The Mountain King by Rick Hautala

down. He might be up there for several days, maybe even a week or more, combing the area as thoroughly as he could. 
    A shiver raced through him as he stared at the gloomy shadows still as thick as ink beneath the heavy pine boughs and thick brush. It was warm down here, but he knew that the closer he got to the summit, the colder it would get. Sucking in a deep breath, he hoisted his backpack and shrugged his arms into the shoulder straps. After adjusting the frame so it rode comfortably on his back, he turned to Sandy. 
“So what is it?” he asked. His voice was low and tempered as he held eye contact with her. 
“What’s what?”  
“You’re keeping something from me.” 
Sandy looked at him, surprised. 
“You don’t think I can tell? Come on, babe—tell me what’s the matter.” 
Sandy shrugged and rubbed her arms as though fighting off a rush of chills. “No . . . I . . . nothing’s the matter.” 
Liar! she accused herself. 
She knew exactly what was wrong! 
Ever since last weekend, she had wanted to tell her father about the weekend visit Polly had with Dennis while he was away. She wasn’t any fool. She knew damned well what was going on between her stepmother and Dennis, but how was she supposed to tell her father? Blurt it right out? 
    Uh, Dad . . . there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you . . . you know, last week, when you were off hiking, your wife was screwing the guy who works at the Mobil station . . . and I’m pretty sure this wasn’t the first time, either.  
No, that wouldn’t do at all! 
She had waited all week, wanting to tell him, but the opportunity to broach the subject had just never presented itself. Either Polly was around, or he was off to work, or she was at school. Throughout the week, she had been gearing herself up to deal with it this weekend, and then yesterday afternoon, her father had come home from work early and announced that he had quit his job and was going up into the mountains until he found his missing friend. 
How could she lay something like this on him now, knowing the kind of pressure he was already under? 
Mark placed his hand lovingly on Sandy’s shoulder. “Well, if there is something bothering you, you know you can talk to me about it any time, right?” 
Sandy was silent for a moment, so Mark shook her shoulder. 
“I said right?”  
“Yeah ... sure!” 
Sandy squirmed out from under his grip. 
“And if it’s—you know, a woman thing or whatever, something you think you can’t talk about with a man—even your father—you should try to talk to Polly about it.” 
Oh, yeah! Sure! Sandy thought, hoping to heaven her face didn’t reveal what she was thinking. 
    “I—well, I guess I’m just—you know, I’m kinda worried about everything,” she finally managed to say. 
Mark bit his lower lip and nodded. “Yeah.” He sniffed with suppressed laughter that didn’t have a trace of humor. “It does seem like the shit’s been hitting the fan a lot lately, doesn’t it?” 
    Over the years, her father had been on her case about using foul language, so Sandy was mildly surprised that he would say something like that to her. It made her feel sad for him and think all the more about the pressure he must be under right now. Inside her chest was nothing but a cold hollow. 
“Stop worrying, all right?” Mark said. 
    Again, he gripped her shoulder and gave her a bracing shake. 
    “I was practically born and raised in the woods. Hell, I know how to take care of myself out here better than I do in town.” 
“I know, I know, but I—” 
    “But nothing. You’re going over to Karen Bishop’s for an overnight tonight, right? So just enjoy your weekend. Drink a lot of Diet Pepsi and stay up all night talking about boys and listening to music or whatever, okay? Just make sure you’re out here with that stuff I need on Monday afternoon as soon after school as you can get here.” 
“Don’t sweat it. I won’t let