Guidance: A short story about two friends that become lost on a day hike in the California Red Woods having to spend a moonless night at the feet of The Giants. Unable to see their hands before their faces, Shawn and Razel become enveloped in the surreal world of their imaginations and the sounds of the nightlife that surround them.

"Twenty minutes! Twenty minutes the guy at the gas station said it would take us to get to Lincoln Grove. I don’t see where we could have gone wrong". Razel peered down at the map in her lap as Shawn guided the faded deep green VW around another curve in the highway. She took pride in being a good navigator and now found herself searching for a scapegoat to abuse for her rumpled ego.

"There! What’s that sign coming up say?" Shawn hit the brakes on the aging "Bug" and pulled a little ways onto the shoulder of the road. "Where? Where are you looking? Shawn searched frantically glancing forward and backward, thinking maybe they’d already passed it up. "There!" Razel pointed through the rear window of the car. "The green sign going the other way." Shawn wrenched the steering wheel to the left and spun the little car around to the opposite side of the road. "Lincoln Grove 10 Miles" it read. "How could we have missed a grove of 300 foot giant red wood trees" Razel queried, as if the Lincoln Grove would have loomed out from the rest of the forest like an island as they passed it by.

"No problem, soothed Shawn, "It’ll only put us about an hour behind our schedule. We should be at the trailhead by 10 o’clock. That gives us three hours up to the lake and four to get back to the grove."

This day trip to the grove had been Razel's idea.  Here she lived an hour's drive from it and had never seen the giants.  And Shawn had accepted her invitation with alacrity, always ready to jump at any excuse to play hookey from his job at the University. He'd even volunteered to drive.

"Look! A roadhouse!", exclaimed Shawn as they rounded a turn. "I didn’t know they had those anymore. It’s like right out of the forties. Or maybe the thirties. Possibly the teens or twenties." He slowed to gawk.

A low log building fronted with a jutting drive-through canopy squatted beside the road, its shingle roof buried beneath a thick mat of fallen pine needles. Glass cylinders filled with bright yellow liquid topped the antique gas pumps under the canopy. A dilapidated blue panel truck of a sort that Shawn had seen only in pictures was parked at the side of the building. Beyond it, in a chicken-wire compound, sat three more old trucks in various states of dismantlement. The place was quiet, but smoke trailed from a tin chimney pipe atop the roof. A sign across the front of the canopy read "Houdini’s Hat ".

"Let’s go in!", said Razel. "It looks spooky as hell, maybe even dangerous, but when you’ve borne the burden of a name like mine for twenty-two years, you count life cheap!"

Shawn braked and looked at her. "You intrigue me," he marveled. "I’ve never seen this side of you."

She looked back at him. "We met a week ago. You’ve never seen any side of me."

"You cut me to the quick. Wherever that is."

"Okay, since you’re doing the driving I suppose you know something about my left side."

"So true, and a lovely side it is." He pulled the tiny car off the road and parked it next to the blue truck. "Do you really think it might be dangerous? Because I could wait here while you find out."

"Oh, come on in. You’ll have plenty of time to run while they’re pulling my clothes off."

"You promise." He got out and ran around the car to open her door. She was kneeling backward in her seat to reach a video camera buried among their gear. He held the door happily. He was falling in love.

"Take this, will ya?" She held out the camera without looking, and continued digging. "You got any cash?" She turned to face him.

Shawn shifted his gaze quickly, then thought for a second. "Gas money. We’re talking cokes, right?"

"We’re talking whatever they sell in there. Coke, rum, Orange Doofus. Gas money should cover it." She climbed out of the car and stood staring at him. "Let’s do it, Pardner," she said, kicking the door shut with the toe of her hiking boot. Shawn followed her into the shade of the service canopy.

"Check out that door!" said Razel. The bar’s front entry was a single ponderous slab of redwood hung on three massive black hinges. A square hole was cut through the wood at eye level. Peering into the black grillwork of the little window told Razel only that the door was about three inches thick, and the room beyond it smokey. "Smell that! Mmmmm," she breathed.

"No doorknob," Shawn observed, pushing against the slab with one hand. He turned to review their surroundings. "Maybe it’s just someone’s house now. In fact, here’s a possible resident."

