Mercy caught up to her father only because he stopped and waited for her. She practically collapsed against him. Her breathing was heavy and clipped. He stood tall, a big smile on his face.
Before them the dirt path opened to a vast area of patchy grass and well-worn dirt squares with cast iron barbeque stations set between them in an effort to section off the area. This space could fit fifty or more hikers but only one tent stood at the far end. It looked more like an inflatable slug than a tent, certainly not like the dome- shaped ones Dad had bought this week. Ultra-light and ultra-warm. So far, the first claim hadn’t been true, so Mercy wasn’t holding out hope for a cozy sleep. She’d probably be shivering even with two sweatshirts and a thermal blanket.
“Isn’t this great?” Dad said.
He held out his arms as if someone were running toward him for a hug and walked toward the middle of the camping area. She followed. He spun around and reached for her with one, extended arm as if he wished to dance with her.
“Yeah,” she said. “Great.”
She took off her bag and collapsed next to it. Dad held his pose for a second longer and then sighed. He joined her on the grass. She wasn’t sure if she was in one of the proper camping spots or not and she didn’t care.
Dad patted her knee, which was hot and felt swollen. “You’ll be okay,” he said. “I guess we should have done a few practice hikes or used the old treadmill.”
“That dusty thing in the garage?”
“I bet it still works.”
“Sure about that?”
Gradually, Mercy’s muscles relaxed and her heart slowed. Her breathing normalized and for the first time since they started this hike, she noticed the rich, fresh smell of the trees. She had always heard that mountain air was good for you. They weren’t at the summit but they were close enough to feel the cool breezes that only blew up here. She shut her eyes against a rush of wind and felt like she was flying. Like she could lie down and be whisked away on a carpet of air. That breeze would prove very cold later when she wanted warmth but right now it was a cold pack to her flaming muscles.
“We’ll set up our tents and then . . .” Dad gestured to the tent at the far end, only he wasn’t pointing to the tent--he was pointing to dirt path that continued on up a grade that was gentle at first but which must get rapidly steep as the peak neared. The top of the mountain felt far away both in distance and height. Like it belonged in some other world, some fairy tale land of magic mountain people.
“Yeah, right,” Mercy said. “I’ve gone far enough.”
Dad held his smile. “Come on. The top. The summit. Getting there, standing on the top like a conquerer, don’t you want that?”
“It’s not Everest, Dad.”
He was staring off at the peak. “No, it’s not. But it is something.”
Was he thinking about his cancer? For him, would standing atop this stupid mountain be self-assurance that he could face the misery ahead, that no matter the pain he suffered he would prevail?
She almost started to cry thinking of her father in a hospital bed withering away while he talked about the time they had scaled Blood Mountain together.
“Give me some time to relax first, okay?”
“That’s my girl.” He patted her on the back. “I’ll get our tents up. Why don’t you eat something?”
She was about to say she wasn’t hungry when her stomach grumbled. She got an apple from her bag and ate it slowly, knees drawn up to her chest, one arm wrapped around her ankles. Her body had cooled and now the occasional breeze gave her quick chills. If only she had somebody to sit here next to her with his arm around her. Some burly guy with big arms, perhaps.
She laughed. God, she sounded like a middle-schooler.
Many of the trees around the clearing had already sprouted leaves and the evergreens stood as lush as ever. She expected there to be deer up here, maybe a whole family of them, and squirrels and bunnies, all frolicking together like some Disney film, but she didn’t see anything.
Somewhere, a crow made its distinctive call.
TWENTY-THREE
Victor had finished cleaning himself when the woman and her father entered the clearing. They sat for a while and talked but he couldn’t quite hear them, though the woman’s voice was like a sweet whisper on the wind. It teased his ears and he had to fight the urge to move closer. He had to stay in the woods. Had to wait for the right moment.
The woman ate an apple and then a sandwich while her father put up their tents. Two pop tents made from special material meant to withstand arctic temperatures. So laughable. If it was too cold for primal man to endure it, man was not meant to try. People spend too much energy going places they shouldn’t and attempting feats the universe never intended them to try. There was a word for that: hubris. Man was the most arrogant of animals and that self-centeredness blinded him to his vulnerabilities.
The day was soon when man would be taught his place. It was either harmony with nature or death.
Victor spread his toes into the cold dirt.
The important thing was that there were two tents. The woman had her own. His original snatch-in-the-night plan had changed but he always needed a back-up. He had to be prepared for anything.
A trio of crows flew overhead. They were messengers. They served distinct purposes. Their presence today on this mountain while Victor watched the girl eat her lunch and her father set up their tents meant that his forthcoming actions were not only welcome but blessed.
The universe decreed that this day would be Victor’s triumph.
TWENTY-FOUR
She needed more time to relax, so when Dad asked her if she was ready to head up to the top, she said her stomach hurt. Eating the food so soon after climbing the mountain. She felt like shit lying to him and felt even worse when he strapped on his bag and began the trek to the summit by himself. He was going to be by himself a lot soon, fighting against a disease intent on devouring him from the inside out.
Still, she couldn’t get moving.
When Dad had vanished into the woods again, Mercy took out her book and read a few pages but she wasn’t in the mood. The story always felt so immediate and dire and usually sucked her right in, but right now that fictional world felt as flimsy as a dream. She laid down with her bag as a pillow.
When she was a little girl, she used to lay out on the grass and watch the clouds for hours. She’d name the cloud creatures and march them through all kinds of adventures in the sky. When had she stopped doing that?
There were only a few thin clouds that stretched across the sky like those fake Halloween spiderwebs and Mercy couldn’t think of anything to imagine about them.
Arms pulled into the confines of her sweatshirt, she closed her eyes and let the breeze caress her face like flapping silk. She thought about Joel, which she knew was a really lame,
Their romance had been brief but there were times when he held her tight against his body and she never wanted to move. His hands curved around her sides and if he wanted he could have dragged her anywhere and she would have been helpless. She had wanted him to drag her places, the bed for instance, but he only ever held her tight. That was okay. It made her feel safe. She could go for one of those hugs now.
Something was moving behind her, in the woods. She opened her eyes but stayed still. The long, spider-web clouds were moving with the breeze and Mercy felt dizzy for a moment. Whatever was in the woods was moving slowly, each step a pronounced crunch.
She knew there were deer up here, maybe coyotes, too, but she hadn’t heard anything about bears. This couldn’t be a bear, anyway: the steps were too light. Unless it was a baby bear and that would mean the mother was around somewhere and if she found Mercy anywhere near her little cub . . .
