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  THE RETURN

  A Short Story

  ANTHONY M. STRONG

  West Street Publishing

  For S.

  To keep you up at night

  THE RETURN

  Published by West Street Publishing

  www.WestStreetPublishing.com

  www.AnthonyMStrong.com

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and events are products of the authors imagination. Any similarity to events or places, or real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Anthony M. Strong

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or other.

  The Return

  Other Books by Anthony M. Strong

  About the Author

  The Return

  How long has it been, Ben thought, surveying the narrow path leading from the parking lot into the woods, ten, twelve years?

  He did some mental arithmetic and came up with a figure. It was more like fifteen years. God, it didn’t seem like that much time had passed. Standing here, in this place, it was as if he was a ten-year-old child all over again. He felt that same tingle of anticipation, that same excitement. He half expected his father to come around the car at any moment, a pack slung over one shoulder, the old two-man tent that not even gale force winds or golf ball sized hail could bring down, slung over the other. A lump formed in his throat when he thought about that, a lump he quickly swallowed, taking a few deep breaths to push the emotion back into its little mental box, locking it away. His therapist might not approve, but right now, at this moment, if Ben was going to hike up to the old camp ground and relive that last camping trip, he needed to keep a clear head.

  He glanced toward the ranger station, a log built structure that looked like it had been there since settler days, but in reality was only a few years older than Ben himself. As a child this building had fascinated him, and he often imagined himself holing up for the bleak, long winter there, his rifle in hand to protect against a native attack or bears. The roman numerals on a plaque above the door dispelled that pioneer daydream, at least after his father explained that they stood for the year 1986. After that he never looked at the cabin the same way again.

  “Got it.” Sally Hale, Ben’s girlfriend, emerged from the building clutching a slip of paper. “One camping permit for Eagle Lake.”

  “Great.” Ben watched her cross the gravel parking lot, her feet crunching stones as she walked. “We’re all set.”

  “Can you believe they charged fifty bucks for this thing?” Sally drew level and pecked his cheek before talking again. “Fifty dollars just to rent a square of dirt for a couple of nights. Hardly seems fair.”

  “Used to be six bucks back in the day.” Ben mused, hitching the pack higher up on his back.

  “Not anymore.” Sally picked up her own pack and put it on, pulling the straps tight over her shoulders. “Are we going then?”

  “Why not.” Ben took one last glance around, making sure they had everything, before stepping toward the trail.

  It was cool and shady under the canopy of trees, a welcome relief from the harsh afternoon heat. Ben took the lead, guiding them toward the lake at a fast clip, eager to reach the campground.

  “Hey, wait up,” Sally called out, breathless. “It’s not a race you know.”

  “Sorry.” Ben slowed, allowing her to draw level. “I’m just anxious to get there, that’s all.”

  “I know babe.” Sally reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “We have plenty of time though. Let’s just enjoy the walk, shall we?”

  “You’re right,” Ben said. For a moment his father’s voice echoed in his head, the voice of reason, saying almost exactly the same thing, just like he did on every trip when Ben raced ahead, anxious to get there.

  “How many times did you come here with your dad?” Sally asked.

  “Every year until I was ten. It was a tradition. Just him, me and nature.” Ben smiled at the memory. “He loved it up here. He said it reminded him of why he was alive. He taught me how to build a fire, how to track animals, all sorts of things.”

  “It must have been nice.”

  “It was.” Ben nodded, his mind drifting to that last trip, the last time he’d walked this trail with his father. It was earlier than usual by a full two months, which meant he should have still been in school, but instead they drove the two hours from their home in Boston, heading north on 95, and then leaving the highway behind and meandering down back roads. Ben could still remember the trek to the camping area, how slow his father had been, how long it had taken them. At the time he didn’t think much of it, at least not until a month later when he was sitting beside a hospital bed watching the old man take his last gasping breaths. The signs of sickness had been there for a long time, but at ten years old you just don’t notice that kind of thing.

  “Hey.” Sally’s voice broke into his stupor. “Penny for your thoughts?”

  “What?” The memories retreated back into the dark corners of his mind.

  “You spaced out there for a second.” Sally looked concerned.

  “Sorry.”

  “Are you handling this okay?” Sally raised an eyebrow. “We can turn back if you’re not up to this.”

  “I’m doing great.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You keep everything inside, that’s all, store it all up.” Sally pulled a bottle of water from her pack and twisted the top off, gulped down half of the contents, and then offered the rest to Ben. “I worry about you.”

  “There’s no need.” He took the water and drained the last of it. “I really am fine. I think coming up here again, finally dispelling the ghosts of the past, it’s a good thing.”

  “It is,” Sally agreed. “A really good thing. And I’m glad I’m here to share it with you.”

  “Me too,” Ben said, feeling his mood lighten a little. “Me too.”

