Page 13

13

GAP Mile 92.3, Between Clarksville and Union Hill

A fter a breakfast of toast topped with peanut butter and Will’s homemade berry preserves, Bodhi consulted his trail guide and map to prepare for his day’s walk.

“Where to today?” Will asked.

“Union Hill. But I want to stop at the history center outside town before it closes.”

Will leaned over the map. “You’ll have to hustle. That place closes at four.”

“You’ve been?”

Will nodded. “Couple times. Dot and my mom are big history nerds. Sometimes they drag me along. It’s worth seeing. I hear they have a new exhibit about the coal town.”

“Do you want to join me?”

“Wish I could, but I only close for a few hours between the lunch rush and dinner.”

“That’s my cue.” Bodhi shouldered his pack. “Thanks again for letting me stay here. It was kind of you.”

Will brushed off his gratitude. “Any friend of Aunt Dot’s is welcome here. Besides, you saved my bacon, er, tofu, during the dinner rush.” He handed Bodhi a small paper bag. “Some apples and homemade granola for the trail. Union Hill’s a good hike from here.”

They stepped out onto the porch and walked as far as the burger stand together.

“You sure you don’t want a lift to the trailhead?”

“Positive.” He’d kept the man from his work long enough.

“Okay, then just follow the road until you get to the vape shop. You can cut across the park to meet up with the trailhead instead of staying on the road. It’ll save you some time.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Take care,” Will said.

They shook hands, then Bodhi set off, rejoining the trail as it wound around the far side of the lake.

As he followed the curve of the path, he saw Will rolling up the burger stand’s metal door to start his day’s work. He climbed the hill, and Will shrank to a pinprick in the distance.

Bodhi hugged the road’s narrow shoulder as it wound toward town. Traffic was light, but most of the drivers zipping by him seemed to take the posted speed limit as nothing more than a gentle suggestion. When he reached the vape shop and saw the sign for the Clarksville Community Park, he let out a soft, relieved sigh.

He waited for a break in the traffic to cross over to the park entrance. As he was about to step into the street, a silver sports car sped toward him, coming from the direction of Clayton Falls. He jumped back.

A second later, the car screeched to an abrupt stop as a school bus headed toward Clayton Falls stopped and extended its stop-sign arm. As the driver opened the door to pick up a gaggle of middle schoolers, Bodhi studied the occupants of the car— identified by its badge as a Jaguar. Two men, both clad in fleece jackets, sat, staring straight ahead, not speaking as they waited for the bus driver to close the door and pull in the stop sign.

He wondered idly if this was the same car and the same men who’d shown up at Billy’s Burgers after Will had closed up last night. He turned to take a closer look at the pair, but just then the bus pulled away, and the Jaguar shot forward and raced away, the loud purr of the engine fading as the car disappeared from view.

He crossed the street, walked past a basketball court that featured a pair baskets with ripped and dangling nets, one backboard missing its glass. Then he cut through the empty playground and found the footpath that led to the GAP trail.

When he reached a fenced-in private yard, he thought he’d strayed from his course until he read the small wooden sign mounted near the gate: Hikers and bikers, please be sure to close and latch both gates behind you. Safe travels.

He did as instructed, sending his gratitude to the property owners who saw fit to share their access to the GAP freely.

On the other side, the trail widened. Twenty yards later, he spotted the marker that meant he was back on the GAP. The path unspooled at his feet, pulling him forward toward Union Hill.