Thank you all so much for the encouraging feedback I've received - It is greatly appreciated!
Huge thanks as always to Alaidh for her work on this chapter – we are all blessed by her betaing skills!
Sorry about the delay in this chapter – unfortunately Christmas and RL and betas going on holidays have slowed us down, but we're back on track! You may need to read the previous chapter to remember what happened!
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CHAPTER 3
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Logan reached quickly for his glasses then twisted onto his back. For a moment he stared with blank bemusement at the Aztek's roof as he slowly considered the implications of Max's absence.
He couldn't believe he hadn't woken when Max left – he'd only intended to lightly doze when he'd put his head on the pillow the previous night. He'd been determined to ensure that he heard her when she headed off to meet Zack. He rolled his eyes with chagrin as he realized he hadn't even been aware of her return to the car after her walk. The thought made him drag himself up quickly – what if she hadn't returned the night before?
"Okay – don't get ahead of yourself here" he murmured aloud, forcing himself to slow his thoughts and think rationally as he sat propped up on his hands.
Looking for some sign to prove her presence from last night, he checked the SUV visually. One of the first things his eyes fell on was her blue sweater, the one she'd worn on the drive up there. It had been taken off and left tossed over her backpack.
Logan breathed out thankfully. At least he could assume that she'd only left this morning. The next thing he saw was her sleeping bag tossed over the end of his own. He remembered feeling uncomfortably cold when he had first lay down and he wondered now with a frown if the extra warmth was the reason he'd fallen into such a deep sleep.
Well, it was possible she was still talking to Zack somewhere, he told himself as he threw back the sleeping bag, then felt behind his back for his clothes.
Feeling a bit foolish, he looked carefully out the window anyway, just in case there was anyone around. No eyes stared back at him, so he scooted back further until he was leaning against the driver's seat and set about taking off the fleecy sweatshirt and grey trackpants he'd slept in, and changed back into the cargo pants and sweater he'd worn the previous night.
By daylight, it was a bit strange to see the interior of his car transformed into a 'bedroom'. It was even stranger to think that he'd slept next to a beautiful girl and hadn't hit on her once. He smiled a little grimly as he thought of what Peter would have said to that – the man who'd seen Eyes Only with a string of beautiful girlfriends. No, not girlfriends, he suddenly corrected himself feeling strangely guilty as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head – merely pastimes who were quickly discarded for the next glittering bauble that had been dangled in front of Logan Cale and his wealth. He felt a familiar, twinge of self-contempt. He didn't like to contemplate what his life had been before the shooting – not solely because of what he didn't have now, but because of who and what he'd been. It made him feel uncomfortable to face the truth that he'd only changed his methods where women were concerned because it had been forced upon him by circumstance rather than some monumental epoch.
Once he was dressed, he tossed his bag across to the entrance near the tailgate, then looked around for anything else he needed to leave in an accessible position once he was outside and in his chair. Jacket and gloves were tossed over next, then his shoes. He realised the next tricky part would be assembling his chair and getting it back outside again. It had been enough of a chore the previous night.
Finding it a little difficult moving on the air mattress, he managed to get to the tailgate and unzip the arched doorway.
Once having allowed his legs to dangle over the side, he reached across to pull the pieces of his chair towards him. It was the assembling of the chair itself that he was worried about – it would require the type of balance that he knew he no longer had. He wished momentarily for Bling's matter-of- fact presence – he'd have the chair assembled in moments – or a seatbelt at the tailgate would be handy, he mused wryly, to prevent him from tumbling ignobly off the edge… what about Max's help?
Suddenly his eyes narrowed intently as he remembered that he had no idea where she was.
Feeling more than a little annoyed, his mouth tightened with disgust as he reminded himself that this camping trip was all about her. Since when did I become so self-absorbed with nothing but my own problems? he wondered with dark bewilderment as he stared outside with unfocused eyes. Was I always like this? Was I like this before…?
Realising where his thoughts were running he decisively put a hand to his glasses and adjusted them, consciously making the decision to focus on the view before him. It was a world away from the one he was accustomed to seeing from his apartment's expansive windows.
