Heartburn Read online

  It wasn’t like I had anyone to call right now unless Callista from the health food store texted me later. Although, the idea of having to drink a green cleansing smoothie before sex and listen to drum beats in perfect thrusting harmony for a tantric orgasm lost its appeal. There was only so much organic quinoa I could take before my head and body went on full revolt demanding squirt-able cheese from a can to set things back to rights. Callista might have been wild in the sack, but a pain in the ass to extricate from my house with her burning sage before we got down to business the handful of times I gave in to my baser needs. I didn’t need help in the virility department or the cleansing kind that kept me on the toilet for a solid six hours.

  “Dude, she’s been gone like twelve hours.” The dark-haired jock threw his hands up, pacing the station refocusing me on their conversation. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place his face and I dropped it for more important info like what happened to their flighty friend.

  The sun set through the park office windows, a mixture of brilliant yellows and reds against dark pines and craggy rocks. I had been thinking this morning, that early fall in the Shawnagunk and lower Adirondack mountains could be beautiful and mild, or take a turn for the cold in a snap. We didn’t have snow in the forecast, maybe some rain though, and I hoped their friend was sharper than these four nitwits who were keeping me from a nice dinner at home. Geez I sounded like a walking advertisement for AARP at the end of my shift.

  “Conner, you idiot, she left around three pm and never came back. That’s like three hours.” The large blond kid, another football player, seemed calmer and concerned in a reasonable fashion, unlike Ms. Panic-pants and the two high-as-a-kite twins. Right there folks, that’s our stunning bright future getting prepared to take shit over.

  “I hope nothing tried to eat her.” The last one, also dark like his tweedle-dumb friend, was reading up on the local wildlife poster board pointing to a picture containing a bear and wolf species common to the area. It basically warned hikers and park visitors to not leave out food and to be cautious. We hadn’t experienced an aggressive bear in a good long while and when I went out on foot I carried my shotgun with rubber buckshot, just in case. The bear might have been doing us a favor if he decided to come back though. A bit of Darwinism was fine by me. As for the wolves, they preferred the chickens from the local farms when possible.

  “Oh my God, the animals!” Blonde girl was all over that statement like white on rice grabbing for the jock.

  “Whoa! Hold up, what’s going on?” I held my hand up to silence them. “One at time, please.” I pointed to the blond giant, who seemed the most reasonable of the bunch and that was making a lot of assumptions. “Actually, you speak and the rest of you take a seat….”

  “Our friend, Amelia, walked off earlier today. It’s getting dark and she’s not back yet. We got worried. I thought maybe she hiked out from our camping spot and came here to hitch a ride back to campus.” Blond jock and blonde girl appeared to be a hot little item clinging together while the other two seemed like they were along for the ride and harmless enough. I couldn’t tell if there was more to this story or not, but my suspicions were raised along with the distinct smell of marijuana coming from the twins of stupidity.

  “Camping spot, eh?” I turned to look at Jeff who narrowed his eyes and grabbed the book of reservations for the only open spots possible in the park this time of year. He slid it across the counter to me and I picked it up thumbing through it.

  “Uh, yeah by the lake…” he said.

  Too bad he was dumb enough to tell me they were inside the park most likely camping illegally without a permit. I held up my hand to pause him and opened the camping roster of permit sites registered.

  “Registered name for the site?” He looked paler and yeah, I knew they weren’t supposed to be here. Man, my fingers were itching to handwrite some citations.

  “We don’t have one.” Tweedle-dumbass piped up from the back as everyone shot him a dirty look. Moronic and honest, I’d take what I could huffing out my frustration.

  “So you’re all illegally camping inside the park too?” They hung their heads down and I knew my one reasonably early night home was shot to hell. “Fantastic.” I muttered. So much for watching Jon Snow and the closest thing to political intrigue I could stomach. “Any idea where she was last time you saw her?” I almost regretted hearing their answer.

  “We walked out on the black trail for a mile, near Lake Awosting, but didn’t see her. I know she’s only been gone for three hours or so, but she doesn’t have her backpack with her or anything else.”

  “The forecast is calling for rain.” I hoped this girl was not as dense as her friends here, but it was doubtful. These kids looked a little too pampered to be left outside after dark. I regarded these spoiled kids as the type to be glamping rather than using real life survival skills. At the least, I should have given them a citation for illegally camping. Chances were I would regret giving them a break.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ryder West, sir.” Ryder looked like a smart kid, actually not a heck of a lot younger than I was which left me with a strange feeling I couldn’t identify. I graduated a few years earlier after a brief stint in the army and forestry school before coming home to settle in the area. Right about now the job opening in Yellowstone seemed better and better. I might actually not mind chasing tourists with cameras and selfie sticks out from the geysers hot spots.

  “All right, I’ll head out and see if I can find her, but honestly getting separated was the dumbest thing you guys could have done. Give me all of her information, what she was wearing and what direction you think she headed in.”

  Lucky me they all chimed in at once.

  Ryder: She was wearing purple.

  * * *

  Dummy number one: Not all purple. She’s kind of a Goth chic.

