Always On Top

© 1999 Sharen Nehoda

The best part of hiking was getting away from all the rush and short tempered irritation required of an advertising executive. Jerod paused for a moment and gazed out over the lush green landscape. Crystal blue, a small mountain lake peeked out between tall pines that graced the sides of the surrounding hills. Sucking in a deep draught of crisp evergreen scented air, he resumed the trek toward the crest of Elk Mountain. Bailey's voice, his usual nasal, whiney simper intruded upon the peaceful silence.

"Can't you hold up a bit?"

"Sorry. I've hiked here three times since Memorial Day, so I'm used to the exercise." Yes, he was sorry, sorry he had invited him.

"Well, slow down some, I can't get any good pictures with you bolting ahead like Mountain Man Mike. That lake over there is perfect for the new ad campaign with Happy Kamper Outfitters."

The Nikon whirred and clicked as he snapped off a dozen more shots. Jerod leaned against a boulder and stared at Bailey's outrageous getup. Neon green socks protruded from the tops of new hiking boots, accenting pale, doughy skin. The red bandana encircling his head was soaked with sweat, further evidence of his inexperience. Multiple containers of film studded a black nylon belt draped across his chest. He stifled a laugh. Bailey resembled a bandito from some cheap Spaghetti Western.

"Beautiful! God's country."

Great, now he was setting the caption for the shoot. "Come on, I didn't come up here to work. Besides, it's sneaking up on noon and it's nearly three more miles to the top." He wanted to add, where I can throw your ass off, but thought better of it.

"Wait! Just one more shot."

He gritted his teeth. It had already taken five hours for the first two miles because Bailey couldn't resist just one more shot. "At this rate you'll be out of film soon." Not such a bad thought. Then perhaps the next two days could be spent enjoying the outdoors instead of making a business trip of it. He waited for Bailey to put the cover back on the lens before resuming the hike.

"Hey, Bailey," he said over his shoulder. "I'm going to take an alternate route to the summit, one I found last time I was here but didn't get the chance to explore. You game?"

"Sure."

From the flushed bloom on his cheek and the way he was puffing, Jerod doubted it. He took the left-hand trail anyway. Fifty yards ahead the path gradually became steep and rocky, then treacherous as it coursed around the western side of Elk Mountain. An outcropping of boulders littered the base of a sheer cliff where the trail wound amid sandstone and granite slabs the size of compact cars. Bailey grunted as he clambered over the smaller rocks, pudgy thighs quivering. Although he could be obnoxious, at least the guy wasn't a quitter. Quitters were worse than telemarketers.

"Wow! This is really great! Stop a sec so I can get a few shots of the cliff. Man, this is impressive!"

Air whoofed in and out of his open mouth as drops of perspiration dribbled from beneath the bandana and trickled down his reddened face. Although he seemed exhausted physically, his excitement was unmistakable. Enthusiasm had to be what carried him. The overworked Nikon clicked away as Bailey snapped off another round all the while leaning and repositioning himself for each photo.

Jerod glanced at the cliff. The sheer face was studded with squared off blocks of granite in a geometric pattern that marched up to the abrupt edge ending without overhang. His eyes followed the natural design down to a litter of rock surrounding the base. A mass of white caught his attention. His stomach lurched when he realized it was a collection of bleached animal bones. Dark stains covered the tops and sides of a number of boulders.

"My God, look!" Bailey pointed to the top.

Tiny because of the distance, a woman with long hair in a braid backed toward the edge. Hands held out in front of her, it seemed she was unaware of the danger right behind and more interested in keeping someone or something away. The distance to the drop off was quickly being closed.

"Stop!" Jerod shouted and waved his arms.

The cliff's immense span, easily four hundred feet high and nearly fifty yards away, made it doubtful she heard him. He reached down and retrieved a baseball-sized rock and threw it towards the boulders near the base. Maybe he could dislodge one and cause a small slide to rattle away from the pile. Just as the stone struck with a sharp report, a high pitched wail carried from the top of the cliff. Numb, he looked up just in time to see the woman fall. She seemed to hang in the air for the breadth of a second then plummeted, long braid streaming like an exclamation point. The thin sound of her scream carried to him and abruptly cut off as her body disappeared behind the rubble of stones.

"Oh my God," Bailey whispered from behind. "ohmydeargod."

Frozen to the spot, Jerod watched as Bailey scrambled awkwardly over a large outcropping and hurried toward where the woman disappeared. What the hell was he thinking? She had to be dead, no one could survive a fall like that. Besides, there was something up top that was more important, whatever it was that caused the fall. Heart pounding, he backed up to a large sandstone formation and concealed his body behind it. Squinting his eyes against the bright sunlight, he gazed at the ledge above. Nothing was visible. In fact the cliff seemed deserted and eerily silent. No chirping of birds or rustle of the wind in the trees could be heard, only the gradually diminishing heaving gasps of Bailey as he receded into the boulder field. He continued to watch, hoping his position made him invisible to whatever lurked above.