  They walked on in silence for a while, following the trail as it turned toward the lake and dropped down through a narrow valley. Eventually they came to a jagged bluff, a spine of rock thrust up from the ground as if some ancient earthquake had heaved it from the earth. They climbed to the top and stopped for a moment, stunned by the beauty of the vista that presented itself. Below them, the lake spread out across the landscape, a shimmering blue oasis within a carpet of green.

  “It’s breathtaking,” said Sally, her eyes wide with awe.

  “Eagle Lake.” Ben mumbled the words under his breath, as if saying them out loud might shatter the picture of pristine perfection.

  “The camp ground can’t be far.” Sally took a step toward the path. “Look, the rail goes all the way to the water.”

  “Come on.” Ben was eager to put the trip behind them. He wondered if it would feel the same, camping out under the same stars, surrounded by the same trees. He hoped so. “It’s not far from here.”

  “Lead the way.” Sally followed Ben down toward the shoreline.

  As they drew closer the dirt gave way to fine grit, almost like sand. When they reached a split in the path, one side running toward the north end of the lake, the other veering out around the south end, Ben paused.

  “What’s wrong?” Sally came to a halt behind him.

  “Just getting my bearings.” Ben looked both ways. “It’s been a while and this looks a little different than I remember.”

  “I think I have a map of the trails if that helps. The ranger gave it to me before we left.” Sally reached back into her pack and produced a folded map.

  “Let me see that.” Ben opened the map and studied it. He pointed at a tent icon along t
he northern trail. “This isn’t where the camping area should be.”

  “What do you mean?” Sally raised an eyebrow. “They have it printed right there.”

  “I know, but it’s wrong.” Ben shook his head. “This isn’t where we camped.”

  “Maybe you are just not remembering it right?”

  “Our campground had a view of Camelback Mountain directly across the lake.” Ben traced a finger toward the peaks that dotted the far side of the lake. He lingered over one peak in particular, the one shaped like two camel humps. “If the camping area is to the right, the mountain would be all the way off to the left, past the lake and beyond the tree line. See?” He jabbed at the map with a finger.

  “Not really,” Sally said.

  “Trust me. This is not where we stayed.” He folded the map. “We need to go left.”

  “But the ranger said we were only permitted to camp out in the designated area.”

  “There must be another one.”

  “There isn’t.” Sally pointed right, down the track that led to the camping area. “You saw the map. We have to take this path.”

  “No.” Ben was adamant. He could remember the mountain, how it looked from the shore. He was sure the camping area he’d stayed at all those years was to the left. “It’s not correct.”

  “So maybe they moved the camping area to the other side of the lake.”

  “Then we need to find the old campground.” Ben had made his mind up. “We have to take the left-hand trail.”

  “Ben, don’t be stubborn,” Sally pleaded. “The ranger said…”

  “I heard you the first time, we have to camp in the designated area. But seriously, who’s going to know?”

  “I really think we should follow the ranger’s advice.”

  “Why?” Ben threw his arms up. “It’s all just woods. Who cares if we camp on the right trail or the left trail?”

  “There must be a reason,” Sally countered. “They wouldn’t go to all the trouble of relocating the camping area for nothing.”

  “It’s probably just some bureaucratic crap. You know the kind of thing. Some environmentalist says there’s a nest of who knows what rare bird, so the place ends up off limits.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on.” Ben took Sally’s hand and led her toward the left fork. “It will be fine. I promise.”

  “Alright. I give up.” Sally let him lead her along. “But don’t blame me if we end up covered in poison ivy or something.”

  “Not a chance.” Ben was walking faster now. The further along the trail they went, the more familiar things started to look. It was more overgrown than before, but if the campground had moved to the other end of the lake that would be expected.

  It wasn’t until they came to a chain link fence, with a small metal sign hanging from it, that Sally spoke up again.

  “See?” She pointed at the sign. “Look at what the sign says. Keep out. No hiking beyond this point.”

  “So what?” Ben grabbed hold of the fence, intending to climb over.

  “Really? You really want to do this?”

  “Yes.” Ben looked down toward the ground. “I really do.”

  “Why?” Sally said. “Why are you se adamant about finding the exact same camp? Look I get it, I really do. Your father brought you here on one last trip before he died. I understand that, but we have no idea what prompted them to shut this area.”

  “You don’t understand.” Ben shuffled his feet.

  “So tell me.” Sally wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “Make me understand.”

  “It’s not just about camping in the same spot,” Ben said. “That’s part of it, I mean, we shared so many memories up here. But there’s more. When we came here on that last trip we buried something.”

  “What?”

  “A box.” A memory of his father holding the box out, letting Ben drop it into the hole, and then the two of them covering it over with the loose soil, patting down the earth until it was all level again, flashed through Ben’s mind. He’d thought about that box so many times over the years, thought about coming up here to get it, and now he was. He wasn’t letting any stupid fence get in his way. “We put things in it, personal things.”

  “Like a time capsule?”

  “Right.” Ben glanced along the trail, past the fence. “It’s still up there, buried next to a rock that looks kind of like an elephant.”

