Page 1 of The Hitchhikers
CHAPTER 1ALICE
July 5, 1976
The first time Alice saw them, they were walking side by side on the narrow gravel road that led into the RV park and campground. A boy and girl, moving together in a slow, slouching way, with his arm around her shoulders, and her hand tucked into the back pocket of his bell-bottoms. His army-style backpack looked heavy, the seams stretching, a rolled-up orange sleeping bag tied to the bottom. The girl’s pack was smaller but equally as stuffed, with a green sleeping bag that rested below her hips. Maroon shorts shimmered underneath.
Tom slowed the Winnebago, giving the couple room. The boy turned to look at them. Square sunglasses, brown hair to his shoulders, and a blue tank top that saidKeep on Truckin’.
He pulled the girl closer, shielding her from the gust of hot air and road dust that the RV stirred up. Alice caught a glimpse of her bowed head, pale blond hair tossing in the wind. She watched in her mirror until they disappeared around a corner, but the girl never looked up.
The campground’s office was a quaint log cabin skirted with river rock and topped with a Canadian flag, the red maple leaf bright against the white background. Alice got out of the RV with a yawn and trailed up the office steps after Tom. He checked them in while she halfheartedly spun a postcard rack. She blinkedthe sleepiness from her eyes, regretting their late night, but this Fourth of July had been important, and it seemed all of Seattle had felt the same way. The waterfront had been crowded with people watching the Bicentennial fireworks.
She scanned a display of brochures, reading one with warnings about bears and how to store food safely. Tom was talking with the campground manager.
“Been on the road since sunrise, crossed the border in Blaine, Washington. You ever been there?” Alice didn’t hear the man’s answer as she moved over to the shelves of camping items. Yellow plastic egg holders. Metal poles for toasting marshmallows and hot dogs. Bug spray. Citronella candles. She picked up bits of the men’s conversations. Tom’s deep voice.
“We stopped in Vancouver for lunch and drove through Stanley Park. Walked the seawall for a stretch. Boy, there’s some beautiful views of the city.”
“This your first time visiting Hope?”
“Sure is.”
The men chatted about the small town for a moment, then the manager unfolded a map of the campground, pointing out their site. The restrooms with showers. The wood pile. The wide river, which he warned had a current far too strong for swimming. Shame on such a hot day.
Tom thanked him and turned to Alice. “Ready?”
She nodded.
They drove slowly through the campground, which was split into two sections—one close to the river, and the other in the forest. Everywhere she looked, there were tents, RVs, vans with their sliding doors open, music playing, towels hanging to dry. A dog barked as they passed.
Their site was tucked among a circle of tall firs. Tom frowned slightly as he steered the RV into the parking spot. Alice triedto guide him, but they both winced when a branch scraped the side.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t see it.”
“It’s fine. It’s bound to get some scratches.” Tom smiled, but she could hear the disappointment in his voice, the hint of annoyance.
“It’s okay to get mad. I won’t break.”
He met her eyes and quickly looked away. Her face felt hot. They both knew how close she had come to breaking this last year. She stayed silent while he finished parking the RV.
They pulled out their aluminum camping chairs, and Alice spread the plastic tablecloth across the picnic table, smoothing out the fold lines. The yellow-and-red poppy pattern looked cheerful with the green camping dishes she’d ordered from the Montgomery Ward catalog.
Tom poured them wine. “Should we toast to our first night?”
“How about to all our adventures ahead?” They tapped their plastic glasses and Alice took a small sip. She hadn’t drunk any alcohol for months. Too much would have her maudlin.
Tom placed kindling and newspaper in a neat stack at the center of the fire pit, leaned forward to blow on the embers. It wasn’t dark yet, the summer days long, but it was nice to stare into the flickering flames. Tom sat close beside her in his chair and reached for her hand. With their fingers linked, they sipped wine and listened to the voices of other campers, the occasional person crunching past on the gravel path, soft chirps of birds settling in for the night.
“What are we going to do all evening?” Alice said.
Tom turned with a raised eyebrow. “Bored of me already?”
“Not at all.” She tried for a reassuring smile. This road trip was important. A reprieve. Tom had bought them a Winnebago Chieftain with a sporty orange-and-brown stripe down the side.Alice loved the dinette with its green floral bench seats and table that converted into an extra bed, the plush shag carpet, the wood paneling, the small fridge and stove, and the toilet that flushed when you stepped on a lever. The rear couch turned into a double bed, and there were overhead cupboards for all their clothes. There was even a privacy curtain. Tom swore they could make the payments and reminded her that the doctor had said she needed to relax.
She swirled her wine, vowing to be different on this trip. She’d be fun again. She just needed a moment to get herself together. The wine had been a mistake.
“We can play Uno,” Tom offered.
“After dinner? I want to take a shower. I’m all sticky.”
