Black Stump Ridge (20 page)

Fred thought about the cover to the cistern. “You might be right. Let’s see how it looks when we get done down there.”

“Fair enough.” Johnny started downhill, zigzagging through the trees. Fred looked to his right but saw no sign of the other two. After adjusting his pack and slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he followed Johnny into the valley.

•

“Hey, Dave!” Peete shouted. “Wait up a minute!”

“Okay,” Dave wheezed. “I need to catch m’breath anyway.” He stopped. His chest heaved as he struggled to regain his breath.
I need to spend more time in the gym and less in the kitchen,
he told himself.

Peete stopped in front of him. Dave was inwardly pleased to see his friend was panting, too.

“Y’know, I been thinkin’,” Dave puffed as he leaned back against a nearly naked oak tree. “We could cover more ground if we split up.”

“I don’t know,” Peete replied. “That might not be such a good idea. It’s what the white people always tell the black folks in the monster movies.”

“Ha! I don’t see any monsters - just lots of rocks and trees and leaves and shit. It’s not like summer where you can disappear in three steps. Besides, we’re both wearin’ Day-Glo so we kinda stand out.”

“True,” Peete allowed. “Whatcha got in mind?”

Dave shrugged. “I dunno. I guess maybe one of us take the high ground and the other the low. We could still see each other easy enough, but our search are would be wider.”

Peete nodded. “True enough. Plus, we could see inside more low places and thickets that way, too.”

“Exactly.”

“You want high or low?”

Dave looked around and then pointed up and to the left. “How about I take the ridge line up there and follow it that way a mile or so? You go down there and follow the low ground and stay kinda parallel to me. We can meet up over there and decide what to do next.”

“Sounds good to me. If you find something fire a shot in the air if you don’t see me and I’ll do the same.”

“How about three shots? I know that sounds like an old movie cliché but at least we won’t confuse it with someone bagging a deer on the next hill.”

“Listen.”

Dave stopped talking. Aside from the wind soughing through the leafless branches he heard nothing and said so.

“My point exactly. I ain’t heard a gunshot all morning. Why waste the ammo?”

Dave laughed. “Good point. One shot it is.”

“Y’ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

Dave watched as Peete zigzagged carefully down the slope. Despite the bright orange vest it was hard to pick out his friend once he was deeper into the brush. He considered changing plans and then decided against it. The premise was sound, if part of the application was less so. How much danger could there be? Even if he and Peete did get separated, surely they would run into someone or one of the locals would find them.

So, why are you up here combing the woods for Charlie if it’s so damned safe?
His mind threw back at him. Since he had no answer, he shook his head and started toward the ridgeline.

•

“Hold up a minute.” Johnny shaded his eyes as he looked down the slope to his right. “What’s that down there?”

Fred walked over and looked. “I don’t see anything.”

“Down there,” Johnny pointed. “Down there at the base of that thicket.”

Fred raised his binoculars and looked closer. After a moment he shook his head sadly. “Just a log up next to a rock. Shadows made it look like somethin’ else, but that’s all it is.”

“Damn.” Johnny sighed. “I don’t know whether to be glad or sad, you know?”

“Yeah. Don’t know if we’re looking for friend or his body.”

“Not quite the hunting trip we planned.”

“Nope.” Fred looked around. “I wonder which one it is?”

“Which one what is?”

“I wonder which of these is the one they call Black Stump Ridge?” Fred pointed at some logs up ahead of them. “Let’s take a break up there.”

Johnny nodded. “Sounds good. Then you can tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Probably nothin’.” Fred said as he unslung his rifle and laid it across one of the logs. He stretched and then pulled out a bottle and took a deep drink of water.

“I ain’t buyin’ it,” Johnny replied.

“Well, it started the night we got here – when we were down at Purdie’s store. There was this big ol’ home drawn map stuck on the wall back by the coolers. Parts of it looked like somethin’ a kid might draw.”

“I saw that,” Johnny nodded. “It was drawn on a bunch of grocery bags all flattened out and taped together.”

“Yeah, that was it.” Fred looked out over the small valley and, for a moment, wished he had a cigarette. He’d quit two years earlier but still had cravings. “Old man was really proud of it. Said he’d been working on it since he was a kid. Probably explains why some areas seemed better, more like a grown-up had drawn them.

“Anyway, there was this one spot that looked like it had been drawn and erased and then drawn over an’ erased some more. It was all smeared. When I asked him about it, he got sort of, I don’t know, like he hadn’t meant for me to see that spot or didn’t think I’d ask about it. He looked at me sideways, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t – like beating off in the church bathroom.”

Johnny snorted. “What wonderful pictures you create.”

Fred chuckled. “You get the idea.”

“I guess I do at that. So, what did he say?”

“First he said it was nothing. If he’d left it at that, I probably wouldn’t be so curious. But, then he said something about it being an old mining camp, that no one went up there any more. I told him how I liked to explore places like that. He got upset, although he tried not to show it. I could tell he wished he hadn’t let me see that map, but it was pretty hard to miss since it took up so much wall space back there. He downplayed it, sayin’ that it wasn’t a good spot to explore. That the ground was thin, unstable – a person could get hurt up there by himself. I asked him if the place had a name. He didn’t want to talk about it any more, but he finally told me it’s called Black Stump Ridge.”

“That’s a strange name. I wonder why it’s called that? I mean, most stumps look black when they get old or wet.”

“Damned if I know. He said he didn’t know, either. That might even be true. Still, I’d probably have let it go even then if he hadn’t changed the subject the way he did.”

