Chapter 65
Charlie Barber
Charlie rolled out of bed, kissed his sleeping wife of twenty-two years on the cheek, told her he loved her, as he always did, and drove two hours to the mountainous ranges in Church Heights.
He parked his car at the bottom of Rutherford’s estate.
Guided only by his head torch, he headed into the dark forest.
He walked at a good pace up the mountainside incline, sweat stuck his shirt to his back, hoping to reach a good viewing platform to see the sun breach the inky darkness. He was fit for a man in his forties, but not quite as fit as he had been in his twenties.
Charlie paused, taking the backpack off his shoulders and pulled out a water bottle, pouring some for Bindy in a white plastic tub.
She lapped it up while Charlie drank a few big gulps out of the bottle.
He looked up, the sun was just peaking over the mountain top in the distance, spindled orange fingers clawed silently into the milky black sky.
“Come on, girl,” he said, ruffling her head, sliding the bottle and container back into his bag. “Let’s go.”
The dog took off in front of him, her tail flapping.
Just ahead to the right Charlie noted a trail that led up to a few large, naked boulders poking out from the hillside. It would be a steep climb, but if he hurried, they could be up there to see the sun emerge. He picked up his pace.
The landscape became rockier the more the trees dwindled off, only the odd one could take root on rock solid ground.
The incline increased. Charlie leaned forward, his muscles straining, occasionally grabbing onto the rock face with his calloused hands to pull and push his way up the last bit.
Bindy took big easy bounds in front of him; four legs, it seemed, was better than two for this incline.
He paused, panting for a heart beat, his back aching, his hamstrings feeling like the overplayed hairs on a violin bow, his lungs on fire.
Bindy made the top and turned to look at him with an excited grin.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he muttered.
Bindy lifted her nose skywards, sniffed, turned, and ran.
Charlie gritted his teeth, legs aching, heart booming, he clawed his way to the top. Somewhere out of sight Bindy started barking incessantly.
“Bindy,” he called out. The dog stopped barking. He removed his backpack. Sweat clung his top to his back like an oily rag. The tip of sun-kissed mountain in the distance. Bindy didn’t come back, which was unusual for her, she was always so eager to please.
“Bindy,” he called out. She started barking again.
She probably had a rabbit or some poor animal cornered. Sunrise would have to wait. He sighed and headed over to save the hapless creature.
Bindy’s eyes locked with Charlie’s and she turned back to whatever had gotten her attention. She began scratching frantically at the rock face, whining and barking.
Charlie squinted into the pale light, and edged a few steps closer. The stench of death entered the back of his throat. He groaned. Something had been dead for a while, and it wasn’t small. He reeled back and covered his mouth with his arm.
“Bindy, come here.” He tapped his leg in encouragement. The dog didn’t budge, she stared and kept barking. Charlie moved in for a closer look. “What have you found, girl?”
He let out a startled gasp. The ground took hold of his ankles.
Bile burned up his throat. The light on his forehead illuminated the atrocity like a horror movie screen.
Lying between boulders was the decomposing body of a man.
What was left of his face was an unnatural shade of gray, the skin on his cheek was peeled back like someone had taken a grater it and carved out chunks.
Maggots writhed furiously in the rotted flesh.
The place where his eyes should have been emptiness glared back.
The sockets picked clean. Rats or hungry animals had gnawed on his lips.
His yellowed teeth stuck out like piano keys.
Slashes criss-crossed his neck, chest and torso.
Intestines hung out of his stomach like black, chewed up sausages.
Charlie’s stomach heaved. The ground released him.
Whining, he staggered back and scrambled to the top of the boulder.
He bent over and threw up. Breathing deeply, he collapsed to the ground.
His hand shook violently as he pulled his phone out, but he had no reception.
He could use his emergency beacon, but there was no point calling in a rescue crew. The man was profoundly dead.
It was a two-hour hike back down before he managed to call 911.
The newspapers reported that a bear had mauled and killed missing hiker, Boris Thompson.