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It was cold. Colder than he had expected.
The campgrounds were high on the mountain side, and he had prepared for altitude sickness, food, water, shelter. But he had forgotten one teeny tiny little detail.
It was cold.
And his flint was nowhere to be found.
“Damnit!” He slapped his hand on a rock, sending the pile of sticks he had perched on it flying.
He just wanted some coffee, or even a mug of hot water. Now he would go to bed chewing jerky and feeling cold.
“Man, what did that rock do to you?”
Jackson Avery jumped at the voice and turned. A woman in a neon pink jumpsuit stood at the edge of the clearing, a hot pink knit hat with a ridiculously large pom pom tugged down over her ears.
“Uh, nothing. I just, I forgot, I forgot my flint. Or lost it on the trail,” warmth flushed his face.
The woman nodded seriously, as if that wasn’t the craziest sentence he had ever said on the side of a mountain. She glanced at his campsite and then stepped forward, “If I may-?”
Jackson gestured at the fire, frustration overcoming his words.
The woman bit her lip like she was trying to keep a serious face and walked forward, slinging her pack on the ground near the fire. She pulled a multitool from her pocket and crouched in front of the wad of paper he was using as a fire starter. After using her mouth to pull off one electric blue mitten, she made three quick strikes, and the wad was on fire. She added a clump of dried moss from one of the pockets in her bag, and then a handful of his sticks.
“Better?” She dusted some snow off a tree stump and sat down, adding a few more sticks to the fire.
“Yeah, yeah, thanks.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, her slightly reddened face amused, “I take it I came in in the middle of something?”
Jackson rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight of everything crash into him all at once. “No, I, well, maybe, kind of. I don’t know.”
The woman nodded, “Been there. You have coffee? We should make some. I have cookies, somewhere in here,” she began to dig through her pack, which was neon orange and clashed with the whole pink and blue ensemble she had going on.
“We? We don’t even know each other?” Jackson stared at her.
The woman sighed, “Dani, Dani Godwin. And you are?”
“Jackson Avery.” He was used to recognition. Used to the hospitals and people. Now, he was used to being associated with Harper Avery, the grandson of a scandal.
Dani, however, just nodded, “Lovely to meet you. So why are you on this mountain side, completely unprepared for the cold?”
“I’m not completely unprepared, okay? I just lost the stupid flint and then when I got here-” he stopped, frustration choking his words and making his head spin in anger.
Dani watched in silence as he struggled, one eyebrow raised. She pulled out a bag of stroopwafels and then a few tea bags. Unhooking her tin mug from its tie on her bag, she filled it with snow and set it next to the fire to melt. She held her hand out to him, wiggling her fingers expectantly.
Jackson frowned at her.
“Cup, please. Since you don’t want coffee, obviously, I’ll make tea. Now. Cup.”
Jackson continued to stare at her.
Dani sighed, “Fine. Don’t. I’ll enjoy my cookies and tea by the fire I started. Lovely evening isn’t it.”
“You don’t have to stay and watch me.”
He knew he was being kind of a jerk. But he was tired, and cold, and he forgot his damn flint. And he had all these questions about faith and God, and right this moment, nature was not making him feel closer to something bigger.
It made him crabby.
Dani added more snow to her mug, “Well, I’m a trail guide, and it is my responsibility to make sure everyone on the mountain gets off alive and okay.”
Jackson raised an eyebrow, “Well, I didn’t hire you.”
Dani snorted, “So? You didn’t have a flint.”
Jackson rolled his eyes, “Are you just going to keep reminding me of my incompetence or-?”
“Big word, ape woman no understand,” Dani grunted back at him, plopping the tea bag in and setting a thin caramel-y cookie on top to warm.
“I didn’t insult your intelligence. Pretty sure it was the other way around.”
Dani smiled, “You’re stuck with me. Have a cookie.”
Jackson huffed but took one, the cold caramel melting on his tongue.
Dani grinned at him, “So, Jackson Avery, tell me. What are you searching for on this mountain?”
Jackson looked at her, really looked. She was young, younger than he was. A thin scar ran down the side of her face, jagged and silvery. Her neon pink jumpsuit was worn and faded, her knit hat in similar disarray. Even her blue mittens showed their age, the ends almost worn through from use. But it was her eyes, the warm green irises staring back at him, that made him trust her.
He leaned back a bit, “Why do you think I’m searching for something?”
Dani’s eyes crinkled at the corners, “Well, very few people climb the mountain. Those that do, well, they have one of three reasons: passion, something to prove, and searching.
“Passion is easy. They love the journey and the challenge. They’re always prepared, and they don’t usually greet other travelers with skepticism.
“Those with something to prove, well, they never come unprepared. They can’t risk it. The thrill seekers, they’re afraid they won’t get back down, but the challengers, they’re afraid they won’t get back up.
“But those who are looking for something? They’re usually the ones I haul off the mountains. They forget things, they aren’t focused on survival. They, no matter how many times they’ve climbed mountains, they always end up in trouble. Not always physically.”
