The Road to Burden: Chapter 1

When the sun goes down, we rest.

We travel by the mountainous backroads, winding southwest from our little town in northeast Nevada.

On our last day, Krista bought a tent from the local sports store, using the cash from her gig at the Four Scoops. Jeff paid alright – 50 cents above minimum, and Krista always made the most. Jeff never made his girls wear a uniform on account of the money. “A little tit for tips,” the old man would say, flashing a yellow smile and laughing till he coughed.  

The tent was the last thing we needed, the last item on our list of supplies.

And then we were gone.

“You see that?” Krista asks, pointing to a little plateau tucked away in the peaks ahead, shaded by trees. “Let’s set up camp there.”

Krista wanted to leave at the end of March, but I told her we should wait another month, when the weather’s warmer and we have more money. I’m the planner, the careful one who crunches the numbers so we don’t starve or end up in a shelter, which is basically the opposite of what we’re hoping for. In most ways, Krista is my antithesis – she takes all the risks. I keep her feet on the ground, and she pushes the boundaries of my comfort. A system of checks and balances.

We’re twins, but we couldn’t be more different.

It’s early May now, around 70 degrees, but it gets cold at night. I reach in my pack and pull out the canteen, taking a swig. We have enough water from this morning’s gas station trip to last till tomorrow or the next day, if we stretch it, but I never want to cut it close.

We make it to the bluff and pitch our tent. I check my watch. 7:47. We’ve got about an hour to explore the area, but we should be back before dark. I look for rocks, and Krista collects the tinder. It’s our third night on our own, and we’ve kind of established a routine. Stuff for the bonfire, roast the sausages, eat, bed.  

“Look, Lex,” Krista calls. “I found a path!”

A path? We’re at least 5 miles from the closest road. We’ve been hiking south through unincorporated territory for the last few hours, and there were no signs of trails or hikers. Forgotten government land, most likely.

I climb up the rocks to where Krista’s standing about 50 feet away. Sure enough, there’s a narrow footpath curling up the ridge.

“Weird, right?” she says, already turning and starting up the trail.

“Krista, wait,” I say. I check my watch again. 8:11. “We’ve got 40 minutes of light. We should focus on building the fire.”

“We’ll be fiiiiine,” she calls ahead. “I saw plenty of sticks near camp. The dark won’t kill us.”  

I mutter a few curses to myself. I won’t let her go alone, and she knows it.

The path weaves on. We hike in silence, twigs and dead brush crunching underfoot. It feels like time has slowed – every step thick and heavy. I stumble over a boulder, and Krista catches my arm.

When we reach the top, I gasp.

In the valley below is a town. At least, what’s left of one.

I can make out an old school with a playground, the structures rusted and broken, creaking in the wind. A general store, probably 50 years old, windows shattered, the entrance door ripped off its hinges. A post office, library, church, movie theater. A row of old houses. Every building erect but weathered, like gravestones from generations past.    

I shiver. Krista laughs. “My god. This is the last thing I expected.”

She looks at me, and I know what she’s thinking. “Krista, no. We don’t have time. We need to get the fire going before the temperature dips.”

She opens her pack and pulls out two thick sweaters, grinning. “I packed extra.”

I throw on the sweater and cross my arms. I’m suddenly cold in spite of the lingering sunlight.

Krista places her hands on my shoulders. “I know you’re worried we’ll lose sight of where we’re going. Lex, we’ll get there. No one’s going to stop us. Not Ray, or anyone else.”

She draws me in for a hug, and I hold on tight. “I love you. If you really want to go back, we’ll check it out tomorrow.”

I could say, okay. Let’s go back.

I could say, waiting till daytime is smart.

But I should be brave. I’m 17 – an adult in every sense except the legal one. I can’t live my life afraid of everything.

“Let’s do it.”

Krista cheers, dancing around the rocks, and I smile.

Down, down, down the ridge we go.