The Mountain King Read Online Free Page A

close darkness under her bedcovers. “Just you wait! You’re gonnabe real sorry,you—youtwo-timinglittle ... slut!”  
     

 
    Chapter Four  
    Down Off the Mountain 
     
     
    Flames rose like slick, orange tongues high into the night sky, but the glow of the campfire could only reach so far; beyond the sphere of light, the night curled around Mark like a dark, threatening beast. The air was numbingly cold as he sat with his back to the blaze, his every sense tuned to the brooding silence of the surrounding forest. Every vagrant breeze, every snapping branch drew his attention. It was well past midnight, but he knew sleep wouldn’t come as he watched and waited with his camping hatchet clutched tightly in his right hand, a cold cup of coffee in his left. 
    “This is ridiculous . . . absolutely fucking ridiculous!” he muttered, but he didn’t dare drop his guard even for an instant. Danger was a palpable presence, hovering all around him. 
    During the torturous hike down the mountain, Mark had seriously begun to doubt what he had seen. The creature couldn’t have been what he had thought it was! Other than moose and bears, there simply weren’t any animals that big in Maine. And none of them, not even bears, wandered that high above the tree line. It was totally insane to think there might be something like a mountain gorilla or whatever on Agiochook! What he had seen must have been something else, something distorted by the snow and the glare off the ice. 
Or his panic. 
In all likelihood, it probably had been another hiker, coming to Phil’s rescue. Or else it had been Phil himself. Maybe that dark shape at the base of the cliff had been Phil’s discarded backpack, and the shambling figure had been Phil, hobbling off to find his own way off the mountain. 
But no matter what he thought, Mark couldn’t deny the sense of danger he felt pressing in on him from all sides. In a deep, primordial way, he sensed that he was being stalked. From all the years he had spent hiking, hunting, and camping in the Maine and New Hampshire woods, this was the first time in his life that the forest had actually held the threat of genuine, deadly menace. 
“But it couldn’t have been what I thought it was,” he whispered. “No fucking way?”  
His eyes darted to one side, following the faint crackling of leaves from somewhere deep in the darkness. 
I was just freaking out a little . . . because Phil fell off the cliff . . . I probably imagined the whole damned thing! he thought, even though it felt a lot like he was trying to convince himself. 
But whatever the case, Phil was in all likelihood still up there on the mountain, maybe still crumpled at the base of The Zipper, either dead or seriously hurt. Mark had been so intent on getting down off the mountain before dark that he hadn’t gone down to check. Now that he had time to think about it, he knew he still wasn’t thinking clearly, that he was letting his imagination get carried away. 
And worst of all, he couldn’t decide what to do next. 
Should he continue down off the mountain so he could go find help? Or should he head back up and do whatever he could to find and help his injured friend, even if it cost him his life? Maybe Phil had staggered away from the cliff and was now lost on the mountaintop. 
Mark’s thoughts were shattered when a loud roar suddenly filled the night. 
“Jesus Christ!” he shouted as he leapt to his feet. 
The howl rapidly built to a piercing shriek and then immediately faded. It echoed in the forest for several seconds, leaving behind an uncanny stillness. 
    Mark’s eyes darted back and forth as he tried to pinpoint the source of the sound. His grip on the hatchet tightened as he stood up, crouching defensively, and scanned the surrounding darkness. Every wavering shadow cast by the fire seemed fraught with danger as he waited for the sound to be repeated. When it was, it came with a deafening roar and a flurry of dark