The Differing

Summer of 1980

Coast of Scotland below Doonie Point

The tents were set up between the rail line and the coast, a place where a green field ran right to the edge of the cliffs that dropped down to the water’s edge. There were four small crew tents, a large command tent and one shelter tent. The archeological team had been digging among ruins dating back to the 1400’s, mostly old foundations of some structure that was slow to give up its secrets. The team was from the University of Glasgow, consisting of the professor leading the exhibition, Bruce Morgan, and six students. The Scottish students consisted of the team leader, Tyree from Edinburgh; Joyce from Paisley; and Scott from Aberdeen. The other three students consisted of Franz from Berlin, Germany; Shen from Quanzhou, China; and Lisa from Richmond, Virginia, the United States.

They had been on site since the middle of July and the command tent had relics boxed up ready for shipment back to the university, but there had been nothing of note. The real excitement came not from their dig site, but from the waters below them. Laid out on the main table was a female skeleton that had been found by scuba divers searching for a wreck from the late 1700’s. It was in soft mud and a complete skeleton. The divers approached the team about helping with analysis, for they were not interested in some skeleton of a woman who probably fell from the cliffs at some point in the past. They assumed it was not that old due its completeness, thus another reason they pawned it off on the students.

Professor Morgan was down in Stonehaven, coordinating transport for the boxed findings, and the team was on site digging, all except Lisa and Tyree, who were examining the skeleton.

“What do you think? Some local peasant that fell into the sea in the last couple of hundred years?” asked Tyree.

“That is what I thought, but the TPS gave us a date much older,” Lisa replied.

“How much older?”

Lisa looked up from examining the rib cage, smiling. “Guess.”

“Must be a bit surprising. 1400’s?”

“Nope. One more guess.”

“1200’s? Come on, it’s not that old. Look at it.”

“Try sometime between 900 and 1100.”

No, seriously?”

“I was shocked too. In fact, I had the test done twice with two different samples.”

“And they match,” Tyree replied moving to stand opposite Lisa.

“I’m surprised the bones are so well preserved.”

“Me too, but why do you say that?”

“A female who was old, based on the condition of the bones, I’d say she was in her seventies, maybe even eighties.”

“That is really old for someone of that time.”

“And look at this,” said Lisa, pointing at the bones of the right hand. “See this finger bone? It’s discolored, as if she exposed herself to some chemical.”

“Maybe she was a w-i-t-c-h,” Tyree replied, making his voice sound ghoulish.

“Very funny.”

“Tyree?!” Scott called out from outside, “can you come here?”

Tyree stuck his head out of the tent, “I’m on my way.” He turned back to Lisa, “I’ve been summoned. I’ll be back to see what you think of that healed fracture in the left leg.”

“Okay,” Lisa replied, not surprised Tyree had noticed it, even with such a brief look. He was the best of them, with a sharp eye for detail. But she knew she was better at working out the why’s and how’s. She looked closely along the fibula of the left leg, not finding any corresponding injury, then she went up the tibia, seeing the small fracture that had healed, and by the look of it, she guessed it was an injury that occurred when the female was young. She would look more closely later, but the thing that intrigued her the most was the discolored finger bone. Could it be some exposure after death, some chemical getting to the exposed bone? She considered the site, and the history of it with wars that sank ships, then submarines in the waters contaminating them with oils and other chemicals. Looking more closely, she saw the discoloration seemed to be impregnated into the bone, something only living bone would be susceptible.

Lisa ran her fingers along the metacarpals, proximal and middle phalanges, noticing how the discoloration did not affect them. It was the distal phalange that was darker, and she ran her finger along the top of it, then along one side while wondering what the woman had done to cause bone to be discolored. She ran his finger over the top again, then over the tip, jerking her hand back after feeling the sharpness of it. It shocked her, the suddenness of the cut, and she looked at her index finger as blood pooled at it then ran around her finger, dripping blood on the floor. She frowned, knowing she should have had gloves on, then stuck the bleeding finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding.

When she looked at her finger again, it was continuing to bleed. “Fuck,” she uttered, realizing there was only one thing to do. She headed to the tent she shared with Joyce to get a bandage from their medical kit. They were in charge of it, since Joyce had more medical training than the rest of them.

“So, what have you worked out,” said Tyree as he entered the tent, only to find himself alone. He went to the table and scanned the skeleton, reciting to himself the names of the major bones. He moved around the table to where the right hand lay. It had been moved; the index finger pushed over close to the next finger. Then he saw the small round stain and knew immediately it was blood by the color. Lisa cut herself while examining the bones. She must have been using a blade of some type, he guessed as he reached down to push the bones back into their original place. The metacarpal, the proximal and middle phalange, then the distal phalange. It was sharp, the cut so quick he did not feel it until he saw blood drip from his fingertip.

“Son of a bitch,” Tyree whispered as he squeezed the finger watching blood pool at the cut then drip to the floor. He sucked it into his mouth then looked at it again, seeing blood continue to ooze from the cut.

“You too?” said Lisa coming into the tent, holding up her right hand with the bandage around the tip of her index finger.

“That distal phalange is…”

“Sharp? Tell me about it.”

“Why?”

“Let’s look more closely at it,” Lisa replied, holding up a magnifying glass.

The Descent

She floated down into the dark waters, eyes open watching the light fade as she descended deeper and deeper. She knew the waters were cold, too cold for the human body, but she did not feel it. Not even the water in her lungs that caused them to cease functioning. Her body was quiet, most of its mortal functions stopped. There was not even a pulse for the heart had stopped too, almost as if she willed it. But her consciousness continued, aware of her continued descent.

She settled on the bottom, the soft mud cushioning to her frail body. She saw the emptiness of the water, nothing stirring around her as she lay in the dark depths. This was the end, or so she assumed as she waited for her consciousness to fade away, the final act in ceasing to exist. She saw the prophecies again, then the events that were to unfold, fragmented images of two young men. Men who would be leaders, advisors, and lovers. She saw them betrayed by one of the newer religions, all of them based on so much myth and legend she did not understand it. She knew the fallacy of those religions, even the one she had practiced for years until she became aware of the true source of her power. This understanding that allowed her to see.

But it was the end of such times, and she saw a darkness settle over the land, fueled by superstition and a seeking of control that would lead to abuses. How long, she wondered, would people stumble through the darkness before they opened their eyes? It was too far for her to see, especially now, with her fading away.

A light, one not real, not in a physical sense, but one she saw, nonetheless. It hovered in her vision and she saw. She had been wrong. There was to be another time. She reached up with her right hand, pointing toward the light. The water felt charged, an energy she had never felt before. Then a flash of light, like lightning streaking through the water. Her finger glowed in the darkness but felt no pain. Instead it pointed to the way.

She rested her right hand on her chest, clasping her fingers together, and smiled at this new knowledge. It was knowledge that belonged only to her, and within a few seconds, as her consciousness faded away, it belonged to no one of this darkest of times.

The End of Summer

The sky was clear and brilliant with stars. Lisa, Tyree and Shen sat in camp chairs near the cliffs, staring out over the dark waters and up into the sky. After days of cloudy skies, it amazed them once again to see the stars. They were pulling out by the weekend, their time up for this dig. For the next two days they would pack up the remaining finds, organize notes and photos not yet uploaded and prepare the site for a period of dormancy.

“Anything else on that skeleton?” asked Shen.

“Not yet. There are some test we’ve requested, but someone at the university is pushing back, not wanting to waste more time and money on it, plus Professor Paterson doesn’t want to further damage the bones,” replied Lisa.

“The finger,” said Shen, glancing over to Lisa and Tyree.

“Yep,” Lisa and Tyree replied in unison, making the three of them laugh.

“We think it was some sort of chemical she had been exposed to, and just wanted to test it further. The preliminary tests were inconclusive” said Tyree.

“Inconclusive?” Lisa scoffed, “they were a mess, coming back with different results with every test.”

“So, our testing is faulty?” asked Shen.

“Not all of them,” replied Tyree.

A train ran down the tracks to their back and for a few minutes they sat quiet listening to the steady rhythm of it. The clickety clank of steel wheels on track that became like the beat of a song, some rhythm the mind recognized, felt some sense of comfort in its familiarity. When it passed, and it was quiet again, they sat for a long time enjoying the silence.

“You know, I love the field work, but…” Lisa uttered in a low voice, causing Tyree and Shen to look over waiting for her to continue.

“You miss Matthew?” asked Tyree.

“Yes.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Franz said you asked Bridget to marry you just be we left,” said Lisa.

“What about you; got someone waiting on you back at the university?” asked Tyree looking over at Shen.

Shen smiled, shaking his head, “nothing serious.”

“Are you going back to China when you graduate?” asked Lisa.

“Yes. There is so much to do, and I want to do my part. What are you two going to do? Tyree, I assume you’ll stay in the area.”

“I think so, but I’m not opposed to working overseas for a few years. Bridget has said she would be up for it.”

“I’m going back to the states. We want to explore the ancient cultures that have disappeared from the American continent,” said Lisa.

“Matthew said the other day he wasn’t interested in the field work as much as the research through old records or analyzing old cults and legends,” said Shen.

“Yes, he likes that aspect.”

Tyree stands up, stretches arms up and out, twisting his back. “I’m beat, so I’m turning in.”

“I’m right behind you,” said Lisa.

“Me, too,” said Shen.

Fall of 1988

Tucson, Arizona

Matthew had rushed from the university, cutting across the campus heading to the faculty housing for new or visiting instructors. He taught early American cultures in the Anthropology department, a job that gave Lisa and him a steady income while they began a family of their own. Lisa realized she was pregnant back in March, and they immediately began to implement their plan for when she got pregnant. She finished the dig in Montezuma while Matthew called in the favors to get the position at the university.

Lisa was in the old Cherokee, Mrs. Garcia, their neighbor, at the door keeping her company while they waited on Matthew who rushed up, out of breath.

“Are you ready to go?” Matthew exclaimed, breathlessly.

“She’s ready to go,” said Mrs. Garcia as she guided Matthew to the driver’s door, “now drive safely. It’s not far to hospital.”

Matthew negotiated around the campus and drove north to the medical center that was part of the university. He called ahead and when he pulled up to the emergency door, a guy in scrubs came out pushing a wheelchair.

Lisa would be checked in and put into a delivery room. The day would pass slowly, as Lisa endured the contractions that grew closer and closer together. At 10:34 P.M. after the usual cries and pushing until she was sweating, and exhausted by the effort, Corbett Orion Bentley came into the world. He was nine pounds, four ounces and twenty-two and a half inches long. He had Matthew’s black hair, Lisa’s green eyes, and a small birth mark on the back of his right index finger, shaped like an hourglass.

Cairo, Egypt

The streets were impossible, crowded with the afternoon’s traffic. Tyree sat in the back seat with Bridget, where she is laying across it with her head in his lap. She was in labor, two weeks early, thus catching them off guard. They had driven out to the dig site three miles below the pyramids for Tyree to check on the status and make final arrangements before Bridget and he flew out the next day for Edinburgh. They had hoped to have the baby back in their home country. But the baby had other plans, sending them on a race back into Cairo.

Dakarai drove the old Toyota Landcruiser as fast as he could, weaving through traffic, one hand on the horn, constantly honking for people to get out of the way.

“We’re almost there,” said Dakarai, looking back with a panicked look, Tyree wondered if it matched his own.

Pulled up to the emergency room doors, Dakarai jumped out and rushed inside as Tyree helped Bridge to sit up. He moved around to the driver’s side and opened the back door to help her ease out. She grimaced in pain with every contraction as she eased to her feet. Dakarai came out pushing a wheelchair, followed by a nurse who was calm with her years of experience.

Bridget was taken to a room, and for the next nine hours and fifty-four minutes, she struggled with the process of giving birth. Just before midnight, she finally pushed for her last time and fell back, breathing hard as the nurses took their son to be cleaned up and checked out.

Duncan Murray McIntyre was nine pounds, six ounces and twenty-two and quarter inches long, with dark red hair, darker than his father’s bright red, and eyes that were vivid blue, like his mother’s. On his right index finger, a birth mark that was shaped like the outline of a tree of life, something Tyree considered a good omen.

Corbett Orion Bentley

The Bentley’s moved to Stanford, where Matthew and Lisa lectured in different classes for the archeological and history classes. It was their plan, to settle into regular jobs for a few years, at least during Corbett’s infancy and elementary grade school years. They lived in Heritage District south of the university, the high cost of the region keeping them always budget conscious.

Corbett grew into a mischievous child, constantly getting into places or doing something that caused grief. He walked early, and with an unbelievable ability to climb, had to be removed from the crib and playpen far too soon for Lisa and Matthew. He would work a leg on the top rail, swing his body up and drop out to gain his freedom. The house had been child-proofed, but Corbett still found things forbidden to him. The food processer on the countertop, Lisa’s hairdryer that was hung from a hook high on a bathroom wall, Matthew’s wallet on top of the chest of drawers. Nothing was out of reach, or so it seemed.

This curiosity led to a child that was intelligent, learning quickly until he showed up at kindergarten bored at the slow pace of the instructions. He skipped the second grade and when the school suggested Corbett skip another his mother worried the age difference would be too much. But in the fifth grade it was obvious the boy was bored, and he was sent to the sixth grade.

Corbett, still eight years old, not nine for four weeks, entered a classroom where most were eleven years old. His mother worried, afraid the older boys would bully him, but when she dropped him off, she saw how he was as tall as the other boys, and hoped it meant he would fit in with them, despite the age difference. But boys being boys, the bullies tried Corbett and found not only was he intelligent, but cunning, and they paid dearly for their actions. Corbett came away with a black eye and bruised knuckles, something that brought Matthew and Lisa to the school. Since it was self-defense, Corbett was allowed to return to class where he found an atmosphere tense, the other students not only unsure how to deal with a boy two years younger, but also how to process their fear of him.

He graduated with top honors, the highest GPA, and scholarships and acceptance to numerous universities. He chose MIT, for it was top ranked in Physics, the curriculum he would pursue, and for two professors on faculty, who lectures he had watched numerous times online. It would be a big move, all the way across the country, for his parents were still on faculty at Stanford. So, on a fall day in the year 2004, the fifteen-year old Corbett climbed out of the rental car, hugged his parents, and strolled confidently into the freshman dorm.

Duncan Murray McIntyre

Do you believe in outside forces, a way to affect events by means that seem outside the boundaries of time and space? Do you believe in fate, destiny? Or just the unbelievable possibilities of chance, some random coincidence? 

Do you believe in events unfolding in a way as to seem to be guided by unseen force? She did, all those centuries before, for she saw.

Tyree and Bridget were on faculty at the University of Glasgow, Tyree in the Anthropology Department and Bridget teaching Advance Writing and Literature, with a focus on the works of Scottish writers of the twentieth century. It allowed them to be home each night and on weekends, providing the parenting required to raise their son, Duncan. He was a quiet baby, rarely crying. He seemed to grow quickly; tall, agile, able to climb out of any crib or playpen by his seventeenth month. He was fearless, climbing on countertops snatching fresh baked treats, up the bookshelves to reach a book he liked for its bright red spine, or crawling in some dark place, the closet in the basement (how he got the door open was a total mystery) or the pantry off the kitchen, a narrow dark room that had a false panel in the back at the floor, one soon discovered by young Duncan.

Duncan picked up crayons, pens and pencils and showed an aptitude for drawing, quickly creating recognizable creatures. The neighbor’s dog, the birds that sat on power lines or the top of the fence, a snake found sunning on the concrete walk. He talked earlier than usual, and withing a couple of years began to read. It troubled Tyree and Bridget to see their son be so unusual in his growth and learning. They worried there would be consequences if he continued at such an accelerated pace.

Duncan skipped kindergarten, then second grade and when the school suggested he skip the fifth grade, Bridget firmly rejected another grade move. He was too young, would have enough problems as it were, and three year’s difference was too much. So, Duncan finished elementary school only two years junior to his classmates.

A change of school led to some new classmates, who did not know the younger boy, the one that spooked the ones who did know him. The bullies, three boys who took out the abuse they felt at home on some boy deemed weak, a sissy, someone they could easily overpower. They immediately targeted young Duncan. They loved to torment Ryan and Keith, one of them holding the boys while the other two tormented them, and in Duncan they saw another victim.

They would pay for their arrogance. Bruce had a fractured arm, Greg a black eye and a loose tooth, and Evin would be on crutches for a week or so, giving his severely sprained ankle time to heal. Duncan demonstrated not only a cunning, but an ability to fight that would prevent all future fights in middle school.

But it wasn’t the wining the fight that endured Duncan’s classmates to him, but the warning to the three boys lying on the floor, that should they bully anyone else, he would be the one they answered to. The faculty were stunned that the skinny nine-year old boy had been so decisive, walking away unscathed, all except the P.E. teacher who remember how Duncan easily climbed a rope to the top, moved with a coordination and stamina of an older boy. He wanted the boy on the football team, despite his age, a hurdle he would not be able to clear, not with Duncan’s parents against it and Duncan himself saying ‘no’.

It was in the science class that the teachers knew Duncan was truly special, learning aspects of physics, biology, and chemistry that was senior level at least, if not college. It was as if he had an innate understanding of the topics, some ability to see that caused the teachers to struggle to keep him from being bored or dominating the class during discussions.

After graduating middle school, Duncan entered high school. This time word of his cunning and strength arrived before him, where the teachers and students new to Duncan watched wearily as the boy took his place in tenth grade, a twelve-year old boy just entering puberty. The girls teased and flirted with him just to see him blush, the only time he showed any weakness, and a few of the boys brought him into their circle, with a mixture of curiosity and empathy for a boy who looked so young. But Duncan did not stand out, as it were, since he was so tall, as tall as the other boys in his class.

Duncan continued to absorb knowledge, none more so than the sciences. He retained everything and sat at the top of every class. He graduated with honors and scholarships from which to choose. But for him, there was only one place he wished to be, so in the fall of 2004, as a fifteen-year old, six-foot four skinny boy, he walked onto the campus of the University of Cambridge. With backpack slung over one shoulder that contained his favorite books on quantum mechanics, he strolled among the other students as he made his way to the dorm that would be home for the next year.

The Body Catches Up with the Mind

Corbett sat in his classes listening to lectures that only seem to regurgitate things he already knew. He listened anyway for that one kernel of information that would be new to him, some new insight into the topic, and there were days he was pleasantly surprised with an instructor giving him something new. He was seventeen, in his second year, taking a class load that shocked his dormmate and caused him grief with the guidance counselor, who constantly questioned him on it, despite the fact that for his freshman year and first term of his sophomore year he was top of every class. 