The scene before him was surprisingly clear and sharp-edged with the newness of morning, the air refreshingly cold on his face after, what he now knew to be by comparison, the slight stuffiness of the car. He realised with some surprise that it had been an age since he'd experienced the vivid crispness of a new day even in the city let alone the mountains. Somehow, an early morning in Seattle just couldn't compare with the vista before him - by comparison the city's colours were muted and its outlines blurred.
With a glance at his watch and an impatient grunt, Logan set his mind back to the task at hand. Edging along a little further, he leaned against the side where the tent formed its 'doorway' and set about assembling his chair. It wasn't easy as he had to use one hand to steady himself and maintain his balance, but eventually the job was accomplished and now all he had to do was transfer. He was vaguely aware of an ever-increasing sense of unease building somewhere in his mind - the whole exercise of getting dressed and mobile seemed to be taking way too long. What was he meant to do if Max didn't return? How long should he wait before he went and looked for her?
How the hell am I meant to look for her anway, he wondered with considerable frustration, absently rubbing his left hand along his thigh – he could hardly drive the car in its current state.
We should have had a contingency plan. What if it wasn't Zack after all – maybe it's all been some damned Manticore trap!
Regretting his decision not to at least even try and talk Max out of her plan, his mind went back to the warning he'd given her only a few nights ago when she'd sat by his window, troubled and concerned over her sister Brin's situation.
You need to be more careful yourself, you know…'cause now Lydecker knows what you look like.
It was a truly sobering thought and the knowledge left him feeling cold and anxious and even more annoyed at himself that he hadn't heard her leave that morning.
With a grim expression, he reached across and grabbed his jacket, thankful for its warmth as he shrugged it on. The air no longer felt refreshingly cool – once he'd become accustomed to its temperature he realised it was just plain uncomfortably cold.
With a feeling of relief he managed to slide down to his chair without upending himself because of the tricky angle, then once settled he released the brakes and moved forward a little to check out his surroundings and search for some sign of Max.
He wondered how accurate the old expression was that a big enough fright could take years off your life. More to the point, how big a fright and how many years, he mentally queried as he tried to school his features to make it look as though the appearance of an older man watching him from the bushes hadn't startled him in the least.
It seemed strange that he hadn't noticed him there before. Some lookout for Max I'm proving to be, he grimaced mentally as he watched the man approach with measured, purposeful steps. His next thought was, why the hell didn't I take my gun out of my bag?
Instead, Logan quickly reached into the back and pulled out his shoes, feeling irrationally unprepared for any type of confrontation with feet half undressed. After all, did James Bond get around in thick, grey, woolly, hiking socks?
Having nothing other than the shoes at hand, Logan surreptitiously gripped one tightly – Worst comes to worst guess I can always throw one at him, he mused with grim humour.
"Howdy there," the stranger greeted him, checking Logan out with shrewd, small grey eyes.
"Morning," Logan replied coolly as he in turn carefully considered the other man. He saw before him a tall, grey-haired man who looked to be somewhere in his late fifties, maybe older – it was hard to tell. He was dressed in jeans, solid walking boots and a heavy checked lumber jacket, but by his bearing he exuded an innate strength that spoke of a tough, disciplined life.
"Fine morning," the older man commented with an easy manner.
"We didn't know there was anyone else up here." Logan spoke in the same cool manner, slightly stressing his first word. He wasn't prepared as yet to lower his guard and he didn't think it would hurt to let the other man now that he wasn't alone.
"Nope, not many camp here anymore. I take it you've heard the rumours?" The grey eyes fixed Logan with a razor-sharp stare, making him feel uneasy and very much aware of Max's absence.
"Some," Logan answered warily.
"Hardly the place for a young feller like yourself to be," the older man continued with the same assured manner as he let his gaze rest briefly on the wheelchair. "Your girlfriend about?" he added in an abrupt manner, his words taking Logan a little by surprise.
Feeling that long-winded explanations were out of place at this point, Logan didn't bother to correct the 'girlfriend' assumption, but he was definitely reluctant to admit that he was on his own to a stranger, in an isolated campground, that was the subject of strange rumours.
He was trying to decide on the best way to answer the man's question when his breath caught suddenly in his throat. To his sudden consternation the older man had taken a lethal-looking hunting knife from his pocket and proceeded to examine its well-oiled blade with keen-eyed intensity. Aware of an instinctive slight widening of his eyes and a tightening in the back of his scalp, Logan's hands dropped to his wheels in a gesture of watchful readiness.