"Jerod!"

Jesus! Bailey would give them away if he didn't shut up. Although his voice was faint because of the distance, he was right below the cliff. Anyone up there certainly would hear him.

"She's alive! Help me with her."

That was impossible. The fall should have killed her. Bailey must be mistaken. Jerod glanced toward the white pile and winced. An animals could have survived the fall but later died from their broken and twisted limbs. He couldn't abide the thought of an animal's suffering, yet felt nothing for the woman. Why was that? Looking back to the ledge reminded him of the potential danger. Whoever pushed her over might still be up there, watching and waiting. He certainly didn't want to be another victim.

"Jerod! For God' Sake! It's Helen!"

Helen? What was she doing up here again? Last month, after their trek to the peak of Elk Mountain, she'd sworn she would never come back. She had been worse than Bailey. It wasn't his fault she couldn't keep up with him. That and her constant whining had nearly made him lose his temper.

"Jerod!"

Exasperation filled Bailey's voice. After one last hard look at the ridge, he began the rocky traverse to where he had seen the body disappear. If someone was still on top, they must know two people had discovered her. No use trying to hide now. As he neared the whitened bones the perplexing thought of why Helen had returned brought a sinking sensation. That weekend had become a blur, nothing but her insistent griping and complaining remained in memory.

"I'm over here."

Bailey was to his left, past a scattering of bones and around a huge granite stone sloped against another craggy block. As he edged around the narrow strip that dropped into a small ravine, he caught a glimpse of Bailey, or more specifically his fat behind, bent over and leaning against the rock wall. Drawing closer, a sweetish odor filled his nostrils. It was the stench of rotting flesh. Nearer, the smell tightened his throat, the sour taste of vomit just behind his tongue. All those dead animals had left their telltale rankness behind. Gore streaked, the rocky faces had seen a drenching rain of blood more than once. Bailey straightened and braced himself against the edge of a boulder that hung over another steep ravine.

"Jerod, thank God!"

No longer beefy red, his face had become ashen with two hectic dots of red on each cheek. He wrung his hands clearly trying to decide what to do in a most desperate situation. A pang of sympathy gripped him for a moment. This man probably never had to deal with anything more life threatening than a nosebleed. Bailey glanced over his shoulder and winced then turned back to face him.

"I'm afraid to move her. I think both her arms are broken, and," he swallowed, then rubbed a hand over his face, "and a…a bone is sticking out of her upper leg. Blood… there is so much blood."

Knowing Helen she'd probably be whining about how much pain she was in just as soon as she regained consciousness. "Where is she?"

"Down there." Bailey pointed to an area below them.

The stench of decay had grown to gagging proportions. Why wasn't Bailey affected? Maybe it was because he was so traumatized by what he had seen. Either way, the smell was about to make him retch. Lunch would be out of the question. Taking a bandana from his backpack, he covered his mouth and nose, then clambered up to where Bailey stood. Steadying himself, he drew alongside Bailey and looked down into the ravine.

What he saw perplexed him. The partially decayed body of a woman lay in a crumpled heap amid the bones of a deer and a few smaller animals. A long, brown braid of hair and a red checked flannel shirt were the only things that could possibly identify her since most of the flesh on her face had been gnawed off. Shattered bits of bones from her lower arms and leg had been displaced, probably by a coyote. "Bailey, how could you possibly think that is Helen?"

Helen. A thought shook him. Helen had her long brown hair in a braid when they had gone hiking last month. And, she had worn a red checked flannel shirt. The amount of decay of this body indicated she had been dead at least a month. Was it possible that this could be her?

"It's Helen, Jerod. Look at her face. We have to do something quick or she's going to bleed to death!"

Bailey's voice verged on hysteria. The sickening sweet smell began to seep through the bandana. What did he mean look at her face? It was mostly just a disgusting grinning skull. Even the eyeballs were gone. He gagged at the site of an ant as it crawled out of the gore-filled socket.

"Damn it, Bailey, get a grip." He turned to the pudgy photographer and gave him a hard shake.

"That is not Helen. That has no face, animals have eaten it. And she certainly can't be alive. What are you talking about?"

Bailey's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish in a bowl, then he suddenly turned and vomited behind the rock, bracing himself against the hard stone. A look of dismay covered his face when he looked up.

"Let's get out of here." Jerod turned to climb back the way he came.