  “Really? An Elephant?” Sally burst out laughing.

  “Well, that’s what it looked like to me when I was a kid anyway.” Ben couldn’t help but grin. There was every possibility that the rock would look nothing like an elephant when they got there, that his childhood imagination had just seen that in it. “So you see, I need to go to the old camp.”

  “Alright.” Sally’s voice softened. “We’ll go and take a look, and if it seems fine we can camp there so that you can find your box.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just promise me that we won’t stay if it doesn’t look safe.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be safe?” Ben climbed over the fence and held his hand out to steady Sally as she climbed over.

  “I don’t know,” Sally said. “But just promise me, ok?”

  “Ok. If it looks funky up there, we’ll leave,” Ben said.

  They started off again, with Ben taking the lead. The trail was clogged now, thick bushes growing out over the pathway, choking it. Weeds snagged their shoes as they walked, and a couple of times Ben stopped to pull branches out of the way, holding them back while Sally passed. A little further along they were forced to climb over the rotten trunk of a fallen birch tree that straddled the path, its long dead upper branches lost somewhere amid the brush on the other side of the trail.

  After ten minutes of hard walking Ben held a hand up and stopped. “I think this is it.” He pointed to a gap between the trees that opened up to the lake, where a small clearing near the water was visible.

  “Are you sure?” Sally leaned over, catching her breath. “It doesn’t look like it was ever a camping area.”

  “I’m sure.” Ben pointed toward a rusting piece of square metal attached to a steel pole. “Look, there’s the old BBQ grill.”

  Sally pushed past Ben and made her way toward the lake. She approached the grill and reached out, touching it. Rust flaked away in chunks. She wrinkled her nose and wiped her hands on her jeans, leaving behind small red streaks of oxidization dislodged from her fingers. “Well we won’t be cooking on this tonight, that’s for sure.”

  “This place has seen better days.” Ben stood in the center of the clearing and looked around, taking everything in. On one side, near the tree line, was a small, squat building with the word Toilet still visible on the door despite a thick layer of grime. A notice board at the entrance leaned at a drunken angle, threatening to topple at any moment, a few bleached tatters of paper held on by rusted thumb tacks, the remains of posters and park rules, still attached. He kicked a discarded coke can, the red lettering faded to a dull orange by the sun. “It doesn’t look like anyone has been up here in years.”

  “So maybe we shouldn’t be here either,” Sally said. “You know, we could just dig up that box and then walk back to the official campsite to put the tent up.”

  “What?” Ben looked crestfallen. “We’re here now. Besides, we’ll get a bit more privacy out here, if you know what I mean. There are no other campers around.”

  “Oh, I think I know what you mean.” Sally blushed despite herself. “Boys. Do you ever think of anything else?”

  “I think about pizza sometimes,” Ben quipped, snaking his arms around Sally and kissing the side of her neck. “It doesn’t hold a candle to you though.”

  “Hey mister, we have work to do.” She pushed him away. “Later, alright?”

  “Promise?”

  “If you’re a good boy.” She fluttered her eyelids. “First, let’s get the tent set up since you’re bent on staying here.”

  �
��Fine.” Ben faked a pout and wriggled out of his pack, placing it on the ground and unclipping the green bag that contained the tent.

  “Besides, we need to find your box. Isn’t that why we’re up here?”

  “Alright,” Ben laughed. “You win. First the tent, then the box, then you.”

  “See, saving the best for last.” Sally helped Ben slide the tent out and unfold it. Together they spread it on the ground, making sure it wasn’t sitting on any debris or rocks, and then drove the pegs into the ground with a rubber mallet. Before long they were pushing the poles in, bringing the whole thing upright, until their makeshift shelter was complete.

  After that, Sally pulled a couple of chocolate bars from her pack and handed one to Ben, keeping the other for herself. She knelt on the ground in front of the newly erected tent and tore the wrapper, biting into the bar with gusto. “This is so not what I should be eating,” she said between mouthfuls.

  “You love chocolate.” Ben flopped down, stretching his legs and leaning back on one elbow. He unwrapped his own bar and ate, making short work of the snack.

  “I know. My diet doesn’t though.” Sally was licking her fingers where the bar had melted. She glanced around. “So where’s the elephant?”

  “What?” Ben looked perplexed for a moment, and then grinned. He scanned the clearing, his eyes alighting on several large boulders near the water. “I’m not sure.”

  “You don’t know which rock it is?” Sally asked. “That’s going to make finding your box difficult.”

  “No, I do.” Ben jumped to his feet. “It’s been a long time, that’s all.”

  “I guess it doesn’t look as much like an elephant as you remember.”

  “Hey, I was ten.” Ben strolled toward the rocks. He stopped next to a large boulder with a mottled surface. “I think this might be the one.”

  “You sure?” Sally squinted, shielding her eyes against the sun, which had slipped low on the horizon. “Because it just looks like a plain old rock from where I’m sitting.”