"Sharp," the man muttered, running his thumb carefully along the blade before abruptly fixing Logan with a penetrating scrutiny that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.
In the same abrupt manner, the man squatted down and picked up one of the chunky branches Max had thrown away the previous night. Very much to Logan's surprise and relief, the man broke off a few twigs and began whittling away at the gnarled wood.
Logan watched for a few moments with fascination as the length of wood began to take on another form – at this early stage Logan couldn't be sure of what it was destined to be.
"You new to that thing?" The question was accompanied by the jab of a weathered finger at his chair.
Logan felt himself stiffen once more as the question caught him off guard. He didn't like finding himself on the defensive – he knew he'd been caught on the wrong foot from the time this conversation had started and it was beginning to make him feel decidedly uneasy.
The stranger seemed to take Logan's silence as an affirmative. "Had a friend…lost both legs in the war. Shoulda seen the way he handled that chair – and it wasn't some modern, souped-up rig like you've got. Nope – no trendy rigs for the vets."
He stabbed one disparaging finger at Logan's chair then almost unconcernedly returned to his whittling, leaving Logan to wonder what war the man was referring to – the Gulf war perhaps, judging by his age? He wasn't entirely sure but one thing he was sure of was that this conversation was not getting him any closer to discovering Max's whereabouts.
Feeling as though he'd had more than enough of the other's company, let alone the aspersions cast on his wheelchair skills, Logan decided that two could play this game.
"So, you camp up here by yourself?" he asked, feigning casual indifference.
"Been coming here fer just about forty years," the stranger grunted as he stood up and stretched himself to his full height. He was definitely of a soldierly bearing – straight backed, tall and strong looking in spite of his age. "The most beautiful spot in the state o' Washington."
All of a sudden, he stepped forward with an intimidating gesture, until he was towering over Logan, forcing Logan to tilt his head well back to maintain eye contact.
Logan was resisting the temptation to wheel back and put as much distance as possible between the guy and himself when he realised the man's action had not been a threatening one but rather a hospitable one.
"The name's Tex."
Logan started breathing again as the man thrust a large hand in front of him.
"Logan," he replied smoothly as he shook the proffered hand, masking his feeling of relief.
"Better get your shoes on, boy. It's damned cold up here till the sun climbs high enough to shed a bit o' warmth."
Logan was a little taken aback by the remark, but before he had a chance to reply, Tex turned abruptly, waved, and strode off rapidly along the river bank, where his figure was quickly obscured by the dense growth that lined the waterway.
"Hey!"
This time Logan's shoulders jerked noticeably and he felt as if his heart had jumped out of his chest.
He took a deep breath before he got out, "Where were you?" He was clearly annoyed to find her standing casually before him as if she'd just returned from a short stroll.
Her fine brows rose in surprise. "I went to meet Zack, of course." Her eyes went to his feet, still only clad in their woolly socks. "You should put your shoes on," she suggested helpfully. "It's cold up here in the morning."
"And?" he prompted sharply, hostility still evident in his voice as he reached down to pull on one of his shoes, wondering irritably why everyone should be so concerned about his feet all of a sudden.
"He was a no-show."
"What does that mean?" he asked, looking up at her in confusion as he slipped his other shoe on.
Max shrugged as she lit the stove. "It means that he wasn't there," she enlarged patiently.
"I know what no-show means! What I meant was…why? He couldn't get here? It was some kinda stunt…?" Then more firmly, "Maybe the message wasn't even from Zack?"
"Of course it was from Zack." Seeeing Logan's skeptical expression she added with impressive sincerity, "I can't tell you how I know…but I'm sure it was from Zack."
Logan frowned. "Isn't that a little strange? I thought Zack was one of those 'I always mean what I say' type of guys – so how come he doesn't turn up this time?"
Max shrugged again before walking around to the front of the car to get the cooler. Carrying the heavy container easily with one hand, she put it down beside the table and removed the lid to find the coffee, then got out the percolator.
"Something must have happened, otherwise he would have been there," she stated decisively as she spooned some coffee into the percolator.
"Are you always like this first thing in the morning?" she queried innocently as she watched Logan lean down to tie his laces.
