An Argument for Innocence

Written for Halloween, October 2018

by Darcie T. Kelly

Yeah, it was cold and yeah, she didn’t want to be there. I made her go. I mean, how would she know she didn’t like it if she’d never tried, right? But, honestly, it was probably bad planning for her first camping trip to be in late October. It snowed in Toronto the week before and I knew it was going to be freezing up north. But, I’d already booked the site. A four-day, three-night weekend out in Killarney.

We went to MEC to kit her up with winter hiking boots, extra thick socks, shit shovel, bear bell, pack and a sleeping bag rated to minus 15C. Everything she needed. Still, when we were packing, I pulled a novel, a journal, three pens and a face cloth out of her pile.

“You don’t need this stuff.”

“Yes, I do.” She clawed at me, trying to get her things back. I held them out of reach.

“Well, you won’t want to carry it. It’s a six-hour hike in and we have to bring all our food and water. If you really need a book, pick something that we can throw in the fire once you’ve read it.”

The look on her face was … I think the best description is astonished-disgust. A wordless What fucking hell hole are you taking me to?! She tried to throw her half full pack at me and it flopped sadly to the side. In frustration, she stormed out of the room.

Kay isn’t a girly girl. I mean, she is definitely all girl, if you know what I mean, but she doesn’t go for all the frills and glitter that some girls do. She doesn’t waste $200 and three hours at some beauty salon every three weeks like my last girlfriend did. She looks great without it. Well put together. Professional. Classy. And she can turn it sexy with just a flip of her hair and a slight change in posture. Honestly, how I ended up with this girl I’ll never know.

Oh, sorry, of course you’re right. She is a woman. Not a girl. My bad.

Umm, I mean ‘was’. She ‘was’ a woman…

My point? Kay was no flighty waif. She mowed the lawn, installed shelving and replaced the toilet. But camping? No. She liked her family cottage. Rugged and outdoorsy, but with indoor plumbing, a fridge, beds, and a roof. And space to read. She was always reading.

The camping trip was all my idea. Well, not really, it was Paul’s idea, but his girlfriend balked at the snow and he backed out leaving Kay and me alone.

I thought it would be romantic. She wasn’t into cuddling most of the time, but I envisioned us snuggling under a blanket beside the fire looking up at the stars. I saw us sharing the wine I snuck into a water bottle, and finding creative ways to stay warm…

Fuck. I can’t believe she’s gone.

Things started going wrong at dusk the first evening.

The hike in had been great. I love the beauty of the Canadian Shield. The trail followed a wavering path. We climbed ancient rocks around crystal lakes surrounded by towering pines and the golden orange glory of nature’s annual finger painting all topped with a clear blue sky. Breathtaking.

Kay, a daily walker, did well with the hike, even carrying an over-stuffed pack (she brought that novel and who knows what else). I think she enjoyed the beauty too. She deserved kudos for making the most of a situation she didn’t want to be in. But, among the chiming of bear bells, I caught a lingering iciness between us. She was steeling herself for the disaster she felt was coming.

When we reached the site, with tired, aching muscles, we helped each other ease packs from our backs. I laid on the rocky ground, took a deep refreshing breath, but Kay wouldn’t let me rest. Instead, we set up the tent, collected dry wood and built a campfire. I cooked chili from a freeze-dried mix for dinner. It looked horribly muddy and tasted worse, but it was food. Kay rummaged through her pack and pulled out a few plastic baggies of dry spices. Bless that woman and her over-packing!

While we washed the dishes in a freezing nearby lake, Kay pointed out a high cliff across the water. “We’re hiking there tomorrow. I want to see the view.” She used her ‘decision-made’ voice. I knew better than to argue.

The sun set early and fast. Shadows lengthened and disappeared before six. Low hanging clouds collected what light remained and washed the sky in pinks and oranges that darkened to a bloody red. As the world outside our fire-lit circle turned black on grey, Kay grabbed a flashlight and her shit shovel, threw me a nasty look, and hiked away from camp.

