Now, here on vacation in the Sierras, the question had to be asked. Was she the one?
I’ll work on her some more. She doesn’t play ball, I’ll find somebody else who will, thought Bonnie, knowing that if Andrea didn’t come across now, she might as well chuck it in.
Plenty of others out there.
May well be, but there’s only one Andrea.
It’s make or break time.
“Bonnie ...” Andrea twisted her hands, looking slightly embarrassed.
“What is it? You can’t stand the sight of me? You wanna phone home and ask your Mom if it’s okay to be a dyke? What’s the problem, Andrea? Spit it out.”
Andrea spat it out. Slowly and with feeling.
“You know how I get these hunches sometimes ... like premonitions?”
Jesus Christ, that’s all we need ... Three teenage fuckin’ hoods.
Now we get a message from beyond.
“You have mentioned them before. Go on.”
“Well,” Andrea twirled a strand of sweat-damp hair around her finger.
She was obviously ill at ease. Bonnie prepared herself for some bad news.
“What would you say if I said don’t let’s go back by way of Dead Mule Pass?”
Andrea picked at the hem of her T-shirt, uncomfortable, knowing that Bonnie was staring at her, open-mouthed.
“I just get this feeling, Bonnie,” she went on quietly. “It’s a really strong feeling that we should take another route.”
Andrea slipped off the rock and faced Bonnie. Then, reaching out, she caressed Bonnie’s shoulder. The touch was gentle and timid, like the flutter of a small bird. With mounting impatience, Bonnie shrugged it off.
“Please,” Andrea said in a small voice. She knew she would cry in a minute if Bonnie didn’t say something nice to her.
Like, lt’s okay. You’re with me. I’ll look after you. Or, Don’t mind me, I didn’t mean what I said about you and Rick.
Instead she got a gesture of bored resignation from Bonnie and, “Er ... okay. If that’s what you want.”
Bonnie slid off the rock and hunkered down to open her pack.
Pulling out a well-thumbed map of the Sierra Nevada mountains, she spread it on the rock before them and began to trace out another route.
“There isn’t another recognized route to Mulligan Lake,” she announced eventually. “We could go up this ridge, here, and then drop down, by-passing Dead Mule Pass. But it’s out of the way; we’re not likely to meet many other backpackers along there. You get into trouble on the Mulligan Lake Route, and you’d see other hikers and maybe a ranger on patrol to help out.
“Sorry, but the way I see it, Andrea, the main route is the only way to go.”
“Damn.”
“But we’re not likely to hit a problem, are we? I mean, the terrible trio have gone their own way by now. And the mad preacher is probably rounding up repentants somewhere else.”
“PietISt, Bonnie.”
“Hey. Somebody’s gotta act responsible around here. We can’t go wandering off down some lonesome ol’ trail nobody uses. Nobody except those with no business on the official route, that is. Talk sense!”
“Okay,” Andrea lifted her chin defiantly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She swung up her pack, shrugged her arms into the straps and adjusted her load. Bonnie followed suit. She glanced sideways at Andrea’s self-righteous expression.
“Okay. Okay,” she said, with a dramatic sigh. “We’ll do it the hard way. Main route to Mulligan Lake, it isn’t. Trail of the lonesome pine, it is.”
Bonnie stomped on ahead. She wasn’t happy about choosing the ridge route. They had their knives, and could throw a mean rock if trouble broke out. And she still had her brother’s hatchet ... But what if one of them broke a leg or fell into a crevasse—anything could happen.
And probably would, she thought, gloomily.
One of them had to stay behind, they could get chomped by a goddamn cougar.
“You’re not happy with this, are you, Bonnie?”
Andrea was striding out, abreast of Bonnie now. She took a peek at Bonnie’s set face.
“The hell I’m not happy with it. But, my mystic munchkin, if you’ve got a funny feeling about reaching Mulligan Lake by the tried and tested, we’ll go the ridge route. No problem. The map says it’s the quickest route anyway, so that’s one consolation. ”
They were climbing now; a cluster of pines up ahead told them that the trail— what trail? —began right here. They kept on trucking. This way, they’d soon get through and back to their vehicle in no time.
Not worth hassling about.
Who needs the main route anyway?
They pressed on up the rough grass track. Then, “Bonnie, are you hearing what I’m hearing?”
Bonnie stopped and listened.
“Yeah, guys’ voices,” she replied.
“What d’you reckon? Men or boys?”
“Haven’t the foggiest. Whatever they are, they sure sound as if they’re whooping it up.”
Andrea stopped, hand on hip, and listened some more. The whoops got louder. Men. A group of men, gotta be backpackers were headed their way. But they sound more like booligans than your average biker, she thought.
More shouts. Bursts of coarse laughter rang out through the trees ahead. The voices:
“Hey, Wilbur. I fancy a bit o’ skirt! How ’bout you?”
“You’ll be lucky ’round these parts! Don’t see no skirt hereabouts. Can you see anything that vaguely looks like a skirt, from where you’re standing, Bud?”
“Not from where he’s standin’, he can’t. He’s busy takin’ a leak!”
“Aw, leave it out, Wilbur. Go get yourself another beer.”
Loud guffaws echoed through the dark trees.
Bonnie and Andrea tensed as they heard footfalls coming toward them on their left, through the forest undergrowth. The footfalls got closer, but they still couldn’t see the guys.
Then, “Shoulda brought that Nicole along. She’d oblige us, all three. Yessirree. An’ then ask for more!”
They heard whoops of laughter, lewd, suggestive. Then it simmered down to muffled, low-key banter.
Andrea and Bonnie couldn’t quite hear what was being said.
The next gust of laughter seemed a helluva lot nearer to where they were standing. Holding their breath, they looked at each other, wondering what to do.
“ ’nother can of beer, Wilbur?”
“Sure, Dean, chuck it across ...”
The slap of a hand catching a beer.
“They’re shit-faced ...” Bonnie whispered. “But it sounds like maybe they’re settling down. Taking a goddamn rest. And we’ve got to walk along the path, right past them—there’s no other way!”
“So what? We just ignore them. Pretend we haven’t seen them and just, well, just walk on by...”
“Oh yeah. Great. Andrea, haven’t you learned your lesson yet? We got rid of The Three Thugateers, now we meet up with a second bunch, with bells on this time. We had enough hassle with the first lot. Now we got these wiseguys who look as if they mean business. Serious business. And sounds like they’re gagging for it, too. And you say walk on by? The $64,000 question is, sweetcakes, will they let us ‘walk on by’? You bet your sweet life they won’t!”
Bonnie fumed under her breath. She snatched off her straw hat and fanned her flushed cheeks with it. Andrea could be a real dork, sometimes.
“Hey! What have we here? Guys, come on over. Think we just found ourselves a coupla playmates!”