“I can help,” I repeat to Marty. “I can use Josh’s gear. I won’t slow you down. I promise.”
“Shit!” Fresh exclamation as Josh now slumps to the side, then slowly slides onto the floor.
Martin doesn’t say a word. Just closes his eyes.
Nemeth does the honors. He turns toward me. “Guess you’re in. Goddammit.”
CHAPTER 4
Can you shoot a gun?”
“God no. I rely on my charm.”
“And when a bear charges?”
“Um, run faster than the next person?”
Nemeth glances at my scrawny form, as I observe his sinewy build. He looks like he’s been hewn from the mountains themselves, a blend of rippling tree limbs and hard granite formations. He’s average height, around five ten, but there’s not an ounce of fat on him. I didn’t look that good in my twenties and certainly can’t imagine being that fit in my late sixties, early seventies. Nemeth may be my new hero. Though I kind of want to toss a brownie at him just to see what he’ll do.
“Last time I had a conversation this stupid was with an arrogant ass by the name of Bobby Monfort. Moved here from back east, swearing he’d grown up in the mountains and there was nothing he couldn’t handle. We tried to warn him these woods were different, but he set off on a seven-day hike anyway. Know what happened to Bobby Monfort?”
“Um, he lived a long and happy life?” I try.
“We removed him from the woods in pieces. Took weeks to find all of him. Looks like he was originally attacked by a grizzly. But then the racoons had a go at it, as well as the scavenger birds, et cetera. We’re talking skull picked clean, bones cracked open for their marrow, fingers and toes chewed down to nubs.”
I know he’s being purposely graphic just to scare me. Doesn’t mean it’s not working. “I’ll carry bear repellent,” I amend.
Nemeth rolls his eyes. He and I are in the college friends’ room at the motel across the street from the diner. The three still standing have left with Martin to take detoxing Josh to the closest hospital, which apparently is an hour away. In the meantime, Nemeth is bringing me up to speed, including helping me pillage Josh’s supplies. I’m not sure what Bob the Bigfoot hunter and Luciana the dog handler are doing, but Bob didn’t look too sad about having some time alone with a beautiful woman. Or he’s really into yellow Labs.
“Stand up,” Nemeth orders.
I stand up. He hooks Josh’s metal-framed pack around my right shoulder, then my left. He lets go. I stagger slightly. Just manage not to tip over backward.
Nemeth regards me with his glacier-blue eyes. I haven’t fooled him for a minute.
“Just needs some adjustment,” I tell him.
Another long-suffering sigh. Seriously, the man could use some chocolate.
He takes the pack off, sits across from me on one of the two queen-sized beds.
“I’m guiding this team,” he states. “Their safety, your safety, is my responsibility. So you might as well start confessing now, because I’m not taking you into the woods like this. Woodland searches, my ass.”
“I have done some! More than one.”
“Two?”
“Possibly.”
That look again. I have a feeling Nemeth has dealt with some stupid people in his time, and not just as a professional guide. Good news: My own idiocy is at no risk of breaking him.
“I walk,” I offer up. “Everywhere. All the time. I don’t own a car and have spent the past ten years in areas where mass transit only gets you so far.”
“Sidewalks don’t equal mountains.”
“I’m fit. I won’t slow you down. Better yet, I’m sober. Going on ten years. That puts me ahead of Josh, and you were willing to take him.”
“Marty was willing to take him. I voiced my concerns. Show me your footwear. I can get a pack better fitted to your frame and lighten the load to accommodate the fact you’re what—a hundred pounds soaking wet?”
“A hundred and five!” Maybe.
“Boots are everything on a seven-day trek. You need ankle support and decent tread for where we’re headed.”
His voice is so grim, I hastily unzip my bag and produce my lone pair of boots. They’re battered on the outside, somewhere between fashion footwear and Nemeth’s rugged pair. I find myself holding my breath. I’ve never had my shoes judged before. I feel nervous on their behalf.
Nemeth lifts the pair, turning them over to inspect the heavy soles, testing out the sides for durability, support, something. He frowns, hands them back to me. “You wear these for long periods of time?’