"Like what?" he asked dangerously.
"Kinda snappy – edgy," she elaborated thoughtfully.
Logan pushed himself up with an exasperated sigh. He wondered how one morning could go so wrong in such a short space of time – it didn't help that so far he'd woken to find Max missing and had jumped to all sorts of unpleasant conclusions, and then found he was being watched by an enigmatic ex-soldier. Having Max turn up and almost give him a heart attack was just about the icing on the cake. And she wondered why he was being edgy!
He looked at her, wondering briefly if he should admit his fears – that he'd been worried about her.
"Maybe you just need some coffee," she suggested sagely, giving him a smile, only to have it quickly dispelled as a new thought took its place. Fixing him with those wide, chocolate brown eyes, she remarked suddenly, with what he thought sounded like a tinge of scorn, "I hope you weren't worried about me!"
"Now, why would I be worried about you?" Logan asked dryly, hands to his wheels as he moved forward a few feet to take out two mugs. "And what do we do now?"
Max looked at him curiously for a moment. There had been very few people in her life who had ever worried about her – not that she was sure it was a good thing, but it was kind of…nice…somehow.
"Well," Logan prompted as he set the mugs on the table.
Max took a short breath then said smoothly, "I'm gonna need to stay one more night. Manticore procedure – if a rendezvous is broken, you return the following day, same time."
"And if the rendezvous is broken again? Logan asked a little sceptically.
"You only get one chance."
Logan nodded. He felt suddenly uneasy. He hadn't expected that he'd have to spend so much time up here – really camping, not just some easy overnight stay for a couple of hours.
"I know you're busy," Max was saying. "If there's a problem…if it doesn't suit you…I could always hitch a ride back to Seattle. It's no big dealio."
Max concentrated on pouring the coffee. She'd been only too aware of his sudden silence. She couldn't blame him – it would be inconvenient for him to spend another day and night here…maybe it would be all too hard for him…the amenities weren't the best…maybe I'm expecting too much from him…after all, it wasn't that many months since he'd come home from rehab…maybe…
"No. Another day will be fine."
"What?" she asked sharply as his words finally broke through her thoughts.
"It's okay. I'll call Bling. Let him know," Logan was saying.
She'd prepared herself for his refusal. "You sure about this?"
Logan shrugged. "Sure. Seems a pity to let all our hard work go to waste," he added with a smile as he motioned with his head towards their 'tent'.
"Fine…okay," Max nodded, a little confused as to why she should feel so unaccountably pleased with his decision as she turned to pick up his coffee and pass it to him.
"I had a visitor while you were gone," Logan told her casually as he took the steaming hot drink.
"You did?" Max asked with surprise as she sat down on the fold out chair and took her own drink. "The four legged variety?" she asked with a humorous twist to her lips, thinking that he was joking with her.
"Nope. Definitely two legs," Logan drawled after taking a gulp of his coffee.
Max looked at him closely. "Perhaps that's who I thought I saw last night."
"Did you see a six foot, ramrod-straight backed, grey haired ex-soldier, probably somewhere in his late fifties?"
"Sounds imposing," she commented lightly.
"Mmm," Logan replied absently.
"Well, it is kinda strange when you think about it!"
"What?"
"All this!" Max waved an expressive arm about.
Logan looked at her blankly. "All this?"
"All this and no other campers," she elucidated. "What's wrong with people? Don't they recognise beauty when they see it?"
"Well, it's pretty far from Seattle," Logan explained, careful to keep his voice neutral.
"Thing is – no one has the chance ta have fun anymore!" Max mourned with a shake of her head. "You been doing Eyes Only broadcasts on the evils of kickin' back?" she asked him with sudden suspicion.
Logan threw her a look of exasperation through narrowed eyes. "I said I'd stay another day, didn't I?" he reminded her.
"You did… and I know the perfect walk we can go on - after breakfast."
Logan raised one eyebrow. "Do I detect a not-so-subtle hint in that sentence?"
"I am kinda hungry," she admitted with disarming honesty, "And unlike you who snored the morning away I've been up and about!"
"Well, I would have been up and about, too, if you'd woken me," he retorted while he leant over and fished around in the cooler for some eggs and butter. He still felt a little peeved that he'd gone through several anxious moments when he'd woken up, apparently for nothing.
