The VIP Room(134)

My feet were aching as I rounded the stream. Boots too old and too worn from countless hiking and fishing trips crushed inward against my feet, and I dropped to a seat atop a large boulder the moment I came close enough to it. The crisp mountain air of the Blue Ridge Parkway filled my nostrils as I inhaled deeply, and I watched in silence as fish and birds danced in and above the water.

I heaved my backpack off my back and sat it on the boulder beside me, retrieving my water bottle as I did. Taking a large swig of the water, I noticed, for the first time, that my brow was matted with sweat. I’d been hiking for the better part of five hours, and as best as I could tell, the nearest point of civilization was several miles away in any direction. Part of me - the part that loved urbanization and socialization - yearned to return to the small college town. The rest, however, the part that held a deep love for adventure and exploration, urged for me to keep walking. A little further into the woods, and I would be the furthest I’d ever been. A little further, and everything would be new and exciting.

I’d been born and raised in the quiet community of Boone, had grown up amid its hills and streams and splendor, and had even attended Appalachian State University in order to earn a degree in journalism, which I had immediately put to good use by taking a job at the High Country Press. I’d never so much as left Watauga County, and for a twenty-five year old Carolina girl with adventure at heart, that’s about as damning as it gets.

Working at a small-town paper doesn’t really afford the necessary finances to extensively travel, especially when a part-time, and often freelance, gig is all I could manage. You don’t exactly need a huge amount of staff writers for a small community like Boone. Though, the lack of a typical nine-to-five did afford me the opportunity to explore the Parkway whenever I wanted.

Replacing my bottle in the side pocket of my backpack, I heaved the bag back into its position on my back, and clambered off the boulder. Stretching my arms above my head, I took a deep breath and stared at my reflection in the water. My dark brown hair was utterly disheveled from all the hiking, even while still bound up in a pony tail. As suspected, my pink tank top was absolutely drenched with sweat, and my jean shorts were already torn from where I’d gotten caught up in a brier patch a ways back on the trail.

I shifted to the side a bit, examining my silhouette, and taking note of my curvaceous body. I’d never cut it as a stick-figure model, having more in common with Kate Upton in the curvy areas than Victoria’s Angels. Even with all of the hiking and kayaking I did, I’d never been able to burn away what other girls in my college classes had called “undesirable features”. I snorted at that, just as I had back then. I was proud of my body, and often felt sexy in my own skin. If a man couldn’t see beyond the bend of my curves, he wasn’t worth spending time with. Or, at least, that’s what my mother would have said.

I shook my head, dismissing the memories of snarky college girls, and turned away from the water. I was determined to keep moving forward and into the unknown. For all I knew, I was the first person in ages - maybe ever! - to tread along this part of the mountains, and that was an opportunity that I couldn’t pass up.

The sun was had reached its peak in the sky - I had set out early this morning, just after sunrise - when I happened upon an outcropping of boulders and stones along the mountainside. At first, I thought it little more than a wall of stone built into the mountain. Upon further examination, though, I quickly noted that not only was it not just a wall, it was a full blown cave, deep and dark as far as I could see.

My sense of adventure immediately perked up, and I found myself reaching back into my backpack in search of my flashlight. I found the light, a small, hand-sized, but military-grade light, and powered it on. The shadows immediately burst into light, and I stared as deeply as I could from the mouth of the cave.

As best as I could tell, the cave was completely barren, likely untouched for years or maybe decades. Glancing about and behind me for a second, I decided to venture into the cave. Once my curiosity got the best of me, I was hopeless.

I worked my way into the cave slowly, careful of snakes or other critters that might have found residence in the dank and musty darkness inside the mountain. My instincts were flaring up, begging me not to proceed any further, but I dismissed it as a fear of the unknown. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to find the end of the cave, to explore its depths to the fullest, and to claim some small victory of exploration for myself.

That’s when I heard the huffing and low growl that, as a product of the mountains, I was so familiar with. A glint of light in my peripheral caught my eye, and I turned to face it, jerking the flashlight out in front of me as I did. There, in the depths of the cave, not more than a hundred feet from me, stood a massive black bear.

“Shitf*ck,” I hissed as the hair on my neck stood on end. I stared, helplessly, at the bear for a long moment, its eyes locked on mine for what felt like an eternity. Gathering my senses, I started to back slowly away from the bear, doing my best to create distance before turning tail and running for my life. Before I could back up more than a few yards, though, the bear took a step forward, stood to its full height, and let out a long and ferocious roar.

I didn’t need any more encouragement than that, immediately turning and darting toward the mouth of the cave as quickly as I could. My bag, heavy with all of my hiking supplies, bounced cumbersomely on my back. I didn’t dare to look back, but I could hear the bear giving chase as I sped out of the cave and into the daylight. The bear’s low growl and huffing kept time with my own haggard breathing, and I knew that it was gaining on me. I remembered reading something once that said black bears could reach land speeds of up to thirty-five miles per hour. That was a good thirty miles per hour faster than I could manage, and it wouldn’t be long before the predator caught up to me. I had to do something.