"We can't just leave her, she needs medical attention, first aid for Christ's sake!"

"She's dead! Can't you get that through your stupid skull?" Spit flew from his lips and Bailey winced.

"She is not! Look! She's trying to sit up. I'm going down to help her." Bailey lowered himself over the side and started down to where the body lay. "Don't move, Helen, let me help you."

This was insanity. Had Bailey gone totally mad? Jerod looked over the side and sucked is a gasp. The body was indeed sitting up, the skull grinning at him like it recognized him. The splintered humerus rose as if to point at him. Brownish stained, the jaws opened and a hiss of putrid air belched forth.

"Jerod."

Bailey looked over his shoulder at the body. "Yes, Helen, Jerod is here with me. We're going to help you get out of here, get you to a doctor. Just don't move."

She rolled over and began a hitching crawl toward him. The fractured ends of the bones skittered and chattered across the stone, but she was making progress. The long braid dangled over her shoulder and dragged along the ground. Dark stains appeared on the front of the shirt as blackened gore seeped through the material. Jerod backed away and heard Bailey's entreaty once more.

"Please, Helen, hold still, you'll bleed to death if you don't."

"Jerod."

The hissing call drew gooseflesh from his arms. Panicked, he turned and fled. The path wound up the side of the cliff face in a serpentine fashion. He bolted up the trail, leaping over smaller slabs, scrambling to keep his balance on the rocky surface. Then the absurdity of the situation struck him. What he'd seen was impossible, and if he didn't get control of himself soon, he could end up down there with the animal bones, too.

"Get a grip," he commanded himself. What he'd seen was a hallucination brought on by Bailey's delusion. He stopped and rested, hands on his knees, calming himself. Faintly, he heard Bailey chatting away somewhere below. Oh great, now he'd have to go back and retrieve the idiot. He turned to go back down, but stopped short. Something lay just ahead in the trail. He recognized it immediately. It was his compass, the gold case unmistakable. Custom engraved by Car-Lite's President, it was given in thanks for an award-winning commercial he had designed. Had he come this way before and forgotten?

Confused, he bent to retrieve it. A cracking of stones against one another made him glance behind him. At the base of the incline the body had begun its laborious climb. He stumbled over a larger rock and sat down hard in the path. As if excited by the prospect of him on the same level, the corpse began to scrabble faster, urgent shudders rippling through the ravaged body. Bailey was nowhere to be seen.

"Bailey!" Jerod scrambled backwards, eyes on the advancing abomination. "Bailey!"

There was no reply. Righting himself, Jerod hastened up the trail. That worthless Bailey probably was down there babbling to himself about tourniquets and bandages and completely oblivious to the real danger. His danger. Why is God's name was this happening? Why would Helen be after him?

Helen? He stopped dead, glanced at the compass in his hand then spun around. It was Helen. In panic, he returned to scrambling up the trail, heart in his throat. Oh yes, it was coming back to him now. She was the one that found this trail, had begged him to take it. He'd warned her, though.

"Look, you aren't in any kind of shape to be climbing such a difficult course."

"Please, Jerod. I want to try it. The view must be spectacular from up there. And besides, what if it does take a little longer for me to make it to the top? What's the rush? We've got all weekend."

He never should have said yes.

"Look!" She pointed to the confusion of bones. "Those poor animals must have fallen over the cliff."

"Yeah, well, then you better watch your step, don't want to find yourself with them."

She gave him a dour look and started up the trail, long braid swaying back and forth. As he suspected, within five minutes she was huffing and puffing, face red as a tomato.

"Gotta rest a sec," she said between gasps, "hold up."

Maybe it was because of all the bitching she'd done that morning. Maybe it was because he was sick of playing nursemaid to an out of shape ad executive that had no business trying to backpack up a mountain. Either way, he ignored her request and continued up. Just to punctuate the point, he put on a little head of steam and downshifted into a serious hike.

"Jerod!"

There she went again. If you can't carry your weight, get off the team, that was his motto. In advertising or any big business you had to do your part or be left behind. He'd make it to the top, here, or at the office. So what if some bodies were left along the way?

The crest came into view. He strolled over and sat on the smooth surface of a flat boulder, drinking the bottled water he'd brought along. Too bad Helen didn't have any with her. But that was her own fault, she'd complained that it was too heavy for her to backpack.

Forty minutes later Helen came puffing up to him, snatched a bottle from his pack and took a number of long, deep swallows. After a moment, she gave him a sidelong look.

"Well, that was certainly considerate of you," she said. "No wonder Mr. Gillman gave me the Donner account."

"What are you talking about?" There was no way Gillman would give such a lucrative contract to her. This was the choice account of the firm, and rightfully his. He would net a cool million or more representing them.

