Spider Gap Page 7

  Something buzzed by her ear and Lilly flinched. More mosquitoes? She glanced down at Strudel. The little dog snapped at some flying creature that zipped low along the trail. No, several somethings. They zoomed around the small dog back and forth between him and her shoes. In fact, the flying insects seemed inexplicably drawn towards her footwear. Lilly peered closer.

  Bees! A small cloud of bees swirled around her sticky sneakers.

  She shot down the trail, dragging Strudel behind. The swarm gave pursuit, apparently determined to feast upon her sweetened shoes.

  Lilly ran until breath tore through her lungs in fiery gasps and Strudel barked out desperately from where he scrambled behind. The bees were too fast and her energy was spent. Lilly plunged into the creek, submerged herself flat among the reeds, and waited for the stinging hordes to attack. An alarming buzzing sound and the terrible feeling of tickly legs crawling through her hair was the only attack that she endured. Eventually the swarm disbanded, leaving both Lilly and her small hound unscathed.

  Whether it was because the bees were very bad at hide-and-seek or that the creek had washed the honey from her shoes, Lilly didn’t know or care. Sodden once more, she crept past the silent tents of the students and inside her own dwelling. She breathed a prayer of thanks that she had managed to battle the insect horde in near silence and maintain Strudel’s anonymity. She changed quietly and dried off Strudel with his two least-favorite doggy coats.

  Lilly pressed her forehead against the gritty floor of the tent. What was she doing here?

  Voices echoed across the meadow. The other hikers were stirring.

  Lilly grabbed Strudel and held her pillow poised, ready to stuff him underneath if he made a yip.

  “You saw The Virgin Mary, she can’t handle this. Jumped straight into that creek and for what, five yellow jackets. Come on Mr. Calvert, you’ve got to send her back.”

  Well, apparently her battle had not been as silent as she’d hoped. Lilly heard someone sigh as the speakers paused near her tent. “You are not to disrespect Miss Park, Mason. Not for being a first-time hiker and absolutely not for honoring God. She has more strength than you realize, there is more to life than knowing how to survive on the trail.”

  “What about knowing how to pack even one item that isn’t out of a magazine ad, or how to ford a creek, or pitch a tent without breaking a nail? Miss Park belongs in an outdoor rec store, not the actual outdoors.”

  There was a long pause and the sound of someone scuffing his feet. “I wish…” Tristian faltered, as though the correct word or phrase had failed him. “OK, look at it this way. Miss Park has a strength that I did not possess. When I was younger and had the chance with a girl, I took it. It was the cool choice, the popular one, the easy one. But it was not the noble choice, and it shattered me. There is something inside a man that longs to be the hero.”

  Mason mumbled something in reply.

  Lilly wasn’t listening. She pulled Strudel close and buried her face in his fur. Tristian claimed she was strong, even after watching her nearly drown inside her own tent and cower at the very sight of wilderness bathroom accommodations. Was it true? Did anything dwell within that might sustain her through this terrible hike? Lilly attempted to hush the sobs that squeezed her ribs until she couldn’t breathe and to squelch the inexplicable wash of tears that made Strudel whine and lick her face in concern.

  11

  Wildlife and Wet Wipes

  Lilly pulled the last wet wipe out of its handy blue package and washed down her hands. The results were unsatisfactory. She plopped the hand wipe at her feet in the pile that had developed as she cleansed the residual honey from her shoes and attempted the wilderness version of a thorough shower. She upended her small bottle of hand sanitizer in vain. Only a tiny drip plopped into her hand. Her shoes were still sticky, despite the creek and her best efforts. Only approximately two thirds of her body had been cleansed and even then, she smelled strongly of sweat, rubbing alcohol, and honey. Like some kind of nightmare pancake.

  Strudel zipped around the “out” and snatched up a used wet wipe. “Hey, unhand that!” Lilly’s stern command was ignored as Strudel bounded off a stump, let the wet wipe flutter to the ground, and zoomed back for another. Tristian’s stern face appeared in Lilly’s mind as he lectured the students about littering, even accidentally, within God’s vast and glorious wilderness.