A white rabbit hopped tentatively out of the ivy at the edge of the drive and headed for the spot where they stood. "Somebody’s pet," said Shawn.

"Mighty good eatin’, I hear," returned Razel.

"I had one when I was a kid," said Shawn.

"How’d it taste?" said Razel.

"It was a pet, you brazen hussy. I only chewed its ears once in a while."

Razel bent and picked up the rabbit. She bundled it close in both arms and spoke loudly into the grillwork: "Let us in or the bunny gets it!"

Shawn looked about quickly. "Shusshhh! Hey, for all you know that rabbit’s a Mafia courier." He looked around again. "Or belongs to some kid with a squirrel gun and a fear of strangers."

As he spoke, the door opened a crack.

"Hello!" said Razel brightly into the crack. "Can we come in? We found your rabbit."

The crack did not widen, but they heard a rustling from within. Razel and Shawn stood staring at the crack for several seconds before the door swung open to reveal a short, stocky, smiling man in bicycle pants and a top hat. He wore a red jacket over a black turtleneck that had emblazoned across it in gold sequins the words "Believe What You See." Standing to one side of the doorway, he ushered them in with a slight bow and an exaggerated sweep of his hand. Razel, still carrying the rabbit, stepped over the threshold, and Shawn followed after.

They were laughing so hard it hurt. Razel set her glass down, giving it the 'stay' sign with her hand. She glanced over at Shawn, a slightly dopey, if not flirting, smile on her lips. Shawn grinned back through the haze. "Max that was the best barbecue I've ever had in my life!"

Max, top hat now removed, winked at them. "Family secret…of course the old stone pit's critical, but I'll never know why pop built it inside the lodge." Max proceeded to whistle a line of 'Smoke Gets In Your Eyes'. All three disintegrated into another round of raucous laughter.

Max and Shawn continued talking and joking, Razel watching the two of them in a detached, third person sort of way.

Shawn is so much fun to just be around…and not too bad looking either, she thought. What a day! It hadn't turned out to be at all what they had planned, but it had been thoroughly enjoyable. Stumbling across Max's place had been pure serendipity. Everything here was so laid back and relaxed, so earthy…almost surreal…of course the drinks had had their influence too. Razel wondered now if perhaps she should have passed on the last round of - what was that stuff again? Some other 'secret' family recipe of Max's…but they had been so good it was hard to refuse. Time was almost standing still…Razel could feel it on hold. Time! "Oh my gosh! What time is it?!" Razel abruptly blurted out.

The two men looked at her wide-eyed, then at each other quizzically, and proceeded to burst out laughing. "Don't get yourself in such a tizzy missy, it's 'round 'bout four thirty." Max reassured her, a tear running down one of his tanned, elfin cheeks.

Shawn blinked and a look of disbelief flashed over his face. "Man, we'd better get moving if we're going to even get a little hike in!"

"Shawn, do you think we oughtta drive? I'm kinda picky about it after a few rounds…" asked Razel, sounding slightly apologetic.

"…and rightly so Mam!" Max interjected, "but you'll be fine for a little jaunt…walk it off, you know. Just happens, there's a lovely little trail head right 'round the back of the lodge. So, off you go, before it gets dark." He was practically shoving them out the door, "I'll see you back here in four hours or so and have a late supper ready and waiting. If you keep up a good pace, you should make it up to Little Lake. See you soon. Enjoy!" and the door closed, leaving Razel and Shawn staring incredulously at one another.

"Well, you heard the man, let's get going!" announced Razel and, taking a chance, grasped Shawn's hand and started walking.

The trail went into the woods for about an eighth of a mile than started winding down a slope into a broad ravine. The roadhouse was quickly out of sight and they were surrounded by the woods. Shawn walked in front out of guy habit, though he would have been quite happy to walk behind Razel for any distance at all. For her part, Razel had done a lot of walking on her own and would have been perfectly comfortable leading, but it was nice not to have to have that way-scanning, path-finding part of your mind going and be able to relax and "enjoy the view".

