They’d carved their initials in a tree that first spring when they’d found this spot. They acted like explorers discovering the new world, despite the sectioned off campsites and picnic tables beside the lake. Maybe it was because they were the only idiots dumb enough to be out on the trails in the cold.

Skip couldn’t remember why they didn’t explore beyond the lake that year. Maybe they hadn’t come here to hike. Maybe they just came here to hook up and get stoned. Maybe he was just happy to be included. He’d left behind his parent’s group of misfits and found his own.

They waded through the debris left by the storm to the tree with their initials. It was on a low hill overlooking the lake. The sun would make its branches gleam a brilliant gold in the evening. He and Colt had sat under that tree for two days watching the others play in the freezing cold water. Colt didn’t speak much that year. Maybe he never really did. Maybe that’s why Skip liked him so much. They could sit and watch and share wine coolers and everything was fine. Every year they came back, and every year he met Colt under the branches of this tree. Every year they’d sit and watch their group of misfits and talk about nothing as if it all mattered.

The nothing mattered. Skip remembered the nothing times better than the great conversations about saving the world and politics and religion. He didn’t know how to talk about literature back then. They didn’t know how to talk about music or surfing or his dream of backpacking across the country before it was gone.

Which he’d done, twice. They’d claimed him the bravest of them all. They had their children and their careers, and Skip worked his way across the globe waiting tables or washing dishes until he was ready to move on. Colt never talked about his job. Skip never asked. They talked about the stars and the drama unfolding on the beach and what they’d do if they had a million dollars after taxes or three wishes. Shit like that.

Chad Mayes stood apart from their group, his feet spread, his hands behind his back, chin pointed straight ahead, eyes unfocused and hard. Skip looked at the ground mimicking his pose, unintentionally. He hated funerals. Not that this was a funeral. Standing under the tree, they shared what they remembered most about Colt. Skip remembered the tree and the man who could lay on the cold ground and stare up at the stars for hours, as if waiting for some divine inspiration. Or the hand of god to sweep down and carry him away.

Maybe he got his wish.

To rest here under the stars that seemed so much closer while the real world felt so far away.

They took turns scattering his ashes. His urn placed in a hole they’d dug at the base of the tree with hopes that it would never be discovered. When it was done, Skip met the gaze of the son before Chad turned and left them to find their way back to the camp.

The sky pressed down upon him as he followed the Marine. The rain had stopped, but the weather had not cleared. They had planned to go higher along the trail, but the weather changed their minds. Skip dismantled his tent and packed his gear, keeping an eye on the others.

The temperature seemed to plunge as they worked. Chad quietly helped him secure his pack and they policed the area looking for anything that might be left behind. All trash was secure. They’d left no trace of their presence. Skip checked his phone, holding it up with hopes of getting a signal. He had nothing. No telling if this was going to clear or get worse.

Blake seemed to agree.

They met at a table over the trail map. Blake pointing to each dot on the map. “Which way do we go? Back to base, or to the first checkpoint?” The tavern being base. A roadside diner and motel being checkpoint one, where they ended up the first trip, and everyone paired off to fuck. Except for Skip.

“It’s ten miles back, and six ahead, but the terrain is smoother the way we came.” He pointed out what they all knew. There was no real argument, both choices were equally strenuous.

Snow flitted from the sky as he pointed at the map as if to prove his point.

Sam looked up at the sky and frowned. “We’ve made this hike a hundred times. We know the trail. It’s not as harrowing as Skip thinks. We can make it to the checkpoint if we don’t stop, we can make it in a few hours. They’re expecting us tonight. That’s the trail they’ll use when we don’t show up.”

“If they notice that we didn’t return,” Rosie said, pulling her rain gear out of her pack and putting it on over her fleece jacket.

“I have to agree,” Blake said, looking at Skip as if he was unhinged.

“Skip gave you the Sitrep. I see no reason to cast accusing glances his way.” Chad pulled out his own copy of the trail map and secured his pack on his back. He checked his water and waited for them to stop staring. “Going back is longer and we know it’s free of obstacles. Going forward is shorter, but harsher terrain and the storm could have left debris on either trail that would need to be managed.” He looked up at the sky as it turned pewter and more snow swirled around them. “I suggest you vote quickly so we can move out while we still have visibility.”

Blake slanted a look at the Marine but didn’t argue. “I agree with Sam. They’ll be looking for us on the short trail if this goes tits up.”

“Agreed.” Darren pulled out his bright yellow poncho and put it on over his pack.

“Sure, whatever, just… someone start walking. I don’t have a heavy coat.” Lucinda zipped her windbreaker over her long sleeve shirt. “The longer we stand here, the colder I get.”

