The Hike

“I told you I didn’t like hiking. But you dragged my ass out into the middle of nowhere anyway and here I am getting nature all up on

me and now this.”

            “Be quiet.”

            “You got a signal?”

            “No.”

            “Do you even know where we are?”

            “Yes.”

            “Okay, where are we? And, more important, how are we gonna report this?”

            “Not sure.”

            “Would you mind giving me more than two word answers? I’m here trippin’ and you’re all cool as a cucumber over there telling me to be quiet and not sure and...”

            “I’m thinking.”

            “See? That’s what I’m talking about! You’re keeping it all inside. Let it out, Boo! Gimme some details so I’m in on the thinking. ‘Cause, I don’t know where we are. I don’t know how to get outta here. All I know is we’re two Black women in the wilderness and we done stumbled upon this deadass body that’s got flies and maggots on it. You know I’ve never seen a dead body before, despite my Brooklynness. And now I’m just rambling away ‘cause I’m nervous and scared and filling in the silence ‘cause you’re not talking to me at all, and that boy’s really bloated and I’m hot...

            “We’re not supposed to be here.”

            “What?”

            “We’re not supposed to be here.”

            “Why not?”

            “This is Indian land.”

            “The fuck! Like, Indian-Indian? Native American Indian? Casino Indian?”

            “Yeah, Native American land.”

            “You mind telling me why we are trespassing on Native American land?”

            “Remember a couple of years ago when I dated that Apache man? We would hike all over this land. I wanted to show you this place because it’s so scenic.”

            “I don’t think bloat boy feels the same way.”

            “He doesn’t look Native either.”

            “Another trespasser. Dammit, how are we gonna get outta this?

.

.

Wait! Call him. Call that guy you used to date. The Apache. Call him. He’s a cop, right? He can help.”

            “Was. He was part of the tribal police. He’s not anymore.”

            “But maybe he can still help. He’s probably still got connections. We’re on their land, aren’t we? Let’s go someplace to get a signal and call him.”

            “It’s not that simple.”

            “It is that simple.”

            “No, it’s not.”

            “What’s the fuckin’ problem?”

            “Last I heard, he got married.”

            “What’s that got to do with it? It’s not like you’re looking to hook up with him. You’re trying to solve a problem. A real problem.”

            “He’s not going to want to deal with me or a dead body. He won’t want to be disrespectful to his wife. And Native Americans have traditions and taboos around dead bodies. Plus this one is not Native.”

            “So, let’s call the local sheriff.”

            “Native land. No jurisdiction.”

            “Who’s got jurisdiction?”

            “FBI.”

            “Shit. And we’re trespassing.”

            “That’s why I’m thinking.”

            “You shoulda thought before bringing me out here. You shoulda thought, ‘Hey, maybe trespassing on Indian land maybe isn’t such a bright idea. Maybe I shouldn’t take my best friend who doesn’t like hiking on a hike to someplace off-fucking-limits.’”

            “You’re getting hysterical.”

            “Damn straight I’m getting hysterical. We’re in the middle-of-nowhere, Arizona. You’re telling me that maybe we have to call the FBI to investigate a dead body we found on Native American land while we were trespassing on it. Yeah, I can get down with hysterical.”

            “We don’t have to tell anyone.”

            “Do you hear yourself?”

            “This guy could have been a coyote. Or a drug smuggler. He may have been somebody really bad.”

            “Or he may have been someone like us, just a trespasser only without enough water. Someone with a family. Someone whose family is missing him.”

            “We should go.”

            “Wait, I’m taking his picture.”

            “That’s gruesome.”

            “Yeah, but maybe it’ll help someone identify him.”

            “I’m leaving.”

            “Wait up. Don’t just leave me here. I don’t know my way around. You know that! Jesus, what has happened to you? Living in this heat has fried your brains or something. I said wait up!”

            “Keep up.”

            “I am keeping up. You just started walking while I was still taking bloat boy’s picture.”

            “See how beautiful it is around here?”

            “Yeah, yeah, it’s fucking pastoral. How can you just not think about what we just left back there? Like maggot man was not there or something? ‘Cause walking away from him doesn’t make him not exist.”

            “I compartmentalize.”

            “Aja, honey, listen. We’ve gotta be smart about this. We can’t just pretend we didn’t see a corpse. It was there. We have to report it to someone. Call the Apache man, the cop...” 

            “Former cop.”

            “Okay, former cop you used to date. Let him give us some guidance. Let’s keep the FBI out of this. Let the Apache man tell us what to do. It’s Apache land. He would probably know better than the FBI anyway. And you know someone always sees. Even when you’re this remote, someone always sees something. Someone saw us park the car or they saw the car. Someone knows we’re out here. Someone is gonna connect us to that dead body.”

            “I still can’t get a signal.”

            “Did you hear anything I said?”

            “I heard everything you said. It’s why I keep checking for a signal.”

            “Oh. Well. Okay. How far away is the car?”

            “Just up over that rise.”

