JUST A HIKE IN THE WOODS

JUST A HIKE IN THE WOODS
by Morgan Hazelwood

When Pat pulled into the slim line of parking spots on the side of the road near the trail, he was a bit startled that there were any spots available, much less that the small lot was half-empty. The sun was out and the day promised to stay dry.

He hopped out of his car and double-checked his backpack.

‘At the trail. Ready!’ Pat texted Fred, as he glanced at his phone’s clock. Fred was only ten minutes late, so far. He’d promised to do better about that.

Pat’s phone chimed. ‘Look behind you.’

A honk startled Pat and he jumped. Looking, there was Fred’s old blue SUV pulling into the lot.

He could be a bit of an ass. Pat walked up to the car and waited for Fred to open his door.

“Fred-fred, my man. How’s it going?” Pat called out.

“Pat! Anxious as ever to hit the trail,” Fred said, slapping him on the back a little too hard.

“Figured I’d hit the shitter at the gas station and keep from sullying nature.”

Pat double-checked the park’s posted map while Fred gathered his gear and his cameras. They wanted the orange trail and Pat grinned as he traced the path with his finger.

“Ready?”

“Just gotta text the wife I made it,” Fred said. “Then we’re good to go.”

Pat looked over the weather-worn papers stapled up next to the map, the regularly advertised used hiking gear, and a Missing Person sign that looked like something from a milk carton. As Fred finally caught up, Pat grabbed his walking stick, and they headed up the trail.

The trees were mostly bare, except for a few pines mixed in for a touch of green, plus some little saplings with the roundish leaves. Fred would know what those were, but Pat never remembered. He was here for the hike, the view, and the company.

The sun shone warmly down as they tackled the first light hills, but the crowd was thin today. A couple was walking their dog—clearly just here to go to and from the nearby picnic shelter, treating this like their neighborhood street and not a destination. If he lived closer, Pat might do the same. No wagging tails on this pup though, its owners were nearly dragging the little dachshund. Then again, small dogs always seemed irritable. Pat wanted to get a cocker spaniel. A cute pup with the long ears and low-key enough to just curl up on the sofa without crushing his leg or eating the furniture. He’d had a black one growing up, but thought a ginger one would be sweet.

“How’re Sharee and the girls?” Pat asked, as they stretched their legs and headed down a short little curve.

“Sharee’s been busy with work, but good. Mindy started school in September and loves it so far. And Amity is a sweetheart — when she sleeps. That kid never sleeps. Oh, wait, hold up,” Fred held up his hand as they came around the bend, on a bit of a cliff. The clouds were lovely, the mountainside arrayed in greys and browns and a little green. It was a gorgeous shot, so Pat waited patiently and enjoyed the view.

“Want me to get one of you?” Fred offered.

“Sure. It’ll look good on the dating sites,” Pat scoffed but moved to get into position. “Right?”

“You want them to think you’re adventurous,” Fred said. “A little left. Now chin up. There.”

“Think? What part of this isn’t an adventure, man?” Pat shook his head.

“Perfect, come check it out,” Fred said, looking at the little view screen. Pat jogged a step or two and looked. He had to admit, he did look pretty cool. Or fleek. Whatever the kids were saying these days.

They hiked back and forth up the switchbacks toward the first peak. His legs were working, his heart was pumping, but Pat wasn’t out of breath. There was just something about the smell of the woods in early winter.

“Whatever happened to Tasha?” Fred asked.

“She took a job in Columbus,” Pat said, hiking past him to get ready for a narrower bit.

“You didn’t want to go with her?”

“She wanted a fresh start. We were done, anyway.”

“I get it man, but you’re gonna have to bend a little if you wanna keep a woman.” Fred was behind him, but Pat could hear him shaking his head. He always did when Pat talked about his love life. Fred just didn’t get it, he and Sharee had been a thing since the second week of college.

At the top, the view was gorgeous. The full panorama of winter, looking stark and crisp, the mountains and valleys laid out before them, the thin, wispy clouds dancing in the bright, blue sky. They were about halfway into the hike out. The other peak overlooked a waterfall, exactly why Pat had been dying to make this hike for a couple of years now. Early winter was the perfect time, with the weather keeping the crowds away, and thinning out the leaves for the perfect view through the trees. Pat got a couple of shots with his phone, including a selfie, and then he was done. Fred, with his big, beefy camera, was just getting started.

Pat found a stump and pulled out his packed lunch.

“Eating already?” Fred looked back as Pat unwrapped his meatball sub.

“With this view? I figured I’d eat half now, while you were taking twelve billion and a half shots. Let me know if you need me to get you in one,” Pat offered.