“What do you mean?”

Fred grimaced as renewed anger flared for a moment. “Oh, he started all that redneck bullshit about Peete. Said it might not be safe if someone saw our ‘colored’ friend in the woods by himself – especially with a gun. He pissed me off, so I pushed some of his buttons. Pushed’em pretty hard, too.” Fred chuckled. “I think he was so mad that if he hadn’t already promised my mom, he’d have kept the keys and run us off.”

“Okay, so what was the other thing?”

“Other thing?”

“You said that the incident at the store was the first thing. That implies at lease one other thing, maybe more.”

“Yeah, I guess it does.” Fred slapped his left breast pocket and then looked at Johnny sheepishly. “I guess some habits die harder than others, don’t they?”

“Like what?”

“Like reachin’ for cigarettes that aren’t there any more.”

“Can’t help you there, partner. Never picked that one up.”

Fred just waved his hand. “No sweat. It’s just the ghost of the habit I used to have. I don’t need one. Anyway, the second thing. God, was it only yesterday? It seems like this has been going on for a week already. Remember when Mom took me aside?”

Johnny nodded.

“Well, she wanted to show me something. Turned out it was my uncle’s journal. She said she meant to give it to me last summer – that it was important I that read it. She also told me that none of us should go up on Black Stump Ridge – not for any reason. She wouldn’t go into detail, just kept telling me I needed to read the book.”

“Did you?”

“No. I meant to, but everybody was leaving. I planned to do it last night after everything settled down, but there was all that ruckus about Charlie. I forgot all about it.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” Fred agreed.

“You think it might have something to do with Charlie?”

“Why do you ask?”

“There must be some reason why you’re thinking about it now.”

Fred looked across the hollow as he sorted his thoughts. “Maybe. Maybe not. I just don’t know. Let me run this past you: suppose there’s somethin’ going on up on that ridge and folks around here don’t want strangers to know about it.”

“Like moon shiners?” Johnny raised one eyebrow. “Bootleggers?”

“That’s not as far-fetched as you might think,” Fred countered. “They still do that in these hills, though it’s not as widespread as it used to be.”

“At least you’re not talkin’ about inbred mutant hillbillies,” Johnny wiped his brow in mock relief. “I don’t think I’m ready to deal with something like
Wrong Turn
or
The Hills Have Eyes.
Those were some bad movies. It would just be too sad if there really was something like that going on.”

Fred thought for a moment and then laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. There’s somethin’ going on up there, but I doubt that it has anything to do with Charlie’s disappearance. I’m afraid the reason we can’t find him is more mundane. He simply doesn’t want to be found.”

“That’s what I believe.”

Fred stood and stretched. “I think I’m going to read that journal tonight – especially if we don’t find Charlie.”

As Johnny stood both of his knees popped like rifle shots. “Ain’t getting old a bitch?”

Fred rubbed the small of his back. “You got that right, brother. I don’t know how many more years I can keep this up.”

“I think this will be the last time any of us does this,” Johnny said, his voice heavy with sadness. “No matter how this turns out with Charlie, I just don’t think it’s gonna happen again.”

“You may be right.” Fred felt a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with exertion. “Let’s get back t’ searchin’ so we can go get warm again.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Johnny began the descent into the hollow close behind Fred.

•

Dave looked over his shoulder one last time before crossing the ridge and descending to the other side. Peete appeared to be standing in front of a thicket near the bottom of the hollow but Dave couldn’t be certain. The trees were thicker than he thought. He considered calling out to Peete and having him come back but decided against it. They could cover more ground apart than together and Dave was driven to find Charlie before nightfall. One cold night alone in the woods was enough for anyone, even someone as pig headed as Charlie.

Dave glanced at the tree trunks. If the adage about moss on trees was true, then he was on the northern slope and heading south. He looked closer. The tree trunks appeared darker and wetter. The moss was greener, almost emerald in hue.

The slope grew steeper. He slowed his downward progress by bracing against the tree trunks as he caromed down the hill. At the bottom, his left foot splashed ankle deep into a clear stream. The icy water immediately penetrated his boot. He grimaced as he yanked it from the rivulet. Within moments his foot was numb.

He leaned against a tree as he held his foot up. He took mental inventory of his backpack. He’d packed food, extra water, a flashlight, and a length of rope. No dry socks. He couldn’t continue the search like this. He needed to return to the cabin to change his shoes and socks. He had to find Peete and tell him what happened.

As Dave started up the slope he saw movement to his right. About a hundred yards away he saw a girl or young woman squatting by the stream with her back towards him. How long had she been there? Surely she’d heard the commotion he caused by nearly falling into the creek. Was it possible she’d seen Charlie?

He changed direction. He closed half the distance when she looked up. He stopped and held up his right hand. He hoped she recognized his peaceful intent. The girl stood, her eyes wide.

“Young lady,” Dave kept his voice low, soft and even. “Please. I mean you no harm. I have a friend who’s lost. I’m trying to find him. Maybe you’ve seen him? He’s about …”

The girl turned and bolted before Dave could finish his description.

“Please!” He hobbled towards her. His left foot refused to cooperate. “Please, don’t run. I just want to find my friend.”

He lurched forward three more steps. He heard a loud
thunk.
Crushing pain enveloped his right leg. His momentum carried him forward and down. His arms pin wheeled for balance as the earth rushed up to meet him. The last thing he saw was a large, flat, wet rock headed for his face. He turned his head at the last moment. He struck the stone with a wet
smack
. Blackness wrapped him in its cold, dark embrace.

 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO