Chapter 10
Dawn came with frost and a bright horizon to the east. The air was crisp and I was looking forward to getting on the move.
I decided to wait before checking for Rose’s text until I got the blood flowing and it warmed up a bit.
I was also going to wait on brewing my canteen cup of coffee until the great heat tab in the sky was higher.
I had my sleeping pad and bag packed in less than thirty seconds.
One of the first things I’d learned in the military was to be ready to move out as fast as possible.
No scattering things about like Louis did.
If you weren’t using it, you kept it packed.
You put everything in the same place so you can find it in the dark and pack it back up in the dark.
I put on my jacket to fight against the chill until I got the blood flowing.
I shouldered my ruck and Maggs and I headed out.
After thirty minutes, I was warm enough to take the jacket off.
Another lesson learned was to avoid sweating when it was cold out.
This wasn’t close to the winter environments I’d been in where sweat could freeze and lead to hypothermia, but there was no point in pushing it.
I went a little farther, then found a nice level spot on the side of the trail, with a decent view of the surrounding countryside.
Before making breakfast, I spent fifteen minutes doing kata, the ritualized movements of martial arts.
Reinforcing muscle memory. Every skill is perishable contrary to what people saw in the movies where some operative who’s been ‘retired’ for over a decade suddenly springs into action at the top of their game.
I wasn’t at the top of my game, and I knew I never would be again.
Age takes a toll. But I could be better prepared.
I hated to admit it, but the most important thing all my martial arts training had taught me over the years was how to fall properly and avoid getting hurt. So far that had come into play a couple of times on the trail during my previous excursions, even with the ruck on my back.
Done, I set up my small stove; got it going and put the canteen cup on. Fed Maggs. Then I pulled out the Faraday bag, opened it, and put the Satphone on top of my ruck to get a signal.
Rose’s response wasn’t what I expected.
Your prepper is scared Max
Did you reassure him
All is good here
New York is big
So many people
Poppy great
Love
Scared? That hadn’t even occurred to me. Stupid and na?ve and he talked too much, sure. But scared?
I shook my head and put the Satphone away in the bag and sealed it.
I took the time to sip my coffee and enjoy the morning. While the trees were leafless, the terrain was beautiful. Folds of land stretching as far as I could see. No signs of civilization. No hiker coming through. No sign of Sasquatch. When I was done, I packed up, shouldered my ruck and headed out.
We went down into a valley. I could hear water rushing over stones ahead. A good place to break out the filter and top off my canteen. Maggs alerted before I heard another noise.
It is a maxim of soldiers to head toward the sound of the guns.
It’s trained into us and I’d done so in the past. But I’d received no training to head toward the sound of someone weeping.
My instinct was to turn the other way. I was halfway in the other direction when I heard an echo of Rose’s voice in my head.
“Shit,” I muttered, looking down at Maggs who was poised, one front paw frozen up in the air, waiting on me.
“Come on,” I reluctantly said and headed downslope.
The woman was sitting on the side of the trail with her pack beside her, crying quietly into her hands.
Not the exhausted crying of a hard day hiking, it was still morning.
The broken kind. The kind that came from somewhere deeper.
The stream cutting across the trail was another twenty feet ahead.
Not very big. The rocks were covered with moss.
It was a nice spot; not a place to cry about.
I slowed my approach and got out of stealth mode, making some noise, giving her space to hear me coming.
“Good morning,” I called out. “You okay?” I asked from a respectful distance. Which was a stupid question. You don’t sit on the side of the trail crying if everything is all right.
She looked up, wiping quickly at her face. Mid-twenties, athletic build, expensive gear that still had that fresh-from-the-store look. Like mine. Her eyes were red and swollen.
“Fine. I’m fine.” She tried to smile. “Just taking a break.”
Fine. Ha.
I nodded, started to move past. None of my business. People had bad days on the trail. Sometimes they needed to cry it out alone. At least I hadn’t walked away. I’d asked. I could put that in tonight’s text. I’d asked.
But Maggs went up to her, pushing her big furry head against the woman’s leg.
Well, this was awkward. I paid more attention to her body language.
The way she was hunched in on herself. The way her hands were shaking.
The way she kept glancing down the trail like she was expecting something—or someone—to appear. Someone she didn’t want to see.