He found life on campus to be thrilling, despite the boredom he felt in lectures, for there were aspects of the classes that intrigued him. Charlie in his first class, or Ryan and Frank in his second, or the guy with the dark red hair in his third. He was in his class just before lunch and he glanced down two rows at Steven and Chen and wondered about the bodies within the clothes. He had been looking at boys for as long as he could remember. At first it was with curiosity, studying their actions, the way they interacted, and when older, how the boys flirted with girls, something he just did not understand. He found some of the girls attractive, but never to a point he wanted to flirt with them. He had no illusions about what it meant. He knew. He just did not know how to act out on it, not when he had always been so young. He held back, kept to himself, knowing the day would come when he was no longer the little kid among older boys. Then he would act on his desires.

The dorm was the place that tested him the most, gave him pause from time to time, with guys roaming up and down the corridor in nothing but boxers, revealing bodies so much more mature, more muscular. He looked at them and felt his attraction toward them. At six foot four, he towered over most of the other guys, but he only weighed a hundred and fifty pounds, and it showed in how his clothes hung on his frame. He tried to gain weight, to put on muscle. He went to the gym with Jacob, the guy across the hall, for it was Jacob who encouraged him to go, and in the end invited him to tag along with him. He felt like he was weak, struggling to lift the weights Jacob easily lifted. It was after the second trip to the gym, walking back across campus to the dorm, Jacob told him not to fret over how he was doing, for he was doing good, lifting far more weight than some guys his size.

Jacob became his best friend in the dorm, the one guy who did not seem to be looking at him like he was a freak. And it was Jacob who he admitted to being gay, and worried how everyone would take it, if he came out. It seemed such a trivial thing, his sexuality, but then he knew it really was not, for it spoke of his humanity, this need for another. He remembered that night, Jacob at his desk listening to him explain the chemical bonds between the elements in an experiment outlined in a Chemistry class. It was late, and not unusual for him to be helping Jacob, or Mitch, his dormmate.

Jacob had finally understood the experiment and how the chemistry of it worked, and he had rolled back in his chair, and spun childishly, making Corbett laugh. When he stopped spinning around, Jacob closed his textbook and sighed.

“Is that all you need help with?” asked Corbett.

“For tonight it is.”

Corbett went to the door to cross the corridor to his room when he stopped and looked back.

“Can we talk a minute?”

“Sure,” Jacob replied, dropping down on his bed, propping up on one arm.

Corbett closed the door and eased down in the desk chair and faced Jacob.

“I want to tell you something, something I’ve been keeping to myself. You want freak out or anything, will you?”

“Only if you tell me you’re actually an alien,” Jacob joked.

“Maybe,” Corbett joked back, but he turned serious, “I just want to tell someone, to hear myself say it, okay?”

“Okay, go on; tell me.”

“Jacob, I’m gay.”

Jacob smiled, then sat up. “Okay, you’re gay. You don’t think the guys will have a problem with it, do you?”

“Do you?”

“Did you know David down in 342 came out last fall? Or that Keith and Paul in 324 are more than dormmates?”

“No…I…”

“You stay too isolated from everyone, so of course you didn’t know, but Corbett, you’re not the only one. But look, you’re what? Sixteen? Seventeen? It has got to make things tough.”

“It’s not so bad…I mean, I know the day will come my age is no longer an issue.”

“Well, just be yourself.”

Corbett smiled, feeling relieved.

 Over three thousand miles away, within that same darkness, Duncan sat up in bed reading. He did not sleep much, some nights only three or four hours. In the quiet early morning hours, he read. But tonight, he was on his laptop, surfing websites were gay guys met up. He looked at the older men, with their muscular bodies, wishing he could go forward in time just a couple of years, enough to make his age difference not feel like such a barrier.  Looking across the dark room at the sleeping silhouette of William, he pictured the times he saw William changing clothes, or coming into the room in just a towel, tossing it to one side and casually getting dressed, but not before Duncan got a full view of his body. It was burned in his memory and it seemed such a temptation. There were times he was going to come out to William, just tell him he was gay, but he knew it would not help, for what he wanted was William, not his approval.

Connection

Lisa strolled through the massive crowd of the terminal, making her way to the gate of her connecting flight. She had been in Germany giving lectures at Freie Universitat Berlin, and after a whirlwind three days, she was heading back to Denver, where Matthew and she now lived. With Corbett in college, she took another field assignment, one near Denver that allowed Matthew to continue teaching. Looking at her watch, she saw she had nearly three hours to kill before her flight would even begin boarding.

It was three in the afternoon, and she had had a large lunch in Berlin before flying out, but when she walked past a place selling small cakes and biscuits, along with tea and coffee, the smell drew her in. She purchased a coffee and a couple of biscuits, then continued on her way to the gate.

“Lisa?  Lisa Anderson…I mean Bentley,” a voice called out.

At first Lisa was confused, to hear her name called out in London didn’t seem feasible, but then she caught the Scottish dialect, the tone of the voice and she spun around to see Tyree coming up behind.

“OH, my god, Tyree?”

“Lisa, damn, how long as it been,” Tyree replied, coming up and hugging her tightly.

“It’s been…I don’t know,” Lisa replied, laughing.

“Twenty-five…no twenty-seven years.”

“It has? Wow. So, how have you been? Are you still at Glasgow?”

“You know I’m not leaving that place. What about you? You still teaching at Stanford?”

“I’m back in the field, in Colorado. Matthew is teaching while I dig in the dirt.”

“How’s your son, what was his name?”

“Corbett…Corbett Orion. He’s good. I worry about him, but he is doing really well.”

“Hey, you have time to sit?”

“Yes, my flight is not for three and a half hours.”

“Mine is in an hour; let’s sit over there,” Tyree pointed toward an empty bench near a window. They cut through people hurrying to one gate or another and sat facing the planes at the various gates. “Why do you worry?”

“Excuse me?” asked Lisa.

“Why do you worry about Corbett?”

“Oh, it’s just...what about you? I heard you and Bridget had a son, sometime back in the late eighties. Duncan?”

“Duncan Murray, a good Scottish name.”

“It is,” Lisa replied, smiling.

“And yes, Bridget and I worry about him. I don’t know if you can relate to this, but…sometimes I think he’s too smart, has too much understanding of book knowledge.”

“Oh, god, yes, I know what you mean.”

“Really?”

“Corbett is in college already. MIT: can you believe it, and he’s only seventeen…a sophomore and... It worries me, my son being so young,” said Lisa as she watched a plane ease up to a gate. She looked over at Tyree and saw a stunned look. “What?”

“He skipped two grades?”

“Yes.”

“Did the school suggest he skip another year?”

“Yes…wait, what are you saying?”

“Duncan skipped two grades and is currently at Cambridge studying physics, and he’s also only seventeen.”

“No, shit. Oh, that means…”

“Our sons were born in 1988.”

“Corbett was on September 22. When is Duncan’s?”

“The same,” Tyree replied, and Lisa laughed, out loud, for it was all she knew to do. Soon, Tyree joined her.

“Corbett is studying physics too,” said Lisa. “What are the chances?”

“Statistically, I’d hate to calculate it.”

“I remember the day. We were at Stanford, and I was getting my last notes together to hand off while on maternity leave when my water broke. Matthew fought the traffic around the outskirts of campus so afraid I’d deliver in the car. I laid in that hospital for hours before Corbett finally decided to come out.”

“We were in Cairo.”

“Cairo? Wow.”

“I had been on this dig and was getting the last arrangements in place, for Bridget and I were to fly out the next day for Edinburgh. Then little Duncan surprised us by coming two weeks early. God, that was a day I’ll never forget.”

They sat silent for a minute, just staring out the window.

“You have a photo of Duncan?” asked Lisa.

“Yes,” Tyree replied as he pulled out his cellphone and flipped to photos and thumbed through them until he had the image desired. “This was taken at Christmas,” holding out his cellphone.

Lisa took the phone and saw a tall skinny boy standing next to Tyree and Bridget, behind them a Toyota truck, which she assumed was his gift.

“How tall is he?” asked Lisa.

“Over 193 centimeters…six four to you Yankees,” Tyree replied. “And as you can see, he is skinny, but I’ve noticed he is finally filling out a bit.”

“Does that kind of stature run in your families?”

“Not really. I had an uncle that was around 183 centimeters but…why?”

Lisa pulled out her cellphone, scrolled through images until the one she sought was on the screen. She handed it over to Tyree who looked at the tall skinny boy standing between Matthew and Lisa. He towered over Lisa who was only five foot four. Tyree saw Corbett had Matthews thick black hair, but his face had more of Lisa’s features, a heart shape, but more angular, features that were more masculine.

“He’s as tall as Duncan.”

“Yep. He is just shy of six foot four.”

“They could be brothers.”

“Let’s stay in touch. I want to hear how Duncan does in college.”

“Okay, I’ll put my number in your phone. It’s strange. There are too many coincidences.”

“Don’t go all spook on me?”

“Like back in that dig, when they brought us that skeleton?”

“Oh my god, I remember that. What ever happened to it?”

“I think the university still has it, but I’m not sure.”

“Did you have other children?”

“No, we always said one was enough, what with the way things are in the world.”

“Tell me about. I worry about Corbett all the time.”

“So, he’s an only child too?”

“Yes.”

Lisa changed the subject, needing time to process what she had discovered, asking about Bridget. Tyree told of her teaching at the university and how they bought this little place on the outskirts of the city. He rambled about their life together, then inquired about Matthew, listening to Lisa talk of his teaching and their life in Denver.

The time passed, and Tyree looked at his watch and jumped up. “Damn; I’ve got a flight to catch. Lisa, it has been great seeing you and talking about the boys. Let’s talk again; we should keep in touch.”

Lisa stood up, “I glad I ran into you Tyree; it has really nice,” she replied, giving him a hug then stepping back.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later,” Tyree replied as he backed up a few steps, then turned to head to his gate. He went only a few feet and stopped, turning back to Lisa. “One more question.”

“Yes?”

“Does Corbett have a birth mark?”

“Yes, a really small one. It is hardly noticeable. Looks like an hourglass.”

“Where’s it located?”

“Index finger; right hand.”

“No shit.”

“Why?”

“Duncan has one too, same place, only his looks like an outline of the tree of life.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. We should talk more, but right now I have a plane to catch,” Tyree replied then raced off down the concourse.

First Meeting

The cabin sat among a stand of trees overlooking Loch Goil. It was an old chalet, one added onto over the years. It has three bedrooms and two baths, one inconveniently located off the small kitchen. The living room had a ceiling less than 8 feet on one side, showing where one addition joined the existing structure with a wood heater in the corner. Despite its quirks, the mismatched furniture and trinkets, it felt comforting to the two families who came for a week within The Trossachs National Park.

The Bentleys had flown in the night before and that morning met up with the McIntyre family. The boys were home for the summer, each agreed to take it off after going last summer. They were preparing for their junior year, and this would be the first vacation with their families since graduating high school.

“Lisa, Matthew take the bedroom over there. It has the bathroom next to it. Bridget and I will take the other bedroom.”

“But we can take that one. I don’t mind the bathroom off the…”

“Just take it, please,” Tyree responded, his tone one Lisa remembered from their college years, one she knew not to argue.

“Bridget, are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. We’re used to these silly inconveniences,” said Bridget.

“Their bathroom is on the landing below the bedroom and the kitchen is on what was original a porch, so she can manage,” said Duncan coming in with two duffel bags.

Lisa saw Duncan’s smile, one so casually given, and she could not help but compare him to Corbett, who was the same. She watched Corbett climb the steps and cross the porch with two of their bags in hand, and she wondered how the two boys would get along. She worried, why she did not know, but there was something disturbing about their similarities. That morning she had looked at Duncan’s birthmark, how it was shaped differently, but in the same place, between the first and second knuckle.

“Where do I go with these?” Corbett asked, holding up the two bags.

“Through that door,” Bridget replied, pointing to the bedroom with its own bath.

“Where do we sleep?” asked Duncan.

“Upstairs, in the loft. You boys will have to share but there are two beds up there,” replied Tyree.

“Can’t be as bad as a dorm room,” said Corbett as he moved toward the bedroom.

The two families got settled in, and sitting on the porch overlooking the loch, it was Lisa and Tyree that started the conversation, going into their work, and along the way reminiscing of the dig from their college days. Matthew and Bridget cut in from time to time, renewing an old friendship that existed years ago.

“Hey, you want to go walk around,” said Duncan, leaning over toward Corbett.

“Yeah, I’ve sat enough the last two days.”

“We’re going for a walk,” said Duncan as he and Corbett stood and heading to the steps.

“Okay, just be careful,” Lisa replied.

“There is supposedly a path up the road about a quarter of a mile that goes from the top of the mountain down to the water,” said Tyree, pointing to the north.

“Thanks dad, we’ll check it out,” replied Duncan as he followed Corbett down the steps.

They walked along the lane in silence, their long legs taking them quickly to the highway. There was a sense of something familiar about the other, something beyond the aspects their parents had been obsessing over the last few months, ever since Lisa and Tyree ran into each at Heathrow. They both felt it, like the air was charged when they were near each other.

“What do you think?” asked Corbett.

“About what?” Duncan asked in turn.

“All these similarities between us?”

“Coincidences, a randomness that just happens to align for the two of us. Why? What do you think?”

“I want to agree, for anything else would mean something that just can’t be real.”

At the highway, they watched a small car struggle by pulling a caravan.

“Damn, you think they’ll make it?” asked Corbett.

“I’ve seen worse,” Duncan replied, laughing. “So, are we going to find this trail?”

“Sounds good to me.”

They went up instead of down, walking up the trail until at the top of the mountain. They could see Loch Goil below and the road that ran along the western side. Mountains framed the loch, and they sat on the grass admiring the view.

And they cut eyes over to the other, wondering what it was about them that drew their attention.

“So, have you developed a unified theory yet?” joked Duncan.

“Give me until the weekend,” Corbett replied, smiling at Duncan. Perfect teeth and dimples that made Duncan look away.

“Do you think there are more dimensions than we can see?” Duncan asked, more serious this time.

Corbett lay back, hands clasped together behind his head as he looked up at the sky. “I think so, and who knows, maybe someday humans will be able to perceive one or two of them.”

Duncan broke off a stem of grass, fiddling with it as he wondered where he was going with the conversation.

“What if some already have?” Duncan asked in a low voice, afraid of how it would sound to Corbett.

“Serious?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Sounds crazy, but…”

Corbett sensed he knew what Duncan was hinting at. He looked at him, with the dark red hair and tall, lean body, and suddenly Duncan was not just some guy, the son of his parent’s friends from college, but someone he found attractive. He wanted to reach out and touch him, just to feel the physical presence, making sure he was real, and not some hologram. He did not know Duncan stared off into the valley to keep from looking back, feeling the same.

“What’s it like at MIT?” asked Duncan.

“Most of the professors are great, the classes are interesting, and…”

“But what’s it like being younger than the others?”

“I’m not the only one, there is this Chinese boy who’s my age, but he’s in mathematics. But I know what you’re asking. It kind of sucks. To be someone considered just a kid.”

“Yeah…it sucks…” Duncan uttered as he watched a hawk float on the air currents.

Corbett looked at Duncan and felt like he was looking at his mirror image. “Have you dated anyone?”

The question was so open ended, not specific on whether, or not he was referring to college or going back to high school too. But Duncan knew it did not matter, for the answer was the same.

“No. You?”

“No.”

“In high school, being two years younger meant you were immature. They saw me as a kid.”

“Same here, but there were some in twelfth grade, knowing I was fifteen, then sixteen, who saw me old enough, but…”

Duncan looked over his left shoulder and saw Corbett was up on one elbow staring back.

“College has been just as bad. I see someone I’d like to ask out, you know, just dinner or go to a movie or something but then I…”

“Just don’t?”

Duncan nodded his head and looked back out over the valley.

“What are you going to do when you graduate?” asked Corbett.

“I have no idea.”

Corbett understood, for he was not sure what he was gong to do either. Teaching seemed wrong. He would be twenty, at most, when he finished, and he knew students his age or even older would never take him seriously. But he felt there was something out there, something he was supposed to do, if only he could figure it out.

“We should get back,” said Duncan climbing to his feet.

He held out his right hand to help Corbett up. Corbett reached up, slipped his right hand into Duncan’s and suddenly the two of them were seeing images, flashes of scenes neither knew the meaning. Hazmat suits, body bags, mountains on fire, someone wading through waist deep water, and a massive section of ice calving off a glacier.

Duncan jerked his hand back and they looked at each other shocked, breathing hard.

“What the fuck?” Corbett exclaimed as he rubbed his hand.

“What did you do?” asked Duncan.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“Did you…”

“What?”

“Nothing. Let’s get back,” said Duncan stepping back a couple of steps, watching Corbett climb to his feet.

About halfway down the trail, after a long uncomfortable silence, Duncan stopped and turned to Corbett.

“What did you see?”

Corbett knew what Duncan referred, and he instinctually knew Duncan had seen the same thing.

“Just some images of…disasters.”

“People in hazmat suits?”

Corbett nodded.

“A lot of body bags?”

“Yeah,” Corbett whispered.

“Wildfires racing over mountains?”

“Yes, and someone wading through deep water in some city and…”

“A glacier calving.”

“Yes.”

“Not possible,” Duncan uttered as he turned and began to walk, going only a few steps as Corbett stood still, watching him. He stopped again, turning to Corbett.

“Don’t tell anyone. Okay?”

“Okay,” Corbett replied.

They walked down to the road, neither saying anything else. On the road coming toward them were their parents. It was obvious they were out for a stroll, walking slowly, laughing and talking as they approached. Corbett and Duncan gave each other an anxious look, then headed toward them.

The night was cool and calm, with cloudy skies that blocked the stars and moon. The cabin settled into a hibernation, everyone asleep, except for Corbett and Duncan, who lay in their beds staring up into the darkness.

“You still awake?” Corbett whispered.

“Yes.”

“Can you think of anything that would explain…”

“No,” Duncan interrupted.

“A person can not travel to the future.”

“But what if they could just see it?”

“What?”

“What if we could open a window…another dimension and just look into a possible future. I mean…nothing says what we saw comes to pass.”

“No. Maybe it is our unconscious minds creating images that give us anxieties.”

“But the flooding and wildfires are not something I think about; not here in Scotland.”

“And we saw the same thing,” Corbett uttered.

The room fell silent for a few minutes, then Duncan sat up, switching on a lamp. The room came into view, with a soft warm glow and deep shadows in the corners. Corbett sat up, swinging his feet to the floor, and looked across the small room to Duncan, who was against the headboard, knees up and arms resting on them.

“Tell me about yourself. Tell me anything…or everything,” asked Duncan.

“What do you mean? You know almost everything.”

“Really? You don’t know everything about me.”

“Okay, you go first.”

