Page 62 of It Happened on the Lake

Life had changed.

Big time.

He slid behind the wheel and switched on the engine before cranking the radio up and reversing onto the street, gravel spinning beneath the Jeep’s big tires. Jaw set, he hit the gas, pushing through the gears as he drove to the old logging road, fifteen miles into the surrounding hills. The rain of the days before had stopped, and the night was bitter cold, winter in full force, but the moon was visible through gauzy, slow-moving clouds.

He was out of town in minutes, winding upward on the old county road through the forests of Douglas fir and past the unlocked gate to the private road owned by a logging company. The gravel was sparse, the potholes many, and the dense old-growth trees knifed upward to the night sky. Eventually the access road ebbed into twin ruts where dry weeds scraped his undercarriage. He drove until he reached the wide spot in the road where Chase’s ’63 Chevelle was already parked. Once Chase’s prize possession, now the metallic blue paint job was splattered with mud.

Chase sat behind the steering wheel, obviously waiting for him, but as the beams of Rand’s headlights washed over him, Chase climbed out.

Rand parked and stepped into the dark night.

“’Bout time you showed up,” Chase said, shaggy blond hair visible in the faltering moonlight. He was wearing a fringed jacket and battered jeans. A string of hippie love beads was visible at his throat.

“My mom called,” Rand explained. “I had to talk to her.”

Chase mocked him in a boyish, high-pitched voice. “My mommy called.”

“That’s right.” Without another word, Rand led the way, using a flashlight to illuminate the familiar trail that rimmed the canyon, where, far below, the river rushed. He and his friends had spent hours at this spot on the river, drinking beer, smoking joints, getting all kinds of high to skinny-dip and hunt and fish or just party.

But not tonight. Not this cold night in February where the earthy smell of the forest was all around, a brittle wind rustling through the branches overhead.

Chase had called, said he wanted to meet. Alone.

So here he was, and as they reached the rocky cliff overlooking the river twenty feet below, Chase reached out, catching him by the elbow. Rand stopped, and they faced each other in the darkness.

“What’s up?” Rand asked, his breath fogging the cold air.

“I just wanted to say good-bye and tell you to keep your ass down over there.”

“Bullshit. You could have said that on the phone.”

A pause where all they could hear was the sound of the river. “I wanted to see you, man,” Chase said, but there was more to it. Rand knew as much. He’d known Chase all of his life, and he could tell when something was bothering him. Tonight he thought it ran far deeper than concern for his best friend heading to war.

“Okay, so you’ve seen me.”

“Fine.” Chase reached into the pocket of his jacket, found a joint and a lighter, lit up. He handed the joint to Rand, who had a toke, held the smoke, and waited for the high, along with Chase’s real reason for insisting they meet up here. Away from everything and everyone. He passed the joint back, and Chase took another drag before letting out the smoke slowly.

Rand waited. Waved off another hit. “Spill it.”

“Okay.” Chase nodded. “So, I know you’re going to ’Nam and that’s cool and all, but it’s not for me.”

“You’ve got a deferral.” Chase was a student at the University of Oregon in Eugene. “There’s a chance you can ride out the war.”

“Nope. Not an option.”

“Because—?”

“Because I flunked out.”

“You’re kiddin’.” Chase was an A student, or had been in high school, as well as a big-time athlete, lettering in three sports. He’d been focused on his future and intent on not screwing up his life.

“No, definitely not kidding.” He drew on the joint again and then added, “My old man is gonna kill me when he finds out.”

That was a little extreme, but there was no doubt Thomas Hunt would be pissed as hell, and he wasn’t afraid to take it out on his kid. “So what’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t know, man, that’s just it. I can’t go to Vietnam.” Chase was shaking his head violently. “I really can’t. I’d go crazy.”

Rand bit his tongue as a gust of bone-cold wind swept through the forest, catching in Chase’s hair.

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