While she was gone, I kept busy collecting the food stuffs, dry spices, tooth paste, anything that might smell like dinner to local wildlife. As I affixed my bear bell to the bag of supplies and hefted it aloft, out of the reach of hungry animals, I heard Kay scream.

It was not in disgust, or frustration. No, this was a cry of fear. Of surprised shock at the edge of terror. I dropped the load and raced toward her frantic voice.

Without a flashlight, I stumbled over unseen roots and rocks as I chased Kay’s continuing cries. “Kay!” I yelled. “Kay! I’m coming!” I fell hard, twisted an ankle and tore my flesh. I could feel warm blood turning cold as it soaked my pants and winced when I tried to resume running.

Suddenly, she was in my arms, burying her face in my chest, tears and snot everywhere. “There’s a man. I saw a man.” Her words came out in gasps between shuddered breaths.

I soothed her, wiped away tears, held her close, assured her we were the only campers registered with the park this weekend and suggested it was an animal. That reminded me of the bear bag with all our provisions, lying on the ground for any hungry beast to pillage. Kay sniffed loudly, wrapped an arm under my shoulders and let me lean on her as we made our way back to camp.

Instead of the romantic night under the stars I’d planned, she spent the evening patching me up with scant first aid supplies and we turned in early.

I woke from a sound sleep to find Kay breathing shallow and fast, sitting bolt upright in our dark tent. I found it cute that she wore a toque and scarf to bed (she always got cold when she slept) and giggled gently. She scowled.

Half asleep, I slurred, “What’s wrong, babe.”

“I heard something.”

I’d never seen her in this state but was too tired to care. “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“I think I’m having a panic attack.”

“Good night, babe.” I really was a jerk.

I was alone in the tent when I woke in the morning. I called to her as I crawled out of a tangled sleeping bag. My ankle was swollen and bruised but the gash on my leg wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d thought.

Kay’s toque, fake smile and scarf popped into the tent. “I’m gonna hike to the cliff. You should soak that ankle in the lake. See ya.”

“You’re leaving?” I called her back, still groggy with sleep. “I mean, you’re hiking out alone?”

“I don’t think you’re in much of a state to join me.” She tipped her head to my ankle with raised eyebrows. “I told you yesterday that I want to see that view. So yes, I’m hiking out alone.”

“But –”

“I’m a big girl, Greg. I’ve been walking all by myself for nearly 27 years now!” She was always sarcastic when I got whiny. “I have a bear bell, my cell phone, a map, some trail-mix, water, and a protein bar. I’ll be fine. Just take care of that ankle so you can join me tomorrow, okay?” and off she went.

I spent the day alone, wishing I was anywhere else. I ate breakfast. Did dishes. Soaked my ankle. Hobbled around to gather wood and re-started the fire. Ate lunch. Did dishes. Soaked my ankle which was much less swollen. Eventually, I grabbed Kay’s novel and started reading.

It was earlier than I expected, though I was already deeply invested in Estella’s treatment of Pip, when Kay came back. Her cheeks flush with exertion or cold. Probably a bit of both.

Hiding the book so she wouldn’t give me the ‘I told you so’ speech, I snarked, “So, you like camping after all,” irrationally angry that she’d left me alone all day.

If looks could kill. “I like hiking – I HATE camping.” Kay rammed a stick in the dirt, probably wishing it was my leg, letting it overhang the fire. She pulled a facecloth from her pack, dipped it in the lake, and laid it over the stick. She adjusted her pack to create what appeared to be a surprisingly comfortable seat within reach of the flames’ heat. As she retrieved the now warm washcloth and washed her face, neck, and hands, I realized how good she was at the camping thing. Even if she hated it.

“How was your hike?” I asked, hoping to break the ice that had grown thick between us. “Was the view as wonderful as you hoped?”

“I didn’t make it to the cliff.”

“Oh?” I moved closer seeking warmth in her company.