“I look at a math problem and just see the solution. I walk into a room and remember everything about it. I never forget a name, or a phone number. I think about reality in ways I don’t fully understand, these fields in space…then I question our notions of space and time. When I’m in a room with other people, I know which ones I’ll be able to converse and those I will not be able to tolerate. And…I’ve never dated anyone but want to. I look at someone and size them up, make a judgement on my attraction toward them. I try to be like others, but when I look at those I’m attracted, I know I’m not like most other people.”

“Are you gay?” Corbett asked, afraid of the answer, but hoping just the same for an answer that connects them in one more manner. He watches Duncan, who stares straight ahead.

“Yes,” Duncan finally replied.

“What you said, about math problems and how you can read people? I do the same. I think about our place in the cosmos and wonder what other life forms are out there and if any have had the time to evolve to a level equal, or even greater, than us. I think of time and have moments of déjà vu that unnerve me. I find myself wondering how humanity survives with its irrational, self-destructive behavior, and…have dark thoughts about it. And, like you I feel attractions toward other guys, I imagine sexual relations with them, something I never do with girls.”

“It’s not possible,” Duncan whispers.

“The two of us being gay? It seems strange with everything else, but not so impossible as you may think.”

Duncan laughed, then looked over, locking eyes with Corbett. “I thought about it with you.”

Corbett smiled, and opened his mouth to reply, when they heard someone in the corridor, just outside their door.

“You boys need to get to sleep,” said Bridget, then the bathroom door opened, and the fan kicked on.

“Let’s get some sleep,” said Duncan, shutting off the lamp, putting the room into darkness.

Duncan and Corbett spent the remaining time at the cabin circling around each other, each feeling a tension in the air, and each unsure if they should explore it. They lived thousands of miles apart and they fought the urge to approach the other. Their sexual attraction toward each other increased as they grew more familiar with each other. But there was something about it that made them anxious, overly cautious, so they sat up late at night talking about physics, college life and their own beliefs and feelings, pouring out things they would never tell anyone else. Then their time together came to an end. Numbers were traded, and they established a way to stay in touch online with video chats.

11 Months Later

Duncan and Corbett stood at the entrance of the trail up to the summit of Springer Mountain. The summit was just the starting point of their journey, one they would spend the next 30 days pursuing. It was at the summit the infamous Appalachian Trail begin, its southernmost point.

They watched their parents drive away, heading to Asheville, North Carolina for a week of vacation. Then Duncan’s parents would fly back to Scotland and Corbett’s back to Colorado. In a month, Matthew would fly back, the destination expected to be the Tri Cities Airport at Bristol, Tennessee. Most people averaged sixteen miles a day on the trail, and if that held true for Corbett and Duncan, then they should be at the Tennessee-North Carolina state line. Duncan and Corbett had been planning the trip ever since their parents talked of vacationing together in the eastern part of the United States. It would give them time alone, to explore further the ideas and concepts they had debated online over the last few months, and it would let them explore the growing attraction they were feeling for the other. Some sense of need, as if one were incomplete without the other.

They were to call in whenever they had a signal, letting Matthew know their status and if their pace was as planned. What none of their parents knew was they had discussed the pace they thought more realistic for the two of them. They were filling out, growing more muscular, although still within a tall, lean build. In their hikes to build up stamina, they found they could cover distance far faster than most. They considered the terrain and the time they wanted to enjoy certain sections, and still came up with a hike rate of 28 miles a day. It would put them deep into Virginia and Matthew having to change his flight to Richmond.

They waved, adjusted backpacks, and set off up the rocky trail to the summit of Springer Mountain, and the start of their thirty-day journey.

Corbett led when the trail narrowed but where it was wide enough, they walked side by side, keeping their pace steady. They moved over rock and root, climbed up steep grades and made their way down steep slopes with care, boots planted firmly with every step. They passed a couple who had set out before them, and it made them realize their pace was already faster than most. With long legs and a stamina that made easy work of the grade changes, they moved northward, stopping at times just to admire the view.

At the beginning they talked of their adventure, how many miles they hoped to cover, laughing at the idea of calling Corbett’s father with a change of plan for their pickup location. They were packed for ten days but were set up to resupply in a week, and the week after that, knowing there would need to be adjustments made with the later ones. Corbett had provisions set up into Virginia all the way to Tye River. After an hour, they talked of last summer, both skirting the issue they really wanted to discuss.

Ever since that summer vacation, the two of them thought of the moment on the mountain when they touched hands, that connection between them. It fueled their fantasies, haunted dreams, became vivid during masturbation, and became an obsession, one they needed to feel again.

The sun was low in the western horizon when they came to a shelter. It was Gooch Mountain shelter, one capable of sleeping several people, but luckily for them no one was there. Having started later than those doing a through hike gave them the trail with few others. They had passed some hikers, one couple setting at the last campsite. They set their backpacks on the upper platform within the shelter and began to prepare dinner.

“We’ve covered a little over fifteen miles,” said Duncan checking the AT trail map.

“Not bad for our first day,” Corbett replied keeping in mind their mid-day start. He eased down next to Duncan at the picnic table and set a pot of water over the gas stove. “What’s for dinner?”

Duncan slid over two pouches of dehydrated food without taking his eyes off the map.

“You think we can do twenty miles tomorrow?” asked Duncan.

“I don’t see why not. Where will that take us?”

“It looks like it would be Tesnatee Gap. The problem is the site prior to it is about five miles before, so we either do about 15 miles or do…over twenty-one miles.”

Corbett laughs as he watched the water start to boil.

“Then we’ll have to keep up our pace. Hell, we may go further than that. Let’s see how the day goes tomorrow.”

Duncan looked over at Corbett and smiled at the nonchalant attitude, unworried about the distance. He wondered if anything could rattle him. Then he wondered what he was really like, if there was something there that would allow them to get closer.

It was getting dark when Duncan and Corbett climbed up to the platform. They pulled out their sleeping bags and thin mattresses, blowing them up to full thickness after rolling them out. The small lantern sat between them, illuminating their faces, creating dark shadows around them. Looking at each other, they knew where the evening would lead. They could feel it. The hair stood up on their arms, and the air felt charged.

“You know we’ve not touched each other since that day on the mountain,” said Duncan, looking down at his fidgeting hands.

“I know,” Corbett replied.

Duncan held out his hand. “Corbett?”

Corbett moved around on his sleeping bag and faced Duncan. Nodding his head, he reached out. As he drew near Duncan’s outstretched hand, he felt it, this charged feeling, as if lightning were about to strike where they sat. He moved to take Duncan’s hand and a static charge released between them. It was a sharp sting but neither pulled away. Instead Corbett slipped his hand into Duncan’s.

Images flashed through their minds. Quickly, one after the next, some so fast they did not realize what they are seeing. Children in cages, bodies lining a pit, a coral reef that is white and dead, garbage piled up on a beach, elephants lying dead with tusks cut off, a swastika flag…

Then the images stop, and a peacefulness settled over them. They tightened their grip, feeling the strength of the other. It was desperate. It was comforting. They stared at each other and smiled. Then Duncan pulled on Corbett’s hand.

“Come here.”

Hands moved to the other, touching chests, stomachs, then moving along the long lean torsos. They watched their own hands, looked at the places being touched, then looked into the other’s eyes. Corbett took the next step, leaning over kissing Duncan. He pressed their lips together gently, then with a pent-up passion. Fingers fumbled with buttons, tugged on zippers, the pulled at clothing. Shirts were tossed to one side; shorts, then boxers were slipped free of long legs. They looked at the other’s nakedness, how so similar their bodies were in build. Lean, muscular, with no blemishes or scars. Hands reached for cocks as lips pressed together again. They manipulated each other until holding hard cocks. And in this, they were similar as well. Cocks that were long, straight, with flared heads. Hands moved along the shafts and fingers toyed with the heads. They moaned and kissed, and Duncan pushed Corbett to his back.

“Please don’t stop me,” Duncan uttered as he moved on top, slipping between the legs with knees up.

“I won’t,” Corbett whispered into Duncan’s ear, then nipped it, tugged on the lobe as he felt Duncan kiss his neck, lips moving across his skin, as he felt the push of cock at his opening. “Do it. Put it in me,” he uttered, sliding feet up, raising knees higher, spreading them apart. He opened to Duncan and felt the cock press against his tightness. He pushed back.

Duncan felt his cock breach the tight opening and he slowed his inward push. Gently, slowly, he sinks a couple of inches into Corbett and holds still. Their bodies are hot against each other, their breathing labored more from the release of a pent-up desire than from their exertions. Duncan felt Corbett move beneath him, an undulation of body that pushed upward sinking more of his cock into it. He cannot help himself and pushed inward sinking nearly all of his cock into Corbett, who moaned and wrapped arms around him.

A rhythm developed, slow and steady, cock pushing inward then pulling outward. Duncan fucked, while kissing the long neck, the smooth jaw, then the lips that parted for him, their tongues dueling. Hands hold his ass, pull against each cheek as he sinks cock into Corbett’s depths.

“Fuck me…harder,” Corbett uttered as he moved beneath Duncan.

Their bodies moved slickly against each other. They pant for breath. Corbett rubbed hands over Duncan, frantically, as if he needed to touch every part of him. Duncan needed to control the pace of their fuck and he slipped fingers through Corbett’s and pin each hand down as he lifted up and fucked harder, faster, driving cock into Corbett’s depths.

Duncan fucked until his muscles burned with the exertion and sweat rained down on Corbett. He heaved for breath while fucking so hard their bodies smacked together. The noise drifted out into the night, fell away into the valley, only to be followed by the next utterance or sound of bodies coming together.

When Duncan slowed, Corbett pushed upward, rolled him to his back and straddled his waist. He rode the cock buried in his ass, felt its penetration. The impossible depth of it. Moving up and down, he worked his ass on the long shaft, while taking his own in hand. He stroked in rhythm to their fuck, getting faster and faster. He leaned back on one hand, working his ass up and down, never slowing in stroking himself. He threw his head back and cried out, then cum erupted from his cock. Wads fly up and spatter his chest and stomach. He shuddered with each release, and slammed his ass down harder, rougher, the sound of it echoing around the shelter and out into the woods.

Duncan felt it, the way Corbett’s opening spasm around his cock. It was too much, one more thing that manipulated him to the point of release. He grabbed each of Corbett’s ankles and held tight as he shoved upward, pumping out his own load.

They lay naked on top of their sleeping bags. Sweat evaporated and cum dried and flaked off. Their breathing had long since returned to normal and now there were the sounds of night. An owl some distance away, the chirps and buzzing of insects and rustling of the tee canopy by the wind sweeping over the mountain. There were beams of moonlight through the canopy, giving everything a dim ethereal glow. It amazed Corbett how the night was anything but silent and dark.

They were calm, more so than at any time they could remember. The presence of the other a comfort. Corbett slid a hand over until they were holding hands. It was a connection each felt a need. There were no flash of terrible images, no shock of static electricity, or some primitive fear of some fate beyond their grasp. The wind died down, and suddenly they were aware the night was had become silent. Totally, eerily, not a sound could be heard. Then they saw the small light, bluish in color, hovering in space. At first, they thought it a firefly, but the light did not move, instead hovered in place. It grew in intensity, then in size. It appeared to be opening, an unfolding of space. Then an image began to be visible. It was blurry, but as the unfolding continued, they saw it was a body, an old woman, lying in repose. Eyes closed, hands clasped together on her chest, she lay still.

“She’s on the floor of some sea or ocean,” Duncan whispered.

“That’s why she looks blurry, and…she looks dead,” Corbett added.

The body did not move, and the boys noticed the burned index finger, the end of it black.

“Now is the time for the return. Now is the time to warn men,” a voice called out, an old woman’s voice of a dialect Duncan recognized. And old language of long ago from his homeland. They heard her old words but processed them as their own. They knew it was the woman hovering before them, despite the fact her lips did not move as she spoke. The words came from another place. “You are the chosen ones. Together, as one. Among men you are the differing. Your journey will be a reveal.”

The voice trailed off until the last words were a whisper. Then the image folded up on itself until it was gone. The wind rustled the trees and insects buzzed and chirped. The owl hooted.

“Fuck, what was that?” Corbett whispered.

“I don’t know,” Duncan replied.

“What do you think she meant?”

“We’re the chosen ones,” Duncan uttered, more to himself than a response to Corbett.

“I’ll never get to sleep now.”

They moved closer to each other, then without speaking of it, they pulled sleeping bags together and slipped within them, spooning together, Duncan in Corbett’s arms. For a few minutes they lay in a nervous state, but when Corbett snuggled closer, slipped his fingers through Duncan’s, a calm settled over them. Soon, they drifted off to sleep.

Duncan woke to find Corbett sitting with legs crossed staring at him.

“What are you doing?” Duncan asked.

“Watching you sleep. Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

“Huh? No.”

“Who is Catis…man da…dua?”

“What?”

“Who is…”

“I heard you the first time. I have no idea who you are talking about.”

“I think it was that old woman.”

Duncan looked at Corbett, seeing the seriousness of expression. He knew Corbett may be right, for the name seemed familiar, despite never having heard it before. He threw back the sleeping bag revealing his nudity. He saw Corbett look at his body, eyes scanning down.

“What are you looking at?”

“How much do you weigh?”

“How much do I weigh?” Duncan repeated, then he knew to what Corbett was referring. They had different features such as hair and eye color, otherwise they were so similar it was scary. “About 70 kilograms.”

“70 kilograms…that’s roughly 155 pounds. That’s what I weigh.”

“Hand me my clothes, will you?” asked Duncan, pointing to his clothes Corbett had stacked neatly next to him.

“Here,” Corbett replied, holding out them out. “I’ll get breakfast started. I’m ready to hit the trail.”

Duncan slipped on his boxers then looked over at Corbett pulling out the gas stove from his backpack. He slipped on his shorts, then shirt, buttoning up the front. He looked out at the soft early morning light that existed just before sunrise.

“Me too,” said Duncan.

“What?”

“I’m ready to hit the trail.”

The sun was just above the eastern horizon when they came to the first place they could look out over the terrain. They adjusted backpacks, tightening straps, and set off along the trail that stretched out in front of them. They moved at a steady pace, only steep slopes or irregular steps of stone or timbers slowing them down.

Along the trails when alone, they talked about the night before. The sex then the hallucination, for it had to be for nothing else made sense. But there was something about it that nagged at them. What it meant and the two of them seeing the same thing. There was a sense they should be scared, but they felt a calmness that was defiant.

They stopped to look at waterfalls or spectacular views, otherwise they walked with a pace they soon realized was faster than anyone else on the trail. They passed four guys from ASU and a couple from Seattle set up to hike to Pennsylvania. They crossed GA348 at Tesnatee Gap and kept walking. The miles passed until they came to Low Gap shelter. It was another three-sided structure, this time the gabled roof running front to back, giving protection to the picnic table underneath. There were three men and a woman already there, set up on the main level.

“Hey, do you mind sharing the shelter?” Corbett asked as they walked up to the step on the open side.

“No, the right side is all yours,” the woman replied. “I’m Beth, and this is Mike, Ryan and Adam,” she added, pointing to each of the men who nodded in greeting.

“I’m Corbett.”

“I’m Duncan.”

“Duncan, where are you from?” asked Adam.

“Scotland.”

“Wow, and you; your obviously not Scottish,” said Ryan.

“Stanford, well, I’m in college now.”

“Really, we are too. We’re at UNCC.”

“UN...CC?” asked Duncan.

“North Carolina Charlotte.”

“Oh, sorry,” Duncan replied.

“Where are you guys going to college?” asked Beth.

“I’m at MIT and he’s at Cambridge,” Corbett replied, keeping his voice level, not wanting it to sound weird.

“MIT? And you’re at Cambridge? In England?” replied Ryan.

“Yeah, I know how that sounds,” said Duncan.

“How did you guys hook up to hike the trial?”

“Our parents go way back.”

“My mom and his dad are archeologist and were on a dig together years ago,” Corbett added.

“No shit; I seriously considered that for a major, but they say it is hard to get on good digs,” said Mike, speaking up for the first time.

“And the pay sucks too,” Corbett replied, laughing.

“What are you guys majoring in?” asked Beth.

“Physics,” Corbett and Duncan replied in unison.

They looked at each other, embarrassed by their mutual reply, but the others laughed, then Mike stood up and came to the step.

“Come on up and get settled. We were about to prepare dinner.”

“We’ll get set up and out of your way,” said Duncan, as he followed Corbett to the right side and climbed up the short ladder onto the platform.

“Hey, where did you guys start out this morning?”

“Gooch Mountain,” Corbett replied as he moved across the platform making room for Duncan.

“Wow…that’s over twenty miles.”

“Yeah, a bit over twenty-seven,” said Corbett and he did not notice how the other hikers looked at each other surprised at his nonchalant reply on the distance.

“Seriously, you guys are covering that many miles in a day?” asked Beth.

“We don’t know about the days ahead, but today was a good one,” Duncan replied as he pulled out his sleeping bag so he could get to the cook stove in the bottom of his pack.

Duncan and Corbett sat on the edge of the platform, legs dangling over the side, watching the other hikers prepare a quick meal, then sit around the table in casual conversation while eating. Two more hikers came up and they nodded at Duncan and Corbett, recognizing them from a couple of miles back.

“Is there room for two more?” one of them asked.

“Yes, there is plenty of room over here,” Corbett replied, waving around to the right side of the platform. “Come on up and we’ll tighten up and give you half the space.”

“Thanks.”

There was soft snoring and the occasional sound of someone shifting within a sleeping bag. Over in the back corner, sound asleep, Corbett and Duncan lay in their sleeping bags. They had prepared their dinner and sat with the two guys who arrived late. Tom was from Chicago and William was from Denver. They were 30 years old and old college roommates out to tackle the AT, something they began planning back in college. Duncan and Corbett told of their own lives, seeing the surprised looks at them being Juniors in college at eighteen, and prestigious colleges too. It was getting late, the mountains quiet, when they turned in. Everyone talked of an early start the next morning, each sounding eager to hit the trail.

When the night gave way to early morning, the sun not yet above the horizon, Corbett and Duncan eased around the platform, packing up after a quick breakfast. They eased down the ladder and gave one last look at the others still sound asleep, smiled at each other, adjusted the straps on their backpacks and headed out.

They waited until clear of the shelter to talk about their plans.

“How far do you think we can get today?”

“Deep Gap is only twenty-two miles or so, and the next shelter on the trail is Plum Orchard, and that was how far?” asked Corbett.

“A little over thirty miles,” replied Duncan.

“Piece of cake,” said Corbett, giving Duncan a mischievous smile before speeding up.

They hiked without fatigue, up one side of a mountain and down the other. They navigated the steps, steep slopes and had lunch by a stream, refilling their water bladders. They felt their legs adjust to the pace of this constant walking, and their bodies felt like an engine running at the ideal revs.

There were two hours of daylight left when they walked up to the shelter at Plum Orchard. Two couples were at the shelter eating at the picnic table under the roof. The shelter was weather worn, the lumber darkened with age and it was not as open as the previous shelters, open only on two side for the porch area.