Blake folded his map and met Skip’s gaze over the group. “Skip?”

“I’ll follow, just go. And stay close. No wandering off the path this time. Stop only when you have to. Don’t overdo it either. If you need to stop, stop.  We don’t need any heart attacks while running from a little bit of snow.”

Blake nodded and they all ducked their heads. One last look around the site and Blake headed down the trail that would lead to Checkpoint One. They’d have to go uphill for a while before making the descent and the trail narrowed and disappeared in places along the way.

The others fell in behind Blake with the three women in the middle as if they needed protecting. Lucinda’s husband falling in ahead of Skip, with Chad taking the rear, as he’d done on the way up.

They were quiet for the most part. Six miles were just a walk in the park for Skip, and on a sunny, warm spring day they could make this trek in just a few hours, depending on stops and side trips to pick flowers or take photos of deer. Six miles in the freezing cold and snow with no way of knowing what the weather was going to do in the next several hours worried Skip.

“That’s about a mile,” Chad said from behind him about an hour later. Skip’s lungs ached from breathing in freezing air. He could feel the weight of the storm and the man’s gaze.

“Feels like it,” Skip agreed. They were still in the flatter section of the trail. “You doing okay back there?” He looked over his shoulder at the Marine and missed a root. He tripped but caught himself on a tree, and Chad grabbed his arm to steady him.

Skip didn’t need him there to steady him. It wasn’t the damned root; it was looking at the kid. The cool detachment back in place after this morning, when he’d been anything but cool or detached.

Skip looked away quickly, shrugging off the man’s hands. “I’m okay.” He lied. He was far from okay. He could still taste the man’s cum. He’d blown him when he should have left him to deal with it himself.

Chad nodded and stepped back in line. Eyes straight ahead, jaw locked. He showed no emotion. None. Skip wondered if he even remembered what they’d done.

It had felt so good to wake up with a willing lover. He’d forgotten that he hadn’t gone to bed with one. The hands on his body seemed to know exactly where he liked to be touched. The mouth on his had stolen his breath away and besotted his mind.

Chad had run, and like a fool, he’d followed.

“About this morning,” Chad said as if he knew what Skip was thinking. He sounded just as embarrassed as Skip felt. He didn’t drop to his knees like that, for anyone. He’d never taken without permission. But. Oh god. How he’d wanted.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” He sure as hell didn’t want to explain why he’d taken advantage of a kid half his age.

“Doesn’t matter, it happened…” Chad persisted, and Skip stopped and turned, waiting for him to take the two steps that would close the distance between them. He stopped and met Skip’s gaze instead, maybe some of his cool determination snapped. “What?”

“It happened. It shouldn’t have happened. It won’t happen again. There’s nothing to talk about,” Skip said with maybe too much vehemence in his voice. The kid looked away, embarrassed. Or better yet, chastised. Skip sighed and looked up at the sky, snow drifting into his eyes. He reached out to cup the man’s chin just as he’d done this morning and leaned in. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay, Chad. Not one damned thing. There’s no shame in wanting sex. You’re a beautiful young man. One day you’ll find someone your own age, and everything will be fine if you let it. This morning… is past.”

Blue eyes flicked over him, but Chad didn’t pull away. He looked even more uneasy now. “Are you gay?”

Skip dropped his face and stepped back. “No, babe, I’m not.”

Chad drew his body up to his full height and squared his shoulders. His eyes becoming even more remote and detached as Skip watched. He nodded, looking straight ahead. “That’s good to know, Sir.”

Skip turned around, and stepped over the root that had gotten in his way, and carried on just as he’d carried on every damned year since he was nineteen, and learned that things done on this mountain should stay on this mountain.

* * * * *

Skip wasn’t gay.

Chad felt as if he’d been slapped. He tried to hide the hurt. He didn’t know why it hurt. Maybe it was the dismissal in his eyes. Skip had found him weak and vulnerable and taken advantage and, that’s all he wanted.

Chad fell in behind the man, looking up at his ass, as they ascended ever so slightly. Skip would look back at him at fifteen-minute intervals. Like clockwork. Chad started checking his watch after the third glance.

He was keeping up, if anything, he was holding back, this hump was nothing. He’d done worse. He could tell Skip was holding back as well. If it had been just the two of them, they’d move faster. The others slowed them down. Skip moved through the line to help the others when needed. The bigger biker dude wasn’t doing too well. His breathing became erratic around three miles in. Chad caught up with Skip, and nodded at the man holding on to a tree trunk.

