Page 39 of The Nook for Brooks
He only grinned and shouldered his pack. “Ruggedly ridiculous, then. Let’s go.”
The boots were a size and a half too big, which meant I clomped down the spiral staircase like a Clydesdale on parade, before we exited the Book Nook and I locked the door behind me.
As we headed out of town, Cody kept up a running commentary about the “fresh air” and the “crisp afternoon light.” I tried not to notice how every step of his looked relaxedand effortless, while mine clomped, pinched, and squeaked, my feet already starting to blister.
“Cheer up, handsome,” Cody said, slinging an arm casually around my shoulders as if we were out for an evening stroll and not marching toward certain doom. “I’ve looked at the map. There’s a trail that leads from the mill up to a mountain overlooking the falls. It’s only about a mile. We’ll set up camp there for the night.”
“A mile?” I groaned. “Each way?”
“That’s usually how trails work.”
I pictured myself being stretchered out, blistered and dehydrated, while Cody gave a stirring eulogy about how I’d perished bravely, three hundred meters into the journey.
The deeper we went, the louder the forest grew. Crickets thrummed. Leaves rustled. The river burbled nearby with an ominous undertone, as though it knew exactly how many bodies had been swallowed by its currents. Every sound was an orchestra of doom, and I was front row center.
Cody, of course, was humming. Humming. As though he were sauntering down the sunny promenade with one of Clarry’s ice cream cones in hand.
“Keep your eyes peeled. You don’t know what wildlife you’ll see as the sun sets.”
“That’s what worries me.”
By the time we hiked up the mountain and found a clearing with a view of the falls below, twilight was casting a purple glow over the treetops.
Cody dropped his pack and clapped his hands. “Perfect spot. Flat ground, water nearby, gorgeous view. What more could you want?”
“Civilization,” I muttered.
“Sit tight,” he said. “Watch the master at work.”
I sat stiffly on a mossy log which was damp, scratchy, and undoubtedly unsanitary as hell, while Cody whipped poles and waterproof nylon sheeting into position. Within minutes, the tent was standing. My jaw dropped.
“How—how did you do that?”
He winked. “Years of practice. Also, tent technology is pretty amazing these days. They make it as easy as possible for you to enjoy the whole camping experience.”
“Does that come with a guarantee?”
He ignored me, staying chipper the whole time. “Next job… starting a fire.”
Before I could protest about forest fire permits or the absence of a sprinkler system, he was already at work. He gathered a neat bundle of kindling from beneath a tree, broke up some larger fallen branches with the ease of a man born to show off his biceps with every snap, and stacked them at the center of the clearing. Smaller sticks went on the bottom, larger logs on top, all arranged with precision.
“Don’t you need… flint?” I asked weakly, picturing him bashing rocks together like a caveman next.
He grinned, reached into his pocket, and flicked a lighter.Fwoosh.
In an instant the kindling caught, flames curling upward like they’d been waiting for him all day.
“There we go,” he said, straightening with smug satisfaction. “Home sweet home.”
Home sweethell, I thought, busily waving away the smoke that blew directly in my face. I tried moving left, but the smoke followed. I shuffled right, and the breeze shifted again, chasing me like a vengeful spirit.
Quickly I abandoned the fire altogether and followed Cody into the tent, where he unrolled two sleeping bags side by side.
“Oh god,” I breathed, staring at the flimsy nylon cocoon. “That’s it? That’s where we’re supposed to—”
“Yep.” He flopped onto his sleeping bag, clasping his hands behind his head. “Don’t look so horrified. You’ll survive. Promise.”
I sat down gingerly, as though the earth might collapse beneath me. My hip instantly jabbed against a root. I lay all the way down, squirming this way, bending that way, trying to get comfortable.
