Hunted Past Reason by Richard Matheson Read Free Book Online Page A

mind. You know this goddamn forest, I don't.
    As he crossed the trunk, it shifted with him. " Oh , God," he muttered. Flailing at the air for balance, he lost hold of the staff and dropped it in the stream. By the time he'd fallen to one knee on the tree trunk, grabbed hold of it, and regained his balance, the staff was long gone, washed downstream by the leaping current. Great, he thought as he made it finally to the other side of the stream. Easy come, easy go.
    He walked back along the stream until he reached the trail and started along it again. This is a goddamn national forest, he thought as he walked. Why didn't they put some kind of bridge on the stream so the trail could be followed more easily? It might have been considerate to novices like me.
    He concentrated on walking erect, not slumping, lifting his feet, keeping a steady stride. Well, he should be at the campsite soon. He swallowed uneasily. He'd better be. The light was fading fast. At least, it seemed to be. Maybe it was because of the thick tree growth.
    Just keep going, he told himself. Erect. Feet lifted. Steady stride. He walked through the deep, silent forest, trying to remain convinced that he would reach Doug soon, have that vodka, dine on chicken à la king, and, most of all, rest his weary bones.
    5:13 PM
    "Good God," he muttered.
    Just ahead of him, the trail split.
    He stared at it in utter dismay. For the first time since he'd started after Doug he felt a genuine sense of fear. What was he supposed to do now? Doug did it on purpose, he found himself thinking.
    He'd gone on ahead, not to set up a camp but to leave him behind, hopelessly lost.
    A spasm of coldness shook his body. No, you're being paranoid, he thought. Would Doug have taken him all the way up here for some kind of terrible revenge? Revenge for what? Envy, okay, maybe so. A little jealousy. But this?
    "No," he said. "No. No." He shook his head. He was being ridiculous. There was some other reason. Doug hadn't been up here for a long time. He'd forgotten that the trail split, that was all.
    "In that case . . ." he murmured.
    He looked at the bushes and trees around the dividing trail. A piece of paper, a note, a scrap of rag. Something to mark the trail he was supposed to follow.
    There was nothing. It was shadowy beneath the trees but surely he'd see a rag or piece of paper if Doug had placed one to mark his way.
    He drew in a deep, trembling breath. Dear God, he thought. He really didn't know which way to go. And Doug had not left any sign to help him.
    He swallowed dryly. His throat felt parched. Removing the top of his water bottle, he took a sip. Not too much, he cautioned himself. You don't want to run out of water.
    "Sure," he said cynically. That's what really matters. I can be totally lost in the forest, but so long as I have water, I'll be fine. "Damn," he muttered. "Stupid idiot."
    All right. All right. He straightened up, a look of determination on his face. Maybe this was a test, a goddamn test. That sort of thing Doug would do. He was setting up a situation where logic could tell him which half of the trail to follow.
    All right, think, he thought; think, you moron.
    The right-hand trail looked as though it was beginning to angle downward. That would indicate that it was heading toward the lake Doug had mentioned. Was the answer as simple as that?
    No, the left-hand trail could also be leading to the lake. Couldn't it? The lake could be to the left, not the right.
    Which leaves me right back where I started, he thought. He tried to find some measure of amusement in the thought but couldn't really do it; the situation was too potentially serious to be amusing in any way.
    Well, for Christ's sake, make up your mind! he ordered himself. He couldn't just stand here like a bump on a log and—
    He had to snicker at the memory. A bump on a log? He hadn't thought of that phrase since he was a boy. His mother had used it often.
    "All right," he said firmly, "which way, Hansen,