|Nicholas Grant|
Camp Echo, the sign read.
I slowed, peering down the long craggy road that stretched into the pressing forest, like the ominous fortelling finger of a vagabond. It disapeared behind the lining of trees, and it might have looked like a dead end if patches of it further on had not peeked through the underbrush when the wind rustled. Inside, the bed of the Bronco had gone silent, all of them peering down the road in curiosity. The sign was a stark contrast to the broken driveway, fresh white and green paint greeting the back road that they had just turned off of.
Behind them, a horn blared. Nicholas jumped slightly and glanced behind him to see the roof of a black car nearly bumper to bumper with his truck. He turned back around and stepped on the gas, Dylan next to him swearing in vexation at the little car. The engine lurched them forward with a satisfying growl, plunging them down the narrow road.
Nicholas rested his arm outside of the Bronco, allowing Dylan to fiddle with the music until it was slightly loud enough to be both annoying and obnoxious. The music thumped along with the engine, which snarled and roared like a proud beast, and smells of exhaust and wet earth flew in from the open windows. Behind him, the black car steadily followed their pace.
Nicholas turned his attention back to the road, and slammed on the breaks.
The Bronco threw its occupants forward as it skidded to a halt, breaks screeching and the smell of gasoline filling up the truck bed. Nicholas's knuckles turned white as he jerked the wheel sideways a bit, the left front fire dipping into the earth. Behind him, over the roar of the engine, a horn blared yet again and the sound of skipping tires wailed out into the forest. He threw a look backwards to see that the black car had veered the other way, and that the driver was leaning on top of the horn in outrage. In front of him, the fawn skipped back into the woods, startled.
Dylan swore freely, shaking his wrist in Nicholas's face which he had appearently injured while bracing. Aaron was laughing, rolling in chortling red-faced amusement, and Matthew, who had been in the back, sat stone-faced, cutching the seat in front of him. As the car behind them blared their horn once again, Nicholas slowly brought them back to the road, his heart returning to its normal speed.
The road was long and winding, with occasional sudden turns that made him slow with caution. They would pass bits of broken concrete and plaster, discarded amongst the sprouting plants, and Nicholas and the others didn't think much of it. The camp was said to be renovating, so the debris didn't come as much of a surprise. Ahead the road suddenly ended, instead opening into a large parking lot. Unlike the road, the parking lot was black, smooth and freshly put down. There were no white lines to park into, and cars already dotted the wide expanse of asfault in crude lines. Nicholas slowed, reaching over and turning down the music, much to the other's dismay.
He parked a decent distance from the car next to them and switched off the engine. He got out, much slower than his hyping companions, and went to pop open the back where their duffel bags waited. The wind above him ruffled the tops of the trees, sending a gentle brush of pine smell down to where he stood, and the noise of chattering voices mixed with the sounds of wildlife.
He heaved the bags out, thumping them onto the ground. He looked up as he straightened, noticing for the first time the tall gate that stood opposite the way they had come. It was black, with thin spokes shooting out of the underbrush to touch the leaves above where it arced at the top to twist into four simple letters:
E-C-H-O.
Nicholas looked upon it for a moment longer, hefting two of the bags onto his shoulder. Behind him he heard a sudden shout followed by the blare of a familiar horn, and he jerked out of his reverie and turned towards the commotion.
"What the fuck man, watch it!" Dylan shouted, hopping away from the black car as it swung dangerously close to where they stood. It parked, stuttering to a halt, the air conditioning stopping with an audible cut of noise. Dylan sauntered up to the driver's side, Aaron and Matthew following behind them.
"Watch where you're fucking going next time!" Dylan spat. Nicholas dropped the duffel bags and walked up behind them, glancing around with slight exasperation as heads turned to survey the unfolding drama. The dirver's side opened and a dark head popped out, turning towards Dylan with an obvious fire in her eyes.
"Then get out of the fucking road and drive like you know how!" She snapped. In front of him, Aaron whistled and then laughed.
She turned towards him. "What the fuck are you laughing at?"
Nicholas suppressed a slow smile. It wasn't often that the trio, especially Dylan, didn't have an immediate response. On the other side, the door propped open, and two smooth legs stretched out.
"Well, do you want me to wipe your ass or something? Get away from my car."
They backed up, as requested, sauntering over to the Bronco. As Dylan turned he said to them, loud enough that the girl could hear, "Someone needs to give that crazy bitch some tampax, eh?"
Aaron laughed, throwing his head back in his customary way. Nicholas glanced sideways at his friends, his mouth in a thin line, but said nothing when he looked back and saw the girl glaring at their retreating figures.
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