Brave New Omega, Part 1

1. KATIE

Chapter one

KATIE

I thought my days of marching through woods in the rain and mud were over when I was discharged from the Army. Leave it to my younger sisters to dream up a vacation that is almost as bad as some of my deployments. The woods smell fresh – like the fir trees we’d cut as kids for Christmas. That is a point in its favor. But the soggy ground and shroud of mist are definitely detractions. I pause my march up a slowly winding path to scrape a clump of mud and leaves from my boots.

“What the hell is geocaching anyway?” I grumble, pulling the hood of my raincoat down. The stubborn drizzle clings to my cheeks and neck, sending uncomfortable chills crawling over my skin.

“Why do people hide boxes full of notes in the woods just for other people to find? It seems rather unhygienic.” Layla, my next-youngest sister, tramps just behind me, her blonde braid swinging over one shoulder.

Somehow she manages to look like a fairy queen, her high cheekbones rosy from exertion, her blue eyes clear despite the gloom, the mist on her skin shimmering like glitter. I’m sure I look more like a half-drowned Yorkie; my short brown hair untamed, my usual tan from days drilling outside long faded. If I didn’t love my sister as fiercely as I do, I would have to hate her on principle.

“How much farther?” Molly Beth sniffles a little and I slow my pace. My left knee throbs but I’m used to the pain and a fast march means a faster end to this excursion. Molly Beth wipes her nose with a delicate pocket handkerchief, her freckles are stark against her pale skin. I know she’s twenty and a full-grown adult, but she has always been so small and young-looking for her age.

Her fraternal twin, Maddie, stops beside her, crossing her arms and scowling. Their only common feature is their red hair, but Maddie keeps hers in a curly faux hawk, where Molly Beth’s is long and wavy around her shoulders.

“Who picked geocaching again? This is the dumbest bonding trip yet,” Maddie grumbles.

“It’s not dumb,” Norah, the youngest of us, says, pushing her glasses up her nose. She passes through the line to stand beside me on the narrow deer trail, holding up a GPS coordinator. “Lots of people around the world go geocaching. It’s like a real life side quest. You track the coordinates and you’ll have an adventure. There are three caches within a two-mile radius, which is uncommon for someplace so remote.”

I sigh, and nudge Norah's arm. Our dad had wanted us to be a strong family unit before he died, and insisted we take an annual trip together. With mom’s passing last year, then my injury, it seems even more important to have these trips.

But geocaching? I’ve never heard of it, and this feels way too much like boot camp all over again. Why couldn’t we at least hunt these little notes closer to a beach? Or a prairie? Or anywhere that wasn’t mountainous and raining and aggravating to my bum knee?

“What do the coordinates say? How much further?” I try to keep my voice encouraging, but some of my frustration creeps in. The chilly, damp air is irritating Molly Beth’s lungs, though she won't say so. But I notice–it’s my job as the oldest to notice–and I don't think the Wilder sisters could handle any more personal catastrophes.

Norah blinks at me, wiping her glasses clean of the mist with the edge of her flannel shirt.

“It looks like we have only about a quarter of a mile left, I think there’s a bend in the trail and a steep drop to the right. But it should be in the hollow of an old tree just off the main trail.” Norah smiles, her good mood unphased by the drizzle.

“This is such a waste of time,” Maddie grumbles, shifting from foot to foot. She pats down the front of her rain jacket and pulls out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Before any of us can snap at her, she’s got a lighter out and ignites it at the tip, inhaling deeply. Her eyes flutter closed, and she moans with the cigarette held firm between her lips.

Quickly, she stuffs the pack and the lighter away and takes a step back from Molly Beth. At least she has the consideration not to blow smoke on her asthmatic twin.

“I thought you gave that up?” Layla wrinkles her nose. “Smoking is so bad for you; it can permanently damage your lungs and prematurely age your skin. You really should quit and do a full body detox. I have just the tea for that back at my apartment.”

“Layla, nobody needs your herbal detox teas. Those things are fake anyway,” Maddie says, flicking ash from the end of her cigarette. “I did quit; these are just for especially stressful times. This is my emergency pack that was supposed to last me the entire weekend.”

The pack was almost empty.

“We are not that bad,” Molly Beth says quietly.

Maddie’s expression softens for a moment. Then the grumpy scowl returns.

“Yes we are. Anytime all five of us are together, we are that bad.”

“You’re always so negative. You really need to have a more positive attitude towards life. Optimism is proven to reduce blood pressure and cortisol levels,” Layla says, twirling the end of her braid.

Maddie snorts. “Don’t lecture me miss ‘live, laugh, love’. I’m not one of your followers that you can influence.”

“At least I have followers,” Layla snaps back, her cool facade slipping. I know the tone well. Layla and Maddie were the two loudest of our quintet. Layla was usually easygoing, but had a tendency to lecture even though she’s only two and a half years older than Maddie and Molly Beth. Maddie was like a pinball in a machine, bouncing off every obstacle in her path, not caring which direction it threw her, only that she hit it as hard as possible. When they pinged off each other it always left scorch marks.

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“These trips are supposed to be about bonding, not barking at one another,” I say wearily.

“Just there!” Norah hollers from up the trail. She hops excitedly, waving at us to hurry. “I found it! We’re nearly there!”