            “Maybe my phone will work.”

            “Yes. I hope so. I can’t believe you left it in the car.”

            “Don’t start.”

            “I’m not starting anything. You’ve been so negative about this whole hike.”

            “That’s because I don’t like hiking. I told you that. But you made me get up before the ass-crack of dawn, get in the car, and drive for hours to this place I now know to be off-limits to us and it’s been downhill from there.”

            “Well, you’ve been a pretty crappy guest.”

            “You haven’t been a crackerjack host.”

            “It’s been all about you.”

            “It’s my vacation. Who the hell else is it supposed to be about?”

            “Well, you could have at least tried to be enthusiastic for a couple of things that I like. It’s like, it’s like...

            “Like what?”

            “Like how are we even friends at all? And we’re supposed to be best friends? Where did we lose ourselves?”

            “You’re the one who moved away.”

            “Sure. Blame me for growing. That’s too easy. Haven’t you grown at all?”

            “Of course I’ve grown. (Sigh) Maybe we’re just growing apart...I don’t have a signal either, Aja.”

            “Kimla, when I moved out here, I thought it was going to be this great new chapter of my life. But, it’s been really hard. I have some friends but no one close. Not close like us. It’s because no one I’ve met out here will understand the struggle the way a Black woman does. So I keep to myself most of the time. It’s lonely. I was so looking forward to your visit, just to talk and trip and relax. I guess I should have asked you what you were expecting to do. My ideas of fun have changed, and a lot of that is due to the weather, yes. I like to do a lot more outdoor things than I did in Brooklyn, because I can. But, we should focus more on what you want to do on the rest of your trip. It’s your vacay.”

            “Thank you. And I’ll try to be a less crappy guest.”

            “I’d appreciate that. Now, since neither of us can get a signal, let’s go visit the man. He doesn’t live too far from here.”

            “What?”

            “Yes. He’s about two miles from here.”

            “If I didn’t just agree to be a less crappy guest, I’d strangle you, Aja.”

            “I’m driving.”

            “I’d figure it out.”

            “At this speed? We’d both be dead.”

            “Ase! But could you slow down a little?”

            “You’re not used to ungraded roads.”

            “Oh, that’s what we’re on? I thought it was a dirt path.”

            “It’s called that, too.”

            “I’m just waiting for a cow or deer or something to pop out of nowhere in front of the car.”

            “You’re all Brooklyn. No animals will be popping out in the heat of the day.”

            “You’re right I’m all Brooklyn. And you used to be. Thanks for slowing.”

            “We’re here.”

            “This is it? You weren’t kidding that he was close.”

            “Wait. Don’t get out.”

            “Why not?”

            “Respect. We have to wait until someone comes out to greet us.”

            “Are you kidding me? Look at this place, it’s like some sort of strange outdoor museum.”

            “Kimla, it’s a Native custom. We don’t just barge in uninvited. They know someone’s here. If they want company, they’ll come to the door. And yes, this is the way he keeps his place. He collects...things.”

            “So we just sit and wait here in the car?”

            “Yes.”

            “For how long?”

            “As long as it takes.”

            “What if no one comes?”

            “Then we leave.”

            “Aja, it’s so fucking hot. Can you turn the car back on so we can have some AC?”

            “No. Grow up. That’ll mean we’re leaving and nobody will come out.”

            “UGGGHHHH! I want to look around at the hubcap collection. And the animal skulls. And, how many Harleys does he have?”

            “Four or five when I was with him.”   

            “Okay, definitely want to look at those. And are those snakeskins hanging down from the shed? And what’s with all the corrugated metal? Are those taxidermied skunks? Holy shit, look at all those quail running around! And, oh my god, the license pla...”

            “Hush. Look. Somebody’s at the door. It’s him, Ben.”

            “Can we get out of this toaster now?”

            “Yes, but let me do the talking, okay?”

            “Fine!”

            “Well, hello! I never thought I’d see you around here again.”

            “Hi, Ben. It’s good to see you. This is my friend, Kimla.”

            “Nice to meet you.”

            “Same, same.”

            “How’s your mother doing?”

            “She’s still on the plot of land right over there chasing her chickens. She has her aches and pains but I take her to the doctor to get her fixed up. She’ll be 78 in a few months.”

            “That’s good, Ben. I’m glad. Uh, Ben, do you have a few minutes to chat? We could really use your advice.”

            “Why sure. Why don’t you two come on in out of this heat? I have some Cokes if you want.”

            “Thanks, Ben. That’s kind of you. Um, I heard you might have gotten married..?”

            “Heh, sure did! She’s a fine woman, too. She’s at work right now.”

            “We won’t keep you very long.”

            “Did Aja tell you I asked her to marry me and she said no? Betcha she didn’t. Yep. She could have had all this land with everything on it and the trailer, too. But she didn’t want it. She didn’t want me.”

            “Ben...”

            “And now you’re back and you brought a friend.”

            “Ben, we ran into a bit of a situation.”

