than a foot tall?” The majority ruled that a skunk was probably shorter than that.

  “I vote for Sparky to measure the next skunk we run across.” Justin poked Ashley in the arm.

  “Me next,” Gabriel urged, waving his hand. “I have a really cool animal. From Earth, I promise. It’s really cool.”

  Sam wanted to hear what the animal turned out to be, but with eight in the circle, she knew this game could take forever, and she needed to make notes for her daily report, and then climb to the top of the ridge to get a cell signal and transmit her daily text report to Troy.

  As she walked back down the slope after finishing her duties, she heard the voices of her crew going back and forth around the campfire. These kids were discovering coyotes and birds and goats and each other, and learning that they could not only survive in, but actually enjoy a world without smart phones and game consoles.

  Returning to her tent, she shook her hair out of the French braid she usually wore when camping. While searching her tent pockets for her comb, a sharp object stabbed her finger. She pulled it out. It was a broken earring, a small silver filigree dangle on a broken wire. Entangled with it was a soft, rolled piece of paper that appeared as if it had been wadded up in the pocket for some time. She unfurled it carefully. The tiny ribbon of paper turned out to be a prediction from a Chinese fortune cookie: You will meet a stranger who will change your future.

  Good God. That prophecy had come true with a vengeance for Kyla. Sam felt like setting a match to the creepy fortune. But maybe it would mean something to Troy. She pushed the earring and scrap of paper back into the tent pocket.

  Chapter 7

  Sam’s instructions were to stay in place the next day, which was fine with her. The clothes they’d washed still felt too damp to pack, and she was content to have a day of rest near the lake. The old logging road from which the counselor would hike in was less than two miles away, but the kids had no way of knowing that. To lessen the danger of a runaway, the field guide and peer counselors were forbidden from showing the crew a map or pointing out roads.

  Sam was teaching the kids what she knew about the local geology when one of the Wilderness Quest mental health counselors, David Berg, strolled into their camp at ten-thirty a.m. Her mouth dropped open when she recognized his companion: Kyla’s boyfriend, Chris Rawlins. Chris was first mate on a fishing boat, and she’d believed he was still working in the Bering Sea.

  “I was,” he said in response to her question. His face was reddened from recent exposure to wind and sun. “But the boat’s in for an engine repair, so we’ve got a break until that’s done. Troy knows I’m here.”

  She’d seen Chris only once since the murders, at the memorial service. Today, his expression was nearly as morose as it had been then. With reddish-blond hair and beard and weathered face, he resembled a young Robert Redford, although now his beard was ragged and his hair needed a trim.

  For a few days in the wild, she’d managed to push the murders to the back of her mind, and she wasn’t exactly happy to have his presence bring them to the forefront now. She was uncertain about how to greet him, but when he opened his arms, she gave him a quick hug. “How are you doing, Chris?”

  He eyed the teens surrounding them. “Can we talk, Sam?”

  Berg had already taken T
aylor off for a one-on-one chat; she could see them sitting on the far bank of the lake. After ensuring that Maya and Aidan would keep an eye on the rest of her crew, Sam led Chris over the ridge to the tarn. Two crows were busily dipping their beaks at the water’s edge, but took noisy flight as the humans approached. She and Chris parked themselves on the two least uncomfortable rocks near the small pond.

  Chris’s intense blue eyes met hers. “I need you to give me a character reference.”

  “Oh.” Sam knew Chris mainly from her friends’ conversations about him; she’d spent only a few hours in his company. Kyla had always been the bridge between them, with Kim occasionally offering motherly opinions about her daughter’s relationship. “What’s going on?”

  His gaze focused on the water in front of them, and he rubbed his index finger across his chapped lips. The back of his hand was crisscrossed with scratches and cuts. “I did something really stupid, Sam.”

  An ominous opening statement. She waited.

  “Before ... it happened, I had three guns.”

  She nodded. “I remember that Kyla said something about that.” Her friend had detested having weapons in the house.

  “Yeah. A rifle, a Remington 700, and two handguns, a Smith & Wesson .357 and a Glock 19.”

  Goosebumps crawled down Sam’s spine. “Is that rifle a 30-06 caliber?”

  “Yeah.” His shoulders sagged. “I know how that looks.”

  Kyla and Kim had been murdered with two of those same caliber weapons. No wonder Chris had been listed as a “person of interest.” She wasn’t sure about the models, but the names sounded familiar. “From what Chase tells me, those are common guns, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And I’ll bet the police have tested them, right? So they know they weren’t the ones.” Please let the answer be yes.

  His expression was grim. “Here’s the stupid part.” He sighed heavily. “After Kyla died, it just didn’t feel right having guns in the house. I mean, these things killed her. So I sold all three guns. On Craigslist.”

  She could see how that might look bad to the police. “Well, Chris, I can understand—”