watching when the sightings are coming from all over."
Sure he could—if it meant spending long summer nights huddled at the camera beside Julia. But she had a point. So far they'd tried for hours on end to spot the mystery lights without success. His documentary was doomed if they couldn't get actual footage.
"Seems like we're always one step behind," he said. He munched on another piece of chicken as he scrutinized the map of sightings. "They're all along this side of the gorge, but there just aren't any good vantage points. Maybe tomorrow we should go over to the other side? Up to the Devil's Elbow, there's a scenic overlook there."
Julia laid flat on her back, staring up at Snakehead's summit above and to the north of them. "It would take all day to get up there on our bikes." She scrunched her face in thought and JD wanted nothing more than to smooth his fingers across her skin, erase all the frown lines. "Why don't we camp out at the old caretaker's cabin down by the dam?"
"All the fog gathers down there below the dam, but we might see something. And there have been more sightings near the dam than anywhere else." He thought about it, liking her idea. "Maybe the dam is the target."
JD lost himself momentarily in the fantasy: him stopping a band of wild-eyed terrorists, the gleam of pride in his father's eyes, the whole town cheering as they gave him a medal, Julia at his side.
"More likely it's kids skinny-dipping in the reservoir." Julia sprang to her feet, brushing stray strands of grass from her shorts. "It's getting dark, I'll take the first shift."
JD couldn't argue as he watched her lean over, focused on the camera's viewfinder. Darkness was gathering around them, but the night was warm, the stars bright. They both had headlights on their bikes and midnight curfews, and the ride down the mountain road was a lot easier than the ride up. Besides, no one ever drove the Rattlesnake Pike at night—the dirt road was tricky enough in the daytime.
Until then, it was just him, Julia, and the mountain. A smile stretched his face, accompanied by a warm stirring below his waist. So far he hadn't even found the courage to kiss Julia. She had class, he had to work his way up to it, do it right. That was okay. He had all summer.
"Hey!" Her voice rang out through the night clearer than a church bell. "I think I see them!"
It was dark by the time Sarah stopped. She didn't mind hiking at night, not with the full moon to guide her. But her body rebelled, near to collapse. She'd marched up the mountain like a zombie, stopping neither for food or drink or rest. She looked around, recognized where her feet had unerringly led her to.
The top of Snakebelly. The first time she'd taken Sam camping, she had brought him here. The first time they had made love was here, beneath the shimmering night sky filled with the cascading stars of the Milky Way. She remembered how frightened Sam had been when she had jumped off the cliff, rappelled down into the gorge. His face had been whiter than snow, covered with sweat as he forced himself to peer over the edge and look below. That had taken him more courage than she had understood at the time—she'd played along the cliffs of this mountain since she was a child, had never known any fear, or met anyone who was afraid of heights. But then, Sam wasn't like anyone she had ever known before.
When she realized what it had cost him to watch her blissfully teeter on the edge of the crevasse, ropes or no ropes, she discovered she had found someone who meant more to her than her first love, the mountain. She had hung up her climbing gear, using it only when needed during search and rescue missions.
Below this granite ledge was Snakebelly, the crevasse where the last body found on Snakehead had been found. Lily Waverly, Hal's wife.
Snakebelly was where the river deposited all of its dead, although it often sequestered them for a time, sometimes years, decades, or even centuries. When
Sure he could—if it meant spending long summer nights huddled at the camera beside Julia. But she had a point. So far they'd tried for hours on end to spot the mystery lights without success. His documentary was doomed if they couldn't get actual footage.
"Seems like we're always one step behind," he said. He munched on another piece of chicken as he scrutinized the map of sightings. "They're all along this side of the gorge, but there just aren't any good vantage points. Maybe tomorrow we should go over to the other side? Up to the Devil's Elbow, there's a scenic overlook there."
Julia laid flat on her back, staring up at Snakehead's summit above and to the north of them. "It would take all day to get up there on our bikes." She scrunched her face in thought and JD wanted nothing more than to smooth his fingers across her skin, erase all the frown lines. "Why don't we camp out at the old caretaker's cabin down by the dam?"
"All the fog gathers down there below the dam, but we might see something. And there have been more sightings near the dam than anywhere else." He thought about it, liking her idea. "Maybe the dam is the target."
JD lost himself momentarily in the fantasy: him stopping a band of wild-eyed terrorists, the gleam of pride in his father's eyes, the whole town cheering as they gave him a medal, Julia at his side.
"More likely it's kids skinny-dipping in the reservoir." Julia sprang to her feet, brushing stray strands of grass from her shorts. "It's getting dark, I'll take the first shift."
JD couldn't argue as he watched her lean over, focused on the camera's viewfinder. Darkness was gathering around them, but the night was warm, the stars bright. They both had headlights on their bikes and midnight curfews, and the ride down the mountain road was a lot easier than the ride up. Besides, no one ever drove the Rattlesnake Pike at night—the dirt road was tricky enough in the daytime.
Until then, it was just him, Julia, and the mountain. A smile stretched his face, accompanied by a warm stirring below his waist. So far he hadn't even found the courage to kiss Julia. She had class, he had to work his way up to it, do it right. That was okay. He had all summer.
"Hey!" Her voice rang out through the night clearer than a church bell. "I think I see them!"
It was dark by the time Sarah stopped. She didn't mind hiking at night, not with the full moon to guide her. But her body rebelled, near to collapse. She'd marched up the mountain like a zombie, stopping neither for food or drink or rest. She looked around, recognized where her feet had unerringly led her to.
The top of Snakebelly. The first time she'd taken Sam camping, she had brought him here. The first time they had made love was here, beneath the shimmering night sky filled with the cascading stars of the Milky Way. She remembered how frightened Sam had been when she had jumped off the cliff, rappelled down into the gorge. His face had been whiter than snow, covered with sweat as he forced himself to peer over the edge and look below. That had taken him more courage than she had understood at the time—she'd played along the cliffs of this mountain since she was a child, had never known any fear, or met anyone who was afraid of heights. But then, Sam wasn't like anyone she had ever known before.
When she realized what it had cost him to watch her blissfully teeter on the edge of the crevasse, ropes or no ropes, she discovered she had found someone who meant more to her than her first love, the mountain. She had hung up her climbing gear, using it only when needed during search and rescue missions.
Below this granite ledge was Snakebelly, the crevasse where the last body found on Snakehead had been found. Lily Waverly, Hal's wife.
Snakebelly was where the river deposited all of its dead, although it often sequestered them for a time, sometimes years, decades, or even centuries. When
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