It was purely a their tradition, one out of many. It was only for them, not even for Johnathan. A hike through the woods stretching beyond the outskirts to the lake. Jacob was responsible for the guitar, Riley for cards and the inflatable canoe for the lake, Mark for the pots, Sammy for the food, Billy for the tents, Winnifred for the clothes, Charlotte for the weaponry against mosquitoes and other nonexistent predators, and Heath for the optimistic atmosphere.
The air was fresh and crisp at five o'clock. Winnifred sniffed the morning air in satisfaction, lower hamstrings slightly shimmering from the cold. The backpack was unusually heavy on her shoulders. To amuse herself, Winnifred started breathing out cold air from different mouth shapes. After a minute, she understood how terrible of an idea it was; tiny icicles formed inside her throat, threatening to cause throat cancer. Winnifred quickly shut her mouth. Charlotte slightly rocked back and forth on her feet behind her, humming something off key. Winnifred glanced at her watch in irritation. It was covered in slight frost. Winnifred breathed at it, rubbing the glass with her index finger, sensing how the frost unpleasantly melts on her skin. Four fifty eight. They better hurry up.
The morning silence broke under the painful bang of musical strings. The girls squirmed from the screeching sound.
"Jacob must've dropped his banjo," Charlotte quietly noticed, fixing the backpack up on her shoulders.
"Most likely," Winnifred licked her upper lip and immediately regretted that; the cold instantly sat on the damp lip. A moment later, the tall, lanky Jacob with his large glasses and faithful guitar over the shoulder trudged up the steps. He wordlessly lifted his hand up in greeting. The girls answered the same. The man approached them.
"Are you the first ones?" Jacob inquired, little clouds escaping his mouth as he heaved for more breath.
"Seems like it," Charlotte sighed. Winnifred lifted her eyebrows.
"Did you drop your mandolin, Jacobo?"
"It's called a guitar, Wendy."
Charlotte and Winnifred exchanged a laughing look. Jacob loudly sighed, mirth splashing in his eyes.
"Yes, I did drop my mandolin. I also brought a second one. It's in the backpack."
"Won't that be too heavy?" Charlotte frowned. Winnifred waved her arm in pettiness.
"Relax, Lottie, that's why bring Sammy."
Jacob crooked his eyebrow.
"Really? I thought that was your job." Winnifred slapped his stomach with an over-exaggerated, insulted face, while Charlotte stifled a giggle. Jacob merely chuckled.
"Having fun?" Billy appeared out of nowhere, baggy backpack hanging from one shoulder. He allowed it to slide off, heavily banging on the ground, making Charlotte nervously jerk to the side, and took out his faithful pack of cigarettes.
"Is everyone here? Hey Jacob," He mumbled through a cigarette, cupping his hands next to his mouth. A small spark momentarily ignited in the darkness. Jacob silently shook his hand, taking the offered cigarette, and quickly smoked off Billy's.
"Just the people you see," he answered, smoke rolling off into the air. Billy swore and looked over his shoulder.
"Riley is probably still packing, Mark is washing the dishes, of course, and I have no idea about Samuel."
At that moment, they saw Sammy hurrying to them back and forth like a penguin. A big backpack hovered over his shoulders, complete with two bulky plastic bags hanging from both of his hands.
"Sorry, buddies, you can't believe the lines in the store, hey bud, fetch me a cigarette," Sammy exhaled, letting go off the bags and shaking his red, striped palms. Winnifred grinned. Charlotte shared a knowing glance with Jacob. Billy simply snorted.
"Lines in the store? At five o'clock?" He craftily questioned, fingers twirling the cigarette.
"I know right," Sammy's eyes widened in genuine frustration. Billy smirked.
"Here."
Sammy happily took the offered cigarette. Jacob took out his, staring in discontent at the short butt, then threw it on the ground.
"Did you see Mark and Riley by any chance?" Winnifred asked, massaging her numb fingers. Sammy nodded.
"Yuppie. Mark will be here at any moment. Riley too." Billy rolled his eyes in irritation.
"Relax, Billy," Charlotte asked, eying his restlessness. "What about playing cities?"
"Sure," Jacob easily agreed. "New Orleans."
"San Francisco," Charlotte carried on. "Billy?"
Billy stopped looking around, head snapping back to the company.
"Huh? Which letter?"
"O," Winnifred flatly answered, rocking back and forth on her feet, gaze wandering between the ground and the forest.
"Oh okay, Oral."
"What?" Charlotte asked, creasing her forehead. Billy shortly glanced at her.
"Kazakhstan. Sam?"
Sammy concentratedly fumbled with his cigarette.
"Lansing. Gran lived there."
Billy expectantly glanced at Winnifred.