“Can we assume there is room for two more?” asked Duncan as they approached.

“Oh, yes, plenty of room. We set up on the upper platform in back. There is another one above us, the ladder goes up to both,” one of the guys said, pointing to a ladder on the wall.

“You guys all together?” asked Corbett.

“Yes, we decided to tackle Georgia and North Carolina this year and maybe in a couple years come back and take on a more sections,” the other guy replied.

“What about the two of you? Thru hikers?” one of the women asked.

“No, we don’t have time to do that. We have to get back to college this fall,” Duncan replied.

“We’re just going to see how much we can do in a month,” Corbett added.

“So, you’re doing about what we have planned,” the woman replied.

Corbett looked at Duncan then back at the woman. “We think we can get into Virginia for some distance.”

“Really?” the woman replied, sounding like she was not sure if they were being truthful.

“You can do it, but you’ve got to keep up a good pace and not take any days off,” the first guy replied, getting up from the table.

“That is what we think too,” said Corbett.

“We’re finished, so the table is all yours,” said the second woman, as the last three of the group climbed up and took their things.

“Thanks,” replied Corbett.

On the lower platform they noticed the ladder on the side wall extended up past the platform along the back wall to a platform along the front wall that was over the porch area. They climbed up to it and set up their sleeping bags along the front wall, then went back to the spring to get fresh water. When they returned there were three more hikers setting up on the main platform. A father with two teenage boys they had passed a mile back. They shared the picnic table, talking about their plans and what they had seen so far. The father told of being from Greenville, South Carolina and he and his sons were going to hike as far as they could for about six weeks.

As the sun dropped below the horizon, and night quickly fell over the mountain, everyone had settled down. Within an hour, all that could be heard was soft snoring and the shifting of sleeping bodies.

Once again, Corbett and Duncan were the first to rise, getting up just before daylight. They eased around the shelter, eating breakfast, packing up, then slipping on backpacks. They were about to head out when the father climbed down from the lower platform.

“You guys are getting an early start.”

“We want to see how much ground we can cover.”

“Well good luck. I know we will not keep up, for the boys like to check out everything along the way, and…” the father looked around at the two sleeping teenagers, then back at Duncan and Corbett, “that is perfectly fine with me. I’m just glad to spend the time with them.”

Duncan nodded and Corbett smiled at the father.

“Sounds like a great trip for you,” said Corbett.

“Yes, it is. You guys travel safely,” added Duncan.

“You do the same,” the father replied as Duncan and Corbett headed out.

It was mid-morning, and the trail was narrow, running along parallel with a steep grade. They walked in single file, Corbett in front. They were moving at a steady pace when they heard rustling in the bush above them. They stopped and listened to it move down the mountain until a coyote came out into the open.

“Oh, shit,” Duncan whispered.

“Stay still,” Corbett whispered back.

The coyote came down to the trail and moved toward them, casually, with a slow walk. There was no growling, nothing aggressive in its demeanor. Corbett, then Duncan sensed it, some connection to this wild animal. Something so untamed, but yet…they watched it approached suddenly not feeling fear. It came up close, sniffed the air, then lay down in the trial, tail wagging.

“Damn. You think it is someone’s pet?” asked Duncan.

“I don’t know.”

There were voices coming toward them from the north. Two male voices and a female. They were getting close and the coyote turned and looked up the trail. Suddenly the three hikers came into view and the coyote climbed to its feet, yawned, and moved up the mountain until out of sight.

“Holy fuck, did you see that?” one of the guys exclaimed. They were frozen in place, each with shocked expressions.

“What do we tell them?” Duncan whispered as they watched the three hikers come toward them, excited by seeing the coyote.

“Nothing,” Corbett replied.

“You guys alright?” the other guy asked as they drew close.

“Yeah, we’re fine. We just came upon it laying in the trail,” Corbett lied.

“Wow, I’m shocked it didn’t attack you or something,” said the woman.

“Well, we’re good, but we probably should move on up the trail and not hang around,” said Duncan.

“I agree. There may be more of them. They travel in packs,” the first guy replied.

Duncan and Corbett stepped to the side and let them pass, then started hiking up the trail.

“That was weird,” said Duncan when they were out of ear shot of the three hikers.

“No kidding.”

There were four hours of daylight left, but when they came to Long Branch shelter and saw it was empty, they stopped for the day hoping to have it alone for the night. They had covered about twenty-eight miles, a lot for the trails they were navigating, but they felt fine. There was some fatigue in their legs, but no soreness.

The shelter looked new and sturdy with its thick post and beam construction. They climbed up the ladder to the upper platform, making room for others that may show up.

“Let’s go down to the creek and clean up,” said Corbett pulling out a small washcloth.

“You think anyone will come up on us?” Duncan asked.

Corbett looked at the devious smile and shook his head.

“Maybe not.”

The stream was shallow and only about twelve feet wide, the bottom covered in rock. But the water ran clear and cold and the two of them stripped down to their boxers and waded out to a rock positioned near the other bank. Corbett stood in the stream and Duncan sat on the rock as they washed off the sweat and grime from their four days of hiking.

Corbett splashed cold water at Duncan, who did the same in return and they began to horse around, laughing and joking with each other. But the playfulness changed, turned sexual in nature as Corbett pushed Duncan to his back on the rock. He moved down between the long legs, running hands up each thigh, not stopping, instead pushed each hand up the short legs of the boxers until he was manipulating cock and tugging on the loose sac.

Duncan was leaned back on elbows watching every move. His cock responded, grew hard and when Corbett leaned down and mouthed it through the boxers, he threw his head back and moaned with his sense of pleasure. The hands slipped from his boxers and he felt the fingers take the waistband and tug. He raised his hips letting the boxers slide down his legs and when he settled back on the rock, lips touched his cock, tongue dragged along its length, then he shivered with the sensation of it enveloped in a warm slick mouth.

Corbett sucked Duncan, took every inch, working lips and tongue on the rock-hard shaft and spongy head. Hearing Duncan moan and shudder with his manipulation spurned him on, made him become more aggressive. He held his head still when Duncan began to push upward, fucking his mouth, and when Duncan fell still, he moved on the cock, keeping the sensations intense. Duncan moaned, then cried out and Corbett felt the cock swell on his tongue, flex, then fill his mouth with cum.

“Do me; put it in me,” Duncan exclaimed when Corbett released him and looked up.

Corbett rose to his feet, letting his wet boxers drop to his ankles and he daringly stepped out of them, kicking them up on the bank. He moved to Duncan, took each leg holding it to his chest as he pushed his erection down, aiming it at the tight opening he would soon breach.

Duncan took it, every inch, and he lay back begging Corbett to fuck him, to fuck hard. Corbett moved with fluid motions, hips swinging to work every inch into Duncan’s depths, then pulled outward, slipping free at times. He bore into Duncan until his hips smacked the upturn ass, the sound of it echoing over the waters and up the sides of the mountains.

“I’m going to cum,” Corbett uttered, then shook and jerked with release as he filled Duncan with his load.

Corbett fell over Duncan, panting, feeling his exertion. He kissed the long neck, moved up along the jaw feeling the stubble of beard trying to come in, then finally, the soft lips that kissed back.

There was a sound, something moving nearby, and Corbett opened his eyes slowly, afraid of seeing another hiker nearby watching them. Instead he saw a snake. It lay only a foot away, appearing calm, as if sunning on the rock. Then he saw another, a timber rattler a couple of feet away.

“Don’t move,” Corbett whispered.

“What?”

“We’ve got company. A couple of snakes.”

“There’s more than a couple,” Duncan replied.

Corbett slowly turned his head to where Duncan was looking and saw four more laying on the rock. None acted aggressive. They just lay there, tongues coming out to capture their scent.

“I’m going to ease up,” Corbett whispered.

“Go slow.”

Corbett pushed up slowly, then got his feet underneath him and stood. He looked at the snakes on the rock scattered around Duncan. There were seven, and a glance to his side, Corbett saw two in the stream to either side of him.

“What do we do?” Corbett asked.

“Nothing. Help me up and we’ll just ease out. They are not acting aggressive, so let’s assume they are just curious.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Back on the bank, their clothes on, they watched the snakes on the rock slip off and disappear. The two in the stream went under and disappeared too.

“That was fucked up,” said Duncan.

“Have you ever heard of snakes doing that?”

“No; you?”

“Never.”

Back at the shelter, they found it empty. It seemed fate would give them the shelter for night. The sun dropped below the ridgeline and the long shadows disappeared, replaced by dusk, that time when shadows mixed, no longer a stark contrast between light and dark. A gentle breeze and the temperature began to drop.

“I’m going to get some wood for the firepit,” said Duncan.

“Okay,” Corbett replied as he pulled out the gas stove to prepare dinner.

Duncan positioned wood in the firepit, small twigs on bottom with larger limbs over them. Back at the table, he watched Corbett pour boiling water into the two dinner pouches, then hold one out to him.

“Let’s eat,” Corbett uttered, as he took the other pouch and began to stir it.

Sitting at the table, night settling around them, Corbett finished, took one last drink, then looked out into the darkness.

“Should we discuss what happened?”

“Which thing?” Duncan responded, both knowing how he was referring to everything that had happened since they started the hike. 

“Right.”

“Doesn’t it seem like this is somehow related to us being together.”

“What? Some voodoo shit?” Corbett replied laughing nervously.

“It does feel like some real sorcerer shit, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t believe in magic, do you?”

“No…but…” Duncan replied, his voice trailing off.

“Hey, let’s get that fire started and chill out.”

Corbett washed the boiler and two utensils while Duncan went down to the firepit. Duncan stooped to the stack of wood and reached into his pocket expecting to find the cigarette lighter, but his pocket was empty. He looked back, remembering he had given it to Corbett to light the stove. Opening his mouth to call out to Corbett to bring it down, he hesitated, then turned to the stack of wood. Why he did it, he didn’t know, but he picked up two twigs, about the thickness of a pencil and held one in each hand. Fire, he thought and struck them together. As sparks flew into the stack of wood, he nearly fell back on his ass, shocked at what he had done.

The wood caught, flames climbing up through the small twigs and igniting the large pieces on top.

“Hey, I have the light…” Corbett called out, then falling silent. He moved down next to Duncan watching the wood catch.

“How did you light the fire? I have the lighter.”

“I did that boy scout thing.”

“What thing?”

“You know, rubbed two sticks together.”

“Huh-uh.”

“Seriously?” Duncan turned to Corbett, his expression one of fear, “I just rubbed two sticks together and thought fire.”

“Try it again.”

Duncan picked up two twigs, raked some leaves in a pile at his feet and did as before. The leaves burst into flames.

“OH shit,” exclaimed Corbett.

“You try it.”

Corbett raked some leaves into a pile and took the two twigs from Duncan. He rubbed them together as Duncan had done but nothing happened.

“That’s odd,” Duncan replied. “I would have sworn you would have been able to do it too.”

Corbett sensed it was not right, something amiss in what he was attempting. He looked at the blazing fire in the fire ring and felt there was another aspect he had to consider. That maybe he was some opposite of Duncan. A word came to him as he watched the flames. It seemed odd at first, but then he stared into the flames and uttered it softly.

“Smother.”

The flames disappeared and for a few seconds smoke rose from the burnt wood, then it too disappeared.

“Holy shit…you put it out,” Duncan exclaimed, dropping to his knees, and moving up to the fire ring. He held a hand over the burnt wood, moving it back and forth. Corbett watched intently as Duncan looked back once, then lowered his hand to a piece of wood that only a seconds before was ablaze.

“It’s cool to the touch.”

“Light it again; see if it’ll burn.”

Duncan eased back and picked up the twigs. He raked one against the other once, sending a spark into the fire ring. The wood ignited and soon flames were rising as before.

“What the fuck is going on?” Corbett asked as he sat on the ground next to Duncan.

“I don’t know.”

“Did you notice how birds would land on tree limbs or on the ground near us and not fly away when we passed them?”

“Yes.”

“And that coyote.”

“And the snakes.”

“Don’t remind me.”

They felt as if something was being revealed to them, but it was just out of reach. Corbett climbed to his feet and held out his hand to help Duncan up. A mild shock, and their hands came together, pulling Duncan to his feet.

“Let’s turn in,” said Corbett.

Corbett looked back at the blazing fire and it suddenly extinguished itself. Turning toward the shelter, they went to turn in. In their silence the life of the mountain could be heard. Birds, insects, the distance howl of a coyote filled the air with sound. At the ladder, Corbett stood to one side to let Duncan go first.

On the platform, they moved on hands and knees, unable to stand. Corbett moved up to Duncan, climbing on his back, hugging their bodies together.

“I want you,” Corbett whispered. His tone was desperate, and urgency to it that Duncan understood intrinsically. He felt it too.

They were rough in removing each other’s clothes, then physical in their manipulations, the touching of the other, hands and mouths moving over now familiar bodies. There was none of the hesitancy of their first time. None of the timidness associated with not fully knowing the other person. They began to understand the other in ways words defied them. Corbett moved over Duncan, penetrated him slowly, then began to fuck. It was slow, the two of them savoring the feel of every inch of movement through the tight opening. The push and tug of cock, the penetration into the depths of Duncan’s body by Corbett’s cock. Their bodies undulated against each other, serpent like, rubbing hot skin that became wet and slick.

Neither noticed the faint glow generated. A soft warm glow that illuminated the platform and drew wildlife, animals and insects hovering just out of its glow, watching this most primitive act of humans.

Corbett moved off Duncan, allowing him to roll over and get on his elbows and knees. He moved between the long legs and pushed cock into the depths of Duncan’s body. Holding the narrow waist, he fucked, hard, abdomen smacking against ass. Duncan rose and Corbett wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him back. Back arched, torso stretched out and shiny with sweat, Duncan rested his head on Corbett’s shoulder while taking every thrust. A hand snaked around his hip and took his erection, stroking it.

The shelter echoed with their moans and grunts, Duncan’s pleadings to be fucked harder and the sound of bodies coming together. Duncan came first, cum spurting out in thick wads spattering the platform. Then Corbett came, thrusting into Duncan’s depths and filling him with his load.

The shelter grew quiet and dark. Breathing slowed, with naked bodies intertwined, as sleep overtook them.

“You awake?” whispered Corbett, snuggled up behind Duncan.

“Yes.”

“It’s still dark.”

“I know.”

“But I’m ready to get going.”

“Me too.”

After a breakfast then packing up, Corbett and Duncan set out just as first light was pushing back the darkness. The trail headed north, unlike the day before when it snaked north, east, and south before turning north again. They quickly got to a comfortable pace, passing other hikers. They felt refreshed, the anxiousness of the day before faded away. When alone on the trail they discussed what had been happening, searching for a cause, some reason that made sense to them, two guys normally so skeptical.

They came to a series of steps, descending a steep slope. They moved with ease down them, long legs stepping confidently from one to the next. Near the bottom they heard voices, and when they were back on a section that ran parallel with the grades, the voices were more distinct.

“…can you walk?”

“I don’t know. I think I sprained it.”

Corbett and Duncan rounded a bend and saw a guy stooped down at the other’s feet. The right boot was off, and they were working the foot back and forth while the seated guy grimaced in pain.

“Hey, you guys okay?” asked Duncan.

“Hey. He twisted his ankle back on those steps and I’m not sure how bad it is.”

“Let me look at it,” said Corbett moving down next to the stooped guy. He took the foot, felt the ankle, sensing the way it was injured. The ligaments stretched too far. He rubbed the ankle, feeling his hands warm against it.

“Wwhhhaaattt are you doing?” the seated guy asked.

“Just seeing if I can feel anything serious.”

“But…”

Corbett felt the ligament under his fingers, and he rubbed them, imagining them returning to normal. His hands began to feel warmer, and he rubbed the ankle until it felt normal.

“It’s…stopped hurting,” the guy uttered as he stared at Corbett who eased back and sat on the ground.

“I think it was just a minor sprain.”

The guy stands up, gingerly, then finds it will support him without pain.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“What did you do?” the other guy asked, looking at Corbett with disbelief.

“Nothing really, just rubbed it a little,” replied Corbett.

“You guys okay now?” asked Duncan.

“Yeah, we’re great,” the guy who was injured replied. “Hand me my boot,” he added toward his buddy.

“Well, we’re taking off. You guys be careful,” said Duncan. “Come on, Corbett, let’s get moving. We’ve got a lot of miles to cover if we’re going to make Wesser.”

“Wesser? That’s a long way to go?”

“I think we can make it before dark,” Duncan replied, helping Corbett to his feet and getting his backpack back on.

They hiked for a mile or more before Duncan finally said what he had been thinking.

“What did you do back there?”

“Huh? I didn’t do anything.”

“You healed that guy’s ankle.”

“No, I think…” Corbett fell silent and it was obvious he was reconsidering what had happened.

“Yeah, what?”

“When I was rubbing it, my hands got warm.”

“Got warm? Warmer than usual for simple contact?”

“Yes.”

“Oh shit,” Duncan exclaimed, then he started laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Us.”

Wesser Bald Shelter was busy, several groups already camped out. Corbett led Duncan off to the side, over to a level area.

“Let’s just pitch the tent,” Corbett uttered, as he pulled his backpack off.

They avoided the others, doing a superficial introduction and brief chat about everyone’s hike to date. But quickly pulled away and settled down around their tent. There was a quick dinner, getting water, and slipping into the tent, then calling it a night. They sensed a change in the atmosphere, like something that had been hibernating was awakening. They’re sense of normal was off, and it felt wrong.

The next morning, they set off before it started to get light. With headlamps on, they headed up the trail. They went into the mountains of North Carolina, finding the trails busier, more hikers along every stretch, most doing short sections from one access location to another. They passed them, moving at a fast pace. For the next eight days, they hiked. The shelters at Cable Gap, Tri-corner Knob, Roaring Fork, and the others were always crowded with other hikers. So, they kept pushing forward, starting out before daylight, and going till late in the day, covering over thirty miles most days.

On their fourteen day on the trail, it began as the previous, but by late morning, the sky clouded up, dark, ominous clouds, spanning from the south to the north. Corbin and Duncan were climbing to the next ridge, one that would take them once again across the North Carolina-Tennessee state line. The trail worked down into a cove as rain began to fall, at first just a few drops at a time, but with the wind picking up. They had not seen another hiker since about nine that morning and now had the trail to themselves.

“We better dig out our ponchos,” said Duncan as he stepped off the trial into a small clearing.

“We’ve been lucky so far,” Corbett replied, knowing the forecast had predicted rain two days prior.

Corbett was unzipping his bag when the rain began to fall faster, a few drops turning into a slow drizzle. Across the valley they saw the heaviest part of the storm coming toward them.

“Here it comes,” said Duncan.