Dani took a long sip of her tea, sighing happily, “So what are you looking for?”
Jackson sighed, “I’m, I don’t know, God, maybe? Or something bigger. I just wanted to, you know, jump? I want to trust in something bigger, but I have all these questions.”
Dani pulled a second cup from her bag, filling it with snow and placing it near the fire. “The big questions.” It wasn’t a question.
Jackson nodded away, “Why do some people live and others die? Why do innocent babies,” his voice choked, “innocent babies die and horrible people live? Why does poverty or war or any of it happen?”
Dani added more snow, “And you think climbing a mountain will answer those?”
“I don’t know, okay?” Jackson stood up, almost tipping over his mug, and paced, “I don’t know the answers to anything. What’s out there? Is it God? Is it something else? How do I know? Where do I go? Who do I ask?”
Dani was quiet for a long moment, poking a stick at the fire. She stretched her legs out, a small smile creasing her face, “So you headed to the mountaintop.”
“What?” Jackson paused his pacing.
“You went to a mountaintop to find God. Do you even know how cliche that is?” her smile widened.
“No, no I don’t know how cliche that is! I don’t know anything!”
“Noah ended up on a mountain. Abraham was called up the mountain. Moses saw God on the mountaintop. Even Jesus went to the mountaintop and was transfigured.”
Jackson stared.
Dani’s smile grew, “Men go to the mountaintops to find God. The first temple was built on a mountain.”
“What am I supposed to do with that?” Jackson resumed pacing.
“Sit down, silly man. And listen.” She waved the cup at him insistently, “Drink your tea and be quiet.”
He sat.
She nodded, “Good. God never came to me on a mountaintop. He came to me in a hospital bed. I was twenty, and I had just been blown up by an IED. My whole squad was either missing pieces or in pieces. And I was laying in a hospital bed with burns on half my body and shrapnel near my spine.
“It was agony. But it was nothing knowing that my squad was gone. I could hear Reach on one side, screaming as they amputated his leg. On the other, Frankie was singing some gospel hymn, punctuating the pauses with groans as they cleaned his burns.”
She paused, eyes far away, “And my fiance, Leo, the love of my life, was blown apart right in front of me. So I laid in that bed, feeling like I was literally on fire, listening to Frankie sing about God and peace, and I prayed. I begged God to take me to be with Leo.
“And He didn’t. So I fought him, over and over again. I screamed and fought and decided that if I ever got out of that bed I would make God rue the day He created me.
“But He didn’t. He loved me anyway. He gave me nurses that read Bible verses, and Frankie that sang praises, and even Reach, who had to learn to walk again. He and I took turns pushing each other’s wheelchairs.
“God doesn’t only come on mountaintops, Jackson. He comes to hospital beds. He comes to your lowest place, not His highest.”
She stood and reached out, smiling, “Tell me about your lowest.”
~~~
The next morning, Jackson woke up to a cold fire pit and the taste of caramel on his tongue.
They had stayed up most of the night talking. He had told Dani everything, from his father, to Samuel, to his grandfather. They talked about God. They talked about everything.
He had been sure that he had piled enough logs in the fire pit to keep them warm until the morning. He was even more sure that Dani wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.
He headed down the mountain the same day.
~~~
There was a bar at the base of the mountain.
It was mostly there as a last stop, a waystation. The ranger there took the tally of every climber up and down. But the bar served hot food and drinks, and hikers congregated for more than just safety.
Jackson sipped his drink, staring at the burger in front of him. It looked delicious, smelled even better. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Dani and her story. And how she had disappeared up the mountain before he woke.
“To the Neon Angel!” A rowdy group of experienced hikers cheered, raising shot glasses and downing them.
The bartender shook his head fondly, polishing a glass, “That’s the third group. Man, she must have been active last night.”
Jackson looked up, “Who?”
The man smiled, “Not a local? The Neon Angel. She showed up a few years ago, after a rock slide. One of the trail guides, Dani Goad? Godwin? Golf? Something with a G, anyway, she went up to help some hikers who were stuck and no one heard from her again. We all looked for weeks, but never found more than her glove.
“About what, 6 months later? This woman in neon pink pulled a guy off the edge of a cliff when he slipped and then disappeared. Few weeks later, woman in neon pink scares off a mountain lion that was stalking a group of hikers. She’s pulled people out of rivers, fixed fraying ropes, heck even heard of her sitting with lonely hikers all night only to disappear in the light of day.”
The bartender leaned forward, “What’s really weird is that Dani, that missing trail guide? She was known for wearing bright pink hiking gear.”
He shook his head, “Super strange, but hikers took to calling her the Neon Angel.” He pointed to a frame on the wall behind him, “That’s her, right there.”
Jackson stared forward, eyes glued on an old picture of a woman with her arms slung around a pair of hikers, green eyes glinting back at him under the hood of a neon pink jumpsuit.
He could have sworn the image winked.
It was time to head home.