Max, who'd deliberately not woken him because she was unsure of what or who may be waiting for her, laughed off his complaint with a flippant remark. "Well, you didn't miss anything – you wouldn't have wanted to sit around in the freezing cold for a couple o' hours."
"You did," he pointed out bluntly.
Max shrugged off the comment.
"I don't melt with the cold, you know," Logan added with a decided edge to his voice now.
"I never said you did," Max told him quickly, genuinely surprised by his comment and tone of voice.
Logan reddened a little as he realised he was overreacting to what had, after all, been just an innocent comment.
"I know…sorry," he muttered self-consciously, a little at a loss as to why he'd snapped at her with such little provocation.
"So, what are you cooking me for breakfast?" Max asked lightly as she watched him crack some eggs into a bowl, hoping to change his mood.
"Omelette."
"Sounds good t'me," she opined with gratitude as she leant back, hands clasped around the back of her neck and her legs outstretched in the manner of one who's already put in a full days work. "Call me when it's done!"
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Once breakfast was finished, Logan called Bling on his cell phone with the news that he'd be back tomorrow rather than today, while Max insisted on washing the dishes.
Rather than use their supply of drinking water, Max walked along the river's muddy bank that was lined with smooth pebbles and filled a container from the river. How could the water that sluggishly dribbled from the faucet in her apartment ever have been as clear and free of dust and dirt and grime as this river water appeared to be? They probably hadn't needed to bring their own drinking water after all, she mused, as she cupped a hand of the cold liquid to her mouth.
Once the container was filled, Max stood up let and her gaze wander around the impressive scenery before her, but disconcertingly her mind soon filled with other images: flashes of young children in combat fatigues wading through icy cold rivers up to their waists with guns held high above their heads.
Max blinked away the image with a quick shake of her head.
Almost warily, she let herself relax a little, for once determinedly taking the time to appreciate the subtle cleverness of nature - the variety of green to be found in the tall trees that rose on the hill opposite, the varied twittering and songs of the birds against the persistent rush of the river as it stumbled and swirled over rocks… a lazy cloud trailing dreamy long tendrils across the blue sky of mid-morning.
It was a thoughtful Max who carried the water back to their site to wash the dishes.
What had a forest ever meant to her?
In her harsh, brutal childhood, trees were merely used for cover and to obtain viewpoints or to launch ambushes from; luscious undergrowth was an aggravation to be hacked and cleared and rivers an annoying, uncomfortable obstacle to cross.
Sometimes it all seemed like a lifetime away, nothing more than a blurred memory – and at other times, it was all too real and in spite of her all her attempts to forget, the smell of dirt and leaves and blood was too strong … and it could have been yesterday.
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The sun was beginning to penetrate through the trees and the air was now appreciably warmer by the time they'd completed their allotted tasks.
"You ready for our walk?" Max asked Logan as soon as she saw him close the lid of his laptop.
"Guess so," Logan replied gamely as he reached into the car for his wheelchair gloves.
Max rolled her eyes a little at his attitude. "Logan, I'm not taking you up the side of a mountain."
"Just as well – you know I don't like heights," he reminded her glibly.
Pleased to find him in a happier mood, she gave him a sunny smile while he slipped his laptop into a bag at the back of his chair. "You taking that with you on a walk?"
"I don't like the idea of leaving it unattended in the car with no sure way of securing it," Logan explained, "Even if there's only Tex around," he added dryly. He hadn't told her that he'd also added his gun to the bag while Max had visited the camp's bathroom.
Max nodded her understanding. "I'll lock up," she offered. "You need anything else out?" she asked as she reached up to zip the arch that formed the opening of their tent.
Logan looked up at the sky. Through the trees he could see its brilliant blue. The dew that had fallen during the night was rapidly evaporating as the sun rose higher.
"I don't think I'll need this heavy jacket," he decided aloud as he took it off and tossed it into the back of his car. "You want some water?" he asked Max as he took a bottle out of the cooler and placed it in the bag as well. He had no idea how far Max's 'walk' was going to take them, but he was determined to be prepared.
"Nah," she replied, shaking her head before turning to zip up the tent.
"So, where are you taking me?" Logan asked her as they started off.
