Part Two - The Wall Between Us
She seemed to be taking it all with stride, but I asked anyway, "You okay?"
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"That was kind of a close call. I just thought that..."
"You thought I might need a minute to what... cry about it... rethink my life choices... contemplate the meaning of it all...?"
"No, I mean... you know... people deal with near-death experiences in different ways, and..."
"And I suppose your way of dealing with it is joining a support group to talk about it."
"Not at all. Usually, there's no one around to talk to about it anyway. Maybe just take a minute to soak it all in. I mean, I was dead asleep literally twelve minutes ago and, if you hadn't found me, things could have been a hell of a lot worse. We were face-to-face with a pack of wolves. I just... I just think we should be grateful that, you know... we're alive."
Nicole stopped and turned around in the thick green brush, raising her hatchet to my face as she spoke, "You can be grateful that you survived. I'm grateful your giant friend, Meesha, showed up when he did; I'm grateful that he's fifty percent bigger than the other wolves; and I'm grateful I didn't have to use this."
"What, that? You were going to fight off five wolves with your little hatchet?"
"No, I was going to knock you in the head with it and walk away while they tore you apart."
My first instinct was to laugh, but something about her expression told me she might not be kidding around.
"Relax, Graedon, I'm only joking," she smiled as she turned and continued the search for the trail.
"It's Graeson. Seriously, though, what would you have done?"
"I don't know, dude, I was scared--people do crazy things when they're scared, so I don't know what I would have done. I'm just trying to concentrate on what I'm doing right now."
"And what is that?"
"Trying to get back to the trail without breaking a leg, cracking my skull on a tree branch, or getting mauled and eaten by some wild animal." Her frustration seemed disproportionately elevated considering the question--that's my queue to change the subject.
"Okay, I'm on onboard with that. Hey, I remember this spot. The trail's right at the top of this hill on your left. If you can make it up, we can get out of this brush."
"Go for it. If you make it, I'll follow you up."
I looked up the hill. Maybe a forty-five-degree incline, four meter climb, loose rocks, minimal vegetation--zero risk of injury on failure, but success was unlikely--maybe forty percent, and that's without a pack. If I made it, Nicole would be hard-pressed to repeat it carrying her pack. "I don't know... it's starting to look like a waste of calories," I said. "What do you think?"
"I think you're right. Where's Meesha?"
"He's around here somewhere, I'm sure."
"How long have you had him?" she asked.
"Had him?"
"Yeah, did you like, rescue him as a pup or something?"
"Uh... no. We, uhh..." I hated lying to her, but the truth would make her take her chances with that pack of wolves just to get away from me. "We haven't known each other that long. He doesn't belong to a pack, and neither do I, really, so we just kind of started our own."
"That's pretty sick. How do I get to join a wolf pack?"
I hated the question immediately. It had the power to permanently affect the way I thought about Nicole from that point on. Still, there was a chance it was nothing more than an innocent question--small talk, as they say--deserving of a response.
"That, my dear, depends on the sincerity of the question."
"Oh. I didn't realize... I guess it was just kind of off-the-cuff. 'The sincerity of the question...' let me think about that."
"That actually answers the question."
"What do you mean, 'that answers the question'? I said I'd think about it."
"You don't need to. I know you were sincere."
"How's that?"
"You don't strike me as the kind of person who wastes time on things that don't matter to you. And rather than politely humoring the conversation or, God forbid, actually engaging in something inconsequential for a minute or two, you would have said something sarcastic and made me instantly regret having shown genuine interest in the question." She turned to say something, but hesitated. "... and while I may not be a big fan of your method, there's definitely something attractive about your style. So... you said you'd think about it, so I know it matters. I appreciate that."
The clear ending of my comment, combined with the blatant emptiness thereafter, I thought, would compel a response. Receiving none, I dared to look in her direction. I knew she could see me in her periphery. It felt good to know she was taking my words into consideration rather than speaking just to "fill the gap."
"Oh man..." she began, but paused too long.
"What?"
"I'm trying to remember if I left my iron on."
"See, that's why I don't..."
"Relax, Reid, I'm just messing with you. I appreciate you being real with me, and you're right, I said I would think about it, and that's not something I would even say if I didn't care, so... yeah, how do I get to be part of a wolf pack?"
If nothing else, this woman was definitely going to keep me on my toes.
"It's actually kind of a self-fulfilling kind of thing," I said. "You don't really join the pack, you're either a part of it, or you're not. Where are you going? The trail's up that way."