"On Thursday Mr. Gillman gave it to me. After what you just did, it's obvious why."

A white-hot nugget of anger expanded in his gut. If she was trying to make him mad she succeeded. "You lying bitch! I'm so sick of your pissing and moaning, and now this. How could you possible be a better choice than me?"

"The Donner account needs someone who can show compassion and sensitivity. You're better off with the jock accounts. Medical and nursing care needs a bit more class, a human quality."

She really was pushing him. "Are you telling the truth about Gillman?"

"Why would I lie? I'm just as good as you," she turned and walked toward to edge, "maybe better."

The challenge in her voice was unmistakable. He stood and moved closer to her. She spun around and looked him in the eye. The fear he saw there made him feel good, the power, the respect. Time to keep his place on top. He always took advantage of a situation when it presented itself, and wasn't afraid to do whatever was necessary to get what he wanted.

"Maybe I'll just take the account back."

"Stay away from me," she said quietly.

Arms held in front of her, she began backing towards the edge of the cliff, mouth open, eyes wide with terror. Five steps, four, three, two. He kept advancing as she retreated. Just inches from the brink she stopped.

"Please, Jerod! You can have the account. Just leave me in peace."

He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Relief spread over her face. It was short lived. As soon as she dropped her hands he reached up and shoved her in the face. The shocked expression as she fell backwards was only a bit more satisfying than her thin shriek. Even her death was wimpy.

Stepping to the edge, he looked over. Far below in a small ravine between rock outcroppings, Helen lay, limbs at an impossible angle, in a growing pool of blood. As he watched, her eyes flew open and with a shaking and bloody hand pointed up at him. Her mouth moved as if she had said something, but her voice was too weak. Seconds later the hand fell and her eyes closed.

"Jerod."

Although he was near the top, the horrible hiss of her voice carried up to him. "You're dead. You can't do anything to me." He shouted over the edge down to the level below where Helen's corpse continued to claw and rasp its way up the rocky trail. Jaws wide the gore streaked skull turned up to look at him with eyeless sockets. Somehow she knew exactly where he was. He'd show her who was in charge here. Regardless if he'd killed her once, he'd kill her again if he needed, tear her miserable carcass into a thousand pieces and scatter them for the vultures to devour.

"Jerod."

He grabbed a toaster-sized hunk of sandstone and heaved it over the side. It smashed her ankle and left the tattered remains of her foot and hiking boot lying in the path.

"Ha ha!" he laughed over the side, "how did that feel?"

He sent another rock over. This one crushed her shoulder into the dirt. She tried to push up, but the effort dismembered what little remained of her upper arm. Now on only three points, her progress resumed at a more irregular pace. Gleeful, he clapped his hands together. "Now, wouldn't it be grand it I punted her decaying flesh off the edge one more time?" He asked aloud.

Looking around, he trotted up to the top then paced near the edge, waiting for Helen to make the last few feet. Thirsty, he removed his backpack and retrieved the bottle of water. It didn't take as long as he thought it would for her to show up. Her hobbled crawl had become more of a slithering writhe, and she definitely was intent on catching up to him.

"Jerod."

"Want some water?" He beckoned, motioning the animated remains closer, prancing close to the edge. The sheer drop was dizzying, intoxicating in its finality. A laugh erupted from him. Didn't she realize he would always be on top, always win? Life was like that, there were winners and there were losers. She's lost, and he wasn't going to let her change that.

"Murderer," the lipless grin whispered.

Jaws snapping, Helen reared up like a snake attempting to strike. Jerod stepped sideways and pulled his leg back to deliver the coup d'grace. Hissing, Helen slid forward just as his foot snapped out. He connected with the center of her chest and with a putrid exhale, the corpse, much lighter than what he expected, disappeared over the side. The force of the kick had been greater than necessary for the weight of the destroyed body. Off balance, the momentum carried him over the edge.

*****

Bailey screamed as Jerod fell on top of Helen. She gazed at Bailey with her warm brown eyes and smiled, then he watched as the life faded away. He turned and put his head in his hands and cried. Helen had always been good to him, not like Jerod's insistent pushing and manipulating. Working with her had been a pleasure, and she had been a great friend.

Whatever had possessed Jerod to go to the top? They might have been able to save Helen if only he would have stayed and helped. And certainly whatever caused her to fall probably was what made him fall, too.

Wiping his eyes on his sleeve he turned back to see if Jerod might be alive, although he doubted it. To his horror, instead of Helen, a partially decomposed body lay beneath Jerod, the broken bone from her arm piercing his chest. Blood spurted from where the jagged end protruded from his back. He had been impaled through the heart by the upraised humerus of the corpse.

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