            “And you need ol’ Ben’s help. C’mon, c’mon, don’t let the dog scare you. She’s big and she bites, but just show her you’re the boss. Looks like she remembers you, Aja.”

            “Kimla, you okay?”

            “I don’t like big dogs.”

            “Just let her sniff your hand. Hold your hand out like this and let her take a good whiff.”

            “What’s her name?”

            “Dog.”

            “Here are those Cokes I promised you. Dog, go lay down!”

            “Thank you.”

            “Thanks.”

            “Why don’t you two ladies take seats? Ahhh, nothing like a Coke to take care of your thirst on a hot day like today.”

            .

            .

            .

            .

            “Ben, do you still have any tribal police connections? Someone who does investigations or some work like that?”

            “I might. So, you’re not from around here, huh? You from back east, too?”

            “Mm, yes, from Brooklyn. Aja and I are best friends. I heard quite a bit about you.”

            “Say, didya? I’m trying to remember hearing about you, but I don’t remember names so good. What’s your name again?”

            “Kimla.”

            “Hmm, nope. Sorry. Can’t say I remember hearing it. But Aja was kinda secretive about her life back east so I’m not surprised.”

            “Ben, we were hiking on Apache land and...”

            “Oh, that’s a big no-no. And you want to turn yourselves in. I can help you with that.”

            “Ben, stop it! It’s serious. We came across a dead body.”

            “Whoa. Could you tell if it was Native? Male or female?”

            “It was a bloated male. It didn’t look Native. Kimla took some pictures to help identify it.”

            “Where were you?”

            “Up on the road headed to Destiny Pines.”

            “Of all the places, Aja.”

            “Ben, I know, but let’s just focus on this situation. We don’t know what to do. Who do we report it to? Tribal police? The FBI? We’re hoping you can tell us the right thing to do.”

            “Well now, on the road to Destiny Pines. That road forks off to a couple of other places. It’s a known smuggling road and also one used by coyotes. You said this was a non-Native male?”

            “Yes.”

            “Let me think a bit.”

            .

            .

            “Not much to do. He was probably a smuggler and a bag of whatever he was carrying busted inside him. Tribal police won’t want to touch it. You could call the FBI, but how are you going to explain being on Tribal land without a permit? Nope. Leave it alone. Earth called him back.”

            “I was kind of thinking the same thing.”

            “Wait. Aja. You saw what he looked like. Ben, here, look.”

            “No, thank you.”

            “Yes, look. Don’t either of you have consciences? He was a person! And now he’s decomposing on Apache land.”

            “Please take that camera away from me. If he’s decomposing on our land, that’s just the way his life was meant to go. We can’t bring him back.”

            “I can’t believe what I’m hearing!”

            “Kimla! Wait!”

            “You better catch up to her.”

            “I have the keys. Ben, thank you. I know this wasn’t easy for you.”

            “If he was Native, it would have been different.”

            “I hope you’re happy, Ben. I always wanted that for you.”

            “Then you should have married me.”

            “Goodbye, Ben.”

            .

            .

            “Get in. I told you to let me do the talking.”

            “He asked me some direct questions.”

            “Really? ‘Don’t either of you have consciences?’ That was a reply to what question exactly?

            .

            .

            Right. It was just you popping off. Again.”

            .

            .

            “What did he mean by, ‘Of all places, Aja.’?”

            “Destiny Pines was where he proposed to me.”

            “You were taking me to where he proposed to you? Woman, are you in therapy, ‘cause if you’re not, you need to be.”

            .

            .

            .

            .

            “We’re taking Ben’s advice. He’s right. He confirmed my thinking, that we should just leave this whole situation alone. We never saw that body, Kimla. Pretend it never happened. You should delete the photos on your phone.”

            “It did happen, Aja. I cannot unsee that corpse. What if that were you or me out there being eaten by maggots, rotting away without a proper burial...”

            “It’s not...”

            “But it could be...”

            “But it’s not...”

            “Your mother would be heartbroken. Your father would be so hurt and angry. Your brothers would come out to Phoenix to search for you. And they wouldn’t be searching in the right place ‘cause

            “Stop it!”

            “...your body would be decomposing...”

            “Stop it, Kimla!”

            “...somewhere on Indian land where no one knows how to find it.”

            “Kimla! I can’t. I’m not getting involved. I just won’t. You heard Ben.”

            “Yeah, I heard Ben and I’m not real impressed with your choice there. Glad you didn’t marry him.”

            “Don’t make me pull this car over!”

            .

            .

            “You still love him. Why’d you say ‘no’?”

            “You saw where and how he lives. Do you really think I could live like that?”

            “Mm. When we get back to your place, I’m gonna pack. My vacation’s over...Aja, I can’t guarantee I won’t go to the FBI.”

            “I know.”

            “You got any messages you want me to bring back to anyone back home?”

            “Nothing specific. You might want to mention I’m looking for a new best friend.”

(c) LisaRose Blanchette