Skip nodded back. “Hold up,” he shouted, his voice like a blast from a shotgun in the silence. Snow fell steadily around them muffling their words and their footsteps. “Take a break. Get water. Catch your breaths.”

He helped the man find a fallen log to sit down and handed him a plastic water bottle. The long-haired biker woman came back, she glanced at Skip with worry in her eyes. He smiled. “Just winded a bit. We’re doing okay. Get some water Lu.”

“I gotta take a piss,” Rosa said from nearby. “It’s too cold to drop trou.”

“Times like this makes me glad I have a dick,” the big man Darren laughed. The women punched his arms. He gasped. “What? What did I say?”

“That you’re a dick,” Lu said with a smile. “We all heard it. At times like this, I’m so glad I’m a dick.”

“That’s what I heard,” Rose agreed. Sam smirked and nodded along. “Come on, let’s go find a place to squat.”

Lu watched them go, glancing at her husband. “You doing okay?”

“Air is getting thin. I’m too old for this shit,” he replied, fishing in his pocket for an inhaler. “I’m good. Go do your business. Let me catch my breath in peace.”

Lu glanced up at Skip, and he inclined his head in the direction the other women had gone. “Yeah, sure. Drink some water. We’re about halfway there.”

She walked off and the husband slumped over. He held up his hand to Skip waving him off. “Thanks, Skipper.”

“Not a problem.” Skip patted him on the back. “I gotta go drain the main vein. You going to be okay?”

He held up his inhaler and smiled weakly. “When we get back remind me to get my ass in a gym.”

“When we get back, you owe me a big damned beer.” Skip slapped him on the back one last time and stepped off the trail, his hand on his fly.

Chad took up vigil over the trail and waited for everyone to finish their break.

“You’re scary as shit, Kid,” the older man said in a low voice. “Quiet just like your old man, but without the goofy puppy quality. You need to relax some. You’re too young to be this uptight.”

“I’m a Marine, Sir.” Chad blinked, trying to absorb the criticism.

“You were a Marine, son. I was once a Marine. I served in a world that wasn’t constantly at war, but I served. And kid, I have never seen anyone as rigid as you. Last night was understandable. When you get where you’re going, get in touch with the VA and get some help with that PTSD. I don’t want to hear about you eating your gun. Your old man doesn’t deserve that. Losing his only son to something senseless like suicide.” He stood up and clapped his hand on Chad’s shoulder, squeezing to ease the sting of the words. “I’m going to take a piss. And then we’ll get back to it. God, I haven’t done a hump like this in nearly thirty years. I am going to die on this damned mountain. Not ever coming my ass here again, that’s for damned sure.” His grumbling died out as he disappeared off the trail.

“Stewart means well. He’s a good man, I think. Of course, I sometimes think he’d slit our throats in our sleep. Lu keeps him in line.” Skip stepped out of the underbrush. He checked his watch and pulled out a fresh pack of jerky and handed it to Chad. “Eat something. We still have three miles or so left and it’s starting to get dark.”

Chad looked up at the sky. It was too early for nightfall. He checked his watch. Barely three in the afternoon. “This isn’t a good sign, is it?”

“No,” Skip said in a quiet voice. “And we’ve drifted off the trail twice. Blake is going to get us lost if we lose visibility. He’s not an experienced outdoorsman by a long shot.”

“And you are?” Chad picked a piece of jerky as he looked up at the sky again.

“I’m not unfamiliar with being lost in the woods.” Skip smiled, biting off a chunk of dried meat and chewing. “If this gets worse, I’m going to move in front. You think you can keep them on the path from back here?”

“Yes, Sir.” That’s what Chad thought he’d been doing, keeping an eye on his father’s friends.

“Good man.” Skip clapped him on the shoulder just like the biker man had, his hand lingering longer. Chad met his gaze, the green of Skip’s eyes growing darker as he watched. Skip cleared his throat and dropped his gaze and his hand. He looked like he was about to say something else but the yelling from a little further up the trail ended that. “For fucksake, what now?”

“Skip, get up here,” one of the women shouted and Skip took off at a trot over the frozen ground.

Chad followed, keeping an eye on the others who all rolled their eyes and finished their water and jerky as if this was nothing to get excited about.

“We’re lost,” Sam shouted when Chad got closer. “He’s leading us in circles. I swear to god, Blake if I die on this mountain, I will haunt your ass through eternity.”

“We’re not lost,” Blake shouted back pointing to the marker by a tree. Chad had seen them off and on. He assumed they were trail markers.

“That’s orange. It’s supposed to be blue. This is the orange trail.” She pointed to an offshoot trail on the map and Chad opened his map and confirmed they were indeed off the trail.

