I finished up my last input sheet and tossed my blue pen down. I couldn't have been more excited to finally be done with a long work week and head off to the mountains for my solo camping trip.
I slipped my feet back in my red heels and scooped up my purse, locking my office door behind me. I couldn't wait to hit the road. Three hours of my windows down and music blaring was exactly what I needed. I yearned to reset my mind in the crisp forest air. I wanted to find somewhere I had never been before and explore.
"Have a good weekend, Addy," Jill called as I walked by her office.
I waved at her and pushed the back door open. The sun sat low bathing the sky in pink and orange. It was too late to drive up and set up camp, but I could at least make the drive and sleep in the back of my truck.
I hopped into my white Toyota Tacoma and tossed my purse to the passenger seat. Relief washed over me as I kicked off my heels. I hated the damn things anyway. The only good that came from them was the muscle built in my calves.
I propped my foot up on the black leather seat, momentarily admiring how deep and golden my burnt umber skin had turned from the hours I spent outdoors. I was sad to see fall shift to winter, forcing my camping trips to a close for the year. I would miss the warmth of the sun on my face and the countless weekends I spent lakeside. While I loved Christmas time and being with my family, I enjoyed my summers alone.
I pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards the freeway. As I made the drive out of town, I blared Chris Stapleton through the speakers and left all windows down. In a matter of hours the scent of fresh pine and clean air filled my truck. There was nothing quite like the cleansing sense of being out in nature with only myself to rely on.
After a couple hours, I pulled off the freeway and consulted the map from my purse. My eyes trailed over the highlighted roads I planned to take. I checked my phone one last time before shutting it off and placing it in the glovebox. It wouldn't work with how far out I was going and I wanted to be fully unplugged for the weekend. I kept a satellite phone for emergencies, but never saw the need to use it. Part of me didn't want anything electronic at all, but I wasn't going to be stupid either. I wasn't anti-technology; I wanted to immerse myself in the experience. I wanted to be disconnected since I spent my entire life in technology.
I pulled back onto the road for a few more miles before turning off on a secluded backroad. My truck was built for off-roading and I took advantage.
I traveled the road until it turned to dirt and a steep incline. I dropped my hand on the rattling metal cup in the holder next to me and propped my sunglasses on top of my head. I ventured east, further up the mountain than I had been before. A good ten miles off the paved path I finally came to a clearing.
I slowed to a stop and threw the truck in park. I dug around in the back seat to retrieve a pair of sneakers and hopped out. I was far enough off the beaten path that I doubted any other campers would stumble on me.
I breathed in the fresh mountain air and listened to the sounds around me. The low hum of insects and the babble of a soft creek was music to my ears. I unlatched my tailgate and pulled out the best tent-investment I had ever made. After a midnight run in with a lost bear cub and days of research, I found a tent that fit perfectly in the bed of my truck. I worried less about critters finding their way into my tent and enjoyed watching the stars through the removable mesh roof. The twin size air mattress wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it sure beat the hard ground.
There was something cathartic about setting up a campsite. I followed the same routine my parents showed me growing up. I set up in the same order every single time; it worked and it was comforting. Granted, I wasn't doing the deep backcountry hiking my parents enjoyed. They were well into their fifties and still hitting the Pacific Crest Trail for three and a half months in early summer. I preferred the East side of Yosemite and Kings Canyon towards the Nevada boarder. While remote, there were still little towns that I enjoyed like Mammoth and Lee Vining.
I hustled to finish my tent before sun down, but didn't have time for a fire. I whipped out a flashlight and hurried to pump up the air mattress.
As I finished, I sighed and tossed the pump in the back seat of my truck. I took a second to look around and assess my surroundings for the next few days.
Silence.
Absolute and utter silence overwhelmed me. A wave of unease washed through me. The only sound was the running water. The insects were silent. There wasn't a single animal rustling leaves.
I swallowed hard; I had the distinct feeling of being watched. My stomach knotted as I searched the tree line. The fading sun casted shadows through the trees only adding to my nerves.
It couldn't have been an animal. An animal would have pounced already. My chosen area was so remote I doubted it was a human though.
I slowly made my way to the back door of my truck, careful not to alert whatever was watching me until I could get to my gun. Whatever it was, I wasn't taking any chances.
As I circled my hand around the door handle, something slammed into my back and cracked my head on the door; the sheer force knocked the wind out of me. Spots danced behind my eyes as I desperately tried to pull the door open. My heavy arms refused to cooperate and my vision narrowed, the edges of my sight fading to black.
Blood trickled down my face and all I could think of was that an animal would have already gone in for the kill. It had to be a human attacking me.
Before I could react, a cold hand wrapped around the back of my neck and slammed my forehead into the door again.
