Page 101 of The Quit List
Holly’s words shake me from my unbelievably gooey thoughts and I whip my head up to look where she’s pointing.
Sure enough, there are a couple of hikers in the distance, coming our way. The first humans we’ve seen since we arrived in the wilderness.
Rick, currently on a rope leash attached to my backpack, makes a sudden and unexpected low growl in his throat.
“Shh,” I caution him. It’s so unlike him to growl, I’m surprised. From what I can see from here, the hikers don’t appear to be a threat. Rick ignores me and growls again. “Rick Astley, stop that!”
He does not stop that.
Holly frowns down at Rick, then turns worried brown eyes on me. “Should we be concerned?”
“I mean, it’s highly unlikely that they’re anything other than fellow backpackers.” I squint into the distance. “They probably just spooked Rick or something. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Of course, that’s when the screaming starts.
“Help!” one of them bellows, waving their arms as the other chants, “SOS! SOS! SOS!”
They don’t slow their pace, now heading our way and picking up speed.
“They’re in trouble.” Holly’s hand tightens on my arm and Rick growls again. “What should we do?!”
My first instinct is that they’re running from something, and I take a moment, take a deep breath, and think about our best move.
Being out in the wilderness on my own so often, I’ve come across my fair share of precarious situations. In those cases, time has always slowed around me as I channeled my inner calm. Now, I’m gratified to find that I’m calm as always as I step slightly in front of Holly and Rick.
While a part of me wants to walk out to meet (and maybe help) the pair running towards us, I don’t want to leave Holly alone. Besides, Rick is still acting like Michael Myers and Freddie Kruger are coming at us—I don’t think he’d take well to me striding over to a pair of horror-movie serial killers. So I cup my hands by my mouth as I call out to them, “Are you hurt?”
At this point, they’re close enough that I can make out their forms. It’s two men who—judging by the way they’re running—don’t appear to be injured. Physically, at least.
But they’re also wearing… helmets? And they’re holding large objects I can’t quite see yet, but they glint and shine in the setting sun.
What in the absolute hell?
“Save us!” one of them shouts.
Well. That’s ominous.
Though I can’t actually see anything chasing the men, I quickly unhook a couple of bear sprays from the back of my pack and pass one bottle to Holly, while grabbing the other for myself.
“Remember how to use this?” I ask as I step fully in front of her, shielding her from… exactly what, I’m not sure. The two helmet-wearing maniacs themselves? A charging bear? An actual sasquatch?
“I think so.” Holly’s voice is a little shaky.
“Remove the safety clip, check for wind direction…” My voice is quiet but firm as I recite the steps I taught her before we left the cabin.
That’s when I notice that the helmets the men are wearing are of the Viking variety. Complete with big-ass horns.
Not only that, but I can make out what the men are carrying now: swords.
Swords!
Rick growls again, and all I can think is that I’ve brought this beautiful, incredible woman to the mountains to die at the hands of madmen.
Then, one of them stops. Halting in his tracks so suddenly that the other one almost barrels right into him, like some kind of second-rate Bugs Bunny cartoon.
“Wait up, Phil,” the first one says. “I don’t think that’s Don and Steve.”
Don and Steve?