Page 46 of Wild Child
Ellie nodded, but hadn't spoken a word in over thirteen minutes. She kept her gaze ahead, her eyes roving. The Alpine Crest trail area lay firmly northwest of where we stood, but only by a few miles. Her eyes lingered in that direction enough for me to know that she had a new stressor. Steve puffed along behind me. This far into the forest, Kimball seemed to lose his weird attention on his "friend."
For hours, we'd cut across terrain I would have rather not dealt with. Long grasses gave way to scraggly, knee-high brush up rolling mountain slopes. Mixtures of rocky ground and thick vegetation in the low parts slowed us down to a dusty crawl, just as Ellie predicted. The adventure of it would have been fun if it were just me and Ellie and Thor, or if Kimball had an off button. But the novelty of the new hike had worn off when I saw the flowing, rocky ridges that awaited us.
Scraggly brush, impossible ups and downs, and an endless supply of intense alpine sunshine that never let up.
Meanwhile, Kimball had never seemed happier.
Neils’ warning ran through my head while I hiked, bringing up the rear, near Steve. The only benefit of Kimball’s running mouth was my chance to get to the bottom of this strange situation. While Kimball and Ellie scrambled ahead of us, I purposefully hung back with Steve. We faced a hand-over-fist climb up a steep slope. Despite his long legs, he struggled with the increasing altitude and had slowed.
"You good?" I asked Steve.
He hiked half-bent over as we scrambled up a hillside, attempting to gain another ridge. The afternoon sun lay heavy on my back, clearing the morning humidity haze. Now, everything felt hot and dry. Rocks baked in the sun as we scrambled past them. Their heat expanded into my shoes, my pants, my skin. Most of the last hour had been two steps up, one slide down. Steve often looked as if he didn't move a step, even though he tried.
Steve nodded.
"This kind of hiking can really suck sometimes," I said.
No response.
Right. Might need a new tack.
"You're a quiet guy. Is that why Kimball talks so much?"
He glanced ahead of us, but didn't say anything. There probably wouldn't be another chance when Kimball wasn’t watching Steve like a hawk, so I leaned into the quiet. Time to press my luck.
"You and Kimball good friends?"
Steve looked at me from the corner of his eye. He wiped a meaty arm across his brow and stopped.
"No."
Finally, the truth.
"Did you really want to come here? I mean, it's no secret there's weird tension between the two of you. And he's a lot more excited about this than you."
Steve squinted ahead of him, then bent back to his task. Rocks scrambled beneath his feet as he started back up. Beneath the sound, I heard a quiet, "Yep," before he returned his attention to the hillside. Dust coated his arms and legs. He walked like a tired donkey. What pushed him so hard?
Why was he here?
I remained a few steps back and to the side in case he plummeted down the hillside. Clods of dirt and small pieces of rock plunked behind him. At the top of the little rise, near clumps of thick bushes and some trees, Kimball glanced back for a moment. Seeing us separate and not far away, he turned back to speak with Ellie. I quelled a rush of jealousy. Kimball had no real hold on her attention, even if he wanted one.
Still, I didn't like him thatnearher. Too skeevy.
Their conversation drifted toward us as we closed in. I readjusted my pack across my shoulders, gratified that my left shoulder hadn't struggled with the trip so far. The pack was heavy, but all the work I'd put into recovery seemed to pay off so far. Later, after a few days, it might be a different story.
"Seems like a great place to live." Kimball had his thumbs hooked into his backpack straps. "Adventure awaits, and all that. Mountains. Exciting stuff. Are winters bad here?"
He strapped on a huge smile when Ellie looked his way, but her expression didn't change. She murmured a response. When she turned to look to the north, his amiable brightness dimmed. His tone had a bit of strain in it, like he fought for something to talk about. Ellie never spoke out of obligation, which meant he probably struggled to know what to say next. His conversation reminded me of a nervous tic. A compulsive effort to stop the silence.
The whole damn thing was a moving puzzle, and I didn't like it.
It didn't take a genius to realize that Ellie's jaw was tight, shoulders pulled back. Even though they'd stopped hiking, she didn't take off her pack. She studied the ridges in front of her with a ruffled forehead like she'd missed a clue.
Something wasn't right.
Steve grunted when rocks slid beneath his feet, sweeping him farther down the mountain. This time, he recovered quickly, and with what seemed to be the last of his energy, he pushed himself up the last few feet. Explosively landing at the top, he dropped to his knees on a clump of grass. His chest heaved from the final exertion.
Kimball hardly spared him a glance. I gained the ridge and put myself closer to them. The sun had long been sinking toward the horizon, and I guessed we had an hour or so left of daylight, with the dredges of light for another hour after that. Full dark would descend soon enough, and I wanted dinner.