“Finally.” I march to Norah, forcing the throb of my torn knee back into those unlit corners of my consciousness. Right now, my sisters need me. They need me to support them, and even to play damn referee. They need me to keep holding us together. And if that means indulging Norah’s silly hike, then that’s what I am going to do.

I pass my youngest sister and survey the bend in the trail. It’s a terrible location: a tree off the thin thread of a trail half-way down the bottom of a hillside that ends in a leaf-littered ravine. No ominous rock croppings at least. But still. Whoever chose this location to hide a geocache should be forced to run laps. A thousand laps. Carrying sandbanks. At noon. With no sunscreen.

Norah claps. “This will be so cool! I haven't done geocaching in Oregon yet. Twenty-five states down! Halfway to my goal!” Norah squeals with excitement and I relax my jaw.

“Did you know they have geocaches all around the world? We could do a sisters trip to New Zealand or Nepal!” Norah says excitedly.

“How about we find a geocache in a spa in Thailand?” Layla says.

“Ohoo do they have them in cities? Could we go to New York--or what about Paris? Paris is supposed to be so romantic. And the food is legendary.” Molly Beth offers one of her shy, sweet smiles.

“I am not geocaching again. Besides, the next sisters trip is Katie’s choice. It better be someplace warm and dry, Katie-Kat,” Maddie grumbles.

Layla huffs again, but I feel her roll her shoulders back. “Well, Norah, I’m glad we can help make your dream come true.”

Norah beams at her. Under her breath I hear Layla add, “even if it’s a waste of time.”

That’s the Wilder sisters; we can grumble like hell but we at least stick together. My chest squeezes uncomfortably, not the tender pangs you see in all the nostalgic movies about sisterhood. No, we’re not soft like that. All the loss we’ve survived in the last ten years hardened us. But instead of pulling us apart, it at least pushed us together. Which is a blessing. Most of the time.

Molly Beth pauses next to me and wraps her gloved hand around my forearm. Shit, she’s wheezing again.

“Do you have your inhaler?” I ask, scanning her for any signs of oxygen depletion. I should have brought the pulse-ox with us.

Molly Beth squeezes my arm. “Of course. You don't have to mother-hen me, okay? I alway keep my emergency bag.” Molly Beth pats one of the zipper pockets of her lined lemon yellow raincoat. “Just like you taught me.”

I look up at the sky, the slight silver-gray cloud cover deepening into something even less friendly, and my stomach tightens with dread.

I test the ground before taking a step off the path. The leaves are slick from the persistent drizzle. We’ll need to be careful so none of us ass-plants on the way down.

“Come on, grab hands and we'll go down together. Then we can do whatever you do with a geocache and get back to base camp.”

“Aye aye, Captain Katie!” Layla teases.

“Damn right,” I say. I was a Captain before medical discharge sent me home to recover and reconsider what the hell I was going to do with my life. At least that meant being home to take care of mom for her last six months.

I take Norah’s hand and slowly descend the side of the hill. Norah grabs Layla, who links arms with Molly Beth, who reaches out to snatch Maddie’s hand. Maddie sighs but falls into line.

We are an unbroken chain of Wilder women.

It comforts me, weirdly. All of us linked up. It’s like the best of my unit and the best of my family. For a brief moment we are working as a team, grunting and laughing as we half march, half slide down the leafy ground to the hollowed out oak. Like we were children again playing in leaf piles or rolling down hills.

The picture on the geocaching website did not do justice to the oak tree. In reality, the tree is massive. The bark ridged with deep scarring around its enormous base, a few initials shallowly carved decorate its mid-section.

Squeezing, we are all able to huddle inside the hollow. Our heavy breathing creates an eerie kind of echo in the space.

“Where’s the cache?” Norah squeaks, peering into the dark edges of the space. The plastic box is tucked into one corner. It’s a dingy little cube with a latch. Just as Norah kneels down to grab it, a clap of thunder rattles above us.

“Shit. It wasn’t supposed to storm.” I pull out my phone to bring up my radar app, but we are too deep in the woods for any signal.

“Okay, Norah, now it’s time. Let’s fill out the register or whatever and get back up to the trail before we get totally dumped on.” Maddie huddles behind Molly Beth, framing her as a protective shield.

“Mads is right. We have to hurry. A storm like this in the woods could make it hard to get back to base camp.” The mud would make it treacherous for Molly Beth to walk through. A hard enough rain could cause a flash flood, which might leave us stranded in unfamiliar Oregon woods. Or worse. “Norah, let’s go now.” My voice is all command.

She opens the box and pulls out a rolled-up sheet of paper. It’s a scroll, like something that you might find in a children’s dress-up box.

Norah unrolls it, squinting at the text. She’s frowning and then hands the paper to me.

“This doesn’t make any sense. Most geocaches are lists of the people who found it. But this is like a poem.”

A chill settles over me. Something isn’t right. The hairs on my arms and neck prickle.

“Oh, let me see,” Layla says, snatching the paper from Norah. Clearing her voice, Layla reads the poem aloud.

“Light as Light, swift as air, Dance the stars beyond the Fair; Past the wood, and past the water, Spinning, spinning, celestial daughter. Journeymen come and journeymen go, Where they land, who can know? Come thee now, past rock and loam, And fare thee well, thy terrestrial home.”