"That row of oaks--it'll be easier walking by them."
"Really, how do you know?"
"There aren't as many plants that can survive beneath the shade. We can trade these hazelnut shrubs for moss and ferns."
"So you're a botanist, is that it?"
"I worked with the Lothian Group for a while, in the UK, but no, I'm not a botanist."
"The Lothian Group?" I clarified.
"Yeah, they... whoa!! There's Meesha! Holy underwear! You scared me to death! Yes, you did!"
Nicole was obviously getting along with Meesha just fine. I was going to get back to the wolf pack conversation, but it suddenly seemed unnecessary. I wondered if Meesha saw in her what I did. The fact that he remembered me from yesterday proved it wasn't all just a dream. Nicole's impossible resemblance to Thessyna had me twisted up inside as it was. I had a dozen explanations taking form inside my head, but every time I looked at her, none of them seemed to matter. I grabbed the black stone in my coat pocket, which once again sent a heat wave through my body. I couldn't help but wonder if the Dryad nymphs were watching us at that very moment, perhaps guiding us to the stone tower, or at least watching over us. Whatever the explanation was for their striking resemblance, I owed to her (and to Thessyna) to force a distinction between them. Despite their physical similarities being psychologically torturous, I couldn't allow myself to distort my perception further by mentally intermingling their personalities.
It was like déjà vu seeing her kneeling, ruffling Meesha's thick nape, except for being fully clothed. I'd recognized her pack immediately when we'd left--an Osprey Tempest--she was the real deal. The Outdoor Research Ferrosi convertible hiking pants and Smartwool Merino grey long sleeve shirt each fit perfectly. I couldn't tell what kind of socks she wore under her Columbia Newton Ridge Plus Waterproof Amped Hiking boots, but given the rest of her equipment, topped off with a Sunday Afternoons Adventure hat, I guessed the socks were equally appropriate for the trek. I have a great deal of respect for authenticity, and in the short amount of time I'd known her, there was no question, like her or not, she was authentic.
Movement caught my eye--over the brush, I saw something in a small clearing, but... there! Just a rabbit. Nicole stood and flung her hands to free the shedding hair she'd acquired from Meesha's fur.
"Hey, Meesha," I said in an excited tone. His ears perked up as he looked at me. "Come here... kooma, Meesha."
He casually cruised over to me. He couldn't see the rabbit from his vantage point, so I tapped my chest, "Kooma."
We were definitely on the same wavelength. His giant paws found my shoulders and we stood almost eye-to-eye, his muzzle in my face. I decided to teach him a new word... rabbit.
I raised my hand toward the rabbit, drawing Meesha's eyes in its direction. The rabbit flinched just enough to give itself away. I said it clearly and repeated again... "Rabbit."
A high-pitched squeal eked out as he licked his jowls. In an excited whisper, I pulled the trigger, "Go get it!"
He pushed off of me and took off in a flash. He'd almost knocked me over taking off. I couldn't help wearing a goofy grin as I watched him barrel through the bushes. No way was that huge wolf going to catch that little rabbit in all this undergrowth. I looked toward Nicole and was almost knocked over again as she went tearing past me through the brush as well. She'd abandoned her backpack and sprinted into the woods. I instinctively followed, thinking a bear or... something must have been in pursuit.
"What are you doing?!" I yelled after her.
"Joining the pack!"
Okay, I thought, I guess this is what we're doing now.
We ran as fast as we could, keeping an eye on Meesha's movements off to our left, trying to gauge where the rabbit must be running. Nicole ran like a gazelle--impossible to follow. I veered left, crashing through the thick brush like a wild boar. I could only barely see Meesha. I kept track of him by watching the plants dash apart as he bored his way through. He turned sharply to the right, toward Nicole. She skidded to a halt and shuffled back, also trying to figure out where the rabbit was headed. I kept barreling down the middle of the lane, way behind and seemingly out of the chase. A few paces more and I stopped, waiting for some hint of what was happening ahead of me. Neither of them was moving.
Nicole picked up a stick and launched toward where Meesha was sniffing. The stick hit the brush and the chase was on! Meesha sprinted forward, then turned hard right. A gaggle of small birds flew up and away as pursued the rabbit heading to my right. Nicole sprinted back the way she came from and skidded to a stop again with her arms out to her sides as if defending on a basketball court. I moved forward, stomping through low vegetation. We'd probably run past six rabbits in the process of chasing this one, but we were staying on it. Meesha kept dashing back and forth in pursuit, he was running back in a direction between me and Nicole. She started jumping through the foliage toward me. I went toward her, triangulating and narrowing the battleground. Suddenly, Meesha took a hard left and dove down.