“I got close. The trail follows a beaver dam to cross a narrow part of the lake. But the dam’s washed away.” She’d folded the washcloth and put her scarf and mitts back on. “I hiked around a bit, looking for another way across, but couldn’t find one. It was strange though,” she looked me in the eye for the first time since we left the car the morning before, “there was no evidence of a flood. I can’t figure out what would have breached the dam.”

She was right. It had been a dry summer. No major storms had gone through the area. The lake shores all seemed fine. “Maybe it was a bear? Or a moose. I hear there are moose in the area.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she didn’t seem convinced. Under her breath she added, “Maybe it was moose. Maybe that’s what I saw.”

It was Kay’s turn to cook dinner. Somehow, with nothing but the stash she brought along, she created an amazing Indian curry dish with basmati and naan. I couldn’t make that meal in a fully stocked kitchen that included a professional chef much less over a campfire. She seemed to have forgiven me for dragging her out here, at least a little. While we ate we shared the bootlegged wine, passing the bottle between us, and planned to hike the other way around the lake the following day. She still wanted to reach that clifftop.

Kay washed the dishes so my shit shovel and I could take a little walk to test my ankle, among other things. I brought Kay’s novel along too, to check in on Pip’s progress in wooing Miss Havisham’s niece.

Pleased with the progress of my ankle, though disappointed with Pip’s continued failure, I resolved to introduce romance into this camping trip. I planned to wrap Kay in a blanket, share the rest of the wine, pretend I know the constellations, and get things warmed up before heading to the tent for the main event.

But when I got back to camp, the ice had reformed. She wouldn’t talk with me. Wouldn’t even make eye contact. What had I done wrong this time?

It was another early night. She didn’t change her clothes for bed. Didn’t take off her boots. Didn’t even ask for her book back.

I woke to ringing. As I stirred, I again saw Kay sitting bolt upright in bed. “You hear it, too?” I stupidly asked as the bell rang again. One of our bear bells was attached to the bag of provisions, the other to the tent. The distance of the ring meant something was after the bag. But the chiming was gentle. Not enough to indicate the animal had succeeded in pulling the bag down or getting in. I started to lean back, but Kay continued to sit. “It’s ok, babe. It would be louder if there was a problem.”

Before I could draw another breath, the bell on the tent started ringing loudly. The tent shook as if buffeted by a strong wind. “Must be a storm blowing in. Weird. Wasn’t in the forecast.”

Kay turned her head to me. Just her head, her body stayed still. I’m not making this up. It was Poltergeist-ish. Ok, so, she didn’t turn her head all the way around, but to not move any other part of her body! And her eyes. They were hollow. Like she wasn’t actually seeing through them.

I didn’t get much sleep the rest of the night.

At sunrise, Kay got up. I let her go, happy to have the tent to myself.

She’d laid down at some point, but every time I peeked, she was staring at me, diffused moonlight glinting off the whites of her eyes. I rolled over but could still feel her sightless gaze drilling into the back of my skull.

Rubbing my face, I stretched and tried to think of what I did too piss her off. Was I supposed to have washed the dishes because she’d cooked? Did I walk upwind instead of down and let a post curry stench waft across camp all night?

And how was I going to make it up to her?

I must have fallen asleep, because when I crawled out of the tent, the sun was half way up the sky and Kay was standing by the lake, looking toward the cliff. “Ready.” What I assumed was a question sounded like a statement. But she didn’t turn around to face me, so I might have misheard.

“Almost, babe. Just want to grab something to eat.” She threw a protein bar in my direction and started walking. I grabbed the bar and a bottle of water before chasing after her.

Kay kept a demanding pace. Silent and steady. I tried to get a conversation going a couple of times, but she either answered in mono-syllable or not at all. Soon, I was too winded to talk. I thought I was in better shape.

We must have been hiking about three hours before I noticed she wasn’t carrying a pack. I had assumed she’d brought lunch. Nothing fancy like last night’s dinner, but something to keep our energy up.

