Page 6 of The Maverick of the Mountain
I need to get off this mountain now.
This…is not good. And by this, I mean…that.
The squealing of my tires. The rain pounding against my car like I’m in a car wash, slapped by those long rubber flapping doohickeys, all the while my GPS screams at me to follow the new route.
Now, my visibility isn’t great, given the rogue hurricane that wandered up this mountain, but I can see that my new route would take me headlong over a sheer cliff I almost careened off of it a few moments ago because the tread on my tires is having difficulty with the rain. Thankfully, the thick mud saved me. I guess…
I glance at my tattoo and laugh. It’s mostly gone except for one word: Live. Yes, I’d like to, but this storm is making it difficult. I knew I shouldn’t have updated my phone last night. And as I glance at the red sliver of battery, I should’ve charged it too.
I collapse against my steering wheel, my entire body aching because I can’t remember the last time I jogged, let alone sprinted like that. And that was after hiking through trails and following “shortcuts” Marge sketched out on her “map.”
“What are we going to do, Candy?”
Silence. Must still be moping about getting caught in the rain.
I sigh, slinking back in my seat before realizing that one: I have a phone. And two: IT HAS SERVICE! So I’d better use it before it runs out of battery, or this storm knocks out the single cellular tower that’s likely providing service to this town.
I yank my phone from the holder on my dash, unlock it, and then stare. And stare… Who am I supposed to call? Ghostbusters? 911? My mom? The—no, no, no…
Mackenzie is calling me yet again, and there goes what little calm I have left. I consider chucking my phone but resist, realizing that it’s my only option for a chance at help.
Lightning cracks, shaking the car, and I jolt, adrenaline tearing through me. I need to get it together, and fast, because I’m almost out of battery.
I take a few deep breaths, trying not to freak out when it hits me: Jade. Unfortunately, when I whip out the paper from my pocket, it’s completely soaked. The ink weeps, turning the numbers into a blurry mess. But then it hits me:Marge.I’ll call the Hungry Hiker!
I open up my web browser, and five minutes later, Google loads. This is not exactly promising, but neither is my situation, so I hammer out Hungry Hiker and wait. And wait. And wait… Until, finally, the webpage loads, but there isn’t a phone number on the listing. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.
After spending the next couple of minutesnotfreaking out, I tap on the website, and thankfully, it loads in less than a minute. I find a phone number on a menu after frantically searching the homepage.
It rings a half dozen times before someone answers the phone, but they tell me to hold on, slamming the phone on a counter before walking away. I hear low, incomprehensible conversation coming through the line. Laughter too. That’d be nice—being in a safe place or a state of mind conducive to laughter that isn’t accompanied by hysterical crying.
“Hello?” I yell into the phone, hoping someone hears me. “Marge? Jade?”
Someone picks up the phone, but it’s not Marge or Jade. All I hear is breathing. Some smacking of lips. And then a soft, “Hello.”
“Hi…”
“Hello—Put the phone down Abigail,” a soft but stern voice cuts through in the distance. Marge.
“Byebye.”
The phone rattles, and then the line goes dead. That toddler has no idea that she just sealed my fate. I tap frantically to redial the number, and thankfully, the call goes through a moment later.
“Hungry Hiker,” Marge answers.
“Marge! Marge! I’m so glad I got a hold of you. I’m…” I glance at her map. “Somewhere in between George Washington’s nose and the cliff that looks like Sasquatch bowling.” I pause. “Marge?”
There’s no response. Not even the sound of Abigail breathing. My phone is completely dead. And so will I be if I can’t find a way off this mountain soon.
You only live once… never thought I’d only make it to twenty-six.
I probably shouldn’t followthis narrow gravel road through the woods. I probably shouldn’t be on this mountain in the first place. But here I am, soaked to the bone and exhausted as I stare down a long, dark road with tall trees and thick shrubs on either side. If it wasn’t so dark, spooky, or overgrown, it might look inviting.
But then, of course, there’s the wooden sign at the opening to the road.Beware of Hank!
I’m not sure who Hank is, but I’m about to find out. With my phone dead, my car stuck in the mud, and little more than a half pack of gum for nourishment, I’m not left with many options. Hopefully, Hank’s like Marge. A little gruff on the outside, but perfectly pleasant, kind, and helpful on the inside. I could use that right about now.
I let out a long, deep sigh and start hiking. With the trees as big as they are, the rain isn’t as bad. It takes what feels like half an hour to make it down the road, but eventually, I come into a little opening in the forest, and I find a cabin.