The hunt was over. Meesha had made the kill. The rabbit was limp in his massive jaws when he raised his head.
Nicole threw her arms in the air, "Woo-hoooo!!"
I cheered, "Way to go, Meesha!"
"Meesha dropped the rabbit and hollered along, "Aawrar-rar-ryoo-rouw."
Nicole did her best to imitate his yowling, "Awr-rar-rar-roo..." she mimicked.
Listening to them celebrate together, watching Meesha almost take a moment to be something more than the great hunter, I felt that damned thing in my throat again. The sun had been up for over an hour, but I couldn't help but try--I howled like a wolf-man under a full moon, "Ah-ooooooooo!" He looked over at me.
Nicole cupped her hands around her mouth and howled at the morning sun, "Ah-ooooooo!"
Meesha looked at her like she was a crazy person. He ducked down into the lush green undergrowth and reappeared with the rabbit, then lunged toward Nicole, tail wagging ever so slightly, but it still counted as a wag. Baby steps.
Nicole and I regrouped and made our way back to her pack.
"Thank you," I said.
"For what," she half smiled, "that was fun, but it was stupid. Either of us could have been hurt running blindly through the underbrush like that."
"You don't understand, he's never hunted in a pack before. I've never seen him that close to howling like he was actually part of a pack--the way he moved..."
"Yeah, still... the next time I do something like that, stop me. He didn't need us to catch that rabbit."
"No, maybe not... but it means everything to him that we were there."
We looked back at him where he laid down looking at us, licking fresh blood from his muzzle. He whipped his head around and began nipping at his hind leg where something itched, then finished by lifting his leg and licking himself.
"Thaaat's great," she commented.
"The mighty hunter." I'd almost forgotten, it wasn't long ago Nicole had splashed water in my face and watched me run around naked trying to get my ducks in a row. I really wanted to ask her how long she'd been trying to wake me up, but even more than that, I wanted to never speak of it again.
"You ready to move on?" she asked me, picking up her pack.
"Yeah, let's."
Nicole slung her pack over her shoulder and into place again, and again, she gave me the "I dare you to offer" look.
She took a step. Looking over her shoulder at Meesha, she asked, "Are you ready to go, ya perv?"
"I said yes," I answered.
"Not you... the other perv."
We trudged along headed for the oaks. Nicole looked back again, "I never really noticed his eyes before."
"Yeah, he's pretty cool-looking."
"He's badass. I wonder how common that is in wolves."
"I don't know. I'm going to study up on them when I get back to civilization though."
"It's amazing how some of his behavior is so much like a domesticated breed."
"Yeah, though some of it seems a little shameless."
"It reminds me of a story I heard once," she said. "There was an old farmer who enjoyed sitting on his porch in the evenings. He sat there almost every night with his dog, Dusty--an old Coon Hound that the farmer had raised from a pup. Dusty had very little energy, zero tolerance for strangers, and even less pride. Whenever a rabbit or squirrel would scamper by, the farmer would tell him, 'Go git 'im!' but Dusty would just lay there and watch them scamper by. Whenever somebody other than the farmer tried to pet him, he'd snarl and keep away. The only time he put any real effort into anything was when would turn himself back toward his hindquarters and lick himself. That he could do for minutes at a time. Well, one day, the farmer's old friend stopped by and was joining him for a glass of iced tea on the old wooden porch, and there was Dusty. The friend didn't know Dusty, didn't know about his disposition toward strangers, and had no clue about his gratuitous self-cleaning habit. So they were talking--the two old friends, and sure enough, Dusty took to licking his privates right there in front of God and everyone. The farmer's friend joked about being jealous, 'Oh man, I wish I could do that!' The farmer looked at him funny and said, 'Billy, I wouldn't try it if I were you... old Dusty doesn't often take to strangers.'"
I'd heard a different version of it before, but I loved her telling of it. The best part was that she did the old mens' voices. Her naturally raspy voice made theirs perfect.
I couldn't help but wear a goofy grin. "That's a good story."
She was right about the oaks--the shrubs and bushes were much more sparse underneath them. Fields of lumpy moss took over as the most prevalent species beneath the oaks, with occasional ferns enjoying the shade.
"Dicranum moss," she said, "the moths and crane flies feed on it."
I wasn't sure, at first, what she was talking about, but as she moved forward, thousands of white-and-purple-winged moths took flight, evacuating the moss as we walked through their realm, and settling back down once we'd passed. Nicole sped ahead. She reached into her pack as she walked through the flurry. She turned toward us and took a knee, revealing a camera--not just a cell phone, but a real camera. Using one hand, she quickly motioned me aside to allow a clear angle on Meesha. Stepping past her, I stole a peek at her perspective. The reverent grey wolf... one eye deep, a piercing blue, like the sky beyond the leaves of the canopy above--the other dazzling gold, like the sun peering through it. The deadly predator steadily stalked across bright green moss under the mighty oak while a flurry of tiny wings sent silent explosions of purple and white to contrast the forest green, dozens of playful moths alighting on his coat and muzzle as, amongst their colorful chaos, his cold-steel blue and golden eyes remained sharp as daggers.
Her camera snapped out rapid-fire shots--at least thirty or forty--in a matter of seconds. It kind of seemed like cheating, but with the cloud of little wings obscuring the view, I also thought (and hoped) she'd be lucky enough to get even a single clear shot. I stepped away from her, to the side, and waited for the moths to settle. Meesha approached her from my left, and Nicole worked her magic with her camera to my right. I took a single picture of her, taking pictures of him, tiny wings blanketing her, the photographer, literally engrossed in her work.
She rose to her feet, sending them again into a flurry. She re-capped and returned the camera to its proper place, and walked on. She had no idea I was only a few paces away. She'd been lost in the moment. It's hard to find the words to describe how much I envied her just then.
"Reid?" she called.
"I'm right here."
She turned her head quickly at the sound of my voice. I must have looked the same as she had, a decorative robe of insects from head to toe. She just looked at me. Seconds passed.
"What?" she asked in a stern, annoyed manner.
I snapped out of it. I was staring. "Nothing."
"Let's go."
I shook off the robe and followed along as ordered, falling in behind Meesha. The next oak only housed a handful of moths enjoying their mossy never-ending salad. Meesha snapped at one that had pestered him one time too many.
We continued for another kilometer or so before Nicole stopped and shed her backpack again. "I gotta pee," she announced, heading off behind a huge oak trunk.
"I'll second that," I said, heading in the opposite direction, out from under the canopy.
Regrouping a minute or so later, Meesha had apparently decided to venture off by himself again, which was a shame because he provided a nice commonality between me and Nicole. It was still awkward--just the two of us.
"Hey," I said, emerging from the thicker growth, "there's a fallen tree not far from here that I think we could climb to get back up to the trail. You want to check it out?"
"Couldn't hurt. Lead the way. What happened to Meesha?"
"I don't know. He kinda comes and goes."
"Typical male."
I wasn't going to risk a response to that one. We walked through some thick growth to where we could see the downed tree. I stopped and let her catch up to me. I lifted my nose into the air.
"Hey, do you smell something?" I asked.
She lifted her nose, emulating my behavior as if it were necessary to sniff the air like an animal. Her face scrunched up.
I looked at her, "It smells like... urine."
She nodded slowly, "Yeah, it's like... Dude, you suck! Keep going!"
If nothing else, I got one over on her that time. The tree didn't take long to reach. I climbed to the top, which was actually the bottom of the tree, up at the top of the ridge. Other than some big, black ants, there wasn't much to contend with until I reached the roots which created something of a wall that could be either scaled (difficult) or circumvented (dangerous) by leaping from the trunk to the edge of the little cliff at the top of the ridge. The cliff at the top was only a couple of meters straight down before it turned into a steep slope. Falling and rolling back down to the bottom would suck and undoubtedly result in some degree of injury, but it wouldn't be disastrous. I opted to jump. No problem. I turned back to let Nicole know it was an easy enough climb, and she was already more than halfway up the tree... of course.
Once she reached the root wall, I offered again, "If you toss me your pack, you can climb over... or jump over here if you think you can make it."
She unbuckled the strap, slipped it off, and hoisted it over the roots. From my position on the ridge, the root wall was just over my height, but from her side, it was only just over a meter. The rough part was that she was starting out on a slope, and the roots were old and dry--not ideal for trusting as a hand-hold. I broke away a few smaller dried ones and put my hand out over the top of the wall for her to grab. She did not.
"I got it, thanks."
She had clearly stepped up to where the trunk and roots met--her waist was even with the top of the wall, using her hands to seek out something strong enough to proceed over. I stayed close in case she opted for assistance. Large rocks had become engulfed by intertwining roots over the years. She chose one of them to be her hand-hold. It was not in an ideal location, causing her to reach further down than she wanted before attempting to raise a leg up and over.
