Hunted Past Reason by Richard Matheson Page B

muttered.
    "Well, I saw how uptight you were before when I was bathing and I thought maybe it was a problem for you."
    "No." Bob wished his voice didn't sound so faint. What the hell brought all this on? he wondered.
    "I did it a few times when I was about twenty," Doug said casually. "Then I decided that I liked pussy a hell of a lot more."
    Bully for you, Bob thought.
    "Well . . ." Doug clucked. "We'd better get some sleep. Here."
    Bob twitched as something landed on his chest. Opening his eyes, he saw that it was an energy bar.
    "I already brushed my teeth," he said.
    "Eat it anyway," Doug told him. "Help to keep you warm."
    Bob grunted, then, obediently, ate the energy bar, visualizing the nuts and peanut butter in between his teeth all night. He'd get out of the sleeping bag and out of the tent and brush his teeth again if he wasn't so tired.
    "Here," Doug said.
    He took what Doug was holding out: a twig. "More protein?" he said.
    "No," Doug said as though Bob really thought that. "Clean your teeth with it."
    "Oh, yeah."
    "Well, good night," Doug said, closing his eyes and sighing. "Long day tomorrow," he added.
    Bob made a face, crossing his eyes. Looking forward to it, an insincere voice remarked in his head.
    10:31 PM
    Good God, he thought. He would have sworn that, by now, he'd be sleeping like a dead man. Conversation before with Doug had seemed in doubt because of his exhaustion. Now Doug was asleep, it was quiet, and here he was still awake.
    Quiet? he thought. It sounded as though half the wildlife in the forest was prowling around— in search of food no doubt. He saw now the value of Doug suspending their food from that limb. At one point, he heard something clawing at, he assumed, the trunk of the tree the food was hanging from. What had it been? A raccoon, he hoped, not a grizzly bear. No, Doug had said there were no grizzly bears in this area. Black bears though. Their claws and teeth were just as rending as those of a grizzly. He'd lain in rigid silence, trusting that the creature, whatever it was, would get discouraged presently and move on, which it did.
    Little noises persisted though. Crackling, snapping, gnawing sounds. Mice? He hoped so. He visualized them crawling in and out of his backpack pockets, scavenging for food. Well, it's their territory, he told himself. We're the interlopers. It didn't help to alleviate his uneasiness.
    But it was more than prowling critters that kept him awake; he was well aware of that. His side ached. He'd taken a Tylenol for that— and for his scraped palm that seemed to alternate between itching and hurting. He didn't dare scratch it though; that would only make it worse. And he was extremely tired. His entire body seemed to ache, mostly his legs. I need to rest! he thought in angry desperation. Why couldn't he?
    Two reasons, his mind told him, one physical, one mental— or was it emotional? It could very well be.
    First of all, he wasn't sure that, physically, he was going to manage this hike. It was only the end of the first day and already he felt as though he'd gone through a round with Mike Tyson. What if he, literally, conked out before the hike was completed? Hell, before it was half completed? What could he do, ask Doug to carry him to the cabin? Sure, absolutely.
    And yet they couldn't go back. What good would that do? So they made the spot where they'd started out. Then what? Wait for a car to pick them up? It was October. Traffic was not likely to be too heavy. They'd seen one car after they'd reached the park.
    Anyway, he couldn't bear the thought of how Doug would look at him if he quit now.
    Doug.
    That was the second thing, of course, and more than arguably the worst one.
    To be honest with himself— and he was trying to be— he wasn't sure about Doug. He was pretty rough on me today, he thought. Endless little digs and criticisms, all unnecessary. Bob had made it clear from the start that he was uneasy about the hike. He wanted to do it very much,