Chapter Two - Toni
After three or four too many wines, we did eventually get back home at a semi-decent hour, to do some final prep for tomorrow.
Well, I was, Jess felt reclining on my sofa with a glass of red was all the final prep she needed.
My apartment wasn’t big, but what it lacked in space, I tried to make up for in warmth.
The walls were painted in muted earth tones, peppered with vintage movie posters, old maps, and photos from hiking trips. Wooden shelves lined with mismatched knick-knacks gave the place a rustic vibe, or better known to normal people as cluttered, I prefer to see it as 'lived in'.
A large, well-worn leather couch sat against the far wall, draped in a patchwork quilt my grandmother had made. The coffee table in front of it was covered candles, books and old National Geographic magazines, remnants of a past I clearly struggle to fully leave behind.
The apartment felt like a cabin in the middle of the city—my little sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world.
Jessica collapsed onto the couch, kicking off her boots. “Why are we even going hiking anyway? Your place looks more like a mountain retreat every time I come over, Banks. I keep expecting a bear to wander in and start eating out of your garbage” She stretched out, her arm falling dramatically over her eyes. “Ugh, who am I kidding, I need this hike. Like, now.”
As I was kneeling by the old wooden chest I use as a coffee table, tossing some last-minute gear into my hiking pack, I threw Jess a sideways glance, lips quirking up in a smirk. “Well, there’s no bears, but speaking of garbage, I think I’ve still got some leftover trail mix in the kitchen if you want to go full mountain woman.”
Jess peeked out from under her arm with a mock-serious look. “Only if it has those little chocolatey bits in it. I'm not a bird Toni, a girl can't live off seeds.”
“No, apparently wine and bar snacks are ample nutrition for you” I replied, shoving a first-aid kit into the pack.
After flinging a pillow at me, Jessica sat up, legs hanging over the side of the couch. “Speaking of wine bars, what do you think the actual deal with Julien is—I was watching him earlier, peacocking around the bar, flashing that dimply smile and little does everyone know, the poor guy can't get a woody”
I grimaced, giving her a look of warning. “Do we really need to go there tonight? We literally have one evening to finish getting ready”
Jessica, seemingly unbothered by my protests, continued. “I like the idea that he’s probably just into some weird shit right?. Like, here's Julien, your friendly neighbourhood bartender, clean cut college boy, but maybe Banks, Maybe... he just needs his balls stepped on by a dom in stilettos, you know? Poor guy"
My mouth drops open, I've truly lost count at the amount of times Jess has left me lost for words.
"Or, maybe he’s one of those foot guys. OR, maybe he's into guys feet! I mean, big feet, big… you know.”
I let out a frustrated sigh, standing up to stretch my back. “Okay, enough. Seriously Jess. I've had a shitty day, I don't want to talk about Julien, I just want to get ready for this trip and leave this city behind for a while.”
Jessica pauses, probably realising she might have pushed too far. “Alright, alright. You cranky mole, subject change.” She stands up and starts rummaging through the hiking supplies on the kitchen counter. “Let’s talk about this hike instead. I am legit pumped, It’s been forever since we’ve done this. No phones, no work. Just four girls drinking wine and peeing outside ”
I laughed and felt a weight lift off her chest. I smiled softly, pulling my long hair into a loose bun. “Yeah, I really need this. It’s gonna be amazing. Fresh air, no cubicles, no ‘Smegory,’ and no Julien… just us and the trail.”
“And bears,” Jessica added with a grin, tossing a water bottle into her pack.
“Don’t jinx it,” I shot back with a laugh.
As we packed, the warm hum of jazz filled the room, drifting from a vintage record player I had picked up at a thrift shop years ago, it's insane the dusty old thing still works. The sound was low and steady, a soft saxophone playing a melody that instantly transported me to my childhood.
Jessica scrunched her nose, pausing mid-pack. “What's with the jazz Banks? Really? What are we, in some black-and-white detective movie?”
My smile faltered for a second. “I like it. Dad used to play it all the time.” I busied myself by rolling up my sleeping bag, not wanting to delve too deep into those memories.
