I was relieved to see that it had been used several times before, the faint sign of civilization bringing a feeble sense of security. There was a wide, flattened grassy area where the tents were supposed to go, a bunch of logs gathered around an ash and charcoal-strewn fire pit and there were even roasting sticks propped up for marshmallows and hotdogs.
None of us wasted any time in getting ready. Mitch knew exactly how to get the tents out and ready and with Dex’s help it took no time at all. I took care of the llamas, which was basically getting the packs off them, brushing them down, feeding them and tying them up to a nearby tree, keeping the lead long and loose so they could graze around them. Mitch had insisted that if we let them loose they would still stick around, but I didn’t want to test that theory way out in the middle of nowhere.
And that we were. I had been to many remote places in my life. D’Arcy Island, Red Fox, but none of them felt as far away and isolated as this place did. It didn’t even have a freaking name that I knew of, we were just in some valley in the Canadian Rockies. The nearest town was miles and miles of mountainous cliffs and steep valleys away. Our walkie talkies still didn’t work, either, giving me that very terrifying feeling of being inconsequential. If I let myself dwell on it for too long, I’d start thinking about those stories where people go camping in the woods and are never heard from again until a hiker finds their frozen bodies twenty years later.
As if he picked up on that, Dex had me working extra hard and staying busy. At first I thought he was just bossing me around but he just wanted to keep my mind off things. And that’s why I didn’t mind preparing everyone’s dinner for them, even though Mitch could have been a little bit nicer about it.
At least the fire we had going was strong and hot and I made everyone tea to match. Mitch brought out the bourbon again and we all partook, making hot toddies to wash down the cardboard-tasting pasta.
“Is this the first time you been camping?” Mitch asked Dex.
Dex took a sip of his tea and looked at me briefly. “Perry and I were just camping on D’Arcy Island in November. Why? Am I lacking in the survival skills department?”
“What was on D’Arcy Island?” he asked. He sounded interested but his face looked stony and bored in the campfire glow.
“Ghosts,” I spoke up, watching for his reaction.
As expected he didn’t look too impressed.
In fact, he decided to take out a switchblade from his pocket and start stroking the blade. Yeah, because that didn’t scream psychopath or anything.
“Ghosts,” he repeated, sounding almost insulted. “You guys are f**ked up, you know that?”
Dex’s gaze was a few squints shy of a full-on glare. “Is this going to turn into a pissing contest cuz I’m pretty sure I could outpiss you.”
I pulled my coat around me tighter and leaned in closer to the fire. The night was growing colder and possible confrontation between Mitch and Dex was drawing shivers down my shoulders.
“No one’s peeing anywhere,” I said. I gave Mitch a quick glance. “And yeah we’re f**ked up. You would be too if you saw ghosts.”
He chuckled coldly. His cloud of breath bounced in the black air.
“So I’m guessing you believe what Rigby’s been spewing.”
Dex scratched at his chin thoughtfully as the flames danced on his face, making the hollows of his cheeks look sharp. His face was getting quite beardy again.
“Honestly, we don’t know what to believe,” he admitted. “Ghosts are one thing and Sasquatch is another. If it wasn’t for the decapitation of Twatwaffle – God rest his soul – I’d be ready to call this whole thing a hoax.”
“You don’t believe Rigby either?”
Dex’s eyes flitted to mine and back to Mitch’s. “I believed he might be doing this to raise attention to his business. Wouldn’t you think that’s more believable?”
For once, Mitch seemed stumped. He shrugged. “I’ve known Rigby a long time. He’s not that type. Yeah, business is down but it’s not like he’s in real trouble or nothing. He lives simple, like I do, like everyone here does. We aren’t hurting for money. Besides, there are always dumb Americans coming here, wanting to shoot some good ol’ Canadian moose.”
Dex raised his brow but declined to comment on the American comment. “So you don’t think this is all a set-up.”
“Nah. I don’t believe it’s real either. Rigby’s got an imagination.”
“And his daughter.”
“She’s a dumb young bitch,” he said simply.
Dex and I were stunned into silence. The crackle of the fire filled our ears and the only thing missing were the chirps of a few crickets.
Dex cleared his throat in a rough manner and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his cutting gaze on Mitch. “Kind of an unfair assessment of a girl who’s only, what, sixteen?”
“Women start as bitches early.”
Then Mitch looked at me, as if I was some sort of example. I cocked my head, running through the many, many things I wanted to say to him.
Yet couldn’t. Because as we sat there, staring at each other across the angry flames, the dark and unforgiving wilderness at our backs, filled with who knows what, he was our only hope of survival. And he had two f**king guns on the other side of his log.
I bit my lip. Hard. Until I tasted copper. I stole a glance at Dex and from the way his jaw was clenched, I could tell he was doing the exact same thing.
“I think it’s time for bed,” I announced, gulping back the tea which was cooled from the mountain air, and got to my feet. I needed to remove myself from the situation before I said something I regretted and I could only hope that Dex would do the same thing.
I gathered up my toothbrush, wet-wipes and a roll of toilet paper out of the tent. I fished my flashlight out of my pocket and made my way past the men, who were staring at each other like that pissing contest was about to erupt at any moment. The fact that no one was speaking only added to the awkwardness.
I didn’t go too far to do my business, keeping their shadowy figures and glowing fire in my line of sight at all times. They could probably see me if they tried to and I was glad Mitch’s back was to me. He was creeping me out more and more and I wouldn’t have put it past him to be a peeping Tom of some sort.
By the time I was done, somehow not feeling refreshed or clean or anything, Dex was spitting out toothpaste into the fire. Mitch was staring at the flames with some super nutso look on his face, the bottle of bourbon in his hand. He was beyond drinking out of cups now and was just swilling from the bottle like it was water.