Fred snapped a couple of shots of Pat, as he good-naturedly rolled his eyes and took a nice big bite of his sandwich. He held up his sandwich like a trophy for a few seconds. Then, Fred turned back to the view, and some close-ups on the leaves and—Pat wasn’t even sure Fred knew what he was taking pictures of anymore.

Half his sandwich gone, Pat wrapped the rest back up and pulled out a clementine. He’d tossed a handful in his backpack that morning. They peeled easily, and the peel didn’t count as litter. By the time he’d finished his second clementine, Fred was finally finishing his photoshoot for this mountaintop.

“You ready?” Pat asked before Fred could.

“You know it!” Fred sounded psyched.

Pat stretched a bit, and then let Fred take the lead. The path was growing more overgrown, the trees thicker and older. The first leg had held a lot of new-growth trees, Pat was pretty sure the mountain had been cleared for pasturage at some point, then let go when the feds bought it and turned it into a park.

It was slower going to the second peak. At least these were old east-coast mountains, not the young Rockies. The mountains were still tall, but they were worn and covered, not bare exposed rock. Most of the rocks that were going to slide had already fallen. They hadn’t seen another soul since they passed the first peak.

“Seems like everyone else is a slacker today. Just taking the three-mile loop,” Fred said.

“Yeah. It’s almost like we’re the only people in the world today.” Pat smiled.

Fred checked his phone. “Well, with this signal, we might as well be.”

They’d hiked tons of places. No signal was almost par for the course. The pair exchanged grins and hiked on.

Pat and Fred had met in college, one of those adventure clubs that took a trip a month. That’s when they’d first gotten into hiking. The other stuff was fun, but it could be expensive. And they both really liked the woods. Sharee sometimes came, but she was slower and quick to start complaining. ‘Sides, with the girls, they’d have just done the three-mile loop with the rest of the world. Amity would have wanted to be carried on the way back. They’d gone on hikes with Fred’s family before, but, with the promise of a frigging waterfall, they wanted to be sure nothing was going to stop them from making it to the end.

As they neared the mile-and-a-half, they hit a roadblock.

Literally.

There was a downed tree across the path and a small sign printed off-center that read, “trail closed.”

Pat and Fred exchanged looks.

“For one tree?” Fred’s left eyebrow threatened to elevate off his face.

“Hop it?” Pat asked, knowing the answer.

“Hop it.” Fred replied with a grin.

They hopped over the downed tree, and Fred pulled out his venison jerky. “Want some?”

“Nah.”

“Good trail food. Since sooooome of us didn’t stop for lunch.”

That reminded Pat, time for some water. It was easy to forget when you started hitting your stride during a hike. Especially a hike like this. The evergreens were thick here, the shade deep, and the wind was starting to bite. You didn’t think about water when you never felt the sweat.

The green was mostly gone, except the evergreen needles, and the sharp holly bushes. Mostly, though, the trees were empty and the leaves lay in brown drifts.

The downed tree must have been lying there longer than it looked because the trail was starting to get reclaimed by nature. Like a park ranger trying to stop them, the brush itself tried to snag Pat’s pants, and he was gathering a lovely collection of burrs. But, he’d dressed well for the hike, and pressed on, dodging another patch.

Right into a sharp branch. “Yeouch!” Pat was pretty sure that branch hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“You okay?”

A quick inspection found no splinters, but Pat flipped his backpack around to pull out an antiseptic wipe and a bandaid. Pat didn’t want blood on his shirt. “I got it.”

“Oh, hey, hey. Ticks?” Fred reached into his own pack, digging out a can of bug spray. “I wasn’t planning on getting this far into the brush.”

“Man, good idea.” Pat realized he hadn’t sprayed and took the can. “You been hydrating?”

Fred rolled his eyes but took a few quick chugs from his water bottle. Pat handed back the bug spray, and they pressed on. The trail markings were faint and the undergrowth thicker than you’d expect in an older growth section of forest.

Pat was beginning to worry they’d ended up on a deer path when they first heard the waterfall. Encouraged, the pair picked up their pace. It took a while, but just when they started to think they might be stuck listening but never seeing the waterfall for all eternity, Fred spotted it through the leafless trees.

“Oh, man! That’s awesome.” Fred said, flipping his camera lens off. It dangled by the cord as he took a few shots, then hurriedly led the way up the path to get the better view.

Pat followed, entranced by the water trailing down the rocks. Framed by empty trees, brown drifts of leaves, and crisp evergreens, the water fell down and down to crash upon the rocks far below. Winter always made a hike feel sharper, reminded a man how insignificant he really was.

He could tell from the cleared rocks and the debris along the edge in distinct lines that the river had been twice as high at one point. This summer had been rather dry, especially after all the rain of the previous year. No wonder even some of the evergreens were turning brown.