  She slipped back into her clothes and followed the trail of wet wipes her ill-behaved pet had scattered abroad, plucking them from the ground and forming a wad of baby powder-scented trash that contained not a few pine needles and scampering ants. Fifteen wipes later, Lilly set the mess down near the out and straightened, thankful to be finished. She stretched, allowing the morning sun to warm her face as her muscles oh, so slowly relaxed under the duel ministrations of birdsong and wilderness beauty. Lilly pulled her hair into something resembling a ponytail and glanced behind her. The pile of used wipes was gone.

  In its place was Strudel, prancing off with a huge wad of wet wipes, his tail wagging with pride.

  Lilly lunged for the little dog. He skipped to the side and rocketed down the path, scattering wipes wherever he bounded. This was taking forever. If Lilly didn’t hurry, she would miss breakfast as she had dinner the night before. She clutched the remaining wipes tighter and hurtled after Strudel. Where was he?

  Strudel zipped around the corner and charged back toward her. No wet wipes in his mouth, but she could see the whites of his eyes from underneath his floppy bangs as he tripped over a log and fell, skidding down the path on his face before coming to a stop behind the “out.” Poor baby, was he limping?

  She ran toward him, but instead of rushing to her arms, he cowered behind the primitive toilet. Strange, her wrath had never before inspired such a great respect. Perhaps the small hound had finally realized that she meant business where littering was concerned.

  Lilly proceeded around the corner. Someone had to pick up all those wipes. But something had beaten her to them. A round furry rump filled the trail. A deep snurffle and the sound of chewing stopped Lilly cold.

  A bear, a real live bear, stood in the trail determinedly chewing on one of Strudels discarded wipes.

  12

  The Danger of Littering

  The bear was fat from preparatory eating for the coming winter. His coat gleamed in the morning sun, a deep, rich brown. Did that mean she faced a legendary Grizzly? Black bears were black, right? This must be a man-eater! Well, a man and wet wipe eater. But that was nearly as bad. The small cleaning wipe would not fill up a bear of his size.

  Lilly tried to make her legs move. They were wedged to the ground like great lumps of rock. She attempted to scream. Her throat was tight and dry, only producing the tiniest of wheezes.

  The bear finished his wet wipe and lumbered forward.

  Lilly’s legs suddenly broke free of their paralysis and she found herself around the corner, panting and clutching at her heart. OK, she had escaped the bear. But how was she supposed to pick up Strudel’s litter? Strudel! Lilly zipped back to the “out” and found the little Havanese shredding a few remaining wipes into tatters. She plopped onto her hands and knees and snatched up the tiny pieces. This was taking forever. They had to get out of here.

  Strudel cocked his head and looked toward the trail. The fluffy six-pound dog bounded forward.

  Lilly lunged and grabbed the end of his tail. Strudel slammed to a stop, his little nose planting smack into the dirt and a few tail hairs yanking free. But Lilly pulled him back and got a more secure hold around Strudel’s middle. Only then did she look up.

  The bear had not wandered off, he had wandered forward. Down the path, following Strudel’s trail of wet wipes. The bear paused.

  Lilly heard his deep, enthusiastic sniffing as the apex predator paused to slurp down another wipe. Was this absurd creature eating them all?

  The bear sneezed and lumbered forward. He stopped and coughed when he reached the next wipe.

>   Was he choking? Lilly put a hand over her mouth. Oh, my goodness! Her unplanned rash of littering was not only unsightly, it might be the end of a beautiful woodland animal. Were she and Strudel about to become murderers?

  Another coughing fit, a pause, and the bear spit out the wet wipe.

  Lilly let out a breath and leaned against the pine behind her. Thank goodness. She peeked around the trunk when another snort broke the stillness. The bear shuffled forward, gave the wipe a second sniffing and then gulped it down. Lily bit her lip. OK, then, he would live. She was not required to do the Heimlich maneuver on a man-eating beast. She grimaced. Was that even possible?

  The bear continued to advance, eating wet wipe after wet wipe as he moseyed along.

  Lilly clutched Strudel close and edged into the forest. Perhaps if they just crouched behind this big tree, the bear would be on his way before they knew it and Lilly could get down the path to breakfast.

