A felled log lay across the rutted mud trail which twisted up into the woods. It was green with moss, and the soggy, rotten wood sank under our boots, first Sam’s, then mine. The woods breathed around us. They arched overhead, completing a green ceiling that let in beams of hot sunlight, which clung to rising steam. Arms reached out from the trees, snatching at our clothes and skin. The mud was red and thick.
“Smells like a campfire!” Sam called back.
He walked ahead as usual. Birds called out in warning, and leaves russled as squirrels, alarmed by our intrusion, scattered frantically for the safety of higher limbs.
“We should go camping soon,” Sam said, “or hiking. Let’s do the Appalachian!”
“What does this feel like to you then?” I asked.
“This is just a walk in the woods.” He said, “I mean a real hike.”
A mosquito brushed my neck, and I swatted at it. A cool wave settled onto my hot skin. The air here was still, suspended. A dark spider hung in the void above us, wrapping a struggling moth in her deadly blanket.
Sam slipped in the rut and rose with a handful of the red clay, tossing it back playfully. The birds, seeing no imminent danger, turned to singing songs. Melodies rang out around us as we twisted and climbed further. A monarch, large and silent, danced with us as we went.
“Where would we go?” I asked.
Sam paused and looked back wistfully.
“Somewhere with a river.” He smiled, “we could bring fishing poles, and beers.”
“So who’d carry the cooler of beers on this imaginary trip?”
“We’ll bring them in our backpacks, and leave them in the river to cool as we fish.”
He started back up the trail.
“We’ll catch fish for dinner, so we don’t need to bring food. And we’ll take tents and cook our catch by the fire while drinking beers with the stars.”
We came to a curve in the red trail, that broke off in a fork. The smaller off-shoot led down the mountain.
“Which way do you think?” I asked.
“Probably need the road more travelled in this case.” Sam said, and kept hiking up.
“You have a place in mind?” I asked.
“Colorado.” He said, looking ahead. “They have stars in Colorado.”
The red clay pulled at our boots with every step. Sweat started to roll down my back. Little gnats and mosquitos buzzed around my eyes and ears. As the beams through the canopy started changing shades of orange, the trail started to level.
“I heard Colorado has clean rivers, full of trout.” Sam said. “And skies with millions of stars.”
The trees started to open up ahead of us.
“I think I’d like that.”
The smell of campfire around us grew stronger, and smoke started to drift around the tops of the trees near us. In the clearing we saw a small White House with a couch on the porch. The paint was chipping, and the couch was torn and dark. The steps to the large porch were crooked. The door was green, with old mud stains. As we got closer we saw the smoke rising from just beyond the porch, behind the house. A mousey-looking woman peeked out at us from behind the curtains. A old brown lab lay in a patch of sand next to the broken steps. He rose, and stretched, and wandered up to see us.
Sam crouched, taking off his hat. The old lab had silver hairs on his face, and his tail wagged limply as he came up to smell sams hand.
“Look at this old guy,” Sam smiled. The golden sun washed over them.
I looked wearily past them to the side of the house to where the smoke was rising. Sam rose and we walked cautiously around the edge. The woman inside followed our progress at the window. Sam raised his hand to motion for her to be still.
The first thing we saw was the trash. Broken glass and bottles. Broken wooden legs of an old table jutted out like pilars, and cardboard and plastic and old tires were piled sporadically. In the middle of this dump was a rusted fire pit, with a small fire burning, and next to the fire pit stood a man, naked. His hair was gray and as wild as the woods around us. His skin was deep with weathered wrinkles. His feet were bloody and bare. He had a smear of blood down the cheek, and his eyes were furious.
When he saw us he picked up a red can of gasoline, and poured it over his head. The gas splashed around his feet and pooled in the well of an old worn tire.
“Woah!” I said firmly, “we’re only here to help.”
We froze where we were. He turned to the woman inside.
“You bitch!” He screamed.
The woman squeaked and disappeared behind the curtains. He turned back to us. Sam had his hands up over his head, harmlessly, while mine hovered near my hips.
“Frank, right?” He started, “were just here to help. Talk to me.” He smiled at him.
Frank looked back and forth at us, still holding the gas can. He started pacing around the fire pit.
“Frank, can you tell us what’s wrong?” Sam said.
“She called you here huh” Frank said viciously, “she called you here to kill me.”
“She’s just worried about you Frank. She wants to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”
“We’re here to help.” I said.
When I spoke, Frank’s head snapped around. His eyes were black, bloodshot.
“You want to take me away, huh?” He said, pacing. Gas spilled from the red can, splashing down his leg. Sam sat on a tire, and ran his hands through his blonde hair.
“Look, I don’t want to take you away. She called us to help you. Can you just put the gas down and talk?”
I backed away. Frank looked nervously at me, then sam. He put the can down next to the fire pit. He was pacing over the broken glass, leaving bloody footprints with every step. “What’s your dogs name?” Sam asked lightly.
“That’s…that’s Lee,” Frank said, “General Lee.”
The dog was back on the porch, sleeping. I glanced around the yard. Trash was scattered everywhere. An old truck sat on flat tires by the trail we came up on. Frank was standing still now, listing as Sam spoke soothingly. The woman was still behind the curtains. The air was still calm and the monarch still danced above our heads. The birds no longer called, watching solemnly with the squirrels at the drama beneath. The sun still glowed and washed the yard in golden light, hanging on the thin smoke from the fire pit. General Lee rose again from the porch, and walked back towards Sam happily. Sam rose with a bright smile, and turned to pet the General.
“We’ll need a dog like this for Colorado.” He said smiling at me with his blue eyes.
Then Frank dropped the old, gas-doused tire around Sam’s shoulders, who was still smiling at the thought as Frank pulled him backwards into the licking flames.