  * * *

  Dummy number two: Her hair is purple.

  * * *

  The girl: And skinny black jeans with black hiking boots. Totally cute outfit, but not my type.

  * * *

  Dummy number one: Yeah, but she’s all into witch shit isn’t she? That’s Goth.

  * * *

  The girl: No, she just likes candles. She doesn’t pray to Cthulhu or anything.

  * * *

  Dummy number two: I’ve heard that Cthulhu shit is hard core.

  * * *

  Dummy number one: What the hell is a Cthulhu?

  I swore mentally as I strained myself rolling my neck in frustration. “You know what, forget it.” If this was the future of our youth we were screwed. As it stood now, I was going to end up being one of the old dudes who hung out on their front porch chasing people off my property with a loaded shotgun from my rocking chair and a cooler of beer.

  Ryder: I thought she was more of a hippie to be honest. Earthy and stuff, except for hating physical activity and the woods.

  * * *

  The girl: I just love the gym, Ryder.

  The girl as I called her sidled up to the football kid batting her eyelashes looking ridiculous. She let out a long sigh that raised her breasts right under his nose and the kid sniffed, took an actual sniff of the girl’s tits. No wonder their friend got lost, maybe she ran away if she was smart because I felt my IQ draining in their company.

  “Great so a lot of purple, mostly Goth, is that it?” The crew nodded. A glance at Jeff and I saw him shake his head smiling, the asshole. This would be fantastic. I imagined trekking out looking for the cousin of a Powder Puff girl with a bad attitude.

  They all bobbed their heads and I told them to head back to their illegal campsite in case she returned and that I would see them soon if I found her quickly before we started an entire search party for one twenty-year-old female who was likely sulking in the woods. Search and rescue situations were never fun, but these were my least favorite types of calls when they involved entitled little shits who couldn’t find their way of out of a paper bag.


  “Looks like home will have to wait.” Jeff took down a description of the girl, making a formal report, and nodded, basically telling me to go find her so I didn’t have to clock too many overtime hours. Jeff hated having to do the paperwork to justify overtime pay, but I didn’t see him calling anyone else to come in or go himself to find the girl. His surly attitude made working at the park a real joy during occasions like this. He told me to check-in, in an hour before he radioed for a search crew to come in. I could handle this and be back before the take-out place was closed and my DVR stopped recording.

  Heading out to my jeep, I checked the case in the back and inventoried my supplies. I had enough hiking supplies, dry food, and bottled water for three days. I grabbed my rifle and cocked it examining it. It’s perfectly fine, but I do it more so out of habit than anything else. It’s loaded with rubber buck shot for bears. I don’t want to shoot them if I don’t have to and luckily it hasn’t been an issue since I started working here. I checked my forest ranger police issued Glock 22 making sure I was ready for anything.

  I drove out to the trailhead closest to her last known whereabouts where the kids had been and scouted around. It was a gamble going out at this hour. Looking up, the sun sunk quickly leaving darkness with its decent and the air went crisp with cold in the snap of my fingers. Nature could be unforgiving and even an experienced hiker or outdoor inspired person needed to take precautions. I doubted Amelia Faust was any of those things and here I was resigned to the unwanted task of hero duty bringing her back. Maybe I’d take out my frustrations and yell some sense into her while I was out here too. Seemed fair for ruining my night. Right?

  I parked my jeep and loaded myself up. There was a good chance I would be out here overnight if I couldn’t find her quickly and get back to the trailhead. My gut clenched wondering if she was not only lost, but injured. I didn’t have to know her or like her to not want her to be hurt. Despite being pissed at the inconvenience of it all, my humanity demanded I do my job and find her before she succumbed to her own stupidity of being out here alone.

  “Amelia?” Her name bounced off the rocks, and a fat drop of rain hit me square in the eye blinding me for a second as I shook it out. Her name echoed back several more times breaking up between the thick foliage and trees. My eyes scanned the dense wood, but I couldn’t see much in the dwindling light and nothing that was remotely human. If I got lucky an animal might chase her out in my direction and I could get home to the cold beer waiting for me and my flat screen television. Maybe in my old age, not quite thirty something, my lack of female company should have been a concern, but considering they were more complication than I desired, Game of Thrones was probably the next best thing. I didn’t need a Khaleesi to my tragic Khal Drogo, I needed to find this pain in the ass girl and get on with my night.

  3

  Lia

  “S-stupid in-infuriating m-man wh-whore…” The mantra repeated like a broken record as rain fell slicing my skin like shards of ice while I cursed all of mankind. I never knew rain could hurt when it fell like this in icy sheets. I planned on swearing off men, chocolate, and masturbation if it would get me out of this fucking forest quicker.

  I missed my apartment where I could make hot tea laced with whiskey, and wear my warm bootie slippers with the radiator heat cranked up hotter than hell reading Plato’s finest arguments. I imagined it getting so hot I would be wearing a tank top with panties and my knee socks my sister brought back from Toronto for last Christmas letting the apartment turn into Dante’s Inferno. Definitely a better way to spend my weekend than in this mess.