"Just out of curiosity," I asked, "If I were a woman, would you take my hand?"
She answered honestly through her frustration, "Yes. Probably," she smiled.
The last thing I saw was her hand slipping off the rock and her upper body disappearing behind the roots.
"Nicole!" I leaped forward throwing as much of my arm as I could over the wall where her hand had disappeared. I was up to my armpit reaching for anything. My boots clawed at the wall as I tried desperately to peer over. Finding a foothold, I hoisted myself up to where I could see over and down the other side.
She was squatting down, with one hand on the root ball looking up at me with a boy-who-cried-wolf kind of grin. "Do you smell something?" she asked, closing her eyes and sniffing the air. "Smells like vengeance... doesn't it? Don't you think?"
My lips pursed and I held back what I wanted to say. She couldn't know it, but my heart was still a shambles over parting ways with Thessyna, and her resemblance was a constant reminder.
"Alright, turn about is fair play," I conceded. I slinked back down to my side of the entangled wall between us.
"Is there something wrong with your eyes?" she called.
"No, why?"
"It kind of looked like they were welling up a little. You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm good," I snapped. "Here, why don't you take my hand and I'll help you over?" I asked in a devilish tone, trying to play along.
"Somehow I think I'd be better off taking my chances," she joked. "I'm just gonna jump, watch out."
I started thinking, Maybe life as a Contorted Beech wouldn't have been so bad...
Some crackling behind me, shuffling boots on the dirt... "Reid... help," she said plainly.
"Yeah, right," I said, turning casually to her. She was in trouble. Her weight was completely behind her. She was clawing at the dried roots next to her as they continued to fail her. Her ashen face and wide eyes pleaded with me in helplessness and fear. I reached as she fell backward. Our hands locked on each other's wrists as I fell to my knees. I threw my free arm out against the wall of roots but many broke through before I finally hit something solid enough to hold us. There was nothing to grab--only friction kept my arm from slipping off. I tried to lift her but each effort only served to pull that side of my body over the edge. She scrambled with her feet on the cliff in front of her, working against me.
"Your feet..."
"Yeah?"
"You have to let them dangle; you're pulling me over."
It was a hard ask, psychologically, but she let her feet drop--all of her weight was in my hand and she knew it. I immediately pulled with everything I had, dragging her up over the edge as I fell backward, refusing to let go.
If you're familiar with those romantic comedies where the lead characters end up falling on top of each other, staring awkwardly, into each other's eyes... this was not that. I ended up on my back with her left knee across my cheek and her right leg across my chest. She was face-down in the dirt. She lifted herself up and crawled off of me, kicking me in the face as her boot came across.
She crawled in a circle til she found me, "Thanks. You're stronger than you look."
I played it cool. "It was nothing. You're lighter than you... than..."
It was said. And I had said it. "I mean... dammit."
On all fours, hovering over me, lips pursed, she just shook her head slowly.
I only opened my mouth to speak, but never got the chance.
"Save it. You're what... thirty?"
"Thirty-one..." I answered sheepishly.
"And still single."
"It's a conundrum."
It was an un-smooth and awkward moment of perhaps biblical proportion, but somehow it still seemed like one of those moments you never wanted to end. She stayed there a little longer than necessary. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered... I touched her. In her touch, there had been... nothing. I felt the possibilities of her association with Thessyna being re-shuffled, with the new information added. As impossible as it was to not see one in the other, it was unfair to Nicole, and some part of me knew it never would be fair, until I solved the mystery.
"You know... from a distance, I wasn't really sure, but up close" she nodded, "you're really not very attractive."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
"I can see why. "
She got up to her feet and stepped over me on her way to her backpack. I pulled myself up and gathered my bearings. She dusted herself off and looked briefly over the edge.
"Climbing that tree was a good idea," she said.
"Hell yeah, it was! If we hadn't climbed up here, we'd still be... well, we'd be right over there."
"Yeah. Plus, from here, we can see... up there a little bit."
"Yeah," I played along, "now we can see..."
And there it was.
Protruding from the canopy, ahead of us maybe half a kilometer, and a bit off to the left, the rock tower stood nearly twenty meters tall--a five... maybe six-story building--unmistakable. A steep hillside descended to the forest floor, and the tower separated itself from the hill, creating a gap between them and the appearance of a freestanding structure.
"That's the rock tower. That's where we're going," I informed Nicole.