Every chance for this hike last year had rained. Not that they minded that much hiking in the rain, but it meant Fred wouldn’t be able to get the great photos. And the kids had been sick. And Pat had just gotten together with Tasha, and they were seeing if things would work. Obviously, they hadn’t, but Pat hadn’t known that last fall. It had been a great job opportunity for her, but Pat just couldn’t see moving — even for her. Maybe he should have. It was a couple of hours away, but he didn’t see Fred or anybody that much anyway.

Too late for that now.

“Want to stop for lunch?” It was a bit further past noon than they’d anticipated, but still enough time to get back to their cars before dark.

There was a picnic table at the second peak, and the trashcan had seen better days. Pat and Fred sat, soaking in the view, watching the river across the way splash into the pool far below. The rumble of the waterfall was surprisingly loud.

“What’s that?” Pat asked as Fred pulled out his lunch.

“Delicious, that’s what it is,” Fred replied, pulling out several pieces of deep-fried chicken, a flaky biscuit, and a styrofoam thing of mashed potatoes.

“I thought you’d gone all healthy, no fried, no processed food?” Pat asked, washing a bite of his sub down with a big chug of water.

“Yeah, yeah. In front of the kids, in front of Sharee, on days I actually hit the gym. But man, we’re in the mountains, in the middle of nowhere. I need real food for a hike. It’s not like I can go make a stupid protein shake if I get hungry here. I don’t want to waste that much water.”

“Good point. Wouldn’t it have been better warm?”

“This meal originally came with more than one biscuit.” Fred took a large bite of chicken leg and a look of happy contentment settled on his face. It had been years since Pat had seen Fred so relaxed. Thinking about it, it would have been before Sharee had gotten pregnant the first time.

Fred must have been hungry because he made short work of his meal, chucking the chicken bones into the woods, before trashing the empty container so far from civilization Sharee would never know.

“I have been craving that meal for you don’t know how long.” Fred packed up his backpack and stretched his back. “You ready?”

The clouds were thick in the sky. Nothing that looked like a storm, just enough to make the afternoon grey and dimmer. The wind picked up as the guys headed back toward civilization.

Pat and Fred had been following the trail for almost an hour and a half. They had to be getting close to the ‘trail closed’ sign. In fact, they should have hit it an hour ago, but maybe they’d veered off the path. Or been going slower on the way back, since they were relaxed and chatting. Pat was getting stressed and Fred kept talking and chatting. So relaxed.

“Fred-man, this isn’t the path.” Pat finally blew up. “I think we’re on a fucking deer trail. We need to head back to that big tree with the double split. I told you the trail looked clearer to the right.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The trail. We should have hit the trail closure a-fucking hour ago. It’s been a friggin hour and a half. We’re going the wrong way.”

“Shit! Has it been that long? Man. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I tried, you just kept going and I figured this was the right direction and we’d have to end up on the main trail eventually, but no such luck.”

“Dammit. Maybe Sharee was right. She’s been talking about getting me tested, you know. And the girls.”

“Tested for what? You’re not on drugs are you?” Pat and Fred had tried pot a few times, but not in years. At least not as far as Pat knew.

“ADD. Apparently, it looks more like daydreaming in girls, but they think some of my hyperfocus comes from that,” Fred said, following Pat.

“You’re kidding, right?” Pat asked, carefully leading Fred up the stupid deer trail back to the split.

“What?”

“Man, you’ve always been ADD. I thought you knew that? I was sure you’d been on Ritalin as a kid,” Pat said.

“Really?”

“Honest. I just assumed you knew. I shouldn’t have let you lead while you were all chill and distracted, this is totally my fault,” Pat said with a wry grin and picked up the pace. They were gonna have to rush to get back to the lot before dark, this time of year.

After thirty minutes, Pat and Fred were both getting anxious. The undergrowth had grown thicker, but there didn’t seem to be any other way through.

“This isn’t the trail!” Fred flung his hands up. “Now what?”

In the back of Pat’s mind, he’d been wondering the same thing for a while. Luckily, he’d come up with a solution.

“The waterfall. We’ll just follow the sound of the water back to the top and double-check the trail all the way down. You’ve got your flashlight, right?”

“Of course,” Fred said, nodding his head.

“Just be careful, the waterfall’s in the ravine,” Pat said.

It took another forty-five minutes, but they found their way to the edge of the ravine.

“Okay, we’re lower down and to the left of where the trail was. Let’s just go straight up that way,” Fred said.