Corbett looked at the rain, and he understood. He zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

“Hey, aren’t you going to dig out the ponchos?” asked Duncan.

“Don’t you feel it?” asked Corbett.

“Feel what?” Duncan replied, but he turned to face the rain and stilled himself. Then he knew too.

Backpacks back on, straps tightened, they watched the rain approach, the wind pick up, blowing loose leaves and limbs. Large heavy drops began to fall, but none landed on either of them. Then the rains fell heavily, the ground quickly turning to mud and the trail a river of water, but around the two of them, a bubble of calm dry air.

“You think we can continue hiking?” Corbett asked as he watched the rain in the valley.

“What if we come upon someone?”

“We could have someone come upon us if we stay here.”

“True. Okay, let’s try it. Do a slower pace.”

“Of course,” Corbett replied as he moved back onto the trial. They stayed close together, going at a slower pace. The bubble of calm dry air stayed around them. Without realizing it, soon they were back at their normal pace, the two moving in unison, up and down steps, working over rock and crossing streams.

“How do explain this?” Duncan asked as they walked out onto a road.

“I don’t,” Corbett replied, as he checked the map. “We go this way,” pointing to his left.

“The next shelter is not on the tail,” said Duncan as the bubble of calm air dissipated at the same time the rains let up. Only a few drops hit them from time to time, as the wind blew the storm clouds to the northeast.

“Mountaineer, right?”

“Yep.”

“Maybe the rain and it being off the trial will let us have it alone.”

“I hope so,” Duncan replied, tired of sharing shelters or sleeping in their tent.

They followed the narrow mountain roads until they came to the end of Campbell Hollow Road continuing down a narrow path that ran along the Jones Branch until they came to the shelter. It was similar to the others, with weathered wood siding, metal roofing and an open side. But there was something else about it, the way it sat within the terrain.

And they had it alone.

“Yes,” Corbett exclaimed, looking around at Duncan smiling.

“Let’s get these backpacks off and go on down to the waterfall,” Duncan replied, leading the way to the shelter. The interior revealed the shelter was not as old as it first appeared, but they were surprised to see it had three levels inside it.

“What do you think?” asked Corbett.

“Let’s take the second level. It’ll give us some warning if someone else shows up.”

Backpacks dropped down in a corner and sleeping bags spread across the platform to air out, they pulled off boots, socks and shirts, stripping to the waist. With sports sandals on, they headed down stream to the waterfall.

The eased up the rocks, working their way to the main part of the waterfall. The water felt frigid to them but slowly, one then the other moved underneath it.

“How many miles have we covered?” asked Duncan.

“Since we set out? A little over four hundred.”

“I can’t believe we’re making such good time. My legs don’t hurt at all.”

“Mine neither.”

“It’s what? About sixty or so miles and we’ll be in Virginia.”

“Yep.”

They laughed at the absurdity of it, being about to enter Virginia, and will still have two weeks of hiking.

“Your dad will kill us when he finds out,” Duncan uttered as he watched Corbett hold his head under the water.

“Actually, he’ll want to know how we did it,” Corbett replied as he looked up, his hair matted down around his head as water cascaded over it.

Duncan leaned to him, and they kissed.

“Let’s get back to the shelter,” Duncan whispered.

Corbett recognized the tone. One of desire. He climbed to his feet and held out a hand. As Duncan’s slipped into it, they felt the charged nature of their bodies; how they responded to one another.

Their shorts hung low, clinging to narrow waists, round asses, and growing erections. They were aroused by each other and the possibilities that lay ahead, none more so than the immediate time together. The shelter was empty, still theirs alone. Corbett led, going up the ladder to the platform with Duncan right behind him. He stood in the middle and undid his shorts, letting them fall wetly around his ankles. Cock pushed at the wet boxers, its growing length visible and Duncan moved to him, going to knees.

Duncan pressed his face into the crotch, mouthed the cock through the wet fabric, then tugged them down, kissing each new inch of exposed flesh. The abdomen above the pubic hair, the hip, the base of the cock, then down each inch until the head finally slipped into view and he kissed it, then slipped it in his mouth.

Corbett moaned and shuddered at the feel of it.

“Duncan,” Corbett whispered.

Duncan sucked nearly the full length of Corbett’s cock, working lips down the shaft and tonguing the head. He moved with determination and desire, taking every inch he could into his mouth. He held the ass cheeks, felt them flex in his grasp, and when he pushed forward to take Corbett as far as he could, the head pushing into his throat, he slipped the fingers of his right hand down between the cheeks and touched him. Raked fingers over the tight opening, then penetrated it; one finger, two, then three stretching it open. Corbett shivered with the penetration.

Duncan guided Corbett down on one sleeping bag and moved between the outstretched legs. They came to his shoulders, and he felt the smooth skin as he dragged hands down the thighs until he held each leg behind the knee. He moved over Corbett, folding him half. His cock found its target, pressing against the loosened opening, and he pushed through it, sinking inch after inch into him.

Corbett fell back, arms outstretched, eyes closed and moaned far too loud. It echoed in the shelter and down the valley. Then he raised up and looked into Duncan’s eyes.

“Fuck me.”

And Duncan fucked. Hard long thrusts, pushing all the way into him. They wanted the deepest physical connection possible and Duncan pushed until his abdomen smacked against the upturned ass, sinking every inch he had into Corbett. Their fuck was physical, rough, bodies moving as one, thrusting against each other. Hands rubbed over sweating flesh, lips pressed together, then moved over smooth skin, tugging on earlobes…uttering the foulest proclamations.

“Goddamn, fuck me,” Corbett pleaded as he rocked with every penetrating thrust into his depths.

Duncan hugged Corbett and rolled to his back, bringing Corbett on top, ass impaled on his cock. He watched Corbett move, upward then down. He watched how his cock came into view then disappeared, over and over and over. He watched the long lean torso, skin glistening in the dim light of dusk, the shelter nearly too dark to see. But he could see Corbett, as if radiating his own light. Duncan felt the heat of Corbett’s body, the way it took his cock. The way Corbett’s cock smacked against his stomach. It increased his arousal, pushing him to the edge.

Corbett leaned back, holding himself up with his hands. Body stretched out, he worked his ass up and down on Duncan’s cock. Faster and faster, until the sound of bodies smacking together echoed loudly in the shelter. Corbett was grunting, swearing under his breath, as he moved on Duncan. He took his own cock in hand and stroked it, feeling his arousal grow. Nearing his own release, he sat up and rode Duncan roughly until his cock sprayed cum over him, from face down to stomach.

Corbett’s cum was overpowering. Its smell filled the shelter and when it trickled down his face, Duncan tasted it again, the raw nature of it. He pounded fists against the floor and cried out, while shoving upward, filling Corbett’s hole with his load.

They lay on top of sleeping bags, naked, legs and arms intertwined. They did not know how but they knew no one would disturb them. Sleep came easily, peaceful, dreams of colorful sunsets and early mornings on a mountain. Of sex with the other, their intimacy growing with each day together on the trail.

It was the middle of the night, an owl hooting somewhere in the valley, and Corbett moved over Duncan and entered him. He moved slowly, without urgency, grinding hips against the firm ass below him. Their fuck was as if in a dream state, nothing around them real. They felt the heat of the other, the movement of a body against their own. They knew the other, in ways words could not describe. Intimately, with an understanding of their shared power.

Their fuck lasted a long time, Corbett on top, then Duncan. They lay side by side as Corbett pushed slowly into Duncan depths, then Corbett folded Duncan in half beneath his body and piston cock within him. Duncan came first, cock spurting between them until they moved slickly against each other. Then Corbett came, shuddering with his release, filling Duncan’s hole. Then as simply as their fuck began, it was over, and Corbett held Duncan against his chest as they drifted back to sleep.

The next day they only covered twenty-five miles. A lot for most hikers, but it seemed like they were not trying to make time. They stopped at Moreland Gap Shelter, talking with some of the other hikers, who offered coffee when they approached. With their cups full of the dark black brew they listened to the others talk about the day before; hiking in the rain, the treacherous conditions of trail sections and seeing a couple of timber rattlers on the trail. Corbett and Duncan listened with interest, laughed at the jokes, enjoying the company of others for the first time in days.

“Where did you guys shelter last night?” a woman asked.

“In Mountaineer on Jones Branch,” Duncan replied.

“Really?” she replied surprised.

“Yeah. Why?”

“We looked for it late yesterday, roaming up and down those roads.”

“Did you not come to Campbell Hollow?” Corbett asked.

“We came to the church…Buck Mountain, and the next thing we know we’re on Old Buck Mountain Road. It didn’t make sense by the maps, but we found ourselves at the trail heading this way.”

“That is odd,” Corbett replied, glancing at Duncan, sensing the truth.

Coffee finished, they thanked the hikers and set out, heading west, then north once again. They left the trail to explore Coon Den Falls, waded across Laurel Fork, and after a short hike came to the falls. The climbed the switchbacks to get on the next ridge and eventually came out at Watauga Lake. Moving onward, they climbed onto another ridge, running northeast with the lake to their right.

Just before dark they came to the next shelter. Vandeventer Shelter was an ugly low structure with walls of concrete block. There were four others already set up inside it, and Duncan tapped Corbett on the arm.

“Keep going. Let’s just set up the tent somewhere,” Duncan uttered in a low voice and Corbett nodded in agreement.

About a quarter of a mile further along the ridge they came to a place level enough for their tent a short distance off the trail and set up for the night. Despite their stopping, they still managed over 33 miles, but it was late by the time they ate and ready to call it a night.

A sound woke Corbett. He was unaware of what it was, for he didn’t hear it clearly coming out of sleep. Duncan lay by his side and he knew it had not been him. There was a sound like someone snorting loudly, then sniffing the air. He rolled to his knees and slowly pulled the zipper around the circular door. It fell open as he pulled the zipper around until he saw a brown bear sitting less than ten feet away. It was relaxed, just sitting there looking back.

“Hey Mr. Bear,” Corbett stammered, then he sensed it, some connection to the animal. It stopped fidgeting around and focused its stare back at him. Images began to flash through his mind. A den with cubs, the dead tree with bees and raiding their honey, the men with guns shooting at it, scaring it, the crossing of streams, roaming the mountain side and watching hikers move along this section of the trail as it transverses the ridgeline. A life that lives without understanding of tomorrow or yesterday, simply living for the day. Corbett eased out of the tent and sat on the ground, so close either could reach out and touch the other. They looked at each other and Corbett smiled, making the bear grunt and sniff noisily at the air.

“Hey…what are you doing?!” someone yells from the trail, and the spell is broken, the bear jumps to its feet and runs down the side of the mountain.

“Holy fuck, that was close,” a man runs down to where Corbett sits, who is aggravated with the hiker’s interruption.

“What are you doing?” Corbett rounds on the guy, suddenly angry.

“That…was a bear?” the hiker responds, shocked at Corbett’s attitude.

Duncan rushes out, moves next to Corbett, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Corbett,” Duncan whispers and Corbett suddenly calms, looks down then back up.

“I’m sorry,” said Corbett to the hiker. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay. You must be in shock,” the hiker replied, but it was obvious he was still not sure what he had seen.

“Thanks,” Duncan added, smiling at the hiker.

“Okay…well…you guys be careful,” the hiker replied, moving back to the trial, then slowly heading onward.

Duncan waited until he was gone, then stooped down next to Corbett.

“What happened?”

“There was a bear, and…he was just sitting there watching me.”

“I saw, but how?”

“I don’t know. He was here when I got up.”

“The bear was already here?”

“Yeah, just sitting there watching our tent.”

Duncan looked back at the tent with its thin fabric and fiberglass poles, imagining what it would look like if the bear had decided to attack it.

“Duncan?”

“Yes, Corbett?”

“It’s like the animals know us.”

“It seems so. Let’s eat something and get back on the trial.”

Corbett and Duncan had been hiking for half an hour when Corbett finally brought up what both had been thinking.

“What was it the old woman had said?”

“Now is the time for the return. Now is the time…what was it…time to warn men,” said Duncan.

“No after that. We are the chosen ones. Together, as one. We are…what was it?”

“The different?”

“No, it was The Differing. Such an odd term. What do you think she meant?”

“I don’t know, but she said our journey will be a reveal. You think she meant this hike.”

“Yes.”

Rounding a bend, they came upon the hiker and his two companions. With a brief acknowledgment, they passed them and continued in silence for a long time. They descended into a valley, followed a road for a short distance, then pulled off where the trail picked up and soon began to climb until on the next ridge.

It was day sixteen of their hike and they were confused about everything that had been happening. The hallucination, the way animals act around them and the other stuff, too outlandish to believe. It all defied everything they understood about the world, and both were aware of the aspects that harked back to old myths and legends from past centuries. They would take their minds off of it by talking about the trail, the beautiful places they came upon, admiring great vistas or the simplest of scenes, like the creeks cascading down rock or the trail itself, barely cut into the side of a mountain, with the canopy of trees overhead.

Meanwhile in Egypt

Park Mal chin stood over his small crew, watching them dig by the light of artificial lights. They had tarps stretched overhead and along the west side, that faced the road off in the distance. They needed concealment and used both night and the tarps to achieve it. Their dig was illegal, not sanctioned by the Egyptian government. They were only a few thousand feet away from the Valley of the Monkeys, at a site that their researchers believe held a treasure far greater than some mummy and its relics.

He was desperate to bring his leader something of great importance. Something to give them the status they deserved. He knew, having the luxury of travel outside of his native country of North Korea, other nations made disparaging remarks about them and their leader. Not even China could be trusted to be a faithful ally.

A shovel hits solid rock and everyone turns to the man shoveling the sand from its surface. It is smooth, too smooth to be naturally formed. Two other men join in and quickly uncover the stone. It is approximately one meter by two meters.

“Get it moved! Hurry!” Mal-chin exclaims, feeling excited for the first time in days.

Five men line one side and work together to lift the stone slab. It is too heavy to lift, but they manage to slide it to one side. There is a small stone chamber below.

“Get back!” Mal-chin yells as he stumbles down into the pit. He looks at the debris of rock dust, old fabric brittle with age and two scrolls. He reaches down and tries to pick up one scroll and it disintegrates between his fingers. He carelessly reaches for the other and it falls away into small particles too. “Fuck,” he exclaims, raking the debris to the side, determined to find something of value. The fabric falls apart revealing a short staff, about one and a half meters long. It is wood with an ornamental piece mounted on top. A sun symbol of Ra. He thinks it is what he is searching for, but when he lifts the staff. he finds a mummified hand and forearm holding fast to the lower section.

“What is this?” Mal-chin grunts in disgust, holding up the staff so he can better see the hand holding tight to it. It is wrinkled and shrunken, and for the most part a leathery brown color, all except the index finger. It is black.

He tries to pry the hand from the staff, and the forearm falls away, then two of the fingers. He reaches for the index finger, seeing it is the one holding fast.

The pain is sharp, like a needle being driven into his finger from the tip all the way up his arm. He howls in pain, while clutching his wrist. His index finger burns, the pain unbearable, and he trips over the stone top falling against the side of the pit. The men watch in confusion, wondering what has befallen him, wondering if it is a bite from a snake that might have been lurking inside the chamber.

The winds pick up, blowing up dust until they cannot see. The tarps tear away and fly across the desert. The stars disappear as clouds cover the nighttime sky.

“What is this dark magic?” one man utters as he tries to climb from the pit.

A lightning flash, the strike appearing to be Park Mal-chin’s hand and there is an explosion of sound.

Park Mal-chin wakes to the sun shining in his face. The tarps are gone and around him are eight dead men, his entire crew. He sees the staff is burned to cinders and the ornamental metal top melted. There is no sign of the hand that had been attached. He rubs his wrist, feeling a tingling sensation from fingers up to his elbow. Then he notices his index finger. It is black as night. Black as a void in space. And he feels it, the darkness. He grins at the revelations being revealed to him. A plane flies low overhead and he remembers where he is located and the need to move. He climbs out of the pit and runs to the old Range Rover parked nearby. He needs to get back to Cairo and the hotel. There are phone calls to make and arrangements to get back to North Korea.

Damascus, Virginia

After a little over a mile, Corbett and Duncan walk into Damascus, a small town just north of the state line. The town has hostels, lodges, and a few inns. Corbett checks on the one with their resupply package head to it. It is a short walk to the Damascus Old Mill Inn where they will retrieve their package and inquire about a room, determined to have their own room with a bed to sleep in.

The inn sits on the Laurel Creek, and shows its evolution, with additions branching off the main three-story structure. Duncan leads, as they climb the steps and enter the lobby.

“Can we help you?” a man behind the registration counter ask.

“Yes, we were wondering if you have a room for the night?” asked Duncan.

“We have one room available. I’m afraid it only has one bed,” the man replies, looking from Corbett to Duncan.

“That will be fine,” Corbett interjects.

“Very well. If I can see some identification and your credit card, we’ll get you taken care of.”

“And do you have a package waiting for us? Corbett Bentley?”

“Why yes. I assume it is supplies for your hike. A lot of hikers stage new supplies somewhere here in Damascus.”

“Yes, it is.”

The room is on the second floor facing the town and not the creek. It is tiny, the bed in an alcove barely wide enough for it to fit. But with its small bathroom and the privacy afforded them, it seems luxurious after two weeks on the trail sleeping in shelters and their tent.

“First things first,” says Corbett, unbuttoning his shirt.

“What?”

“A shower. Come on, get out of your clothes,” Corbett replies, smiling mischievously.

The water runs almost too hot, the small bathroom fogging up quickly. In the tub Corbett and Duncan soap each other, run hands over chests, necks, down backs and stomachs, until they are manipulating each other. Cocks grow erect and they kiss and giggle and push against each other. Corbett turns to the wall, arms resting on the cool tile. He giggles at the feel of Duncan pressed against his back, the touch of lips on his neck and the hands that reach around and stroke his cock.

“Fuck me,” Corbett utters as he rests his forehead against the wall and pushes back.

Duncan enters him, pushes cock slowly into his hole until their bodies are pressed together.

“Fuck,” Corbett utters as he pushes against Duncan.

Duncan leaned back, held the narrow waist and tugged his cock outward until nearly slipping free. Then he began to fuck, to drive back into Corbett’s hole over and over. Corbett moaned, pushed back, then begged Duncan to fuck him harder.

Duncan increased his pace until the sound of bodies smacking together filled the bathroom. Their fuck became physical, Duncan bear hugging Corbett as he thrust into his depths. He slowed his pace, pushed into Corbett slowly so he could feel every inch drag through Corbett’s tight opening. Reaching around, he took Corbett in hand stroking him at the same pace. Soon, Corbett began to move back and forth, pushing back on Duncan’s cock then pushing his own through Duncan’s fist.

“Duncan…fuck me,” Corbett uttered as he laid his head back on Duncan’s shoulder.