“Mind if I sit for a minute?” I asked. “My dog could use some water.”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “Sure.”
I dropped my pack. Maggs saw that and quickly ran down to the stream and began drinking.
Which meant she didn’t sense any danger.
Done, Maggs idled back to the woman, sitting close to her.
Sometimes I wondered where Maggs’ loyalty lay; on my last go around on the trail, I’d left her with Rose and Poppy and she hadn’t objected when I walked off.
“She’s beautiful,” the woman said, reaching out tentatively to pet her.
“She knows it,” I said. “She’s safe,” I added, which wasn’t necessarily true. Maggs could a be a terror if needed.
The woman glanced at me. “Is it that obvious that even a dog can sense it?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That I’m a mess?”
“Everyone’s a mess out here.” I sat across from her, on the other side of the trail, keeping distance. “I’m Max.”
“Jenna.” She kept petting Maggs, and I could see her hands stop shaking.
Maggs had that effect on people.
Jenna spoke without any prompting. “I started three days ago.” She looked at her pack. “And I’m quitting. Heading to the road at the next opportunity. Calling for a ride.”
“Okay.”
She looked at me sharply. “You’re not going to try to talk me out of it? Tell me I can do it. I just need to push through?”
“Nope. It’s your hike. Your decision.”
“Everyone at the shelter last night tried. Said I’d regret it. Said the first few days are always the hardest. Said I’d feel differently tomorrow.” Her voice got harder. “But I don’t feel differently and they don’t know.”
“Know what?”
She was quiet for a long moment, her hand still on Maggs’ head. “My husband told me I couldn’t do this. That I wasn’t strong enough. That I’d fail and come crawling back within a day.” She laughed bitterly. “Guess he was right.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Someone who’d tell you a thing like that wasn’t worth crawling or walking or coming back to at all, but it wasn’t my place to judge.
“The whole reason I came out here was to prove I could do something he said I couldn’t.” She wiped at her face again. “He told me I was weak. That I needed him. That I’d never make it on my own. And I wanted so badly to prove him wrong.”
I waited, letting her talk.
“But he was right. I can’t do it. The hiking is too hard, everything hurts, and all I can think about is how happy he’ll be. How he’ll say ‘I told you so’. How he’ll remind me for the rest of my life that I’m a failure.”
“The first week is hard on everyone’s body,” I said. “No matter how good shape you’re in.” I didn’t think her problem was her conditioning. At least not her physical conditioning.
She didn’t seem to hear me. “But I have to go back. Where else am I going to go?”
I had a feeling there was a lot more depth to this than she was letting on.
“Home isn’t safe?” I asked quietly.
She gave me a sharp look. “He didn’t think I’d even get out of the car when he dropped me off. Like he was calling my bluff letting me buy this stuff and driving me there. I could see the surprise. He’s not often surprised. And then—”
She hesitated.
“And then?”
“I saw a familiar look when I put the pack on my back. He became furious. But there were people around, so he pretended. He’s real good at pretending to the outside world.
” She looked at me, and I saw the fear behind the tears.
“He doesn’t hit me. He’s never hit me. But he .
. .” She trailed off. “He makes me feel small. Like I’m worthless.
Like I can’t do anything right. And when I said I wanted to hike the AT, he laughed.
Said I’d never make it past the parking lot. ”
“So you came out here to prove him wrong. Which you’ve already done.”
“I came out here to get away from him.” The words tumbled out now, like she’d been holding them in. “He won’t let me go back to my job, which I had before we got married. He has cameras all over the house so he can watch me. Tracks my car. My cell phone.”
I understood the issue with being tracked, but this was of a different magnitude.
She went on. “I wanted to get away from being watched. And, honestly, I read a book about the Trail. I thought maybe if I could do this—this big, hard thing—I’d find the courage to leave him.
Really leave him. Not just for a hike, but for good.
That I’d have a chance to really think without anyone, him, his family, telling me what to think.
” She looked down. “But I can’t even do this.
How am I supposed to leave my marriage if I can’t even walk up a mountain? ”
Maggs pressed closer against her, and Jenna buried her face in her fur.
I didn’t say anything for a bit, trying to think. Finally, I thought: what would Rose say?
“You want my honest opinion?” I asked.