Richard Matheson - Hunted Past Reason

Marian nodded, smiling. “Okay.”

“And you understand my map.”

She nodded again.

“Well, I’m not the world’s greatest mapmaker,” he said.

“It’s fine,” she told him.

“Well, just… follow the yellow Hi-liter route.”

“To Oz,” she said.

His lips puffed out in a sound of partial amusement. “Yeah, right,” he said. “It’s about… I’d say forty miles or so. Two things to keep in mind. Turn off the main road after you pass the Brandy Lake sign. And most important, keep an eye out for the two Pine Grove signs, one for Pine Grove Street, the other for Pine Grove Lane. You turn right on Pine Grove Lane ; it’s the second sign you’ll come to. Got it? The second sign.”

“Got it,” she said.

He raised his hands, palms forward. “I’m only being a pest about this because we’ve had to go out searching for a lot of guests who turned right on Pine Grove Street.”

“I’ll remember,” she said.

“Okay. Good. You have the keys to the cabin?”

“In my purse.”

“Right. And you understand about the propane tank for the stove. And turning on the water.”

“I do.” She nodded. “I’ll be fine, Doug.”

“Well… I just want to be sure. We won’t be there until Wednesday afternoon.”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine,” she reassured him.

“Sure you will,” he said. “You’ll enjoy the cabin. There’s a nice big deck in back that overlooks the forest. Sit there with a drink, you’ll love it.”

“I’m sure.” Marian nodded, smiling.

“You’d better be on your way then so you have plenty of light in case you make a wrong turn. Driving up there in the dark can be a bitch.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said once more.

“Good.” He kissed her on the cheek. “We’ll see you on Wednesday then.”

“On Wednesday.” She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “I’m going to say good-bye to my husband now.”

“You mean auf Wiedersehen, don’t you?” Doug said with a grin.

She pointed the index finger of her right hand at him. “That’s up to you,” she told him.

His grin widened. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.”

“I know you will.”

She took Bob’s hand and led him several yards away, to the other side of the fallen maple tree. She put her arms around him and held him close. “You take good care of yourself now,” she said.

He embraced her. “I will.”

“Be careful.”

“I’ll avoid the black bears and the mountain—”

“Stop that,” she interrupted softly. “I’m going to be uneasy enough without worrying about wild animals chewing on you.”

Bob laughed softly. “Don’t be uneasy,” he told her. “Doug has backpacked dozens of times.”

“Well, you haven’t,” she said. “Take it easy. Don’t let him push you.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Well…” She blew out a heavy breath. “He’s so… physical; you know that. He’s an actor, he’s done westerns… action pictures. He’s… tuned up.”

“What, and I’m out of tune?”

She sighed. “I don’t see you going to the gym very often. Or swimming.”

“I walk, don’t I?”

“Your one saving grace.” She squeaked as he pinched her back. “Well, anyway, I mean it: please-take-it-easy . Don’t let Doug push you. He won’t do it on purpose,” she added quickly, cutting him off. “He might just do it without thinking.”

“I’ll collapse at regular intervals,” he said.

“Oh…” she sighed again. “You aren’t very reassuring.”

“I will be careful,” he promised. “I will take it easy. I will avoid wild animals.”

The grip of her arms tightened. “Please do,” she said quietly.

After several moments, she drew back and looked at him intently. “Honey, are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.

“I have to, sweetheart. How am I supposed to write a convincing novel about backpacking if I’ve never backpacked once?”

She nodded, sighing again, then made a face of mock pleading. “Please, sir,” she said in a little girl’s voice, “couldn’t you write a novel about drinking chi-chis and lazing around in Hawaii with your wife of twenty years?”

He chuckled. “Maybe the next one I—” he started.

“Bobby, we have to go,” Doug called.

“I wish he wouldn’t call you that,” Marian said, “as though you were ten years old or something.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm,” Bob said. He drew her close and pressed his lips to hers, lingering on the kiss.

“Dear God, that was like farewell,” she said, tears appearing in her eyes.

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. We’ll be at the cabin on Wednesday afternoon. Have a vodka and tonic waiting for me.”

“If I don’t drink up all the vodka, worrying about you.”

He laughed softly and took her by the hand, leading her back around the tree.

“Farewells all completed?” Doug said.

Marian managed a faint smile. Doug’s smile became one of sympathy. “Really, Marian, there’s nothing to be worried about. Your husband will be sore as hell in every muscle, that I guarantee, but otherwise he’ll be intact.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” she said. She kissed Bob briefly on the lips, then moved to the Bronco and got in behind the steering wheel. She turned on the engine and pulled out onto the road, raising her right hand in farewell. Bob had the feeling that she didn’t look back because she was crying. Oh, sweetheart, he thought, smiling sadly.

As the Bronco disappeared around a curve, he picked up his pack with a grunt at its weight. “Okay, let’s go,” he said.

“Whoa, whoa, not so fast,” Doug told him.

“What?” Bob looked at him, curious.

“We have to check out our gear before we leave.”

Bob frowned. “Now?” he asked.

“Sure, now.”

“Why didn’t we do all that before we left Los Angeles?”

“It’s a good idea to do it now,” Doug said. “Double-check before we leave.”

“What if I don’t have everything I need?” Bob asked. “What can I do about it now?”

“Well, I gave you a list of things you need. I assume you got all of it,” Doug said. “I was going to go to the supply store with you—as you recall. But you were in New York attending a big meeting.”

“Mm-hmm.” Bob nodded, wondering why Doug felt the need to call it a “big” meeting. It wasn’t that and Doug knew it.

“Oh, well,” he said. “Let’s do it then.”

Doug looked at him questioningly. “Are you sure you’re up to this, Bob?” he asked.

“Sure,” Bob said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Are you really?”

It didn’t sound like a question to Bob. Doug’s smile bordered on disbelief. He chuckled. “Okay. You got me,” he admitted. “Naturally, I’m a little apprehensive.”

“A lot apprehensive,” Doug answered.

“Well, maybe,” Bob said. “I’m not exactly John Muir.”

“Not exactly.” Doug’s smile was amused now.

“I’m counting on you to lead me through the wilderness without incident,” Bob said.

Doug shook his head, laughing softly. “I’ll do my damnedest, Bob,” he said. “Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Bob leaned his pack against a tree to open it.

“I see you got a side packer,” Doug said.

“Is that bad?” Bob asked. “The salesman said it was easier to get into.”

“Did he tell you it would leak more in the rain?”

“Well… no,” Bob answered. “Are we expecting rain?”

“Y’never know,” Doug said. “Did you try it on for comfort?”

Bob nodded. “Yes, I did. The salesman even put a sandbag in it to show me what it would feel like when it was loaded.”