"Gotham," she tensely said. Everyone suddenly found the ground, prairies in the background, sky in Sammy's case, very interesting. Winnifred pressed her lips together, cursing herself. The city rolled off her tongue automatically, since she kept on thinking about it. What if Heath returned there?
There was commotion in the end of the station. Everyone turned. Riley and Mark were making their way to the company.
"Hola," Mark shortly said.
"Bonjour," Billy sarcastically retorted. Riley wearily lowered his bags on the ground, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"I apologize. I lost my cards."
"Oh no, it's fine," Jacob lightheartedly answered, picking up Riley's bag.
"Yeah right," Charlotte mumbled. "Especially if you're standing her since four thirty."
"No one made you wake up at four, Lottie," Mark noticed, eyes twinkling at the girl. Charlotte rolled her eyes.
"Oh c'mon, Charlotte, the train isn't even here yet!"
As if on a cue, there was a distanced sound of a train whistle. Mark winked to Winnifred.
"See? We're always promptly on time."
The fire pleasantly crackled in the clustering twilight. Jacob thoughtfully picked the strings, watching everyone through his glasses. Billy and Sammy were in a duel of poker. Winnifred was mixing something in the small pot over the fire. Mark and Riley were busy setting up the tents. Charlotte was desperately trying where Riley packed the dishes.
The forest gently whispered among them. The wind mockingly ruffled with his large palm the trees' tall curls of golden and crimson. They were still in seven days of the lake. A small, metal bowl appeared in front of Jacob's nose.
"Here," Charlotte answered. "Chicken soup." Jacob lowered down his guitar on the forest floor and received the dinner with a short smile. In the side, Winnifred was arguing with Billy and Sammy to join the fire, claiming that their game could wait and receiving the counterargument that it couldn't.
They sat in the order they usually did. Mark, Charlotte, Sammy, Jacob, Billy, Heath, Winnifred, and Riley. The order came automatically, requiring no thinking. The chicken soup was a bit salty this time, but the meat was exceptionally soft.
"Thank you, girls," Sammy finally said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Delicious, as always." Winnifred widely smiled and took the bowl from him. Mark was already washing the dishes in the small pot of water. Billy absently dug between his teeth with his nail.
"Well?" Jacob paused. He picked up his guitar and gave it a sudden strum, before forming these strums into a familiar tune.
"I have a mule, her name is Sal..." he started singing, lips stretching into a broad grin.
"Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal," Billy quietly carried on, eyes on his cards. Winnifred chuckled and leaned on his shoulder.
"She's a good old friend, and a good old pal," she tuned in.
"Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal," Charlotte finished. The next stanza started off with Mark, Riley, and Jacob again. Everyone sang the last one. The next one was When Johnny Comes Marching Home. It was one of the favorites. Every song was. All schoolteachers said that they were the most musical generation they've taught. Winnifred couldn't agree more. They didn't have a whole bunch of songs, only the ones they were forced to memorize in the schoolrooms. They were all great songs. Jacob started a catchy tune. Riley tuned in with the second, smaller guitar. Billy sighed, placing down his cards, and stood in front of Winnifred, wordlessly holding out his hand. She smiled and took it. Billy instantly brought her close to him, moving to the tact. Winnifred held his shoulder, watching how Sammy twirls with Charlotte next to them. Mark continued washing the dishes, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Winnifred noticed how Billy's eyes never stopped on any particular object, moving from the fire, to the tree, then to the guitar. Billy caught her stare and smiled.
"Sorry. It's just that I can't look at my partner girls. They blush too quickly. Why I avoid dancing in general."
"Oh c'mon, Billy," Winnifred rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I know you for like forever."
"That's true," Billy smirked and transferred his gaze right on Winnifred. His heavy like lead gaze complete with abyssal eyes drilled Winnifred to the core, not caring to wipe off the splinters that were left on the surface. But Winnifred wasn't giving up. Despite the dizzy heat and redness which burned her cheeks into ashes, Winnifred stubbornly stared at Billy, her eyes watering. A few cool tears slightly relieved the frying cheeks, yet Winnifred did not look down. A twig snapped under someone's shoe. Finally, Billy chuckled and brought Winnifred close to him.
"Little, stubborn girl," he quietly laughed into her ear. Winnifred didn't say anything, excessively blinking and enjoying the immense relief from not being stared by at a live python. Jacob started another familiar tone. Billy turned around, holding Winnifred by the shoulders. Mark and Riley were singing some song, inserting their own words.
"One guy, one girl, one prize, one goal," Sammy bawled off key. Winnifred opened her mouth, and Billy tilted his head to her her better.
"You want to say something?"
"Do I remember what was the continuation of the song?"
Billy absently passed his fingers through his hair.
"I remember that it was fucking inappropriate."