  The bear found Strudel’s heap of torn wipes and dug in. Slobber trailed from his chomping jowls and a little chunk of white was stuck between his teeth.

  This was ridiculous. Were the wipes scented, and if so, what made baby powder or lavender or whatever perfume the manufacturer had chosen seem appetizing to a bear?

  The huge furry friend dug around the “out” a little with his claws, sneezed one more time, and then hustled down the path at a nice fast clip.

  Good. Lilly took to the trail behind him. But soon her steps slowed. The bear was on the same trail she was using. The trail that led back to Spider Meadow. The very trail that brought both hikers and wildlife to their campsite. The trail that would lead a furious mountain beast toward the nine children she had sworn to guide and protect!

  Lilly stuffed Strudel beneath her shirt and veered off the trail into the uncharted forest. She crashed through the undergrowth. Could she find a short cut to the meadow before the bear arrived at their campsite and consumed every one of the Jr. High hikers like a pile of child-flavored hand wipes?

  13

  Breakfast

  Lilly caught her toe on the dry, crumbling length of a decaying log and sprawled headlong down the slope. Lush vegetation scratched across her face and dirt ground into her knuckles and packed her last pair of socks full of pine needles and dirt. Every cut she had obtained the day before stung with renewed vigor.

  Strudel yipped out his indignation, and perhaps concern, but seemed unscathed by their tumble.

  Loamy soil clung to the knees of her jeans and her scalp where she’d slid head-first down the small embankment. But the meadow was just ahead, if she could just make it before the bear. Lilly groaned and heaved herself up, clutching Strudel close. Normally, she would have paused to plot out each step before attempting the steep bank. Instead, she leaned back and slid down at an incredible speed, dragging her bottom to slow herself, even though the decorative sequins across the back pockets were sure to be trashed.

  She tumbled to a stop at the edge of the meadow. Grasshoppers sprang out of her way as she charged toward the tents. The sun crested the mountains, sending spears of blinding light across the grassy field and warming Lilly’s face with its dazzling glow. She sprinted hard, leaping across the meandering creek and stumbling into the scattering of tents with harsh wheezing gasps. She staggered toward the circle of cook stoves, where children sat hunched over mugs of cocoa and instant oatmeal.

  Tristian jumped to his feet and came toward her, grasping her arms as she slumped against him, trying to catch her breath.

  Lilly pressed Strudel close to her side, hoping that she just looked lumpy and fat and not at all like a woman smuggling a small dog upon her person. She pointed back toward the trail but nothing other than a few insistent wheezes came from her lips.

  “Take a breath, Lilly. What’s wrong?”

  Tristian’s hands were calloused where they touched her skin, but their steady warmth make her forget the fierce animal for a moment and remember that she did indeed have lungs and if she could just give them a moment to recover, those lungs would enable her to speak and warn the children. “Bear! There’s a bear on the trail and he’s coming this way. We’ve got to run! We’ve got the hide! Build a trap, climb a tree, launch the catapults!!!”

  “Whoa there, Lady Knight. Why don’t we slow down and feed the troops before moving right in for the attack.” Tristian gave her a smile. “We’ve saved you a little hot water if you want some cocoa or oatmeal.”

  Lilly stepped out of his embrace and pointed back at the path, trying to catch her breath after that lengthy speech.

  “Ah, yes, the bear. How close?”

  “Right on the path and it’s coming this way.”

  Tristian nodded and grew thoughtful for a moment before turning to address the children. “All right, everyone. There is a bear nearby. What do you do?”

  The students chanted together, with limp, bored voices as though they had repeated the same words many times before. “Do not run. Do not scream. With a bear be humble. Lower your eyes and back away.”

  “But he’s coming right here, right now, and he already ate an entire container of wet wipes.”

  Tristian sat up and stared at her. “Wet wipes? How did a bear get hold of your wet wipes?”

