The Tent: A Novella Read Free Page B

rather than the large, fenced-in patch of worn earth they would have had to share with two other couples (both of whom had had much more impressive tents and so were probably safe and dry right now). In his youth he’d gone camping with his father a few times, and those occasions were some of the best moments of his life. He had hoped in keeping with the wildness of the location, he could recreate the spirit of those cherished trips, could reproduce with his own family the bond he’d forged with his father. Back then you didn’t need to book a place, or get anybody’s permission. You just geared up and went hiking until you found the perfect spot to set up stakes. The real, honest-to-goodness camping experience. And if something went wrong, well, that was part of the adventure too.
    But now, in place of adventure, there was only misery and panic that increased exponentially with every mile they covered.
    “After the tent blew away,” he admits, “I thought I was leading us back to the trail. I guess I got turned around.”
    “Should we try to find a shelter, maybe under one of the bigger trees? Maybe light a fire or something? We’ll freeze out here.”
    “We’re under the only kind of shelter this part of the woods offers and we’re still getting soaked. Best to just keep moving for now , like you said. I’m sure we’ll come across a ranger station or something sooner or later.”
    “A ranger station? We’re in Hocking Hills, Mike, not Yellowstone. How much research did you do before you dragged us up here? You’re more likely to find a moonshine still here than a ranger station.”
    “Hell, right now I’d settle for that.” When she doesn’t return his smile, he continues, “But seriously, there are a few cabins around these woods. We saw one of them on the way up here, remember? We’re sure to come across one if we soldier on a bit further.”
    “Cabins, sure,” she says, and gives a slight shake of her head, “Which begs the question why you didn’t just book one of those instead of insisting we rough it.”
    And there it is. This time there was no attempt to keep the resentment from her tone. Gone is the levity, the ceasefire, the pretense that anything is going to be all right. Juliet slamming the window shut on poor old Romeo. And now he knows they have to keep moving, have to find a way out of this damn weather and this predicament, because with every hour that passes in these godforsaken woods, they are getting more and more lost, the rift he had hoped to heal widening with every step they take in the wrong direction. The storm is softening the walls of his marital house, the rain implanting mold beneath the plaster, and soon it will weaken them, force them to crumble until the whole place comes crashing down.
    “Sorry,” he mutters too low for her to hear over the wind that makes the trees sound as if their branches are laden with snakes. He turns and manages half a step before Emma’s hand slams down on his shoulder, startling a cry from him, her nails digging into his flesh through the thin protection of his slicker. Hissing pain through his teeth, he turns and sees her face has turned white, whiter than before. She has become a ghost with coals for eyes, and fear colder than the wind, colder than the rain seizes him, just as it appears to have seized her.
    “ Emma, what—?”
    “ Cody ,” she all but screams at him, the rain streaming down her face making her look as if she’s melting before him.
    H is confusion evaporates as he looks over her shoulder.
    The boy is gone.
     
     

     
    “He can’t have gone far,” he tells her, struggling to keep the panic from his voice.
    “Really?” She has fallen into step behind him, on e hand clutched on his backpack to steady herself as she makes her treacherous way across the deadfall. It has the effect of adding her weight to his already cumbersome load. “So finally you’ve gotten a handle on direction, have you?”
    “God damn