  I’d been out here too long, especially if I was swearing off chocolate and masturbation. A few more hours in this miserable weather might be life or death. Clearly, I wasn’t cut out for this. Who was I kidding, I hated camping, glamping, or any sort of outdoor activity that required sunscreen and bug-spray unless it involved a beach and ice cream. I grew up in Brooklyn where baby joggers and vegan cafes serving raw food were the most risk I was willing to take next to attending a fashion sample sale with my mother and sister.

  It was my own stupidity and pride that I was stuck out here in the freezing cold darkness with my toes squelching in mud. Me and my ginormous dork crush on Ryder West. What the hell was I thinking?

  I knew exactly what I was thinking. Ryder West, football star and school hero would sweep me off my feet. Hotter than a chick in a Pantene commercial with his gorgeous hair blowing in the wind and more exciting than a book boyfriend jumping off the pages to save me. Guess I’d be ripping my own bra off next time. I would demand that he no longer copy off my philosophy homework and chug the coffees I bought him. Nope. Instead those would turn into coffees he bought me. I would command his undivided attention and screw my feminist principals. For once, I would be the star in someone else’s universe and come first.

  I was convinced my adorable and perfect golden roommate, Dinah, was warming my crush’s sleeping bag and roasting more than gooey marshmallows over the fire. I was the idiot here freezing my ass off in the woods, soaked to the bone, and in serious danger of getting hypothermia. So help me God if I lost a toe over this bullshit, I’d march my toeless feet into Bewitched on Main Street downtown and buy a large hexing candle to voodoo the shit out of Ryder West’s life. I would follow that up by cursing Dinah so she would be unattractive to any guy in his sexual peak. I mean a little hexing was the least I could do, right?

  Through my next bout of shivers, I tried to remember that television show with the blond guy wearing flannel who took a bunch of out of shape guys into the woods to teach them survival tips. The winner got a special knife and they always learned something prophetic like wanting to be healthy, spending time with their kids, or how grateful they were to be alive. Someone always cried, ate spider legs, and learned how to make a campfire with weird shit. The last episode I watched had them hiking in a swamp and burning garbage. I drew the line at using tampon fibers for kindling. Something about that made me wish a gator would come and bite one of them but at least they would die warm and dry. It was depressing to think I didn’t even have tampon fibers, garbage, or matches to start a fire. I was so screwed out here.

  I huddled as deep and as flush as I could against the large rock behind me, but it was useless. Water ran down the rock and collected against my skin under my shirt. I almost would have preferred an ice cream headache for a full five minutes to this freezing downpour. Nothing was going to protect me from the elements and my own folly was likely to kill me. So much for making the Dean’s list every semester and getting a scholarship to attend school, hypothermia was going to kill me first and I hadn’t even been given a chance to have hot, awesome sex with a boy who knew what the hell he was doing with six inches of dick. Shit, the fact that I would settle for six inches of dick was depressing even if that was the average sized guy. I’d never get to travel abroad or test out my new Nikon camera, a gift from my dad, which was still sitting inside its box back at my apartment off campus. Some young know-it-all adult I was proving to be.

  I had nothing to show for my existence except for a partially completed philosophy degree that wouldn’t do jack for me in the real world after graduation and a bunch of debate skills that merely echoed into the dark. I had literally become that analogy of a tree in the forest waiting to see if someone heard it fall. The sky darkened and with it my last remaining bit of hope as I slid to the ground letting the puddle soak my ass. Tears welled in my eyes and I sniffed my regrets.

  “Amelia?” A faint shout carried on the wind reached my ears like a cock teasing whisper. I dismissed the possibility of it being anything until I heard it again.

  “Amelia?”

  Faintly the sound echoed in the rain bouncing off trees and rocks. Sick to my stomach from the anxiety and the cold, I staggered to stand up from my place against the rock. It couldn’t have been a bear because bears didn’t talk. I moved slowly toward the sound. I waited a moment, but the sound stopped leaving me utt
erly defeated. My heart raced thinking I had imagined it.

  “Amelia?”

  There it was again, clear and renewing my hope. Once was nothing, even twice, but three times had to be something of the human variety I prayed.

  “H-here! I’m o-over here!” My hand slipped against the wet rock and I fell down into muck and slick leaves. “G-gross,” I muttered wiping them on my pants. I couldn’t see how filthy I was, only that cold wet mud felt a thousand times worse in the dark than it did in the day time with unknown slim sticking to my skin.

  “Amelia?” The shout was a bit louder now, but I was not. I was fading quickly from exhaustion and I didn’t have any idea where the voice was coming from. I looked left and right but nothing emerged from the dark, sinister or angelic, and my imagination ran rampant.

  “Please! I’m h-here!” I gave it all I had, slumping back down against the hard rock, scratching my leg through my dark jean leggings on the slide down.

  The voice stopped and a hysterical cry left my lips. How could something so beautiful leave me so bereft? I didn’t hear anything now except the constant fall of rain and the howling wind. The sound was gone and with it, any hope I had of getting out of here.

  4

  Whit