They did. The underbrush was still thick, but with the water as their guide, they made it to the top. A little scratched, a little bruised, a lot tireder, but back to where they’d had their sandwiches, three hours before. The trail looked a lot less welcoming than it had that morning.

“Okay, as long as we make it back to the open trail before dark, we should be okay,” Pat said. Both of them set their jaws, took a cautious sip of their nearly empty water bottles, and headed back down the mountain.

Daylight was getting scarce, but Pat was pretty sure they were on the right trail this time. He knew they were getting close to the trail closure when they hit the burr-filled bushes along the path.

“I’ll message Sharee as soon as we get signal, let her know we’re running late.” Fred fought his way through the brambles. “You wanna visit?”

“Maybe next time.” Pat checked his fitness tracker.

They couldn’t be more than a hundred yards away.

But the trees were hungry.

Clambering over one of the downed saplings, Pat made a sharp sound and fell to the ground in pain.

“Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap,” Pat chanted as he clutched his ankle.

“Patrick?” Fred called him by his name. Pat knew that wasn’t good. But neither was his frigging foot.

“My fucking ankle. The ground was soft and I tripped on a root,” Pat said, feeling like a damned novice.

“Fuck. Can you walk?” Fred came over and offered him a hand.

Pat took the hand and slowly raised himself. They took three steps, Pat hissing sharply at each one.

“Fuck. I think it’s legitimately broken. I can’t walk on it.”

“Then I’ll give you a damn piggyback ride. We gotta get you out of here,” Fred said.

“We’re not going to get out of here like this. Not in the dark. The trail’s too steep. Look, it’s not that cold. If you can get me to the start of the side trail, just go get help.”

It took both their walking sticks, and a lot of yelling and cursing, but they made it back to the stupid sign. Darkness was falling.

“I’m leaving you my spare water, man, okay? You’ll be okay.” Fred said, making sure Pat had lots of leaves as insulation between him and the ground.

Pat ended up propped against a leafless tree, in the dim twilight of the forest. He dug through his pack and found his bottle of ibuprofen, and popped three, chasing them down with a single swig of water. He didn’t know how long it would take for Fred to get back. His phone still had no signal, so Pat popped it back on battery saver mode, but didn’t switch to Airplane mode. They might need it to track him. 5:38 pm. It should take Fred about two and a half hours to get down. Maybe thirty minutes to find a search party, then three hours to get back. Six hours. He could do it.

The first hour wasn’t so bad. He sang the American Idiot soundtrack to himself, mentally, not wanting to dry his throat out too much. Pat arranged the drifts of leaves to triple check that he wasn’t going to have the ground leach all the heat out of him, as he sat between the roots of the large tree he was leaning on, all nestled in. He wrapped himself up in the stupid crinkly space blanket the emergency kit always held. It managed to block the wind.

The second hour, he let himself eat one of Fred’s strips of jerky and one more swallow of water. The moon was coming up. The squirrels and deer were busy making their rounds, mostly ignoring the non-moving man at the foot of the tree.

Pat checked his phone. 8 pm. Fred should be finding help soon.

The moon had been full two nights before, and shone its pale white light down, through the trees, casting them in an unfamiliar light. During his hike when Fred had been taking pictures, their beauty had been familiar and welcoming.

Now, they were still beautiful. But a haunting beauty: dead and serene.

Pat was nervous and cold and hurting. He really should have admitted to Tasha he wanted to make it work. He should have applied for work in Columbus, tried long distance, at least made the effort to make it work. Now? There was no one he really needed to text to let them know he’d be home late. No one would notice.

At least he was the one who’d gotten injured. Fred had Sharee and the kids to chase after. He had a life and a future. Pat just had a job that could replace him in two weeks, and an old college buddy he went hiking with three or four times a year.

Pat jolted awake. He hadn’t even realized he’d drifted off. He looked at his phone. 3 am. Fred should have been back long before then. Pat couldn’t believe he’d slept so long in the cold, in the open. The pain must be getting to him. There was frost on everything now, glistening in the moonlight. Making everything colder. Sharper. Hungrier.

Pat must have slipped or something because the tree he was leaning on seemed to shift. He turned and saw nothing. Pat shifted again to get comfortable and sank a little into the leaves.

Spring trees are lean, but they know the spring is coming. Summer trees are full and plush, wanting for naught but rain. Fall trees grow quiet. And winter trees? Winter trees are empty and hungry and care naught for the sanctity of human life. Winter trees remember the time before civilization, when humanity worshiped them. Sacrificed to them.

The trees took that which they were due and fed.

Fred and the park rangers never found a body. Just an empty space blanket caught in the underbrush ten feet from where Pat had been waiting.

Fiction © Copyright Morgan Hazelwood
Image by Vytautas Šliuburys from Pixabay