“Jesus, Doug. Are we going to have any time to walk before dark?”
Doug looked at him in silence.
“I know. I know,” Bob said apologetically. “Important things.”
“You doubt it?” Doug said irritably.
“No,” Bob sighed. “I’m just… anxious to get going, that’s all.”
“So am I, Bobby, believe me,” Doug said gravely. “But if we go off half cocked, you’ll regret it. I know how to do all this. You don’t. So, for Christ’s sake, show a little patience. You’ll be glad later about what we’re doing now.”
Bob nodded, looking guilty. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll say no more.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be on our way in no time,” Doug reassured him. “Let’s just get through it.”
“All right. Lay on, Macduff.”
Doug chuckled. “Let’s check your food supply,” he said.
“Right.” Bob took out what he’d brought. “Monologue time,” he said. “All food in plastic bags, a few small boxes of orange juice, no cans. Cereal. Beans. Powdered milk. Sugar. Powdered eggs. A packet of cheese. Instant coffee. Nuts. Chocolate.”
“Good,” Doug said. “Chocolate has all kinds of valuable ingredients. B vitamins. Magnesium. Good for you.”
“Marian would be happy to hear that,” Bob told him.
Doug chuckled a little. “The powdered milk is good too,” he said. “Lots of protein and calcium. Phosphorous. Vitamin D. Perfect in a survival situation.”
“A survival situation?” Bob asked. “I thought we were just going for a hike.”
Doug looked at him askance. “Just a phrase,” he said.
“Glad to hear it,” Bob answered.
“So what else you got?”
“Raisins. Powdered potatoes. A little bread. Two oranges, two apples. Energy bars. And, of course, my chicken à la king with rice, turkey tetrazzini, beef almondine.”
“Actually, you may have more food than you need,” Doug told him.
Bob made a face. “Don’t tell me that,” he said.
“No tragedy,” Doug told him. He picked up a pamphlet from Bob’s pack. “What’s this?”
Bob took the pamphlet and looked at it, laughed.
“What?” Doug asked.
“Survival in the Wilderness.” Bob read the pamphlet’s title. “Marian must have slipped it in there when I wasn’t looking.”
“Doubt if you’ll need it,” Doug said with a snicker.
“I doubt it too.” Bob slipped the pamphlet into his shirt pocket.
“Well, you seem to be in pretty good shape, food-wise,” Doug told him. “Plenty of carbohydrates—the staple of a hiker’s diet. You have enough water to see us through the afternoon?”
Bob showed him his filled water bottle.
“It’ll do, I guess,” Doug said dubiously. “I think I told you to get a wide-mouth halgene bottle though. Easier to clean. Easier to fill from a stream or spring. Easier to get a spoon into.”
“They didn’t have any,” Bob said quietly.
“All right, all right, no tragedy,” Doug replied. “I see you have some water packets too. They’re good in a pinch. What else have you got?”
“Pair of folding eyeglasses. Not that I think I’ll be doing any reading.”
Doug snickered. “Doubt it,” he said.
“And a small pair of folding binoculars,” Bob told him.
Doug made an indeterminate sound. “Won’t hurt,” he said. “You might get some use out of them. How about toiletries?”
Dear God, this is going to go on forever, Bob thought. We’ll end up camping right here for the week. He took the plastic bag out of his pack. “Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Skin lotion. Sun block. Multivitamins.”
“Let’s see.” Doug held out his hand and Bob handed him the small container. He read the ingredients. “Not bad,” he said. “Two, three hundred milligrams of Vitamin C, Vitamin A, good. Vitamin B-1. Vitamin D. Potassium. Sodium. Calcium. Iron.” He tossed the container back. “It’ll do,” he said in a tone that indicated it really wasn’t good enough.
My cup runneth over, Bob thought.
“And—?” Doug asked.
“Uh… oh,” Bob said. “Water purification tablets.”
“Safer to boil the water,” Doug told him. “Boiling time varies with height above sea level. Best to boil it for ten minutes wherever you are. And remember, drink before you get thirsty. Thirst is an alarm signal. Don’t wait for it. Remember, when you sweat it’s ninety-nine percent water.”
“Do I—?”
“Use your urine color as an indicator. If it’s darker than usual, you’re not drinking enough.”
“Okay.” No point in asking questions, Bob thought.
“Pint every half hour,” Doug told him.
Bob nodded.
“What else you got?” Doug asked.
“Oh… toilet paper,” Bob told him. “Deodorant.”
“Deodorant?” Doug chuckled. “You afraid your b.o. will offend the squirrels?”
“Just a habit,” Bob said.
“All right, no tragedy.”
Tragedy? Bob thought. How could using a deodorant be a tragedy?
“What’s that?” Doug said, pointing.
Bob took out a plastic bag with six mini-bottles of vodka in it. “Thought it might be nice to have a little drink at the end of the—”
“Not a good idea, Bob,” Doug broke in. “Alcohol impairs the judgment. Dehydrates the body. Decreases the appetite. Not good.”
“Jesus, Doug, one mini-bottle before dinner? That’s hardly boozing one’s way through the forest primeval.”
“Well.” Doug shrugged. “Okay. Your call. You’ll have to carry out the bottles though, you know.”
“Oh, Christ, I forgot about that.”
Doug chuckled. “Law of the wilderness, Bobby,” he said. “You’ll remember all this next time.” He chuckled again. “If there is a next time.”
“You don’t think there will be?” Bob asked.
“Let’s just say I hope you rented all this equipment.” When Bob didn’t reply, Doug made a face of mock pain. “Ooh,” he said, “that’s a lot of money for one hike.” He gestured vaguely. “Though I suppose you’ll get a hell of a lot more money when you sell your novel.”
Bob didn’t know how to respond to that. It crossed his mind how ironic it was that Doug had decried the mini-bottles of vodka. He’d seen Doug put away two six-packs of beer on more than one occasion.
“What about cookware?” Doug asked.
Without a word, Bob showed him the two small aluminum pots nestled together with a lid that could be used for a frying pan.
“Should be marked for measurements,” Doug said. “However. Cup?”
Bob showed him his metal Sierra cup. Doug made a face. “Should have gotten a plastic one like I told you. This one could burn your lips as well as cool down hot liquids too fast.”
Backpacking One, Professor Crowley, Bob thought. Was there going to be a written exam after all this?
“Okay, you got a spoon and knife,” Doug said. “You have a hunting knife too?”
Bob opened his jacket to show the knife in its sheath.
“That’s not a knife,” Doug said, imitating Crocodile Dundee. “This is a knife.”
He reached into his pack and pulled out what looked like a small machete. “Golak,” he told Bob.
“Jesus,” Bob said. “Are we going for a hike or a war?”
“Never know,” Doug answered.
For Christ’s sake, what does that mean? Bob wondered. He decided not to ask.
“A few more things,” Doug said, “but I have them with me so you don’t have to worry about them. Flashlight with extra bulbs and batteries. I see that you have one too—that’s good. Waterproof matches. First-aid kit, whistle; I have two, I’ll give you one of them.”