Duncan increases his pace, thrust faster and faster until once again their fuck was loud and physical.

“I’m going to…” Corbett uttered, struggling to speak as cum sprayed the tile wall.

“Fuck,” Duncan exclaimed as he pushed inward all the way and comes.

Corbett is sitting on the foot of the bed in only a towel. His hair is still wet, and he pushes it from his face constantly. He brought up his dad’s cell number and hit ‘send’. It rang twice then Matthew’s voice came on.

“Corbett, hey son.”

“Dad, how are things at home?

“Good, good, but tell us, how’s the hike?”

“It’s great. The country is beautiful, and parts of the trail are amazing.”

“Anything happen that is special?”

Special, Corbett thought, wishing he could tell his dad about the strange things that happened. But he knew it was too crazy to talk about. “Yes. Some of the waterfalls are incredible.”

“Where are you? Are you making good time?”

“Yeah, we’re making really good time. We’re in Virginia.”

“What? Virginia?! No way.”

“We came into the state today. We’re in Damascus.”

“Holly cow. You guys are doing twenty-five miles a day or more.”

“Yes, we’ve done some thirty-mile days.”

“Corbett, that’s an insane pace.”

Corbett laughed nervously, realizing how it sounded. “Dad, it’s not that insane.”

“Son, you guys should take your time. Enjoy the trails more.”

“We are dad. Hey, I need to go. We’re going to wash our clothes and get something to eat in town. You know like a real restaurant,” Corbett joked to calm his dad.

“Okay; call me in a week so we can plan on where I should fly in to pick you boys up.”

“I will, but we think it’ll be Richmond.”

“Richmond? Wow.”

“Hey dad, I need to go. Love you.”

“Love you son, be careful out there.”

Corbett ended the call and tossed his phone down on the bed. The bathroom door swung open and Duncan came out in a towel, water droplets still on his shoulders and hair wet.

“You talk to your dad?”

“Yep. I told him to expect Richmond to be where he would need to fly to pick us up.”

“I bet he was surprised.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Duncan walked across the room and stood in front of Corbett.

“I know we need to do laundry and go eat something but…”

“You horny bastard,” Corbett interrupted, reaching out to fondle the growing erection pushing outward on the towel. He fingered the growing cock then pulled the towel loose, letting it drop to the floor as he leaned forward. He kissed the head, dragged his tongue along its length, the took it in his mouth.

Duncan shuddered at the sensation, then pulled his cock free.

“Get up on the bed,” said Duncan, pulling at the towel around Corbett’s waist, letting him slip free of it as he pushed back across the bed. Duncan followed him, getting into a sixty-nine position. They took the other’s cock and sucked. They clung to hips while pumping mouths along hard cock, then holding the base of them while tonguing the head, they manipulated the other, drove them to shiver and moan. Then they sucked cock deep into their mouths, feeling them flex with release as their mouths filled with cum.

They lay side by side, naked, sated, staring up at the ceiling.

“Are we going to be okay?” Corbett asked.

Duncan knew of which he spoke, and grimaced at first, then he nodded his head. “Yes; we’ll be fine.”

“It’s getting late. Let’s eat first, then do laundry.”

“I’m starving too. Let’s go.”

It was dark when they returned to the inn, and they set out for the small guest laundry with their dirty clothes in hand. Everything fit in one large washer, and once the cycle finished, everything went into the dryer.

Back in the room, they laid out clothes for the next day and folded everything else to fit back into backpacks.

Corbett glanced at his watch, seeing it was nearly ten. “Let’s call it a night. I’m beat.”

“Me too.”

They snuggled together with the blanket pushed down to their waist letting the cool air-conditioned air blow over them. Sleep came quickly, both drifting off.

A pit with dead bodies. A withered hand, one finger black. A face, Asian in its features. A lightning strike. Then the old woman lying on the bottom of the ocean.

“It’s time to prepare. The ancient one who betrayed is back. Prepare.”

The Asian man is in a crowded city, walking down busy sidewalks. The people around him are not Asian. They have darker skin, different features; even their speech is different.

Duncan jerks awake and sits up. Corbett is sitting next to him.

“Did you see her?” Corbett asked.

“Yes, and this Asian man.”

“In a city that looked like somewhere in the Middle East or Africa?”

Duncan nodded, “yes.”

“Shit,” Corbett uttered. “It’s like she expects us to do something.”

“But what?”

“I have no idea.”

It takes a while for either to fall back to sleep but eventually Corbett snuggles up to Duncan and they drift off, dreaming of mountains with snow covered peaks, of roads narrow and curving and a place on a mountain, several stories high, modern, with large expanses of glass.

Duncan is sitting in the small lobby, backpacks leaned against his chair, while Corbett checks them out. He pulls up the BBC News site, wondering what is going on in the world. It is the usual insanity. War in the Middle East, protests for human rights being put down by a government, a report on climate change and the latest on a strike by labor over another plant closing. He is about to switch it off when a small article captures his eye. It is out of Egypt, regarding an illegal dig near the Valley of the Kings, just west of the Valley of the Monkeys. Eight men found dead in the pit from unknown causes. The authorities are on the look out for a North Korean man who was believed to be in an older Range Rover.

“What are you reading?” Corbett asked, picking up his backpack.

“Look at this article,” Duncan holds out his phone.

Corbett reads the article, looking up at Duncan from time to time, his expression going from curious to serious. “Fuck,” he utters when he hands the phone back.

“What do you think?”

Corbett shakes his head, then looks out a window toward the creek and the mountains beyond. “I don’t know, but this can’t be good.”

“Let’s go. Maybe something will come to us.”

“You mean, maybe something will reveal itself to us?”

Duncan grimaces, then nods his head. They carry their backpacks outside, move into the drive by the inn and put them on, tightening straps.

Cairo, Egypt

Park Mal chin keeps the curtains pulled on his hotel room as he paces back and forth, like a caged animal. He had ventured out for lunch and had to go blocks out of his way to avoid the police patrolling the streets. It seemed the sound of sirens had been constant since his return.

He had called his contact, who ordered him to sit tight and wait for the situation to improve. When asked how long they anticipated he would need to stay out of sight, he nearly cried when they said two to four weeks. It was too long, the risk too great. He could have food delivered and keep paying for the room, but he didn’t know if he could handle staying inside out of sight for that long, not when he saw police moving about every time he glanced out the window. How long before the police began searching the hotels for foreigners, those who were Asian?

Exhausted after going without sleep the night before, Mal chin falls on the bed and shifts around until he finds a comfortable position. Sleep comes quickly, pulling him down into a dream state.

An Egyptian Pharaoh is arguing with an advisor, poison is put in someone’s food, a body is burned on the outskirts of the city, the pyramids in the background, the advisor rides south, along the Nile River, an army of men surround him, lightning flashes, fire, then a lucky spear throw. The advisor’s hand is buried with his staff.

“It’s time. The people need to know the power. Show them.”

The hand moves, the blackened index finger points at the sky, clouds block out the sun, storms build, floods, damaging winds, hail, lightning strikes.

Park Mal chin sits up, looks around the dark hotel room, then focuses on his passport lying on the dresser. He smiles.

Grayson Highlands, Virginia

Appalachian Trail

After Whitetop and Mt. Rogers, Corbett and Duncan worked their way around the Grayson Highlands. The three mountains had little tree coverage, and what was there was small. Instead there had been open grassland and rock outcroppings. Along the Grayson Highlands they came upon wild ponies that roam the land and for a long time they had sat on the ground and watched them graze along the rugged landscape. One with a brown head, white body with brown spots came close, looking at the two of them, before trotting off to rejoin the others.

The trail made its way down from the ridgelines to Wilson Creek. The day was coming to an end and several hundred feet off the trail they went in search for the Wise Shelter, where they would camp for the night. Corbett was first to round the trail and see it had other hikers setting up within it. He glanced back at Duncan and shared a knowing look.

There was a couple from New Mexico, four college students from ASU, and a guy from West Virginia hiking the trail with his dog, Baxter. They shared the picnic table that sat under the overhanging roof and sat on the edge of the floor with feet propped on the heavy timber step talking about their hike and how far they hoped to get on the trail, only the guy with a dog attempting a thru-hike.

Before first light the next morning Corbett and Duncan set off. As before their pace was fast, causing them to never again see any of the hikers from the night before. The trail made its way up to one peak, then followed the ridgeline from peak to peak before descending to a road. They walked along one road to another before the trail cut back into the natural terrain, rising back to a ridgeline. Unlike the days before where the trail remained on a ridgeline for miles, it now descended into valleys, down through coves and across creeks for a few miles before coming to a ridgeline that ran in a northeast direction. Near the end of the day the trail cut down into a valley and followed along a creek before coming to a shelter.

Partnership shelter was new, and located just off a highway, was crowded with hikers and overnight adventurers just looking for a taste of the outdoors.

“Come on, let’s set up the tent somewhere,” said Duncan, going down toward one of the man-made ponds.

After eating dinner and climbing into the tent to call it a night, Corbett pulled out his cellphone and did a search.

“What are you looking for?” asked Duncan.

“Wasn’t there a Bed and Breakfast ahead of us?”

“Yes, about three or fours days ahead of us.”

“I bet the next few days we find the shelters busy, so if we can have one night to ourselves,” replied Corbett, smiling at Duncan.

Duncan grinned back, then scooted next to Corbett so he could see the screen.

“This is it,” said Corbett, pulling up the site to Woods Hole.

“Woods hole…” Duncan repeated to himself as he looked at their map. “It’s about ninety miles out.

“Easy; three days,” Corbett replied, bringing up the number.

The next three day’s hike was as anticipated, the trail crossing more roads and thus more hikers doing short sections of the trail. They slept in their tent each night away from the crowded shelters, turning in early so they could head out before daybreak. After over ninety miles and the end of the third day, they stepped out of the woods onto Highway 663, Sugar Run Road.

“The B & B is this way,” said Corbett pointing to their right. A short walk later the log constructed structure came into view with its fenced garden on the left. Corbett held the door open letting Duncan enter first and they moved to the small reception desk where a woman sat watching their approach.

“Corbett Bentley?” she asked.

“Yes, we have a room for the night?”

“Tillie’s Room, a private room as requested.”

“Perfect,” Corbett replied, glancing at Duncan with a smile.

They had to share a bathroom with other guests, otherwise the room was perfect with its vaulted ceiling and queen bed. After a shower and dressed in clean clothes, they went down for dinner, sitting with other guests. The conversation was about the trail, where everyone put in and how far they were going to hike. Back in the room, they stood at the foot of the bed just staring at each other. Duncan grinned, then began removing his clothes, with Corbett following suit.

Naked, they moved to each other. Bodies pressed together, they kissed, then moved in unison to the bed, giggling as they fell on top of it. There was no sense of urgency on this night. All was calm, unhurried, as they explored familiar bodies, raking fingers over firm skin, kissing different sensitive areas, at times dragging their tongues over them. A nipple, the indention below the neck, a navel, the area just above pubic hair, and the flared head of a cock.

Duncan rolled to his stomach and looked over the left shoulder, watching Corbett move over him. He reached back, spreading ass cheeks, and felt hard cock rub along the cleft between them, then push against his tight opening.

“Corbett…do it,” Duncan uttered, his voice pleading.

Corbett penetrated Duncan, sank half his cock into him, then began a slow fuck. Tugging outward then pushing back in, going deeper and deeper until abdomen pressed against ass. Duncan moaned and pushed ass upward. Their pace remained slow, the bed never protesting. Corbett piston in Duncan’s depths with an unhurried pace that allowed their sex to last a long time.

Duncan felt every inch, and the fullness of each push inward. His own cock was rock hard, pinned beneath him, and aching for release. Corbett kissed the back of his neck, then wrapped an arm around it holding him tight.

“Fuck…I want you,” Corbett whispered.

Corbett fucked until he felt on the brink of release, and he pulled out and got on his knees between the outstretched legs. His cock flexed up and down with his arousal. Duncan looked back, wondering what was next.

“Turn over and sit up,” Corbett whispered.

Duncan sat at the headboard and watched Corbett move to him. Legs spread to straddle his lap, then hard cock rubbed up his chest, leaving a wet slick trail. Corbett eased down on his cock. He felt the squeeze on the head, then the downward slide of Corbett’s tight opening, taking every inch of his cock. Corbett moaned, then leaned against him. He felt the heat of the body, so alive within his arms. He hugged the long lean torso as it moved up and down. He loved the feel of Corbett’s cock rubbing his chest and he hugged tighter to increase the sensation. Up and down, over and over, Corbett moved on his cock.

“I’m going to come,” Corbett uttered, as he leaned his head back and cried out with a muffled, strained moan. Cum roped up Duncan’s chest and Corbett’s spurting cock pushed up through it as it added more.

Duncan held the shuddering body as cum covered his chest and came.

Duncan woke in the middle of the night to find Corbett sitting next to him, legs crossed, and hands clasped together as if meditating. He sat up and faced him, getting into the same position. He sensed it, some connection between them, and another. Without speaking, Corbett held out his right hand and Duncan slipped his into it.

The room seemed to blur, to fade away. Around them the air stilled, grew warm, then put out its own light, softly illuminating the room. Duncan stared at Corbett waiting for a signal of some sort. Corbett opened his eyes and stared back. Then it happened, the space around them seemed to change, to separate from their surroundings. They floated upward until hovering over the bed. The room flashed in and out of existence, then they were in a hotel room, hovering above a man sitting on the floor looking out the window. It was a busy city scene, a city hustling with the day’s events. The people didn’t look like the man sitting on the floor. They had the features of people in the middle east or north Africa, and the man before them was Asian, skin so white as to glow in the sunlight.

They watched him, how he was mumbling to himself in his native language, then the right hand was lifted, and the man pointed toward the city outside with a blackened index finger. The wind picked up, became violent, stirring up dust and debris. Storm clouds swirled into existence, lightning flashed, then rain began. At first it was only a few drops, but soon it was torrential. The streets became flooded as the rain beat down on every surface.

Duncan looked at the scene unfolding outside, feeling something had to be done.

“NO!” he yelled, and Corbett and he fell onto the bed. It was dark again, everything back to normal.

Egypt

Park Mal chin had felt trapped, unable to even go out of the room to another part of the hotel. There was a swimming pool, a bar and restaurant and on the second floor, an exercise room, but he feared going to any of those places. Instead he sat in the room, flipping through the television channels with programs in languages he didn’t understand, or putting on music which had a rhythm and beat unfamiliar and alien to him. After a few days he began to consider his hand, and how it made him feel. A feeling he could do whatever he wanted. He only had to do it. He had the power to control his own destiny, and to make others bend to his will. It scared him at first, this sense of power so alien to him. He had been a servant to his leader, always obeying any command. But now, he saw another way. He didn’t have to submit. Not to anyone.

He had meditated on this feeling, laid awake night after night until he was hallucinating. Lounging in the tub one night he swirled his fingers in the water and watched in amazement as the small swirl grew larger, became a small whirlpool before dissipating. It was the first time he felt the physical aspect of his power. Excited, he climbed out of the tub, and dripping wet he raced to the window and pulled the curtains open, not caring if someone could see him standing at it naked and wet. He pointed into the dark sky and felt it. A power, a charge within his arm that made it tingle from his finger up to his elbow. Thunder rumbled off in the distance then the stars disappeared from a growing cloud cover. Lighting flashed. He lowered his hand and laughed until tears streamed from his eyes.

The rest of the night he toyed with this power. Made winds blow. Created small vortexes in the air whipping up dust and debris. Made the sky thunderous and threatening.

When morning finally arrived, he dressed, ordered breakfast, then stared out at the awakening city. He watched the mundane activities of its citizens and smiled, wondering how quickly he could snuff them out. He moved to the floor and looked out at the city lost in thought. He didn’t think of time, the passing of morning until the sun was at its highest, noon in the human construct of time. He wanted to see what he could really do, and he wanted it during the daytime so it would be visible. To him and to the people. He raised his right hand and pointed at the clear blue sky.

Clouds formed quickly, swirling into existence. He saw some people looking up, confused by what they were witnessing. He created strong winds to propel his storm and to increase the people’s fear. He spoke and the sky rumbled, then flashed with lightning strikes.

Mal chin was focused on his creation and did not notice the soft glow within the room. Nor did he sense the presence of others hovering in his time and space. He was preoccupied with building his storm, then bringing the rains. From a drizzle to a deluge, he made the sky release more moisture than it was normally capable. People ran for cover; traffic came to a standstill as streets flooded. He looked at the sky, ready to release its fire, to strike at the most vulnerable spots; a gas station two blocks over, a city bus on the street below, a transfer station for the power grid to his south and across the river. He would add fire to his destruction. He wanted to flood and burn the city, punish it for keeping him holed up.

“NO!”

The exclamation from within his own room shocked Mal chin, broke his concentration and just as fast as it started, the storm dissipated. He spun around looking for the source of the cry finding his room empty. It scared him, made his fears return and he slid back to the bed and leaned against it. He was shivering. He wondered how it was possible to hear so distinctly someone’s voice only to find he was still alone in the room. He knew going without sleep for days could make him hear voices and he settled down, resolved that had to be the case.

Woods Hole Hostel and B & B

Duncan woke within Corbett’s arms, remembering how he had freaked out after their vision. Corbett had comforted him, held him during the remainder of the night, letting him fall back asleep. Within Corbett’s embrace he felt safe, and what he had seen became just a nightmare to be forgotten.

But he knew it was no nightmare.

Two nights later, after hiking along the West Virginia-Virginia state line, they eased down from the trail on the ridgeline to the Sarver Hollow Shelter that overlooked the valley below. It was the end of day twenty-three on the Appalachian Trail and they were surprised to find the shelter empty. It was a simple structure, with a porch on one side and an enclosed side, open only to the porch. It sat on piers above the ground and Corbett and Duncan sat on the edge of the porch, legs dangling over the side as they ate dinner. They looked at their surroundings, a natural landscape that was becoming more the norm to them than any urban environment.

“Shouldn’t we talk about the other night?” asked Duncan.

“Probably.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me either.”

“I just feel like we’re alone in this. That we have to figure it out on our own.”

“I think you’re right.”

“You saw his right hand.”

“Yep. A black index finger, but what troubles me the most is the feeling I got when in that room. This desperation for control. To wield power to make himself feel important.”

“The worst kind,” Corbett whispered.

“I think he found something in the desert.”

“You’re talking about that illegal dig where they found those dead bodies.”

Duncan nodded, then looked over at Corbett.

“I think he found something that is a power that is corrupting.”

“Evil?”

“You don’t believe in all that good and evil stuff, do you?” Duncan asked.

“God and Satan? Oh, hell no, and maybe evil isn’t the right word.”

“More like a power not meant for man.”

“Magic?” Corbett asked and Duncan looked over seeing Corbett smiling.