"The place where I was gonna meet Zack. Thought you'd like to see it," she told him cryptically.
Logan looked up at her, but it was clear that she had no intention of imparting any further information so he pushed on silently by her side.
The path Max had chosen was composed of comparatively smooth hard packed dirt layered with the ever-present pine needles. Studying the trail ahead of him, the thought crossed Logan's mind that it was suspiciously free of branches and other forest debris.
Gracious, elderly pines and a variety of broad-leafed trees towered above them only intermittently at first, but as they progressed further along the path, the trees and undergrowth became denser. The sun, that had penetrated so freely before, was now only able to struggle through as random shafts of light. Here, even the birds seemed reluctant to break into their strident song.
In time, Logan found himself breathing a little harder and he soon realised that they were on a gradual incline that was becoming increasingly steeper.
"I thought you promised no mountains," Logan reminded her a little breathlessly, as he had to push that little bit harder and quicker.
"This is a hill," she corrected him lightly, nonetheless feeling a little guilty that she hadn't counted on this part of the path as being difficult.
Logan's arms and shoulders were beginning to burn with the effort and he was just wondering if he should give in and stop for a breather when the path evened out and, unexpectedly, the trees gave way to a grassy clearing where a few deer grazed. They looked up at the intruders – their gentle brown eyes wide with fear – before they turned and gracefully raced off into the forest on their slender, deceptively strong, long legs.
"This is the place," Max told Logan, her voice almost reverently hushed.
Feeling hot and sweaty, he took his water bottle out and took a swig before asking, "The place where you were hoping to meet Zack?"
"The place where the homestead was."
Max continued along the path. It now cut across a grassy plateau of manicured lawn -thanks to the attentiveness of the deer. She squinted a little as she stepped out into the dazzlingly bright sun. Only one thing remained of the house - the remains of a huge, stone chimney. The column no longer stood, but the broad foundation had withstood the test of time and the attempts of countless people to leave their names and dates etched into the grey stone.
A large bronze plaque, its letters faded and worn from years of exposure to everything that nature could throw at it, had been attached to the few remains. It stated its purpose with stark simplicity.
Having got his breath back, Logan followed her across and silently read the words on the inscription.
Here, on the third day of October in the year of our Lord 1917, died Martin and Roma Murchison and their five darling children – who now play joyfully forever in the gardens of Paradise.
Max silently traced the faded outline of an impressive, war-like angel that had been embossed on the memorial.
"I guess he musta been lookin' the other way that day," she shrugged cynically.
"Just over a hundred years ago," Logan commented, but his tone too was softened by the sad history before him.
"To think that an area as peaceful as this could be a place of such tragedy," Max murmured quietly as she looked around the site, careful to hide the sad hurt in her eyes from Logan.
Logan nodded silently. There was certainly a haunting beauty about the place.
Max thought back to the woods of Manticore and to the evil that she'd seen performed there. Would an unknowing person come across those same trees and think them beautiful, or would they be struck with the strange, inexplicable sense of horror that she had found here?
"We'd better move on. I want to see the river," Max snapped abruptly, her voice sounding almost harsh in the serene surroundings as she strode off without looking back. "Come on," she called over her shoulder, distinctly in the tone of a command.
Logan looked after her in surprise. After all, she was the one who'd wanted to visit this spot, he muttered as he watched Max already disappearing over the edge of the slope. With raised eyes, he put his water bottle on his lap and pressed on after her, hoping that she wasn't completely out of sight, as he had no idea which path she'd intended to take.
By the time he got to back to the steepest part of the path, Max was nowhere in sight.
Logan paused before setting off down the slope, trying to recall Bling's words of advice. As was always the case, the incline appeared a lot steeper when you stood at the top and looked down. He'd navigated plenty of ramps – just none as steep and slightly uneven as this one was. Just take it slowly, he told himself calmly.
He remembered the first time he'd ever skied. His father had taken him to the top of what had seemed like an incredibly steep hill at the time, but probably wasn't, and told him to ski down it. When he'd finally reached the bottom, covered in snow, his father had smiled at him and said, "See. Now you've learnt how to fall."
"Well, that's not gonna happen this time," he muttered with determination as he released his brakes.