"Oh god." Winnifred closed her eyes with a smile.
They genuinely tried to go to bed or to the tents if you will, early, but obviously failed. It was around four o'clock. The sun was rising in the distance, painting the horizon with burning red. Mark accidentally kicked the teapot. Billy turned around on his side.
"What the fuck?" His not fully opened eyes glared at Mark.
"Sorry, man," Mark apologized in a hushed whisper. "I'm going to river to get the water for the teapot."
"Well do it quietly," Billy snapped, before rolling over to the other side. Mark nodded and exited the male tent. Billy heard him happily whistle and the leaves crunching under his feet as he merrily skipped towards the river.
"Fucking idiot," Billy mumbled and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. Sleep wasn't coming. Billy quietly cursed and rolled over on his back. He lifted his arm upwards and back, hand groping the backpack behind his head. His fingers stumbled over the multiple strings and nets. Billy tensely bent his arm in an uncomfortable position, trying to get the side of his backpack. His fingers dug into the side pocket, nails barely scratching the surface of the cigarette pack. Billy grunted and slightly moved. The fingers loosely grasped around the pack's side and shakily slid it out, before dropping it down on the chest. Billy then did the same for the lighter, inconveniently placed in the opposite side. There was a clicking sound, and smoke spiraled up. Sammy shifted in his place, glancing over his shoulder.
"Are you bloody smoking again?" He sleepily grumbled. "Smoke on the other side!"
Billy obediently turned around, propping his head with his elbow. He absently smoked, eyes studying the tattered, dull orange cloth of the tent. There were no thoughts, just the simple, captivating feeling of early morning. After awhile, the cigarette ended. Billy tucked it inside the pack, then grabbed his murky flannel shirt.
The morning was chilly, the sky burning hot red. Billy observed it for a second, fingers buttoning his shirt, then turned to the fire. The coals were barely burning. Billy shook his head, cursing Mark for being such an idiot, then crouched down. The cold air rasped his throat as he blew down on the soft flame, igniting it to a full-scale fire.
"Good morning," someone sleepily said. Billy looked up and saw Charlotte, the sleep's feathers still clinging to her cheeks.
"Morning, love," Billy responded, standing up. Charlotte scanned their small camp.
"Did someone already get the water?"
"Mark went around ten minutes ago," Billy shrugged.
"Ten?" Charlotte lifted her brows. "It's only two minutes to the river."
"That's why I'm gonna check on him right now."
"Where's Billy going?" Jacob asked, walking out of his tent and noticing his friend leaving into the woods. Charlotte was fixing the dishes.
"To the river to check on Mark."
Little by little, the rest gathered out to the campfire. Winnifred desperately stifled a yawn, the cold unpleasantly stinging her eyes, warming her hands in her hot bowl of soup. Jacob was helping Charlotte with the dishes. Riley was finishing up his breakfast. Sammy was abundantly swearing, his deck of cards flashing in his fingers.
"Hey, did anyone see my six of hearts?" He asked in irritation, looking up with his frustrated eyes.
"No," Riley answered through a mouth full of chicken. "Is it missing?"
Sammy lowly growled and renewed his search. After two minutes, he snapped his head back again.
"Are y'all sure you didn't see it?" He pressed.
"I did."
Winnifred swiveled her head to see Billy leaning on a pine tree, arms crossed on his chest. His face was unusually pale, fingers spasmodically gripping on to his coat.
"Where?" Sammy immediately asked. Billy nodded his head towards the river.
"There." Sammy rushed down. Billy looked down on the ground. Winnifred frowned.
"Billy..." she started. A stifled scream interrupted her. For a moment, everyone was motionless before, like on a cue, rushing after Sammy. Billy simply closed his eyes, then opened them again, walked over to the log where Riley was eating and sat down, covering his face with his hand. Winnifred was the first to reach the river. Instantly, she covered her mouth with her hand, trying to suppress the scream of horror coarsely escaping her threat. Next to the river was Mark, face down. Blood was gushing out of the frightening wound on the back of his head. Six of hearts was pinned in his back.
"Oh my god," Charlotte breathed out. Jacob just stared, eyes wide. Sammy was on the ground, hands pressed to his face.
"B-bbut w-who did this?" Riley stuttered, the color drenched from his face. Winnifred suddenly felt someone's hand tightly press her shoulder. She jerked in surprise. Billy's cigarette soaked breath scorched her neck. The sudden realization came as its fingers pulled down on her heart.
"No, Billy," she hoarsely whispered. He sighed. The fingers ripped off a piece of her heart and tumbled with it into the abyss.
"Why though?" Charlotte quietly asked. The same horror of realization was evident in her look. Billy looked away. He didn't have an answer.
A/N: Tan-tan-tan...Thanks again for all the reviews :))))