“Magic…my ass,” Duncan replied, making the two of them laugh.

When they stopped laughing and settled down, Corbett leaned back on his elbows. “What do you call it?”

“Hell, if I know.”

“Do you think we’ll come to do something bad?”

Corbett had whispered the question, almost afraid to have Duncan hear it. He looked away when Duncan looked back to see if he was serious.

“No, I don’t,” Duncan replied.

“What about this guy in Egypt?”

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to deal with him sooner or later, is what I think.”

“Deal with him? You mean take him out?”

“If necessary.”

“Sounds harsh.”

“Is it? If he does something…something really bad,” Duncan looks back at Corbett, “and we could have stopped it, that makes us partially responsible. Don’t you agree?”

Corbett sat up, then nodded his head. “Yes.”

“How will we know what to do?”

“Not sure, but I get the feeling we’ll know when the time comes.”

Darkness settled over the mountain and no other hikers arrived to share the shelter. It made Corbett and Duncan grow bold, stripping off their clothes and running around the shelter like rambunctious boys. They laughed and horsed around, pushing away the anxieties and fears they had been feeling. Under the porch, Duncan lay on the picnic table and took Corbett’s fuck. They were back to being physical, rough in their manhandling of each other.

With Duncan’s legs over his shoulders, Corbett thrust with unrelenting passion, driving into the depths of Duncan’s body. He swung his hips wide, pulling nearly free, only the head left inside Duncan before driving the full length of his cock back in. He fucked until his body burned with its exertion and shined from sweating. He felt feverish, like a furnace at full blaze, as he hammered cock inside Duncan’s hole. He increased his pace making the table squeak and rock. 

“Fuck…fuck…” Corbett uttered as he felt the surge of release. He pushed into Duncan’s depths, burying every inch inside him, and came. He shuddered with each ejaculation until spent.

Corbett leaned over Duncan, kissed him, then stepped back, pulling him to his feet.

“My turn,” Corbett uttered, getting on the bench along one side of the picnic table, resting arms on the table. He looked over his right shoulder, eyes pleading. “Come on Duncan, stick me.”

Duncan stroked his leaking cock, smeared the slick down the long shaft, then he moved up behind Corbett and pushed every inch into him.

Once again, the table squeaked and rocked, this time with Duncan’s rapid hard thrusts, pushing cock into Corbett’s depths. He held the narrow waist and fucked. Fucked until his cock swelled thicker, grew painfully hard, then ejaculated wad after wad into Corbett’s depths.

Spent, breathing back to normal, they stood under the porch and kissed. Corbett then led Duncan into the shelter, guiding him to lay next to him on their sleeping bags. Their arms and legs intertwined, and bodies spooned together, sleep came quickly. They drifted off into dreams of vast vistas and small coves with streams trickling over rock..

The first light cast its soft glow over the mountain as they packed their gear and prepared to set out. Corbett dug out his cellphone, checking to see if he had a signal, nodding toward Duncan when he saw he had three bars. He pulled up his dad and hit send. He held the phone out with the speaker turned on.

“Hello?” a muffled, sleepy voice answered.

“Dad, hey.”

“What time is it?” Matthew replied.

“Sorry, I didn’t think about the time change.”

“No kidding. It’s the middle of the night. Is something wrong?” Matthew suddenly sounded worried.

“No, no, we’re fine. I’m calling to let you know to change your flight.”

“To which airport?”

“Richmond.”

“Seriously? You boys are going to be that far into Virginia?”

“We’re near Roanoke now.”

“Jesus, you boys are doing a fast pace. Okay, I’ll change it when I get up. Where do you think I should plan on picking you up?”

“We’re thinking Loft Mountain Campground.”

“Loft…Mountain…Campground…okay, got it.”

“Thanks dad. I need to hang up. We’re setting out now.”

“Okay; be careful and call if anything changes.”

“Will do,” said Corbett, and he ended the call. The cellphone packed away, Corbett slung his backpack on, fastened the clips and tightened the straps.

“Ready?” Duncan asked.

“Ready,” Corbett replied as he fell in next to him heading up the path back to the trail.

They pushed forward, never tiring, as they negotiated climbs to ridgelines or mountaintops, descents into valleys, and creek crossings, some requiring them to wade across the cold waters and their rocky bottoms. Only the day coming to an end and darkness about to descend would make them stop. For the next three nights they had to share shelters with other hikers, and on the fourth day, after one of their longest days, they arrived at dusk to find the Brown Mountain Creek shelter full. They set up nearby in their tent and lay inside it listening to the low conversations coming for the shelter until sleep overtook them.

They felt relieved there had been no more visions or strange happenings. They still found animals approaching without fear, once a bird landing on Duncan’s finger when he had been pointing out a landmark in the distance. And when they helped each other up a steep step or down a rock formation they had used to overlook a valley, they felt it, a charge release between them. It became soothing, a comforting thing that existed between them.

On the fifth night after Sarver Hollow, they came to Harper’s Creek shelter and stood admiring its near fairy tale setting. It sat in the valley near the head spring for Harper’s Creek and they found it empty, theirs for the night.

The fire was dying down, and their hunger sated, Corbett and Duncan sat on the edge of the floor looking out into the dark woods around them. The sounds of the night still amazed them, the notion of it being silent now funny to them. They would look at the other and grin or laugh softly, knowing they would soon satisfy another hunger.

But something nagged at them, something just out of reach of their understanding. It wasn’t the obvious issue of what had been happening, but the puzzlement of how it really began.

“Our parents were on one dig together, right?” asked Duncan.

“Yep, the one on the coast of Scotland.”

“And there was nothing unusual about it,” Duncan added, tossing a rock across the small clearing.

“Nothing except that skeleton brought to them to study.”

“Skeleton? The one some other search team found in the waters down below the dig.”

“Yep.”

“That has to be it.”

“You really think so? That skeleton is behind all of this? Seriously? I don’t think they even studied it. From what mom said, they packed it up and sent it to the university and they didn’t do anything with it.”

“Are we sure about that?”

“No.”

“I think when we get to a place with a phone signal, you should ask her.”

“I plan on it. You sleepy?”

“No; you?”

“No.”

They shared a look, a knowing one that led to them standing up and began to remove their clothes. They stripped naked and moved to the sleeping bags spread out on the floor. They lay in a sixty-nine sucking each other. They lay side by side, stroking the other’s cock while kissing. Then Duncan pushed Corbett to his back and straddled his waist.

Duncan held Corbett’s cock and eased down on it, using his weight to carry him downward, letting every inch sink into his hole.

Corbett watched. Watched Duncan, the lusting expression and they way he moved over him. Watched Duncan hold his cock then ease down on it. It slipped inside of Duncan with ease, disappearing from view. Then he felt it, the connection between them. He gripped each ankle as Duncan moved up and down, the tight opening sliding along his cock.

Duncan felt the tight grip on his ankles and saw the intense stare. He moved up and down savoring the sensation of cock inside his hole and the way it fueled not only his arousal but Corbett’s. Increasing his pace, Duncan fucked himself on Corbett’s cock until his own erection smacked wetly against Corbett’s stomach. He rode Corbett until his body glistened in the light of the lantern, and kept riding him, pushing his arousal with every deep penetration.

Corbett sat up, hugged Duncan, and rolled him to his back. He moved between the spread legs and easily penetrated him again, sinking inward all the way. He began to fuck, to drive hips with an urgency. Duncan clung to him, kissed his neck then lips, and begged him to fuck harder. Their bodies moved slickly over the other, hot, wet, heaving for breath as Corbett hammered Duncan’s insides.

Duncan felt it, the way Corbett thrust into his hole, making him see stars. His own cock flexed with hardness. And Corbett’s undulating body rubbing it only increased his arousal. He shuddered as Corbett pushed into his depths, causing him to come. Cum spattered Corbett’s chest and stomach then smeared between them as Corbett kept fucking, harder, faster, hips smacking against ass. Then Corbett came too, filling Duncan with his load.

They lounged on the sleeping bags, fingers tracing contours of the other’s body.

Over the Arabian Sea

Park Mal chin sat in one of the seats all alone on the small jet. The only others on board were the crew. The jet was sent for him, his leader excited to hear of his discovery. There had been doubt and disbelief, but after a video conference two nights before he found himself on the way to his home country. The plane appeared to be a private business jet, the paperwork even indicated ownership by a North Korean company, but Mal chin knew it was military. He recognized the look and mannerisms of the crew.

They were at 40,000 feet swinging out over the Arabian Sea to avoid the airspace of the countries experiencing wars and conflicts. He looked out the window at the clouds below them with the blue sea even further below.

He felt the plane angle to the left and knew they were turning toward the east after going south for a time. It did not seem fair, the leaders expecting him to hand over a power he alone possessed. He wondered if he should show them who really was the most powerful and bring the fools to their knees. He could make them worship him instead of their leader. All he had to do was take what was rightfully his. He deserved it. Had arranged the dig, oversaw the illegal operation at great risk and now possessed a power the fools were too stupid to wield. He alone knew its potential.

He looked out at the blue waters and imaged the energy stored in them. This power just waiting on him to use. He imaged it, saw the areas of the world he could demonstrate it. Winds churning, pulling heat and moisture from the air and the waters. He shivered as his body became more focused on his new demonstration. He would show his leader who was really the most powerful. He would vanquish their enemies before he arrived back in North Korea. He saw the world, as if hovering above it in space. In the Pacific he churned up two storms, one for the Philippines and southeast Asia. The other for Japan. He would have it hit the southern coast and spin against the islands of Japan with a northeast path until the whole of the eastern coastal regions lay in ruins.

He saw the Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico and spun three storms into existence. One in the gulf in its most southern waters. The other two in the Atlantic and he saw the path of one, crossing the Florida peninsula into the gulf, then going north. The other would surprise them, defy the odds, for he would send it further north than storms were supposedly capable and hit at the heart of the country: Washington, D.C. He watched the storms spin and build rapidly, far faster than was normal. By the end of the day each one would be a tropical depression. In two days, they would be the most powerful storms ever to develop, exceeding barometric pressure parameters and wind speeds. They would be storms like none other.

Harper’s Creek Shelter

Corbett cried out, back arching upward as he jerked violently against the floor. Duncan rushed to his side trying to hold him down, afraid he was going to hurt himself. Then he too collapsed on the floor with seizure like jerks and shudders. Then they feel still, breathing shallow, as they looked at each other.

“Do you feel it?”

“Yes; something is wrong.”

They sat up, facing each other. Right hands held out, they slipped them together. A flash of light, blinding in its intensity, then the room glowed with a luminous orb that surrounding them. They floated above the floor, then out of the shelter until hovering in the small clearing.

You are the chosen ones.

The old woman’s voice came to them, then space opened around them, folding open to reveal a jet flying out over an ocean. They did not need to see inside to know the Asian man was on board. Then the world fell away, and they saw it before them. This blue orb with swirling clouds and green and brown land masses. The storms in the Pacific, then with a quick orbit, three more storms, one off the coast of southern Mexico and two in the Atlantic. They saw their intensity and their intent. A desperate need to show power and control over others that became evil in its intent.

Then the jet was before them, such a small thing that concealed a power that would soon be out of control.

“We have to stop him,” Corbett’s voice echoed around them.

“Yes,” Duncan replied.

They saw it together, the fragile nature of space. The way it could be manipulated, its dimensions unfolded or folded. There did not need to be some chase. The involvement of armies and politicians was not necessary. It was so simple to end this madness. And madness was what it was, for no one should try to harness such power with such a corrupt need for admiration and acknowledgment.

Over the Arabian Sea

Park Mal chin looked at his creations, the storms developing in strength with the passing of every hour. He smiled at the power they would hold.

The plane bounced a few times, then fell four thousand feet before the pilots were able to stabilize it. Mal chin was belted into a chair wondering what had happened when he sensed it. A power greater than his own. He swiveled around to the window for he knew it was out there. He searched in vain, but the sky was too wide for his eyes to find something he did not know what he was looking for. The plane shook: jerked so violently his seat belt broke and he tumbled to the floor. Then he saw. The air changed, calm and silent around him as the plane either side of the fractured space shook more violently. The plane broke apart, the nose and tail falling away, crashing toward the dark blue waters below.

Park Mal chin realized he was hovering in space, defying the laws of gravity. The power around him was powerful, so much so, he could not breathe. Then the space began to fold, to close in on itself. He screamed in silence as he felt his body fold with it. The space folded once, twice, and kept folding until it was a dot, and it kept folding until it no longer existed in space above the blue orb.

Harper’s Creek Shelter

Corbett opened his eyes to find he was laying the ground, above him the starry sky could be seen through the tree canopy. He looked to his left and saw Duncan laying nearby looking his way.

“You think its over?” Duncan whispered.

“I think so.”

“So, do we tell someone?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No. I feel fine. And you?”

“The same.”

“Let’s get back into the shelter and get some sleep,” said Duncan sitting up.

The next morning, they took their time, prepared a breakfast, got fresh water and packed up their gear. They set out as the sun sat above the eastern horizon, the latest they had started out in days. Once on the trial they felt like their old selves, their pace increasing until they were once again covering the miles at a rapid pace.

That evening, the sun below the western ridge, they came into an area where Interstate 64 crossed overhead. The northern entrance to the Blue Ridge Parkway was to their south and the entrance to the Skyline Drive to their north. They cut off the trail and followed the highway 250 north until they came to the motel. It looked old, something built back in the fifties with the rooms facing the parking lot, each one with a red door.

After a long shower, they dressed, then walked the half mile or so to Waynesboro. The first restaurant was a diner and they strolled inside to see it filled with locals and other hikers.

Back in the motel room, Corbett pulled up his dad’s number and hit send, then the speaker.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Just outside Waynesboro.”

“Wow. So, you’ll be at the campground on Loft Mountain tomorrow night?”

“Yep.”

“Well, you boys will have to hang out there for two nights.”

“Why, what’s up?”

“There’s a small crisis at the university but I’ll have it taken care of by the day after tomorrow. My flight will put me in Richmond around one the next day, so I should be there by mid-afternoon.”

“Okay.”

“You boys make it okay?”

“Yeah, no problems.”

“No scary stories about sliding off the trail or snakes climbing into sleeping bags?”

“Nope.”

“Good, good.

“Dad, is mom nearby?”

“Yes, she’s right here.”

“Can I speak to her.”

“Of course.”

“Corbett, what’s up?” Lisa asked.

“Duncan and I have been talking about how you and his parents met on the dig over on the coast of Scotland.”

“Yeah?”

“And wanted to know about that skeleton that was found off the coast.”

“What about it?”

“Was there anything special about it? I mean…Duncan thought his dad had said something about it and…well we’re just curious.”

“It was nothing special. A female, from around the 1,000 C.E. if I remember correctly.”

“So, nothing about the skeleton that was unusual?”

“No, not that I…wait, there was one thing,” Lisa laughed, “it was a little weird and we were going to test it to find out what it had happened to it.”

“What? What was it?”

“The index finger on the right hand was black.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what was it?”

“We don’t know. We sent it to the university in Glasgow but never got the time to do a proper test.”

“Is it still there?”

“I have no idea, but Tyree seemed to think so some years back.”

“That’s it? You guys didn’t mess with it?”

“No, not really. Although I do remember the night, we got it into the camp. I cut my finger on it, then Tyree did the same.”

“The black index finger? You both cut yourselves on it?” Corbett asked, looking at Duncan as if they had found the answer to everything.

“Yes. I remember it gave me a sharp burning sensation. Probably the salt from the ocean.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“Is that it?”

“Yep.”

“Well, if that is all, I’ll let you go so you can get to bed.”

Corbett and Duncan sat up later than usual going over everything that had happened. It puzzled them, the chain events from the skeleton their parents had messed around with years before to the present time when they felt like their lives were beyond their control. They talked about their future and wondered how they could live among others knowing what they knew.

“You think we can see the future? Some small part of it?” asked Duncan.

“Seriously? Are you asking is time travel real?”

“Not necessarily time travel. Maybe more like opening a window into the future?”

“I don’t know about that,” Corbett replied as he lay back on the bed.

They made it to Loft Mountain and set up their tent. They lounged around the campground and sat up late at night reliving their journey and the events that defied logic. And they had sex late at night when everyone around them were asleep.

Two years passed, and Corbett and Duncan each had another year to go for their PhD in Physics. One or the other flew across the Atlantic any chance they got, clinging to a relationship strained by distance and the classes that kept them busy. But a shared secret kept them close, none more so than late night talks that were more extreme than any video conference. The hovering around each other in some dimensional space outside the parameters of our normal three.

During this time, they planned for their future, researched ancient cultures, looking for references to powers like those they possessed or had seen. No lead was ignored, no tidbit of information considered too farfetched. Duncan visited his father at Glasgow and discovered the skeleton was still in storage, but no amount of pleading let him see it for it was in storage that would require a paper trail to take out.

They found they could see futures, possibilities that may or may not come true, their peering at it through dimensional space and time alternating it in some way.

On December 30, 2010, Corbett boarded the train in Boston, riding it south. He climbed off in Elkton, Maryland, walked to the nearest convenience store and purchased one Megaball ticket. The numbers would be the next night’s numbers. He knew the timeline that should play out, the numbers picked not on Friday night but the next Tuesday night. It was a possibility that Duncan and he were changing. They needed capital, lots of capital. The pay out would be around 200,000,000 dollars. Money he would put in a secret account that Duncan and he would use for investments they intended to triple in the next three years.

He came out of the convenience store, put the ticket in his wallet, knowing it was the winning one, and headed back to the train station for the ride back to Boston. It was a long ride but one that was necessary. Maryland allowed winners to remain anonymous.

In the years to follow the two of them would put their plan into action. There was a private facility built in the mountains of Vermont, near the Appalachian Trail. To the surrounding communities it was a research facility, with studies in Physics and in Archeology, two fields that seemed miles apart. But for those at the facility, it gave them something to discuss in the cafeteria at lunch, or on weekend getaways on the Appalachian Trial, hiking short sections to build morale and connections between the staff.

For Duncan and Corbett, it afforded them the cover needed to do their own research.

Glasgow received a huge grant in archeological studies and in return the university sold one skeleton from their collection. It was an old one that no one had ever bothered to study, so it was deemed a means of clearing out space for newer finds. The skeleton was packed with great care and put on a private jet to be flown to its new owners in the states.

Through it all, Duncan and Corbett studied their capabilities, discovered new abilities, and learned how to use them without notice. They prevented a war in the middle east, stopped an assassination that would have brought down a government and slowly, over the years, made small adjustments in events unfolding in one country or another, always careful not to do too much, letting things unfold that at times seemed unbearable. But they knew humans expected the worst, that suffering would occur and for Duncan and Corbett it was a side of humanity they came to accept, knowing to do otherwise made them no better than Parker Mal chin who they had dealt with years before. They found his name in documents from North Korea asserting the invention of new, greater weapons they could aim at their enemies.