Skip stepped back and looked at the marker and the trees. “I saw a blue half a klick back. If we veered, it was just before we stopped to rest. I was watching the roots.”

“What is half a click? Speak English.” Sam was still visibly upset.

“A kilometer. Half would be about 500 meters. Maybe a quarter mile at most. Five minutes back or so. I missed the trail turn off as well.” Chad explained hiding his embarrassment because he’d been too busy watching Skip’s ass in those snug jeans and thought these people knew what they were doing.

“Less than half a mile?” Sam sounded relieved. She rested her hand on Skip’s arm and shot Blake a dirty look. “You’re fired as leader. Skip is promoted to the front of the line. And our Marine is taking the rear in case any of you geezers drop dead on us.”

“Don’t drop dead geezers. I’m stepping over you if you do,” Darren shouted back. Blake pulled Skip aside and started whispering furiously in his ear. They all shouted something about impeaching Blake.

“Jesus, shut up,” Chad shouted over the noise. “For grownass people, you’re all idiots.”

They shut up and Chad stood there trying to make the ground swallow him up. These were his father’s friends. They were people he was supposed to respect.

“He is not wrong,” someone whispered loudly, the sound carrying on the wind. Chad couldn’t find the culprit.

“Chad, if you’ll lead us back to the last marker, we’ll get right and be on our way.” Skip ordered from the other end and Chad turned to find the orange marker. He thought he was seeing them about every quarter klick or so. He hadn’t paid much attention. He checked the map and the orange stick and the sky. It was getting dark fast. There was something worse than just a few snowflakes coming, and they were off course.

He headed out without another word as Skip called out, “All you geezers present and accounted for? Sound off.”

By the time they had all called out, “Fuck you, Skip”, Chad spotted the first blue stake and stood at the mouth of the trail. “There’s a tree down over it. We’ll have to go over.”

He found the best place to climb, grateful it wasn’t a bigger tree. He waited for Skip and they helped people steady themselves and gave hands up and over. When the last one had gone over, Skip waved him on but Chad shook him off. Skip shrugged and grabbed his shoulder for support hefting himself up. He didn’t go over the other side, he reached out for Chad, and Chad grabbed his hand and was up and over in two breaths. Two… because something about Skip’s hand in his felt like a punch to the gut.

“Okay, folks, let’s get a move on before those clouds release whatever they’re holding. Someone get a flashlight ready. It’s going to get dark fast now.” Skip moved ahead of the group, taking the lead in both position and spirit. He talked like he was leading a group of day camp kids on a survival hump. He sounded like a fucking camp counselor instead of a Marine drill sergeant. And Chad wondered why he’d thought the man was the latter.

Some latent need for an authority figure in his life, maybe. Not that he’d ever had an urge to handle himself after the gunnies got done with them. He checked his watch. Half past three. They’d lost too much time. Way too much time.

“Three more miles.” He heard Skip shout from up ahead. He passed a larger blue stake that must mean a mile mark. It had a number three painted on it. “And all downhill from here. You okay back there, Marine?”

“Oscar Mike,” Chad shouted without thinking about it.

“Good man. We’re On the Move.” Skip kept a running dialogue going for another half a klick. Chad had to admit, they moved at a faster pace after the rest. The fear of that storm cloud stronger than their petty in-fighting. Skip was the man to get them down the hill and to shelter and they all knew it.

At the two-mile marker, the snow stopped playing with them and fell silently, but deadly. Skip’s voice became louder and more animated as they walked. No one stopped walking. They slowed to drink water and chew the jerky Skip made sure they all had. Chad kept his eyes on Stewart. Lucinda was right behind him doing the same.

“Sitrep?” He heard Skip shout out.

“Situation Normal.” He shouted back wondering what he was supposed to say.

None of this was normal.

“All fucked up,” someone in the middle shouted.

“Pretty much sums up the last thirty years,” another unknown culprit shouted in reply.

“If everything went like clockwork, it wouldn’t be normal, now would it?” Skip was the one to shout that. Chad smiled, he could hear the amusement in the man’s voice from way back here. “Well, I guess it would be nice…” Skip sang out and everyone groaned.

“If I could touch your body…” he went on singing as the snow fell heavier and the world closed in. “You okay back there, Marine?”

Chad stifled a moan, imagining those words in a more private setting. “Not singing, Skip.”

“Good, man… cuz not everybody’s got a body like yours.”

Everyone started singing the chorus blissfully unaware that their guide had touched him just that morning. Even more unaware, that Chad would die from the shame of wanting the man to touch him again. He’d give his body to the man, right there, faith be damned.