California Sunshine

Day 15:

Deer Spring Trail Camp

2,394 Miles To Go

Nova

After the showdown near Mission Creek, the next day is brutal.

Grinder wakes us a little after six. The sun is barely up, but according to him, we’re already behind. “There’s only two sources of water in the next twenty miles,” Grinder informs us. “The first is at the top of the hill. You can guess where the next one is. Unless the princess can keep her camera in her pocket, it’s going to take all day to get to the campground. We leave in an hour.”

At Grinder’s appointed time to leave, I help Belle with her pack. “This is what we get for being right last night.” She laughs at that. It’s becoming infectious, her laughter, and I can’t help but join in. Until Grinder shoots us a glare and we both go quiet.

Belle sighs. “Yeah, but I can’t help feeling like today is Grinder’s turn to be right.”

“Oh yeah. Today’s going to suck.” Bats chimes in. “You good, Belle?”

After overhearing them returning to camp the night before, I get the impression he isn’t talking about the hill ahead of us. Belle had hesitated when he had asked her if she was staying with us. She must still be having mixed feelings on the subject. That has my stomach tying all kinds of knots. She nods and smiles, though, and I breathe easier. Hopefully, between Bats and me, we can keep her in a good enough mood to stay.

Then we head up the trail. Literally. Five miles and eighteen hundred feet straight up. It doesn’t help that we’re still sore from the day before. Or that the climb is dusty and exposed, climbing up the canyon wall away from the creek, which had made yesterday bearable. At least we left the hot weather behind at Whitewater Preserve as we hike further up the canyon. The temperature reached freezing last night, and according to Bats’ weather radio, it would only get into the low fifties today. While that meant we wouldn’t be sweating our asses off, cold, sore, and tired is not a fun way to hike, and I want to make certain that Belle is having fun.

We rejoin the creek about two-thirds of the way up and got some shade from pine trees. Belle’s morning seems to get a little brighter as she points out white firs and Jeffrey pines. By the time we stop at the trail camp at the top of the hill, I can even tell you which one is which. Though only because one is scraggly while the other looks like a Christmas tree. Hey, I studied computers. All right?

“Ten minutes,” Grinder barks as he drops his pack and fishs out his water filter.

The rest of us follow suit, dropping packs and grabbing our filters between gulps of water and bites of energy bars. When Bats and I get up to refill our water bottles, Belle stays sitting, still breathing a tad heavy. “You okay?” I ask.

Belle looks up at me with her soft blue eyes and nods. “Yeah. A little winded, I guess. That hill kicked my ass. I just need a minute.” On the other side of her, Bats is trying to hold back his concern. She’s matched us stride for stride since Campo and has always kept up. Still, we have no reason to doubt her. Everyone has bad days. When she joins us at the water supply a minute later, we forget about her delay.

Until two hours later, when we reach a dirt road and Belle comes to a slow halt in front of me. “Everything all right?” I ask, scooting around in front of her. Before she can answer, I blurt out, “What are you eating?”

“Huh?” Belle replies between quick, short breaths. “My jerky. Why?”

“Bats,” I shout at the big guy lumbering along a dozen yards back.

He catches one glimpse of the concern on my face and sprints the rest of the way. I step aside as he came to a stop in front of Belle, quickly noting what I have. “Grinder,” Bats calls over his shoulder. “Get back here.”

“Uh, guys,” Belle stammers, concern and confusion wrinkling her face. “What’s going on?”

As Bats continues to examine her, he starts rolling through questions. “Are you drinking?” Belle holds up the hose draped over her shoulder, attached to her water bladder. “Are you hungry? Do you feel nauseous at all?”

Belle shakes her head. “I’ve been snacking on my jerky.”

“Tired?”

“Grinder’s leading. What do you think?”

I chuckle, but Bats didn’t even smirk. Shit. “Headache? Dizzy?” he continues.

Belle shakes her head again, but it’s hard not to notice that after standing here long enough for us to catch our breath, she still hasn’t. Her lips have a slight blue tint to them, like she’s been eating blueberries.

Grinder finally decides to join us. “What’s going on?”

“Help me get her pack off,” Bats orders, and I hurry to comply.

“Bats . . .” Belle snaps, as panic begins to take hold of her. “What the fuck is going on?”

“We’re stopping for lunch.”

“The hell we are,” Grinder retorts. “It’s only eleven. There’s a campground two miles up. We can stop there.”

Bats turns to Grinder, demanding, “What’s the altitude here?” Grinder balks at the question but doesn’t answer. “The altitude. Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Grinder replies.

“Then get your damn phone out and find out,” Bats orders, leading Belle back to the side of the road.

Grinder pulls out his phone and answers a minute later, “Just under eighty-five hundred.”

As Bats helps Belle to sit, he asks her, “Have you hiked at high altitude before?”

“No,” Belle answered. “Have you?”

“No. But I run at least three times a week. Nova swims. Grinder does both. In other words, we’re all three in great aerobic health.”

Suddenly, it occurs to me how thin the air seems. “High Altitude Sickness?” I ask, scooting next to Belle and handing her a water bottle from her pack.