Duncan and Corbett lived in the facility, in the wing at back that appeared nondescript from the exterior, just more offices and support facilities. Within the wing was their private research facilities, where the skeleton was stored, along with subsequent finds from Central America and China. They worked long hours, then took weeks off, traveling the world, for a mixture of pleasure and work.

15 June 2018

Jason and Callum exited the plane and made their way through Boston Logan International Airport. They waited on luggage in the carousal, then made their way to the rental counter for their car. Twenty minutes later they were driving through Boston, heading west. They would drive for over an hour before turning north, driving into Vermont. They had left a dig site in Wales after receiving a letter from the Murray Orion Center. Two years ago, they did not know it existed. Then one day they got a call from a Corbett Bentley inquiring into a dig they did last year up in Scotland. They were shocked an institute in the United States had any interest in that particular dig, but when Corbett inquired about a woman, possibly considered a witch, and had she lived near the coast, they had become curious. While they worked on their next dig, one they believed might have ties to the one in Scotland, Corbett Bentley remained in contact.

During their contact, Corbett admitted to being the son of Lisa Bentley, a fellow archeologist in the states, and his partner was Duncan McIntyre, son of Tyree, the latter a professor at the university in Glasgow.

The final letter, the one that lured them to the states, were photos of a female skeleton with the report relating to its find. The site map had caught them off guard. Then the offer to come study it and other artifacts, ultimately leading their own digs wherever the research led. Two months later they were on a plane for one final job interview.

The security guard at the gate house looked at their identities, scanning driver’s licenses into a computer, then allowed them to enter, with directions to go to a back wing of the facility, not the main entrance. Jason drove up the steep grade until he came to a small parking lot that ran along the front of an eight-story building with a façade of glass and dark bronze metal panels.

“He said to drive to the far end of the lot and take the drive marked…Drive C,” Callum read off from his scribbled notes.

“I see it up ahead.”

The drive circled the main building and wound around to a back wing that was only two stories but on the side of the mountain, aligned with the fifth and sixth floors of the main building, bridging out from it and resting on what appeared bare rock. The drive went underneath the wing then up a steep incline until they came to a small parking court with four garage doors facing it. To one side a bridge went out over the side of the mountain angling back into the building at a door. Callum and Jason headed toward the door, still doubting this was really the place. Jason got to the door first and pressed the green glowing button on the wall. It seemed to take a long time but less than a minute later, the door swung open.

A man stood in the doorway. He appeared to be a few years older, with dark red hair and the greenest eyes they had ever seen. Then they realized his height, so much taller than either of them.

“Are you Corbett Bentley?” Callum asked.

“Oh no, I’m Duncan. Come on in gentlemen, we’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

Duncan led them down a short corridor to a long narrow room. One end looked like a laboratory and the other end a classroom, with chalk board from chair rail to ceiling on three walls. In the middle, separating the room, a large round conference table with monitors on the two walls each side of it.

“If you’ll take a seat at the conference table, we’ll be with you shortly,” said Duncan.

As Callum and Jason moved to the table and took chairs on one side that allowed them to see each end of the room and the door, Duncan eased back out of the room. Less than a minute later a young man came in carrying a tray of simple snacks: British style biscuits, shortbread, and simple chocolate chip cookies. He went to a sideboard and pointed out the coffee pot and the undercounter frig with sodas, then excused himself.

“What do you think?” Jason whispered.

“It seems like an interesting set up. but I don’t get the physics angle.”

“I can’t believe that guy is Tyree’s son.”

“No kidding. What is he? Late twenties?”

Jason smiled, then reached for a shortbread. “It’s crazy.”

The door swung open, and two guys and a woman come in carrying folders and a laptop. Behind them is Duncan and another man, just as tall, even the same build, only the hair color is different. Black as coal. But the thing Callum and Jason notice first is how he carries himself, much like Duncan. They could be brothers.

“Gentlemen, this is Elizabeth Lamar, head of business development. This is Kevin, my personal assistant, and over there is Bryan, Corbett’s personal assistant,” said Duncan as he moved to the table.

“And I’m Corbett Bentley.” Corbett followed Duncan and eased down in the chair next to him. “Shall we get started?”

For over an hour they talked about the company, the public persona of its mission. There was a synopsis of the research going on in the Physics department, mostly dealing with the concepts of multi-dimensional space, then a synopsis of the archeology department and the current digs in China and in Mozambique. The focus on certain relics types. Elizabeth took the floor and outlined the budgets for each department, the expenditures expected for the next five years per dig and the operating budget for the two departments.

When Elizabeth finished, taking a seat on the lab side of the table, Callum leaned forward looking across at Duncan, then Corbett.

“There’s something I don’t get.”

“What is that?” Corbett asked.

“Where does the money come from? Who is funding this operation?”

“We’re self-funded,” Corbett replied.

Callum looked at Corbett then Duncan, both composed, neither blinking an eye. Then he looked around to Jason with wrinkled brow. When he looked back at Corbett, he saw the mischievous smile.

“You’re self-funded?” Callum asked.

“I know how that sounds, but yes. From the start, Duncan and I have been able to self-fund all operations.”

“Wow.”

“You have the employment agreement, and we trust you have no issues with the confidentiality clause,” said Duncan.

“We’re good with that,” Jason replied.

“Before you give us your answer, Bryan will give you a full tour of the facility and we’ll meet back here at,” Corbett looked at his watch, “about five.”

“Okay, but I have to tell you it sounds too good to be true,” Callum blurts out, causing Jason to turn away to conceal his embarrassed grin.

“I understand. Every hire as been that way. Let’s talk when you return. Bryan,” said Corbett.

Callum and Jason walk back to the rental, their shadows stretched out in front of them. It’s after seven and they are elated and anxious and confused and so many other emotions they walk in silence. Jason slides behind the wheel and starts the engine as Callum buckles up, then pulls out the documents they just signed.

“We’re going to make twice what we’re currently making,” said Callum as he looks at the front cover page.

“Yep.”

“We’re going to be in charge of multiple digs around the world and able to choose the one we want to be in the field overseeing.”

“Yes, but they may have us do one from time to time we don’t choose for ourselves.”

“They have their own jets and full laboratory facilities here on site.”

“And once again, yes.”

“Fuck.”

“Speaking of which, do you get the sense Corbett and Duncan are more than business partners?”

“You too? Yes, definitely more going between them than just a business arrangement.”

“We have a month to get our affairs in order and fly back.”

“Damn, I’m going to live in the United States.”

Jason laughs, shaking his head. At the bottom of the drive, he looks left, then right.

“Which way to that cabin?”

“Left.”

They were staying in a cabin the company owned, one used for guests. After about five miles, Callum sat up, watching for a sign.

“It should be coming up.”

Jason turned on the road Callum pointed out then a short drive later, turned onto a gravel lane that wound up the side of the mountain. After a short distance they pulled up to a small house tucked into the trees. It was not what they expected, with its large windows looking toward the valley and stained wood siding and metal roof. Even with its traditional materials, it was very modern in style.

“Let’s get inside, freshen up, put on more comfortable clothes, then go down to Manchester Center for something to eat,” said Callum as he climbed out.

“I agree.”

It was late when Callum and Jason returned to the cabin, their appetites sated and the anxiousness they felt during their trip to Vermont slipping away. They were excited by their good fortune. Entering the open living-dining room, they moved through it leaving the lamp on a side table on and went into the one bedroom they put their luggage.

Callum came up behind Jason slipping arms around his waist. He kissed the neck as his fingers worked buttons free.

“We’ve not done anything in a few days,” Callum whispered as he slipped the shirt off Jason’s shoulders.

“I know…the rushing to get that dig set up…I was so anxious about this trip…all those documents to…read…” Jason’s voice trails off as Callum’s fingers manipulated him, made him erect, then worked his jeans open. He wanted to be naked. He wanted on the bed, and he wanted sex, and the feel of Callum against his body. He wanted Callum.

Jason worked his jeans and boxers down then stepped out of them. He stood naked, cock thickening with his arousal letting Callum look at him. That moment he displayed himself ready for anything Jason wanted. Then he moved to him and went to his knees.

Frantic for sex, he got the jeans spread open and buried his face into the boxers beneath. He inhaled the familiar masculine scent, mouthed the growing erection, then worked his tongue through the fly teasingly touching a short section of the shaft.

“Fuck…Jason…please…” Callum uttered breathlessly.

The jeans and boxers were tugged down, and Callum stepped out of them with Jason’s help to free each leg. Jason rose on knees with hands sliding up each leg. He cupped the sac, worked the nuts around within it, and with the other hand, stroked the growing erection until it was rock hard.

Leaning forward, Jason kissed the flared head, then took it, nearly every inch, and began to suck.

Callum was too aroused, unable to hold back, and within just a couple of minutes he filled Jason’s mouth with his first load.

Jason knew him, had since the dig in Scotland. Knew how to push him and make him desire sex unlike any man before him. No one made him feel the contentment that Jason could make him feel. And Jason also knew their sex was never better than after his first release. The second took a long time and allowed them to pleasure each other to exhaustion.

Jason climbed to his feet and guided Callum to the bed, pushing him to lay on his back. He moved over Callum, straddled the waist, and moved his ass over the still hard cock. He felt the spit wet cock rub over his opening, and he moaned, exposing his desire, this lust for Callum. Reaching back, he held the cock up and moved down to it. His opening resisted but he was determined, aroused to the point he needed it, and he pushed until he stretched open, feeling the head penetrate him.

“Fuck,” Callum whispered as he watched his cock disappear inside of Jason.

Jason moved fluidly up and down, getting faster and faster. The bed began to squeak and rock in rhythm to Jason’s movements. His cock grew half hard, smacking against Callum’s stomach as he dropped down roughly, taking every inch of Callum’s cock.

Callum let Jason ride him for as long as he could stand it, then he sat up putting arms around the sweating torso. He felt cock rub his stomach and the heat of the body against his own. Tightening his hold, he rolled Jason to his back, moving over him. Then he took control of their fuck, pumping his cock into the depths of Jason’s hole.

Their fuck went on and on, Callum on top changing his pace constantly. Fast, slow, then fast again. He fucked until his body was shiny and wet and so hot it felt feverish. He fucked the moaning, pleading body beneath him, wondering when, if ever, he would no longer desire it as he did now.

Callum eased down on top of Jason and ground his cock in Jason’s depths and slow fucked, feeling his arousal increase. The room around them faded away, only Jason on the bed in his awareness. Then the space around them grew bluish, an illumination without a source. They closed their eyes to it and kept fucking. Lips pressed together and cock deeply penetrating Jason, the vision began for both.

Corbett and Duncan hovering in space. They were in a seated position, legs crossed, and right hands clasped together. A slow rotation, either the two of them, or the space around them, then another vision. An Asian man on a dig at night. The man in a hotel room with it storming outside. The man on a plane. The plane breaks apart, the central section hovering in the air as the other sections fall away. The short section of the fuselage folds in on itself until it is gone.

“Fuck!” Callum exclaims as he fills Jason’s hole. Finally spent, he pulls out to see cum smeared on his chest and stomach.

“I came while you were fucking me and…” said Jason, his voice trailing off.

“A vision? Of Corbett and Duncan and some Asian guy?”

Jason nods.

“This is crazy. This hasn’t happened since that dig.”

“I know. Callum, lay with me and let’s try to get some sleep.”

Murray-Orion Center is dark except for security lights and a few lights in the residence located in the very end of the wing in back. The residential section rests on the side of the mountain, with a terrace between a retaining wall holding back a part of the mountain and the building. A few lights softly illuminate the terrace where Corbett and Duncan sit looking along the side of the mountain and the valley to their left. An empty wine bottle and two glasses sit on the table between them and each had on a sweater against the chill of the nighttime temperature.

“How much do you think we can tell them?” Corbett asked.

“I don’t know. At first, not much.”

“It’s odd, the feeling I got when in the same room with them.”

“I know.”

“You think we’ll be set to go to Chile when they start?”

“I hope so.”

Corbett looked over at Duncan, grinning with a goofy smile. Duncan sees it and shakes his head.

“Pervert,” Duncan whispers.

“Hey, how do you know what I was thinking?”

“Seriously? You have to ask,” Duncan replies climbing to his feet. He holds out his right hand and feels the mild shock when Corbett’s comes into contact. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

They go into the kitchen, up the stair hidden around a corner to the master suite. They undress in the bedroom and move into the bath. There are two lavatories, a watercloset with toilet and urinal, and at the full height window overlooking the mountain and valley, a large freestanding tub. It is a clean oval form, sleek, modern, like the rest of the residence. Further back is a sauna, and beyond it a large shower. It has a built-in bench and heads on the opposite wall and dropping down from the ceiling.

Duncan gets the shower going as Corbett hugs him from behind, toying with his cock. He grows erect, revealing his aroused state, and once the water is running warm, he pulls Corbett into the shower. They bathe each other, run soapy hands over familiar bodies, no place too private. They kiss, fondle each other, and when both are so aroused, they can no longer hold back, Duncan pushes Corbett against the tile wall and enters him. He pushes slowly into Corbett’s depths until their bodies are pressed together.

“Fuck me,” Corbett utters as he presses his forehead against the wall and pushes back.

Duncan gives him what he wants. He fucks, tugging his cock nearly free, then pushing it back in, all the way. He builds up a steady rhythm, driving into Corbett’s depths over and over. Reaching around the narrow waist, he takes Corbett in hand, stroking in rhythm of their fuck. The bathroom fogs up and their bodies relax to their exertions with muscles loose, moving fluidly.

Corbett comes first, spraying the wall with cum, and it pushes Duncan over the edge, and he thrust into Corbett’s depths and comes.

Lying in bed, snuggled together, they talk of things not for anyone else. Their little secrets.

“How’s the portfolio doing?” asked Duncan.

“2.4 billion in expected return.”

“You think anyone has noticed our investing?”

“We’re not producing anything, and our research is just an expense with no return, and we do our investing under different entities, so I doubt it.”

“Dad keeps asking how we’re able to fund everything.”

“I know. And mom and dad ask me the same.”

“You think they’ll ever find out we’re the ones funding their digs?”

Corbett laughs, softly, then slides closer to Duncan. “No.”

7 August 2018

The dig was in such a remote area the nearest road was five miles away. The modified Jeeps struggled with the terrain to get to the site. Callum stood at the edge of the dig site while Jason was in the tent going over the finds. The dig had been going on for a week, with small items being uncovered. Bits of pottery, bone carved into tools and surprisingly, wood fragments had been found.

Callum looked at the map created by Corbett, wondering how it could be so accurate for such a remote site. They were further south than most other discovery sites, and yet, almost immediately the dig produced results. He glanced over at the government’s observer as he remembered the odd arrangement. Everything found would remain the Chilean people’s, all except a body with any odd discoloration, especially on fingers. The government had inquired about the request and what Corbett had said to them, Callum was unsure, but the next day everything was agreed upon.

A small pickaxe hits a hollow sounding rock.

“Careful!” Callum exclaims in his excitement. “Clear it off and let’s see what we’ve got.”

Jason comes up beside Callum. “They find something?”

“We’re about to find out.”

The stone slab is obviously carved by man, the shape too neat, about a half a meter wide and nearly two long. There is something carved on its surface, and someone brushes away the loose dirt to reveal it. A snake with a hood like that of a cobra, but it was ribbed and fanned back around the head.

“Caicai Vilu,” the Chilean official uttered as he moved next to Callum and Jason.

“The snake from the flood myth?” asked Jason.

The official nodded.

“Okay, let’s see if we can get the slab moved to the side,” said Callum as he climbed down to help.

The slab resisted initial attempts to move, but suddenly it slid easily to one side. Below was a small chamber. There were remnants of fabric, metal and bone tools, carvings in rock and a skeleton of a man. Everything looked normal except for the skeleton’s right arm had mummified flesh on it from the elbow down to the hand. The fingers were curled under, all except the index finger which pointed straight out. The withered mummified flesh was dark brown but the index finger black as coal.

“I don’t understand,” the official uttered as he looked at the remains. “And you expected to find this? How?”

“We’ve been finding them in other locations,” replied Jason.

“Other cultures had this?”

Jason nodded, then looked at the official. “You remember the agreement?”

“Yes, yes. We get everything but the skeleton, which is to remain classified.”

Callum stands and looks up at the official, then over to Jason.

“Get the skeleton back to the center. I’ll stay and continue with the dig,” said Callum, then he turned back to the official, “should we start transporting the findings or are you comfortable with us keeping them on site until we finish?”

“We’re so remote, no one will disturb us. Keep working and we’ll make arrangements when you finish.”

“We estimate three more weeks, and we’ll have everything this site has to offer. It was a burial site not meant to be found.”

Aeropuerto Desierto de Atacama is a small airport at the base of the mountains to the west of the dig site. It has one runway and traffic is light, only one passenger jet on the tarmac being boarded. Jason arrived early that morning with a couple of their crew. They unload the crate and carry it inside for official inspection before its release to be flown out of the country. Waiting on the tarmac is the one of the center’s jets, a Bombardier Global 8000. It is blue on the bottom with a silver band separating it from the stark white top. Murray Orion Center is in small dark red letters near the front.

“If you like to grab coffee or some refreshments, just go through that door,” said the official at the desk, gesturing toward a door to the side of the room.

“How long will it take to check us out?” asked Jason.

“We should be done in about ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, and I could use a coffee. Hey guys, coffee?”

The two others nod in agreement and they leave the room through the indicated door. As soon as the door closes, a guard checks it, then an identical crate is rolled in, stamped with duplicate labels and paperwork applied matching the crate brought in. The original crate is rolled out to a waiting box truck. As soon as the crate is loaded and strapped down, the truck pulls away.

Jason and his crew return to find the crate before them ready for them to take.

“We’re all set?” Jason asked.

“Yes. You may load it up.”

The crate is put on board the jet, and Jason climbs aboard with his bags. He sticks his head back out. “I’ll see you guys in three days,” and he steps away from the door as a crew member pulls it closed.

 Author’s note: Obviously a bit too long, this is a story I’ve been working on for some time. I know it is not for most, only a few will probably enjoy it. For me, there is one part that is important. I didn’t set out to do this, but the Appalachian Trail plays a big role in the story. It is something I discovered too late and was able to hike only a couple of sections before bad knees prevented any further backpacking adventures. I’ve hiked Linville Gorge, Wilson Creek, Mirror Mountain and many other trails in North Carolina, but this is the one I wish I had developed a desire to hike much sooner in life. I pulled photos of shelters and scenes from the trail to remind myself of its simple beauty. Something I would share with anyone curious about it; just email me. And for someone interested in an adventure, who loves the outdoors, even in the toughest of situations, this may be an adventure awaiting you.