"Holy... How in the world did that get there?"
"I guess we'd better go find out."
Unlike the mysterious wood-built structures, we had no trouble keeping the rock tower in sight as we approached the winding trail. The path curved around the tower on its north face between it and a sheer granite stone face rising up on the opposite side of the trail. Layers of foliage covered the first few meters of its base. Young shoots, established bushes, and branches reaching down from overhanging limbs, all pushed aside, revealed generations of vines having crept their way up the grey stone in search of sunlight.
"What are you looking for?" Nicole asked.
"I'm not sure. There's a... I don't know, like a riddle... 'when you reach the stone tower, you must go right to see what's left.' No, 'you must turn right to see what's left.'"
"'Turn right to see what's left?' What does that mean? Where did you hear this riddle, anyway?"
"You seriously wouldn't believe me if I told you. I'm not sure what it means, though. I figured I'd start here and just make my way to the right, along the face of the tower."
"Well, you're not going to go very far to the right. It drops off again over here. It's too easy, anyway. 'Turn right to see what's left... what's left. Does that mean 'what's left' like, the opposite of right, or 'what's left' like, what remains?"
"I really don't know," I said as kept digging through nagging vines.
"Well, how old is the riddle? Was it translated from another language, you think? If so, it probably means 'what remains,' because the cleverness of it is only clever if its origin is English."
"You're into riddles, eh?"
"Nope. I'm just not into wasting time digging through vines to look at a rock, so if I can help speed things along..."
"Hmm... an outdoor enthusiast who's not into adventures."
"It's possible your idea of adventure and mine are just two different things."
If she only knew...
"How did they know you would be coming from the west? Maybe turning right is actually the other side of the trail."
I liked the theory, though my real source had actually been quite aware I'd be coming from the west. "That's a good point, look around over there. I wish I could tell you what to look for..."
"Obviously... I'm looking for a mummified corpse with a hole in his skull clutching a map of Europe."
"Obviously."
"No, seriously, look!" she called.
"You're kidding me." I fought my way back through the dense vegetation to see what she'd found. It was a battle getting back out of the rough. When I finally broke through, I tried to see what she was looking at. "What is it?"
"This? It's nothing. You were right... I was just kidding."
I just looked at her in the way a man might look at someone who just told him to fight his way out of a small jungle to see something that wasn't actually there.
"Do you smell something?" she asked again.
"No, we were even on that after the tree thing."
"Exactly, now I'm one up."
I found myself in a dad pose--hands on hips, tapping fingers, looking off into the distance.
I figured, if I was going to look like a dad, I might as well say something dad-like. "You know, two wrongs do not make a right."
She had the perfect retort, "Ah-ha, but three rights... make a left."
The clever quip landed us in a stare. Three rights make a left.
"Turn right to see what's left," we said in unison.
"What if that's it?" she said excitedly. "We have to turn three rights... coming from the west, make three rights."
"Where?" I asked, almost rhetorically.
"When you reach the stone tower! Look!" She hurried back to where we'd first approached the tower, "Okay, if we're approaching from the west, when we reach the tower, we turn right."
"But there's a drop-off."
"I know! You need to climb down there," she insisted.
"Uhhh... no."
"Uhhh... yeah. You didn't think you would just walk right there, did you?"
"Actually, yes. She said, '...turn right to see what's left,' not 'climb down a... friggin' cliff to see what's left.'"
"Relax, Reid, I'm messing with you. I just wanted to see if you'd try it."
"What? Dammit, I was half-way to figuring out how to do it."
"Oh, I'm sure you would have had it."
"Damn skippy! If we need to climb down a cliff to turn right, then I'm gonna figure out how to climb down the cliff."
"Right, but you wouldn't turn right before the tower because you wouldn't turn right again, away from it--that wouldn't make any sense--so you turn after the tower, and keep turning right, around the tower, until you're facing left, back on this side." She carefully looked over the drop-off, hoping to see something... at all. "Come on!"
Convinced of her theory, she hurried along the path to the far side of the tower. There, she started digging through the foliage just as I had, but on the ground. She found something--a large, flat stone buried beneath the soil. She cleared it off until it revealed its edge opposite her. Crawling forward, she reached down over the edge, "There it is! Another one! It's a stairway!"
"Are you serious?!"
"Yes, look!"
She squeezed to one side so I could verify her discovery. "No way! You found steep stone steps!"
She cocked her head a tad, "Stacked," she added.
"Nice, yes. Stacked steep stone steps... where do they go?"