He was making good progress and had gone halfway down when he saw the water bottle on his lap suddenly slide forward. Before he had a chance to do anything, it slid further then disappeared completely over his knee and rolled off down the steep slope.
With a fatalistic shrug, Logan let it go as he concentrated on navigating the final, steepest part. Once he was close enough down to the bottom, he let go of his wheels entirely and let himself roll at what he considered a thrill-seeking pace, allowing his chair to naturally slow of its own volition as the path evened out once more.
Feeling quite pleased with his stylish descent, he swung his chair around and looked for Max.
"You drop this?"
Logan turned in the direction he'd heard the voice. It was Max. In her hand she held his water bottle.
"I rushed on ahead without thinking," she apologised almost defiantly.
"That's fine," Logan assured her, grateful she hadn't been there to witness his hesitation. "So… which way now?"
Max looked down at him. "There's a path that's a shortcut through to the river. It comes out at a kinda sweet bend…" She paused then with sudden hesitation.
"But…" Logan added for her.
"It may be a bit too rough," she admitted uncertainly.
"There any other way to get to this spot?" Logan asked practically.
Max shook her head. "Doesn't seem to be. It's one of those stunning, secluded spots you read about on travel brochures."
"I didn't know you read travel brochures," Logan murmured as he pushed forward to what he assumed was the start of the path disappearing off into the forest.
"Well, just because I don't sleep doesn't mean I don't dream sometimes," she told him a little defensively, not quite sure she had wanted to admit this to him. It hardly seemed to fit her tough-ass image. "See. It's not as smooth as the other one," she told him as she came up and stood behind him.
Logan sat with his hands on his wheels contemplating the path. It was everything he hadn't hoped for – rough, uneven, and strewn with branches and sticks from any number of storms since who-knew-when. Obviously it was used very little by the infrequent visitors to the campground. He sighed inwardly – the faint note of disappointment in Max's voice had been unmistakable to him as she'd pointed out the path's deficiencies.
"I could clear it for you. It's only a short way to the river from here," she suggested hopefully, coming around the front of him and picking up a large branch that blocked his way even as she spoke. "Course, if you'd rather not…" she added in an understanding tone, "we can always get to plenty of other nice spots along the river from one of the other trails."
"If it's only a short way…" he found himself theorising.
"You sure, Logan?" Max asked, now turning to him doubtfully as she wondered if she had pressured him into something he'd rather not do. She was reasonably sure that he hadn't had much experience in off-road trekking since the day the bullet had ripped into his spine with such devastating results.
"Max, it's just a path. We're not discussing travelling to another country!" he pointed out to her with a hint of frustration that she was now making such a big deal over what should have been an easy decision.
"The end result will be worth it," she grinned at him, apparently satisfied with his decision as she stooped to pick up a few branches.
"Good," he replied, favouring her with one of his own rare, wide grins, pleased to see he'd made her happy for once.
Once they started forward, he found the going tiring, but not overly difficult as he carefully chose the more even parts of the trail. Max picked up a large, solid stick and used it to push any debris out of his way.
Conversation became desultory as Logan concentrated on not tipping over as he found, to his dismay, that the path deteriorated badly the closer they got to the river, slowing his progress even more as he had to navigate embedded rocks and protruding roots.
What was it Bling said about being thrown in the deep end? he remembered wryly as he nearly overbalanced backwards after overcompensating for a tree root. He paused for a moment to get himself back on even keel, in more ways than one, breathing quickly after his close call.
Logan took a few deep breaths as he distractedly watched Max. She was fearlessly trekking onward with her lithe, effortless X5 agility, her long legs moving with an easy, rhythmic stride, when all of a sudden he felt a startlingly intense stab of envy. All at once, the physical gulf between them seemed enormous – depressingly unassailable.
Feeling suddenly morose and somewhat at a loss as to the intensity of his wayward emotions, he pulled out his water bottle from his bag and took a swig of the now, lukewarm water.
Max had disappeared around a bend in the trail and Logan sat alone in the forest's unusual quiet, feeling disgruntled and sticky with sweat. No birds twittered, the leaves were uncannily still, and the only sound he could hear was that of his own laboured breathing.
Attempting to pull himself together, he was just contemplating pushing onward when a shrill scream of terror decimated the morning air.
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To be continued