Bats replies with a noncommittal shrug. “Heavy breathing isn’t enough, but the altitude is definitely affecting her.” Grinder scoffs. Bats glares at him, shutting the asshole up. “Eat,” Bats tells Belle. “Try to focus on your breathing. Deep breaths.”

Grinder looks annoyed, as usual, but drops his pack, resigned to the fact that we aren’t going anywhere. “Fine. What’s the play, Bats?”

“It might be nothing,” Bats admits. “We’ve climbed, what, six thousand feet in the last two days? Belle may only need to adjust to the altitude. But we should try to get back down below eight thousand feet as a precaution.”

Grinder starts scrolling through his phone as I pull Belle’s lunch out of her bag. “Next spot is where we were already heading. Twelve miles, two gradual climbs, then down to seventy-six hundred.”

“Okay. We take it slow. Belle leads. Pause every twenty minutes.” Grinder opens his mouth to argue, but Bats shuts him down with another glare. “No arguing, Grinder. Or we pull off here.” Grinder closes his mouth and nods. “If anything changes . . . anything . . .” Bats tells Belle next. “You tell me immediately. Headache, dizzy, nauseous. Got it?”

Belle nods her understanding as she chews on a bite of jerky. “Got it.”

The rest of the day goes smoother. Belle’s breathing evens out, her lips regaining a soft pink color, and her stride becomes surer. She gets excited for some white marble that we pass by, then goes on for a bit about stream capture. Something about rapid erosion causing a shift in where the creeks flowed. Again, computers. Ask me how fast the latest generation of chips are and I’ll talk for an hour.

To his credit, Grinder lets it slide. He sighs a lot, and looks irritated, but he keeps his mouth shut. I considered that a win.

The last three miles are downhill through patches of Pinyon trees. We roll into Deer Spring campground with a half hour left until sunset. There were a dozen other campers there, sharing the two picnic tables. Belle gets to talking to a few of them as if nothing had happened. By the time I climb into my sleeping bag, I’m relieved she’s doing better, but I hadn’t had a single moment alone with her to see how she’s doing overall. To see if she might still be leaning toward leaving us.

That’s when the jitters begin bouncing around my stomach. And they only get worse from there.

***

I sleep like shit that night. A million thoughts racing through my head. Not all of them bad. Between dreading that any day might be my last with Belle, a silly grin kept creeping up on me every time I think of her shimmering blue eyes, her smile, her laugh, her body . . .

The guys named me Casanova. Today is the day to step up and earn it. I’m going to woo the crap out of her. Convince her once and for all that she belongs with us, with me, no matter what Grinder says or does.

Not able to fall back asleep, I exit my tent to find Bats sitting against a nearby tree, feeding twigs to his little stove to heat some water as the first signs of day creep across the sky above us. An open tea bag and assorted additions lay next to him on his camp plate.

“Do you have any of that nondairy creamer you usually carry?” I ask.

Bats squints at me. “Yeah,” he drawls. “Why?”

I shrug. “Grinder’s still snoring. I figure I have time to make some coffee this morning.” I’m not lying. I intend to make some coffee. Two cups. And if I’m right, I know just how to make it.

As the water finishes heating, Belle’s tent opens. My gaze turns toward the sound as she climbs out. Her brunette hair is pulled back into a messy braid that drops out from beneath a knit cap. She stretches, reaching toward the sky above. I might have glimpsed her smooth stomach, if not for the baggy sweatshirt she wore against the cold. Her eyes drift around until they meet mine. She returns my smile with one of her own, warming me more than the cup in my hands.

“Good morning,” I say, as she makes her way over to me. “Coffee?”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes!”

Belle dashed back to her tent, grabbing her cup and returning a moment later. Eyeing the array of packets in front of me, she begins snagging them one by one, pouring them into her cup before adding the steaming water. She lifts the cup to her lips to take a long, careful sip. A moan of pleasure escapes her as she cradles her cup to her chest. “Thank you,” she says, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

My face turns toward her, both of us freezing as our eyes lock on each other. This is it, I tell myself. Tell her to stay. Everything will work out fine as long as she stays. I open my mouth to tell her that, but whatever moment we might have, and whatever chance I have to tell her to stay, I lose when Grinder’s alarm goes off and he opens his tent to crawl out.

Grinder stretches, releases a loud yawn, then meanders over to us. He glances at my mug and winces. “That crap again? If that’s what you’re out here moaning over, I’ve got this bet in the bag.”

Belle smirks. “Is that so? Then how come I don’t see you out here brewing anything?”

Grinder smirks back at her. “Don’t worry, princess. Your perfect cup is coming.” He swipes my cup, gulping down half my coffee, then shudders as he hands it back. “Get packed. If we can get into town before the post office closes, I’ll buy Belle’s cheeseburger for her.”

Of course, that gets Belle moving. She presses another quick kiss to my cheek. “Thanks for the coffee,” she says, as she dashes back to her tent to break it down.

I sigh, taking a moment to glare at Grinder before turning to do the same.

***