"I'm gonna guess... down?" she suggested with a dash of sarcasm, taking her next step without clearing away the dirt and vines. She stepped carefully, making sure each stone was both present and steady before treading down onto it.
We had turned right, but as we found out later, we had sidestepped the literal translation of the clue, failing to simply look back to see what was left. Slowly making our way down, we never noticed what had actually been to our left as we'd reached the stone tower. Impossible to recognize from our perspective on the trail, and immediately above where Nicole had pretended to see the mummified corpse, an enormous angry-looking face had been carved into the granite wall on the north side of the trail--a fearsome warning for travelers to never stray from the path.
The stacked steep stone steps wound their way around, to the right, to the other side of the monolith, as Nicole had predicted, to the bottom of the drop-off we'd assessed from above.
Another curtain of vines draped the wall at the ancient stairway's anticlimactic conclusion.
It appeared to be a dead end, so we started pushing aside the vines again, looking for another hint... some kind of clue. No clues were to be found on the wall, in fact, there was one area where there wasn't even a wall. The vines had hidden an entrance into the mountainside. Adventure insisted we proceed.
Dark. Quiet. I pulled out my cell phone.
"Don't waste the battery," she said. "I've got a flashlight in my pack--left side, top zipper. It's chrome."
I dug into the pocket and pulled out the light. "I'll go first," I said. She stepped aside and followed closely at my side. Man-made, for sure... short enough for me to reach the ceiling, maybe four meters wide, dry dirt floor, weird smell.
Her voice echoed slightly as she spoke softly, as if not to wake whatever might be in the cave, "Who doesn't carry a flashlight?"
"I usually bring a solar charger for my phone. I didn't think of it." I whispered back, advancing cautiously.
"This feels like a really bad idea. I keep thinking about those hikers that went missing."
Her little chrome flashlight crept along the ground in front of us, seeking out obstacles and potential pitfalls. It was useless against the deeper darkness straight ahead.
I asked her, half hoping she'd say yes, "Do you want to go back?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Okay, let's... let's regroup. Look for tracks on the way back--animal, human, anything, okay?"
"Okay."
"Do you smell anything? I just smell dirt."
"Yeah, I don't smell anything weird."
"Nothing musky, like an animal... nothing putrid, like a dead animal..."
"I smell something, but no, not that. It smells more like chemical than organic," she said.
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. So let's do this: let's pull these vines apart and we'll tie them open so we can get some more light inside, and you know what, screw it. I'm just gonna use my phone to get better light on the ground, and you can use the flashlight to look around more."
"Yeah, I guess... if we're going back in. I mean, we have to go back in, right? We can't just leave and never know what's in there."
"I think it's worth a little more time to check it out, yeah, but I'm not pressuring you at all. If you're not down, seriously, at any time... you say you want to bail and we'll bail."
We pulled the leafy curtains to the sides. Lifted away and allowing light, the arrangement actually looked pretty professional.
"Do you want to make a torch?" she asked. "Then you won't have to use your battery."
"Heck, yeah. Good idea." It was one of those times when I had the same idea, but didn't say it, then someone else throws it out. I hate when that happens.
"There's a massive sap ball on that tree to your left if you can reach it. You should be able to get two good pine cone wicks from what's there."
"I'm on it."
I located a couple of prime pine cones and twirled them in the sap that had oozed from the same tree. Using a little stick, I was able to push a lot of it further down between the scales. I heard Nicole chopping at a sapling nearby, making a long handle. The second cone wick didn't go quite as smoothly as the first, but I eventually got it pretty well coated before making my way back to the entrance where she was already operating on the handle. She had cut two of them. Good thinking.
"Nice cones," she quipped.
"Thanks. They're real, too."
She had split the end of the first stick, about a third of the way down. I whittled a short twig down and broke it off for her to wedge into the cut separating the two halves. We repeated the process to complete a cross-cut, creating four prongs. Once the handle's end was flayed out enough, I placed a pine cone into the prongs and she knocked out the twigs, causing the prongs to clamp down on the cone. Voila. One down, one to go.
The second torch completed, we were ready to brave the dark again. "Okay, are you feeling it?" I asked.
"Yup. I feel good. We've got two genuine primitive survivalist torches, I've got three pockets full of leaves for dropping bread crumbs along the way, and I'm going to text our GPS location to a friend in case we're never heard from again, with instructions to turn to the north on the east side of the rock tower."
"Very thorough. I'm impressed."
