The Vanishing Gary Brown (booksvooks TXT) 📖

wearing a pair of binoculars around her neck. In her hand, she held a digital camcorder.

“Seems like a beautiful afternoon for a walk in the woods, doesn’t it?” Claire said with a smile.

“Nice try,” Martin said. “I can practically see the wheels spinning in that pretty little head of yours. You heard what Mark said. We stay put until we have backup.”

“Who said anything about needing backup?” Claire said. “I simply thought we’d take Maggy for a stroll through the woods, snoop around, do a little birdwatching, snoop some more...”

“Funny, you seem to be understating the whole snooping around part. Or do you think I didn’t catch that?”

“I was?” Claire replied innocently.

Martin sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I can’t see what harm we can get into by taking a walk. But not for long.”

“Half an hour, tops.”

“You said fifteen minutes.”

“Twenty minutes,” Claire pressed. “Not a second longer.”

Martin sighed. “I am in such deep shit.”

“Yes, but at least you’re in it with me.”

“Wonderful. I feel better already.”

“Maybe it’s none of my business,” Earl Bentley interjected, “but are you two sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Thanks, Mr. Bentley,” Martin said. “We’ll be fine.”

Bentley continued. “It’s just that I grew up in these parts. I know the woods and the mountains ‘round here so well I got spring water runnin’ through my veins. I could see to it you don’t get lost. Believe me, these woods take on a whole different look when you’re not sure where you’re going.”

“I don’t know about that, Mr. Bentley,” Martin said.

“It’s Earl,” the trucker insisted. “Truth be told, I’d feel mighty terrible if the two of you set off on your own then I hear tomorrow that the Forest Service is looking for ya ‘cause you got lost when I could have done something to make sure that didn’t happen.”

“I appreciate your offer to help, Earl,” Martin said. “Really, I do. And no offense, but it could be a bit of a trek. You sure you’re up to it?”

Earl Bentley took off his worn New York Yankees’ baseball cap and pointed to his thin crown of white hair. “Here’s a lesson for ya, young fella. Just ‘cause there’s a little snow on the volcano don’t mean there ain’t plenty of fire in the furnace.”

Martin laughed. “Point taken.”

“Earl’s right,” Claire said. “We’d be a lot faster if we had a guide.”

Bentley smiled and took Claire by the hand. “Your wife’s right. Let me show you, missie,” he said. He walked Claire along the beaten path past the mile marker and down the embankment to the edge of the forest.

“She’s not my wi--,” Martin called out from a distance, then shook his head. “Oh, what the hell.”

Martin whistled through his teeth. Maggy popped her head up from the back seat.

“Come on, girl!” he called out.

Maggy bounded gracefully through the open window and ran past Martin, barking down the path after Claire and the sprightly old trucker. “Stay clear of skunks!” he yelled as she disappeared over the embankment.

“There ain’t much about these mountains I don’t know,” Earl told Claire as he led the way through the dense underbrush. “Spent my youth as a park ranger in Sequoia. Had to go in deep one too many times, I’m afraid, lookin’ for city slickers like you. Sometimes it turned out good, sometimes not so good.” With fox-like dexterity, the old trucker clambered down a steep slope at the end of the path as he held Claire’s hand, using his body to protect her from falling.

“I don’t know what it is with some folks when it comes to the woods,” Earl continued. “People who can barely recognize one end of a tent peg from the other would come for a week’s vacation. I’m talkin’ about otherwise intelligent folks like doctors, lawyers, and business people. Seems the minute they drive through the gates and set up camp they think they’re Bear Grylls, lose all touch with their faculties. They don’t know what they’re up against in the wild. And believe me, it don’t get any wilder than Sequoia.”

“How do you mean?” Claire asked as she stepped over a fallen branch.

The old man pushed aside a low-hanging bough. “Well,” he began, “there was this one couple I remember. He was a Wall Street financier. She was a stockbroker.” Bentley shook his head disapprovingly. “Arrived at the park in a Mercedes Benz, of all things. Now, I’m not sayin’ that just because they were young and from the city and drivin’ a snappy sports car that that made them any less capable than the next couple. But all they could lay claim to for camping gear was a pup tent, a couple of backpacks, a portable stove, and barely enough rations to last out the week. They became friendly with another couple a few sites over and announced they were goin’ into the woods to do a little exploring. Said that they’d be back later that evening. Well, sure as you can figure, the next day came and went. When no one had seen ‘em after three days, we got the call. Rangers organized a search party. Found ‘em two days later.”

“Were they okay?”

Bentley shook his head. “Dead. Both of ‘em.”

Claire pulled the trucker by his arm. The old man turned around, faced her. “What happened to them?” she asked.

“We figure they was most likely attacked by a mountain lion, but with the state the bodies were in we couldn’t say for sure. Could’ve been a black bear or a bobcat. They were in far deeper than they should have been. We checked their clothes and their packs. No compass, GPS, cell phone… nothin’. They were lost, for sure. Two things you gotta remember about the mountains and the forest in these parts. They don’t care who you are, and they don’t forgive you for being stupid.” Bentley waved his arm in a wide arc. “Take a good look around, missie. Out here you’re on your own.”

Martin shuffled down the slope, finally caught up.

“Geez! Slow