The mountain

Fighting off his urge to light up a smoke, the view of the sky has Benny asking, “You never did say what happens after the stars have aligned."

Caught off guard, at first Vincent wants to lie, to make something up that is far from the truth but knowing that he can’t do that, tells Benny, “From what Lori said, four days ago a door opened and a whole bunch of bad leaked out.”

After hearing this, and quick to chalk this up to being a load of crap, a thought develops. Four days ago, Jane was alive. Washing over him is the cops at the door. Dressed in their official blues, it was the lady cop who told him the horrific news. There was no mistaking the sadness in her eyes or that sharp turn made as the two officers walked away. He didn’t know then what he knows now and though this does little to ease the pain, he says to Vincent, “Now you got me thinking that some of this bad got to Jane.”

Nodding his head, Vincent says, “You might be right, which makes me wonder what we are getting ourselves into.” Hand on the wheel and foot keeping that constant pressure on the gas pedal, Benny thinks about this. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough. We’re coming up on Cranberry.”

An eight mile ride through open country, by the time the two reach the barricade prohibiting further vehicle travel, there is a glow in the sky telling of morning’s approach. Checking his watch, they’re twenty minutes early and thinking it odd that there are no other vehicles parked nearby, Benny looks over to Vincent and says, “I wonder where everyone is at?”

“I was thinking that too. How early are we?”

“Twenty minutes if that. I’m getting out.”

Stepping into the crisp morning air, habit has a cigarette placed between his lips, and after the lighter is used and put away, Benny walks over to the wooden barricade that has seen better days. Leaning against it, focus is on the small clearing ahead of him. It is quiet, and after having another drag, looks over his shoulder after hearing the rig’s door shut. Walking his way is Vincent and after he comes alongside, there is a moment of silence before Vincent says, “I think this is a bust, and no one bothered to send us a memo.” Glancing at his wristwatch, and after noting the time, Benny says, “Yeah, so much for being the greatest scavenger hunt of the century.”

“Well, s**t, this is messed up.” 

Benny takes a drag and then says, “I’m thinking there might be a stream out there. We should go see.”

“I don’t know, hate for us to get turned around.”

“I have a compass; it’s in my fishing bag. What do you say?” Gently pushed to where he thinks less of himself and more about his friend, Vincent gives in. “Alright, I’ll grab the knapsack while you get your gear together.”

Walking back to the rig and after parting ways, Benny opens the back hatch. Up on the upper left and resting on poly coated eye hooks is the ultralight. Soft hands are needed in giving that gentle once over before rod and reel are set aside. Next is opening his fishing bag that has Benny reaching inside for the metal tin filled with hooks. There is plenty of fours and sixes. Snapping the lid closed, he puts the tin back inside the canvas bag before feeling around for the short glass jar filled with salmon berries soaked in secret sauce. The trout seem to like it and that is all that matters. Jar put away, another tin is opened and after counting the split shot, slips that tin back inside as well. A glance at all that is left within the canvas bag has Benny slinging the strap up and over his head and after making a slight adjustment, spies the keys dangling from the ignition switch that has him deciding to leave them where they are.

Hatch door shut, Benny and Vincent make their way around the barricade. For the most part, the ground underfoot is solid and thankful for that, the first rays of morning have found their way through the tree boughs that goes well with a warm breeze.  Even better is that there is no garbage about, the land seemingly untouched that has Vincent thinking about what Lori said. “The woods has changed.” He should have asked what she meant but he didn’t, instead, he listened to her go on about a crazed black stallion and stickmen that rob you of your soul. Passionate in telling him this, so far there is nothing out of the ordinary and thankful for that, he puts his fear at rest as the two make their way through knee-high grass. Slow and easy on their uphill climb, there is no trail, no hot coffee stand. Just the two of them walking into the woods.