Take the Hill ~ [1.2]

He ran across the main trail, a sloppy two-track service road, then began the ascent. Straight up with no time to rest. The rain was now a heavy drizzle. Still plenty of sound camouflage, most likely. But the storm was starting to clear.

Three minutes. I think that's all I need.

He needs to get on top and out of sight quick. Maybe a little more at this age. Another gamble.

Odds probably worse than a coin toss this time. Not good considering the consequence.

The air was thick. The climb was hard. He tripped again, a quick slip on the wet grass. He barely noticed and kept hiking hard.

Don’t cough. Be as quiet as possible. Move fast.

He feels heavy. His dripping sweatshirt and torn double-jeans* are adding pounds to the effort.

Half way. Slow down a little so you can make it. Gotta catch my breath. Keep going.

He hears a truck coming up the main trail. Around him lay scattered tree carcasses, dead and downed remains from the earlier small fire. He crouched behind one, finding the yellow long grass spongy and comfortable. No mud and not too sloppy right here.

A black SUV came into view and sloshed down the two-track road. There are more out here looking for him. How many would be hunting? The bounty for his D-Scan** alone wouldn’t be worth that much to split.

The truck was almost gone. Far enough away at this point. Nobody saw him. This moment gave him a chance to breathe. It also gave him the feeling of a sharp nervous fire inside his belly, like his heart and stomach were melding inside.

Finish the climb.

It was steeper toward the top. Hiking straight up is so much harder than using switchbacks, even for this well-conditioned 73-year-old man.

Once at the top of the incline he scrambles toward the thick shrubs and trees beyond. Moving fast through scrub oak and pine trees, he trudges into the forest. He’s close to the old Lowell astronomy campus. It shouldn’t be more than a thousand feet northeast through the woods. The burned crumbling buildings would provide cover. The landmark will provide directive. However, this could be a really bad thing if anyone else were up there.

Gotta be deserted right now from the rain. Hopefully.

Sometimes older kids went up there to fuck and smoke. For the younger ones it became the most serious of dares to hike up and come back with a souvenir of proof. A while back—after the tragic Moon Fire—the gunkwick soldiers camped up here on occasion. Seventeen years ago to be exact. They don’t anymore.

⥈

The recently discovered stories encoded by Yunipter recount our heroes ambushing them at night when they saw campfires or heard drunk laughter echoing down from the mountain.

According to the encryption files, this was likely to have occurred in the late 2040’s. ‘Undefined per-annum’ it reads when this entry is located inside a folder named . It’s not a corrupted file. This period is just poorly organized.

“What's my plan?!” He whispered out loud again.

He could smell himself. Smell his own thoughts. There wasn’t any wind, but he worries a down draft from the rain will carry his scent. That elk-hound looked fierce. It sounds like a demon.

Did he just hear it again? Down and over to the west?

Damn. Where are they?

Soon he will see the several structures and rooms where half-standing buildings surround the old dome-shaped telescope houses.

The hunters might come all the way up too, if they continue following the north trail.

Either that or they backtracked by now.

He keeps hoping. He hopes they’re searching off-trail. He also knows hiding out up there is a bad idea. But he needs to pass through the campus area and make it over and down to safety. Or some form of safety. Safer than staying up on this hill of a mountain.

40% chance they’ll just happen upon me right here within five minutes. That dog will find me.

On the move again, headed for the burnt out Lowell facility. He counts every five steps.

5 , 4 , 3 , 2 , 1 … Stop and listen.

Nothing but the lightest sound of dripping trees and dying rain. The storm had mostly stopped. The day was getting late and the clouds were getting thin. A large glowing streak of blue peaks through the southeastern horizon, bright oranges and deep purples illuminate the sky through a clearing in the west.

He’s almost there, it’s visible in the near distance.

A third of the large rotunda wall is in ruins. Destroyed by the '045 Moon Fire. The huge cylindrical body of the broken telescope is exposed from within. It looks like a grotesquely revealed tibia bone; like when a bloody compound fracture punctures the skin of somebody’s lower leg.

He’s moving forward with stoic caution, clear-eyed and intentional.

I have a plan.