Black Heart on the Appalachian Trail Read Online Free

dog.”
    â€œThat’s my dog,” the man says.
    Maria’s eyes are twitchy, and she chews her lip. She’s high, tweaking on my fifty.
    â€œIt’s my dog,” I say.
    â€œLiar.” The man raises his fist.
    I remove change from my pocket and hold the coins palm up. It’s enough for a bottle of MD 20/20.
    â€œHave one on me,” I say.
    â€œHe’ll pay more,” Maria says. “He’ll pay a thousand dollars for this dog. He loves this dog.”
    The man throws another punch, a lazy arc. I duck and then I have him by the throat. Coins fall to the ground and Maria kneels and paws at the dirt. My words are flat and hard. “Do you know how many dogs I’ve killed?”
    The man’s eyes are unfocused, but Maria glares up at me.
    â€œSeventy-seven,” I say. “Do you understand? We gassed them. You ever seen a gassed dog?”
    I release my grip and point toward the ground at my feet. I tell them that’s all the money they’re getting.
    â€œDon’t fuck with me,” I say.
    Einstein and I walk across the parking lot to a street that curves around a gas station and heads east. At an intersection that leads down a street to the house I grew up in, I jam my hands in my pockets and lean against a weathered light pole. The lawyer said the house is up for sale and I’ll reap the proceeds if a buyer comes forth, but not to look forward to it anytime soon. One part of me wants to revisit my youth and one part of me says that’s where my father blew off his head and I have no desire to see blood-spattered walls.
    I turn away and take a road that crosses the city limits, where I step over a sand-clogged gutter and arrive at the cemetery. I shield my eyes, trying to see the bone-white headstones. The sun is over the horizon, and the desert is on fire. It’s burning up. The dog trots back into town, and I follow him for a block—watch him turn into an alley without a backward glance. I don’t blame him, know I’m not worth taking a chance on.
    Instead of going after him, I think about the last time I was in this town. Back then, my dreams were all about leaving. It didn’t matter where I ended up or what happened when I got there, so long as it was anywhere but here. Now, I’m leaving with a dream that has substance and direction, a dream that began while I was behind bars. I promised myself then, and I’m promising myself now: I will walk the Appalachian Trail end to end. Or die trying.
    It feels good to have a long-range goal, my first ever, and my feet feel lighter as they contact pavement. For the first time since I can remember I have a reason to get up in the morning.

2
    ONE MINUTE SIMONE Decker, enjoying Day Two of her thru-hike, watches a hawk windsurf the updraft and the next she wants to push Devon off the cliff. He sits beside her, eats a cracker and brushes crumbs into the abyss. The urge intensifies, and she smothers it with thoughts of how much she enjoys spending time with him, and how tonight they will pitch the tent and snuggle into their sleeping bags and talk about whatever. She enjoys his voice in the darkness, likes how it surrounds and caresses her with its easy tone.
    Marveling at the absurdity, she allows her thoughts to dissipate and the urge to reappear. Devon, in that quiet way of his, talks about buying a house with a spare room. He wants a studio that faces east so he can catch morning light while he works on his drawings. She nods agreeably, aware that sitting next to someone on a cliff is an act of implied trust. Has he ever thought about pushing her off? Simone lays her hand on his back, applies the tiniest pressure. She studies his eyes, looking for a flicker of recognition, and in the end decides he is oblivious.
    They swing their legs over the void, stare at the view that beginsa quarter mile below their feet and spreads toward the horizon. It is early March, and the Georgia forest is