Richard Matheson - Hunted Past Reason

“And—?”

Bob chuckled. “It felt heavy,” he said.

“Damn right.” Doug nodded. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got inside.”

Bob unzipped the bag and took out the first item.

“What the hell is that?” Again, Bob felt that it wasn’t a question but a judgment.

“A stove,” he said.

“That wasn’t on the list I gave you,” Doug told him.

“The salesman talked me into it,” Bob said. “He showed me how easy it was to use. What would you rather have at the end of the day, he asked, cold cereal or hot chicken à la king over rice?”

“You have chicken à la king with you as well?” Doug said, laughing as he spoke.

Bob sighed. He was getting a little weary of Doug’s belittling tone. “You never took a stove with you?” he challenged.

“Yeah, sure I did,” Doug answered. “Nothing wrong with having a stove. I was just trying to cut down on the weight you have to carry.”

“Okay.” Bob nodded.

“Canister stove’s heavier too,” Doug told him. “And you’ll have to carry out the canister.”

“Oh, no.” Bob looked dismayed.

“Oh, yes,” Doug said, nodding and smiling again. “Those are the rules of the game, Bobby. You don’t leave anything behind. Except for piss and crap, of course.”

Bob made a face, nodding. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Doug looked at him almost sternly. “There are rules, Bobby. It isn’t just a stroll in the park we’re going on, you know.”

All right, all right, Bob thought, He felt like saying it but didn’t want the hike to start out on a strained note.

“Before we look at what else you have in your pack—” Doug started.

Oh, God, what now? Bob wondered.

“You’re not wearing cotton underwear are you?”

The unexpected question struck Bob as funny, making him laugh. Doug frowned. “I’m sorry for laughing,” Bob said. “I just didn’t expect that question.”

“Well, it’s not an unimportant one,” Doug told him. “Cotton underwear gets wet from perspiration, feels lousy.”

Bob nodded. “I understand. I have on poly prop-whatever-underwear.”

“Polypropylene.” Doug nodded. “Good. And thin polypropylene socks under your wool socks?”

“Right.”

He must have sounded a bit apathetic, he realized, because Doug frowned again. “Bob, these things are important,” he said.

“All right. I understand.” Bob nodded.

“Okay.” Doug looked serious again. “You have three complete sets of socks.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Doug started to speak but Bob interrupted him. “What do you use for a stove?” he asked.

“Two logs close together over the fire,” Doug said. “I put my grate across them.” He grinned. “Of course, now I have a stove to use.”

The hell you do, Bob thought, after making fun of it? He sighed. Well, let that go, he decided.

“Very often, I’ve just eaten what Muir did—uncooked food, hot tea or coffee,” Doug told him.

Well, he is trying to be helpful, Bob chided himself. And, after all, Doug didn’t have to offer to take him on this hike, helping him get background material for his novel.

“All right, getting back to your clothes,” Doug continued. “Let’s take a look at your boots.” He knelt in front of Bob. “Did you know that every mile you walk, each foot hits the ground almost two thousand times?”

“No. Jesus.” Bob was impressed.

“And each foot has twenty-six functional bones,” Doug continued.

“No kidding,” Bob said. “How do you know all this stuff?”

“I can read too,” Doug said.

What the hell does that mean? Bob wondered.

“All right, they’re leather, that’s good. You never buy plastic.”

Plastic? Bob reacted. Who in the hell would buy plastic shoes for hiking?

Doug was running his hands over Bob’s boots. “Light-weight, that’s good,” he said. “You won’t need heavyweight boots for a hike this short. Ankle-high, good. Padded ankle collar.” He grimaced a little. “Well… nylon uppers don’t need any break-in, but—”

“What?” Bob asked.

“I prefer leather uppers, they last longer, have more resistance.” He stood up, grunting. “No matter. Yours’ll be fine. You told the salesman to give you an extra half inch of toe room, didn’t you?”

“No.” Bob frowned. “You never told me that.”

“I must have forgotten,” Doug said. “It’s nothing fatal. Although it does help to have that extra half inch when you’re doing steep downhill hiking. You did wear a pair of thick socks when you were trying them on, didn’t you?”

“Yep.” Bob nodded, trying not to sound bored, which he was getting.

“Water seal the boots?” Doug asked.

“Yes.”

“Cut your toenails?”

“What?” Bob laughed at the question.

“Not a joke,” Doug said. “You’re going to be doing a lot of walking. Overlong toenails can cause problems.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Bob made a face. “Well, I don’t think they’re too long.”

“We’ll check ’em later,” Doug said. “I have a clipper in case you need it.”

Bob repressed a sigh but not enough. Doug looked at him with mild accusation. “Bob,” he said, “I’m not talking just to hear the sound of my voice. I’ve been backpacking for years. Everything I’m telling you is pertinent.”

“All right, all right, I’m sorry again, I apologize. I realize you’re just trying to help me.”

“Good.” Doug patted him on the shoulder. “Just a few more things and we’ll be on our way.”

“Shoot,” Bob said. “Not with your bow, of course.”

Doug gave him a token chuckle, then went on. “Got gaiters?” he asked.

“What?”

“Gaiters. Like leggings. Helps keep your lower pants dry, safe from thorns. Keeps sand and dirt out of your shoes. Rain.”

“Rain again,” Bob said. “You know something I don’t?”

“No, no,” Doug answered. “Just a precaution. I did mention gaiters, though.”

Bob nodded. No, you didn’t, he remembered.

“You have polyprop long johns?” Doug asked.

“Uh-huh.” Bob nodded. Let’s get on our way then, he thought.

His mind blanked out a little as Doug ran through what seemed to be a lecture about using the “layering” system to dress; each item of clothing working in combination with the others to deal with any change in the weather, hot or cold.

Lower layer, the long johns, socks; middle layer, shirt or vest, pile pants; outer layer, windbreaker, jacket, boots. Bob’s jacket was quilted, not down; that was good. If down got wet, it took forever to dry. Was Bob’s jacket seam-sealed? Bob didn’t know; he did not attempt to repress a sigh. Doug went on as though he didn’t notice. No snaps on Bob’s poncho, not good. In a wind, it would blow out like a boat sail. Snaps would prevent that. What kind of weather we planning on? Bob asked. Never know, was all Doug answered.

“Are we ready to go now?” Bob asked.

“No, no, no, no,” Doug said scoldingly. “There are several more important things.”

“Jesus, Doug. Are we going to have any time to walk before dark?”

Doug looked at him in silence.

“I know. I know,” Bob said apologetically. “Important things.”

“You doubt it?” Doug said irritably.

“No,” Bob sighed. “I’m just… anxious to get going, that’s all.”

“So am I, Bobby, be lieve me,” Doug said gravely. “But if we go off half cocked, you’ll regret it. I know how to do all this. You don’t. So, for Christ’s sake, show a little patience. You’ll be glad later about what we’re doing now.”

Bob nodded, looking guilty. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll say no more.”