"Well, luckily, one of us came prepared."
"Ah, but what you don't realize is, before I left on this journey, I traded a cow for these magic beans..."
Even her grin can be sarcastic. She handed me a torch and looked up at me as she walked by, "You really need to shave."
She cruised into the dark portal as casually as if she were walking into a pub. I instinctively rubbed my palm on my chin and cheek, verifying the necessity. Yeah, I definitely could've used a shave.
"You coming?!"
"Yeah, sorry." I called into the darkness as I ducked inside.
She waved the flashlight until I caught up to her. "I think we should go a little bit further with just the flashlight," she suggested, "then we'll let our eyes adjust once we're away from the entrance, and light a torch. We keep going until it burns out, then we head back using the other."
"Solid plan. I like it. One caveat though--same as before--if at any time you want to call it quits, we'll head back immediately, no arguments, no whining."
"I get it. I think we're good, though."
"Good, because I'm not scared. Are you scared?"
She scoffed, "I'm not scared. You seem scared."
"I'm not scared. I just thought you might be scared."
"Nope. Not scared..."
I'm not going to lie, I was scared. "Are you ready to go then?" I asked.
She hesitated. "I think so."
"Okay. You take the flashlight."
She made an excellent observation, "These torches should last a good ten or twelve minutes each..."
"Yeah, probably."
"We're going to cover a lot of ground in ten minutes. If we have to leave in a hurry, that's going to be a pretty long trip to get out."
"Well, if we need to run back, I promise you," I said, "I'll be behind you the whole way."
"Yeah, trust me, whatever's in this cave, if we need to run, I guarantee you're gonna be behind me."
"I believe it. I've seen you in full sprint. Are we far enough in to light up a torch yet?"
"Not yet. We can go as far in as we were before, don't you think?"
"Alright, yeah."
"What is that smell?" she asked rhetorically.
"I don't know... it's kind of... unpleasant."
"Not the word I would have chosen."
"No... I had a few... you know... there were some other options. I swear, I've smelled this before, though."
"Well, this is as far as we got last time."
"Okay, well, let's take another couple of steps, then it'll be official."
"Done. We're two steps further in. Let's celebrate with the lighting of the torch," she mused.
She had her lighter ready to go. With a click, the tiny flame lit up our tiny space. I held the torch so the wick was away from us, making sure not to hold it vertically as the sap has a tendency to drip when it melts. She approached the wick with the flame.
"Have you been dropping your bread crumbs?" I asked.
She dropped the lighter to her side, extinguishing it, leaving us in pitch blackness again, "Aw dammit! The leaves! I had them all ready to go. Yes, I've been dropping the bread crumbs. Is there anything else you feel like you need to question me about?"
"You have a lot of pent-up anger inside."
"I do, actually."
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, trying to equal her sarcastic demeanor.
"Oh I do, I really do, it's just that hhhuh..."
I heard her pulled away, her breath stolen in the middle of a word, then silence.
"Nicole!" I reached for where she'd been standing but felt nothing but air. "Nicole! Say something! Kick the ground if you can! I can't see you!"
Only darkness. I squatted down to my knees and felt the ground, inching forward toward... nothing. I held the torch like a club, ready to swing. She had the flashlight and the lighter. I was helplessly blind, reaching out with my left hand, ready to swing with my right, scratching in the dirt with my foot just to make sure there was still earth below me as I inched forward as fast as could, trying to find her. I stopped to listen... then called again, "Nicole!"
I heard a click. I froze and listened for another, hoping to get even the tiniest inclination of which direction to go, how far away. Suddenly I realized I could see the dust in the air around me. I looked up from my squat, still reaching in the dark. She was standing against the wall like James Dean with one foot casually resting against it, one hand on the back of her neck, the other holding the lighter, illuminating the stoic expression on her face.
I was ninety-seven percent relieved, two percent pissed-off, and one percent mortified by my ridiculous posture, but the more satisfied I became with her safety, the faster the pissed-off and relieved switched places. I stood up straight, jaw noticeably clenched. Her little impish smile turned to something different... something sincere. I saw a tear drop from her eye. My heart was pounding with adrenaline and anger, but the flood slammed into a concrete dam, built in a split second, by a single falling tear.
It fell on her wool shirt, leaving a tiny dark spot. My eyes glanced to the spot, to her face, to the spot, to her face. Her thumb slipped off the lighter, leaving us once again in complete darkness.
"I'm sorry."
Next chapter - theprose.com/post/717295
Part One : theprose.com/post/705387