They pressed on up the rough grass track. Then, “Bonnie, are you hearing what I’m hearing?”
Bonnie stopped and listened.
“Yeah, guys’ voices,” she replied.
“What d’you reckon? Men or boys?”
“Haven’t the foggiest. Whatever they are, they sure sound as if they’re whooping it up.”
Andrea stopped, hand on hip, and listened some more. The whoops got louder. Men. A group of men, gotta be backpackers were headed their way.
More shouts. Bursts of coarse laughter rang out through the trees ahead. The voices:
“Hey, Wilbur. I fancy a bit o’ skirt! How ’bout you?”
“You’ll be lucky ’round these parts! Don’t see no skirt hereabouts. Can you see anything that vaguely looks like a skirt, from where you’re standing, Bud?”
“Not from where he’s standin’, he can’t. He’s busy takin’ a leak!”
“Aw, leave it out, Wilbur. Go get yourself another beer.”
Loud guffaws echoed through the dark trees.
Bonnie and Andrea tensed as they heard footfalls coming toward them on their left, through the forest undergrowth. The footfalls got closer, but they still couldn’t see the guys.
Then, “Shoulda brought that Nicole along. She’d oblige us, all three. Yessirree. An’ then ask for more!”
They heard whoops of laughter, lewd, suggestive. Then it simmered down to muffled, low-key banter.
Andrea and Bonnie couldn’t quite hear what was being said.
The next gust of laughter seemed a helluva lot nearer to where they were standing. Holding their breath, they looked at each other, wondering what to do.
“ ’nother can of beer, Wilbur?”
“Sure, Dean, chuck it across ...”
The slap of a hand catching a beer.
“They’re shit-faced ...” Bonnie whispered. “But it sounds like maybe they’re settling down. Taking a goddamn rest. And we’ve got to walk along the path, right past them—there’s no other way!”
“So what? We just ignore them. Pretend we haven’t seen them and just, well, just walk on by...”
“Oh yeah. Great. Andrea, haven’t you learned your lesson yet? We got rid of The Three Thugateers, now we meet up with a second bunch, with bells on this time. We had enough hassle with the first lot. Now we got these wiseguys who look as if they mean business. Serious business. And sounds like they’re gagging for it, too. And you say walk on
Bonnie fumed under her breath. She snatched off her straw hat and fanned her flushed cheeks with it. Andrea could be a real dork, sometimes.
“Hey! What have we here? Guys, come on over. Think we just found ourselves a coupla playmates!”
The speaker appeared to the left of them. Right out of nowhere.
How could they? We haven’t even reached them yet.
The guy leered at the two girls. He was drunk and it showed. His chunky red face creased into an idiot smile as he sized them up. He waved a can of beer in his left hand. A hunting rifle hung loosely in the other. He wore a red check shirt gaping open, one side tucked into blue jean pants. The other side hung down his thigh.
Thick, black hair covered his barrel chest.
Shit-faced, Bonnie muttered to herself.
A hootnanny hillbilly, straight out of Deliverance.
The guy’s unsteady legs were thrust into tan cowboy boots.
He’d appeared on the path, suddenly, out of the patch of pines. The girls gasped as they saw how near to them he really was. About five yards away and weaving in their direction all the time.
Answering shouts and a couple of disbelieving grunts came from the goon’s buddies.
“You’re shitting us, right?”
“Get your backsides on over here and find out!”
One shouted back that he’d be along when he’d had a pee.
Bonnie grabbed Andrea’s arm.
“Okay, let’s run for it!”
“You bet ...”
Mashing their hats well down onto their heads, they turned tail and ran back past the pines and onward down the grass track. Their packs pounded their backs like lumpy lead weights.
“Hey, come on back here, now ... We won’t hurt you none. Jest want to be friendly like. Come on back, y’hear?”
The thick voice taunted them over the rapidly growing distance Then, in a sing-song voice that sounded loud and close, “Don’t know what you’re missin’!”
He was on them.
Right behind and closing in.
Must be one of those gun-happy, bit cat killers with nothing better to do, Bonnie thought in disgust. Probably a whole bunch of them back there. Trackin’ down mountain lions, drinkin’ themselves shit-faced first, to get their courage up.
The girls stumbled over the rough grass, regained their footing and picked up speed again.
But the guy was still close enough for them to hear him grunting for breath as he chugged along.
Must be fit. I’ll give him that, Bonnie marveled. Must’ve flown down that track ...
A gunshot cracked overhead.
Then, “Christ Jesus! Aawwgg .”
Bonnie paused and looked back.
Their tormentor lay sprawled headlong on the track.
She saw him wave a fist in their direction, his red, swollen face mouthing obscenities.
She hurried along after Andrea.
The girls got away while the going was good. They reached the rock they’d been sitting on earlier and took the trail to Dead Mule Pass. Andrea seemed to have forgotten her objection to this particular route. They pounded along for a while, then slowed up slightly, figuring they’d cleared enough distance between themselves and the guys on the ridge to make a clean getaway.
Even so, they decided it was better not to linger.
They strode steadily down the track for some twenty minutes before Andrea spoke. She was almost breathless and her words huffed from her lips in short bursts.
“That was a narrow miss ... Couldn’t take anymore hassle from rampant males. Had enough of them to last me a lifetime ... Men are such chauvinistic PIGS. Thinking that every woman is fair game. AND, that no problem at all, women are just standing around WAITING for them to get into their knickers ... God, they’re such SHTT- heads!”
Bonnie slowed down to catch breath. She smiled philosophically.
“Yeah. Carried on past those guys and we’d have been dead meat for sure.”
“Bonnie ...”
“What is it?”