  Lilly let an exasperated groan escape her lips. “I didn’t litter, it’s just...” Explaining the scattering of the wipes without revealing Strudel’s presence was a daunting task indeed. She didn’t want to lie to Tristian or the children and the bear was getting nearer by the moment. “Oh, you know. Wet wipes are notoriously difficult to keep track of. Sometimes they just scatter and then boom a bear comes along and it’s a wet wipe massacre. Speaking of which, shouldn’t we be climbing trees or playing dead or something?” Lilly smashed Strudel tight to her side and tapped her foot. What was that infernal man waiting for?

  “Oh, good, I’m glad the wipes aren’t scattered through the forest. Try to keep better track of them next time. They can’t be good bear food.”

  “What if he didn’t like the wipes and wants the children instead?” Lilly glanced toward the trail. Was that movement behind the bushes?

  Tristian reached across the stove with a small metal gadget, latched it onto the edge of a pot, and pulled the boiling water off the stove. “Go and get your mug and bowl, there’s enough left for your breakfast, Lilly.”

  Lilly stared at him, one finger still pointing at the trail.

  “If the bear comes into the meadow, just do what we said. Do not run. Do not scream. With a bear, be humble. Lower your eyes and back away.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yep.” Tristian jerked his chin toward the hot water. “But your breakfast won’t be hot if you wait any longer.”

  Lilly dragged across the meadow to her tent, tossed an exhausted Strudel inside, grabbed two packets of peaches and cream instant oatmeal and some mint madness cocoa, and returned to the stove. She dumped the cocoa into her camp mug and held it out for water. “Why: ‘With a bear be humble?’ Shouldn’t we always be humble with the wildlife? You could just say: ‘Be humble.’ It would be easier to remember.”

  “That’s because…” Tristian nodded to the children and they began to chant once more.

  “Do not run. Do not scream. With a cougar, be brave. Look him straight in the eye. Shout and wave your arms. Back away slowly, but stand tall and proud.”

  “What?” Lilly’s pulse skittered against her neck. This was insane, wave your arms?

  “Bear and cougar are completely different. A cougar needs to know that you are not weak. They are stalkers, like housecats. Don’t let them get behind you and act fierce. But really, I’ve been working and playing in the woods all my life and have never had any trouble. Be humble with a bear, be brave with a cougar, and that’s all you need to know. Did you want some water for your oatmeal?”

  Lilly held out the bowl full of powdery oats and bits of peach. Her hand was shaking. She looked up just in time to see a fat brown shape lumber across the meadow about two hu
ndred yards away. Lilly gasped and some of her oats fell on the ground.

  The children froze and lowered their heads, watching the bear through their lashes.

  In a moment he was gone.

  Tristian smiled and poured the hot water into her bowl. “See, here and gone in a moment. Now eat and then go and see if your sleeping bag has dried. That is much more of a concern than your wipe-eating bear.”

  Despite Tristian’s confident words, Lilly stared at the spot in the trees where the bear had disappeared, long after the children had finished up breakfast and gone to pack up. There was no denying it. Every single person on this hike, children included, was a more reliable outdoorsman than her. Why had she even come?

  14

  Ice Caves

  The hiking was fairly easy that morning. They didn’t get started until well after ten, but Lilly was somewhat reassured by the fact that Tristian could actually point to their destination. Nothing more was expected of her today than to hike from one end of Spider Meadows to the other.

  Tonight they planned on camping at the bottom of Phelps Basin, a rugged bowl of rock at the end of the meadow.

  Tristian explained that the white streaks she could see from a distance were lingering slabs of avalanche snow that lay slumped at the fringe of the meadow. At her look of shock, he laughed. “No avalanches now, it’s August. These are the leftovers. As long as we stay well away from the ice caves we’ll make it through just fine.”

  Ice caves. As in the beautiful but fragile domes of snow and ice that were in a constant state of decay due to the melting process and could collapse upon foolish hikers at any moment? Those ice caves? Lilly tugged her mind away from all the terrible possibilities and focused on traversing the meadow. Tucked within one side of the basin were Spider Gap and its accompanying glacier. The same glacier they were supposed to climb in order to reach Lyman Lakes on the other side.

  “Don’t look so concerned, Lilly. It’s more of a snow field than a glacier anyway. Hardly ever gets crevasses. I’ve even seen people make it up with a string of mules.”