There was no shoe, no sock. Just a bare foot. A woman's.
I took another cautious step. Now I could see two pairs of intertwined legs.
Great. Someone had stollen away to the spring last night to sleep together. Why hadn't they just used one of the rooms? They must have been freezing.
I tried to tiptoe past without waking them, doing my best to avert my eyes. For a moment I thought I was going to have to talk with Chris about throwing vodka parties that only encouraged people to succumb to unregulated relations. Then I caught myself. Unregulated relations? I was starting to sound like the Home Guard. If people wanted to have fun, who was I to stop them?
Just when I thought I'd passed by unnoticed, the woman startled and sat up quickly, shivering as she hurried to pull a wayward sleeping bag over her legs.
For a moment, we locked eyes.
It was my mom.
Oh my freaking God. The last thing I wanted to see on my peaceful morning walk was my dad lying naked on a bed of icy pebbles. My mom's eyes were wide with mortification. Before she could say anything I hurried to turn away and leave.
But just before I did, I saw that the man she'd been lying with wasn't my dad.
It was Ed.
He was just sitting there staring at me, ashamed. He whipped the sleeping bag over his lap and hung his head. Just the afternoon before, I'd helped him strategize about how long he should lie low at the hideout before risking a return to his house, and now here he was sleeping with my mom.
All I could think about was my dad. I was disgusted at the sight of my mom—my mom—lying naked with Ed, but most of that disgust was at the thought of my dad finding out about this. He would be heartbroken.
"Ashley," my mom whispered. "It's not what—" she shook her head in pathetic denial about what I'd just caught her doing. "I'm . . . it's just that . . ."
That's when I heard the low, rustling murmur of voices again. Maybe the wind changed, but for a brief moment the sound I'd heard when I'd woken was suddenly clearer. But it wasn't the sound of conversation, as I'd assumed earlier. It was the echoes of restrained heavy breathing, sighs of pleasure, and the rustling of sleeping bags punctuated occasionally by nipping moans.
What was happening? Were half of the refugees having sex? Had they all been going at it all night?
"Ashley." My mom gave me a pleading look while Ed busied himself searching for his jeans. She shook her head again, clutching the sleeping bag to her shoulders. "I'm so sorry. . ."
The murmuring from the dwellings rose up again. A woman's voice faintly cried out in ecstasy.
I dropped the plastic water bottles and raced up the trail.
What was going on? I had to find Chris, fast.
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