Richard Laymon - Tread Softly

"Have you ever been up in this area?" Julie asked.

"Not around here. We've been into Mineral King, Yosemite, lots of places. Parts of the John Muir Trail. How about you?"

She shook her head, making her blond hair sway. "I think it's really neat to go where you haven't been before."

"Yeah, like exploring."

"And you never know what you'll find."

They reached the trail, a wide dusty track leading into the forest. The sign beside it read juniper lake, 2 mi.

"If it's all right with everybody," Mr. O'Toole said, "we'll stop there for the night."

"Fine by me," Dad said.

The arrow pointed to the left. They started to walk. The straps felt snug on Nick's shoulders. The pack, though heavy, rode easily on his back. He took a deep breath. The hot air smelled of dust, and flowers, and pine, and he caught a hint of perfume from Julie. She stayed beside him as they walked.

She's not so bad after all, he thought. This could turn out good.

Ettie's leg muscles trembled from the strain of squatting. Finally, she straightened up. She looked at what she'd done. With both hands, she scooped up loose soil. She sprinkled it onto the pile of her feces. "Into the dirt," she said, "I commit the essence of my foes. As their essence is obscured, so let all traces of their presence be banished from this canyon, that those who seek them might find no cause to trespass here."

She brushed her hands on her dress.

"That'll do it," she muttered.

She backed out of the crevice and sat on a block of granite. This high on the slope, she was still in sunlight. The shadow was not far below, creeping slowly upward as the sun sank closer to the opposite ridge.

There was already a nice breeze. It made her sweaty dress feel cool. Raising her arms, she let the breeze chill her sodden armpits.

Merle appeared, off to the right, mounting the crest of the small ridge that separated the lakes. He wore one blue backpack, and carried another. As Ettie watched, he started climbing the shadowy slope. He didn't get far before abandoning the pack in his arms. With the other still on his back, he made his way higher, leaving the shade behind. He clambered over boulders, scurried up steep granite slabs, and finally vanished. From where Ettie sat, it looked as if he'd stepped through solid rock. She couldn't see the Fissure that led into their cave.

A few moments later, Merle reappeared. He sprang down the slope, going to retrieve the second pack.

Though still angry with him, Ettie had to admit she looked forward to checking out the booty. If the couple's tent was any indication, they'd come well equipped. Probably had a camp stove and a couple of nice sleeping bags at least. A stove would come in real handy. Wouldn't put up smoke like the cook fires they sometimes built in the cave. And their ratty old sleeping bags weren't much good against the night's cold. There'd be food, too. Probably enough to keep them going for a few more days anyway. They'd been talking about another raid on campers over by Lake Wilson, just to snatch some food, but there was always the danger of giving themselves away, pulling stunts like that, so it was good not to try it too often.

In spite of the advantages, she wished Merle would learn to control himself. He was just like his father that way. Poor man got a taste of the power, and just couldn't stop. Took a policeman's bullet to stop him. She should've learned her lesson from that, and kept Merle ignorant. Seems a man just hasn't got the same control a woman does. It's that pecker, of course. Once that pecker gets heated up, nothing else matters.

I offered 'em down.

The gall of that boy, laying blame on the Master. The only call he got came from right between his legs.

She should've stopped him. When they saw those two swimming, she'd known Merle might go after the gal. She'd warned him against it. He'd promised to leave her alone. Ettie knew how weak he was. She had to admit she'd half expected him to break his promise. But when he fell asleep after dark, she'd figured it'd be all right. He must've been playing possum, just to put her at ease so she'd sleep and leave him free to sneak down.

Well, he wouldn't trick her that way again. Next time — if there was a next time — she'd keep herself awake all night.

As Merle disappeared again into the cave, Ettie stood up. Her rump was numb from sitting on the rock. She rubbed it, and the feeling returned with an aching tingle. Then she started down the slope.

She was eager to get to the cave and see what Merle had brought in. First things first, though. She'd have to give the campsite a close look to make sure all the traces were gone.

Halfway down the slope, she left the sunlight behind. In the shade, the breeze felt chilly. Ettie hoped those folks had some nice parkas with them. Her sweatshirt up at the cave wasn't nearly warm enough once the sun went down.

She didn't descend all the way to the lake; that would mean more climbing. Instead, when she was about level with the low ridge at the northern end, she traversed the slope. She reached the ridge, leaped across the gap where the stream, far below, tumbled toward Lower Mesquite, and made her way down.

At the clearing among the trees where the campers had been, she found nothing. Even the circle of rocks piled up by previous visitors as a fireplace had been scattered, the ashes covered over. Where the tent had stood, the ground was now littered with pine needles and pinecones, sticks, and a few charred rocks from the fireplace. Merle had done a good job. But what had he done with the bodies?

Ettie wandered among the trees, saw nothing that looked suspicious, and returned to the campsite. Her eyes settled on the flat place where the tent had been. She stepped over to it. With the edge of her boot, she scraped a swath through the debris. She squatted down and pushed her fingers into the loose, grainy soil. Dropping to her knees, she started to dig. The hole deepened quickly as she scooped out handfuls of dirt.

At least if they're here, she thought, Merle planted them down far enough.

Her fingernails raked something soft. She cleared a small area at the bottom of the hole, uncovering an island of skin. Her nails had gouged furrows in it. Widening the hole, she discovered a navel. The skin around it was nearly hairless, so she figured this must be the girl.

She crawled forward, dug some more, and found the man's hip. Satisfied that Merle had buried them both, she filled in the holes. She stomped down the soil. She scattered pine needles over the area until it looked undisturbed.

She didn't much like the fact that Merle had buried them smack in the middle of the lake's only camping area. They were better than a foot under the surface, though. She supposed it'd be all right.

Back at the trail sign, Benny had thought two miles would be easy. After all, two miles was the distance from school to home, and he'd walked it a few times, didn't remember it being hard. That was without a pack, though. And that was without an uphill climb that seemed to go on forever.

At first, he'd been able to keep up with Dad and Mr. Gordon. When the trail started upward, though, his pack got heavier and heavier. The straps felt like hands on his shoulders, trying to shove him into the ground. Sweat made his glasses slip down his nose. Finally, he stepped off the trail. He dug into his pocket for the elastic band he used in gym class to keep his glasses from falling off. While he was busy attaching it, Karen and Mrs. Gordon came along.

"Is it going okay?" Karen asked. She didn't look tired at all.

"Oh, my glasses," he said. "I'll catch up."

"No hurry." With a wave, she continued up the trail, walking slowly with long strides, leaning into the slope. Benny put on his glasses. He watched the backs of her slender legs.