“Oh,” Jessica said, her voice a little softer, realising the connection. “Right. Well, I guess I can tolerate it for one night. But just one.”
I chuckled, folding my arms. “So, generous of you.”
As we continued to pack in comfortable silence, my eyes drifted to the small wooden shelf near the bedroom door. On it was a single framed photograph of my dad and I, taken years ago on one of our last camping trips. He had his arm around me, both beaming at the camera, dirt smudged on our faces, matching flannel shirts rumpled from a long day of hiking. It was one of my most treasured memories, even though the years that followed had been anything but idyllic.
My hands stilled as the memories began to tug at me.
I was just a kid the first time he had mentioned The Wanderers. we had been out camping, just the two of us, and he’d spoken of creatures in the woods that didn’t belong in this world. His voice had been low and serious, unlike the playful tone I was used to.
“You’ll know they are close by the signs they leave behind,” he had said. “Carved into the trees. But you have to be paying attention. People don’t see what they’re not looking for.”
At the time, it had seemed like one of his many campfire stories, meant to entertain and spook me in equal measure. But as I grew older, I realised it wasn’t just a story to him. It was an obsession.
My mother had fought with him about it constantly. Stop filling her head with this crap, she had yelled once, voice thick with frustration. I can still see it clearly: dad standing in their small kitchen, arms crossed, looking worn and ragged from late nights and long days. You lost your job three months ago, were you ever going to tell me. Tell me you havent been spending all your time chasing shadows in the woods while we’re drowning in bills!
I was just a kid then, and bolted from the house, not wanting to witness the collapse of my family play out in front of me. I remember running to the garage, the one place I wouldn't hear the yelling. I rarely came in here, it kinda spooked me out, but at that moment the dark corners of the space offered a strange sort of comfort. That’s when I had first seen it though—dad’s 'investigation', laid out like a scene from a detective movie or a mad conspiracy nut..
There were maps with circles and red twine connecting blurry photographs of figures in the trees to news articles about missing hikers, and right in the center, pinned up like a centrepiece of madness, was a hand-drawn image of a creature. It was terrifying: a savage, hulking monster with red eyes and fangs, standing in the middle of the woods. I had been too scared to even breathe, staring at the wall until mum had called her back inside.
Now, standing in my warm, cozy apartment, I felt that same knot of fear tighten in my stomach.
“Hey.” Jessica’s voice broke through the haze of memory, pulling me back to the present. Jess had come up behind me, throwing an arm around my shoulders in a quick, affectionate hug. “Done for the night, babe. Thought I’d say goodnight before I crash on your couch and start dreaming of Park Ranger Adam in his little khaki shorts, do you think he's rostered on this summer”
I blinked, slowly shaking off the remnants of the past. “Yeah, sure. Just finishing up.” I gestured half-heartedly to the nearly packed bag on the floor.
Jessica’s gaze followed mine to the picture of me and my dad. “I know you are looking forward to it, but this trip’s probably tough for you too, huh?” she said softly. “But hey, we’re all with you, and who knows? Maybe you’ll meet a mysterious, hulking man in the woods. That might be just what you need."
I laughed softly, though the tightness in my chest hadn’t completely faded. “Yeah, well, I’m not quite desperate enough to start shacking up with the local fauna.”
Jessica grinned, winking as she headed for the door. “Hey, a dick is a dick, babe. And you know what they say—big feet, big…”
“Footprints?” I raised an eyebrow, cutting her off with a sly smirk.
Jessica threw her head back and laughed. “Touché. Sweet dreams, Banks.” She shot me finger guns as she disappeared into the hallway.
I watched her go, the faint sound of her steps echoing down the hall before the apartment fell quiet again. I lingered for a moment longer, looking at the picture of dad, the familiar ache of loss settling back into its usual place.
Tomorrow, we’d be heading into the very woods he had spent his life searching. And while I didn’t believe in his “Wanderers,” there was still a part of me—a tiny, stubborn part—that couldn’t help but wonder.
What made him so sure that he would leave his family, leave me
Shaking the thought away, I finished zipping up my pack and turned off the light, crawling into bed with the hum of jazz still playing softly in the background.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.