“Hey, Kay. Stop for a sec.”

“No.”

“Come on, babe. My water bottle is almost empty. Just a second, ok?” She took three more paces before coming to an abrupt halt. “Thanks. Want me to fill yours too?” I asked as I navigated my way to the edge of the lake, wishing I’d put a couple of iodine tablets in my pockets before leaving camp. Iodine tablets and a fucking sandwich. I was starving.

I glanced at Kay’s back from the water’s edge. “Did you bring any food?” No answer. I took a long slug of cold fresh water and dunked my bottle to refill it. “Aren’t you hungry?” Silence.

As I made my way back up the bank to the trail, my patience reached its limits. “What the fuck is going on with you, Kay?” I reached for her shoulder and turned her around.

What I saw … I don’t know what I saw. It wasn’t Kay, but it might have once been. Under the toque, scarf, parka and mitts was a face that looked melted. Or shrunken? Or hollowed out? Whatever It was, It wasn’t Kay.

I pushed It away and stepped back, stumbled but caught my balance. I turned to run back to camp. Somehow, It was ahead of me on the trail. I turned back toward the cliff, to where It had been a moment before, and ran. I ran like I’ve never run before.

I fell more than once. Lost my water bottle, re-twisted my ankle, slammed my head against a low hanging branch, but still I ran. Every time I looked back, It was right behind me, mere paces away, but I swear It only walked. That same silent, steady pace.

I was crawling on raw hands and mangled knees before I realized I’d made it to the cliff. Exhausted and dehydrated. I had no reserves left. I glanced back, expecting to find the not-Kay thing advancing on me, but It was gone.

I collapsed, laid on the rocky ground, tried to catch my breath, but didn’t let myself rest. I needed cover. A tree, a bush. Something to shield me if It came back. I continued up the bare rock cliff searching for an overhang to hide under.

Behind me, I saw a red trail. My own blood. There was no hiding. I shakily got to my feet and climbed. One step at a time. High ground. King of the castle. At the time, I didn’t realize I was falling into the same stupid trap as all horror movie victims. I was going up. Like a blond bimbo climbing stairs until she’s trapped on a roof with no where to go. I was going to be trapped at the top of a cliff. But I was too scared to realize it.

Until I was there. And so was It. Looking over the lake. Silent and steady. I didn’t think. I just ran at It and pushed. Pushed It over the cliff.

As It lost balance, It turned. And there was Kay. Shocked but almost smiling. Thinking I was playing. For an instant. Before she knew she was falling. That I had pushed her. That I had killed her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That was …” Sheriff Creer consults his notes, “… Sunday?” I nod wiping tears from my face. “Three days ago?”

“It’s Wednesday? God, I should call work. And my mom. Oh fuck. I should call Kay’s mom. What will … I mean, how will I …”

“We’ve already contacted Mr. and Mrs. Wandern.” I want to think he’s reassuring me, but there is an edge to the sheriff’s tone. He still doesn’t believe me.

“It took days to hike out. Mostly crawling.” I glance at the sheets. My legs are under there. I haven’t found the courage to look at them yet. What’s left of them. “I just left her there. I just … She’s all alone …”

Sheriff Creer glances at his notes again before catching the park ranger’s eye across the hospital room. I don’t remember exactly how I got here. I assume the ranger found me and brought me. I glance at him with weak appreciation. I see doubt. He doesn’t believe me either.

“Greg, you are under arrest for the murder of Kay Wandern. You have the right …” I don’t hear the rest as shock settles in and I start to shake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you believe any of what he says?” the park ranger asks after he closes the hospital room door.

“Oh, I believe some of it.” Sheriff Creer closes his note book and returns it to his inside coat pocket. “I believe she didn’t want to go. I believe they were fighting. And I believe he pushed her off the cliff.”

“But the rest of it? Should I be looking for someone else out there?”

“According to the coroner, she was pushed off that cliff on Saturday. Not Sunday.”