The path was a little dusty at first, but became dark and tamped down as they got further in. Lacey ferns grew everywhere, and grotesque shelves of fungus hung from the wide bases of the trees. The massive columns of the redwoods soared toward the sky with the slow, awesome energy of centuries (hey, that's not bad, thought Razel, I should write that down). It was competely shady down at trail level; the ferns glowed in a quiet green way that you could only see under the trees like this. But when she looked up, Razel saw sunbeams slanting through the upper branches like a proclamation, the branches straight and gnarled, dead and living, all attending.

Somewhere in the ferns a little spring was seeping. The trail switchbacked down the broad slope of the ravine and as the trickle made its way downhill, Shawn and Razel had to step over it whenever it crossed the trail. The first time they encountered it it had eroded through the top crust of the trail and revealed a colorful mosaic of coarse gravel, embedded stones and dark, gnarly roots. Shawn stepped over it and plodded on, but Razel squatted down by it for a moment to watch the zigzag pleated play of the water. When he reached the next bend Shawn noticed she wasn't behind him. He headed back, intending to say something about their not having time to dally, but when he came up to her he was suddenly, abashedly lost in the unexpected, dimly lit interior of her dark orange tanktop and couldn't say anything at all for an exquisite, perilous moment. Before she looked up he squatted down opposite her and resting his chin on his fists on his knees happily watched the awkward progress of a newt as it flailed its way over the gravel and plopped gracelessly over a tiny tricklefall at the edge of the trail. He looked up at Razel and found her looking at him with the smallest little 1/16th of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Hastening guiltily away from his previous stolen intimacy, he missed his chance (Razel: Earth to Shawn, our lips are like three inches apart!), stood up and, raising his eyebrows, said they'd probably better keep up the pace.

After about half an hour the ravine opened out onto the branch-entangled bank of a wide, shallow creek. The trail swerved, hugging the hillside and following the creek upstream. The trail was much rockier here and they had to watch their footing more carefully than before. Then there was a sign on dark-brown painted wood which read, next to a white arrow: Little Lake - 1 1/2 miles. The trail turned toward the creek and they found themselves tramping across a log bridge which, though sturdily built, looked (and felt) as though it probably hadn't been tended to since its Depression-era construction. Razel stopped to watch the water flow, green and gold under young willows, and Shawn leaned on the railing beside her, his upper arm pressed against hers. When she looked at him this time... Well, some of us aren't complete fools.

The trail across the bridge became narrower and less well defined. At one point Shawn and Razel came to a fork. The right branch went down along the creek and the left branch went steeply up the side of the canyon, disappearing quickly into the trees and large ferns.

"Which way should we go?" Razel asked Shawn.

After their "moment" on the bridge, Shawn had taken the second position on the hike and had not immediately seen the fork until Razel pointed it out.

"You're the leader right now, which way do you think we should go?"

Razel cocked her head slightly and looked at him quizzickly. "We don't have too much time to ponder, do we? It's going to get dark on us." She said, more to the trees than to Shawn.

"Why isn't there a sign, or at least a blaze mark or duck to show the way?" He felt some pressure to take the initiative. "The creek probably comes out of Little Lake but the going might be rough following the creek, let's take the upper trail."

Razel said nothing but commenced walking up the left branch.

The trail continued steeply up the left flank of the canyon. The two hikers said nothing for some time and the stillness of the forest seemed to intensify as they moved nearer toward the ridge top.

Soon the trail leveled out and gave way to a small slightly sloping meadow. The larger part of this open space was now in shadow, but the trail skirting the left boundary was still bathed in late afternoon light.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Razel "What's that?"

"Where?" Shawn said, holding one hand up against the sun.

"Across the meadow, by that dead tree."

"Shawn was squinting, trying to block the sun unsuccessfully. He could not see the darkened side of the meadow very well.

Then something moved.

"It looks awfully big, maybe a bear." he said in a load hoarse whisper.

"Let's get out of the light." Razel answered looking about for a good spot. "If it hasn't seen us already, it will certainly see us soon in this brightness."

They moved into the shadow of a huge boulder and stood there trying to make out the large figure across the meadow. Still looking toward the "thing", Razel moved slowly close to Shawn and he gently closed his arms around her protectively.

"I hope it doesn't smell us." She said still concentrating her gaze in the direction of the mysterious creature.

Shawn shut his eyes and took in the fragrance of Razel's hair. "Let's hunker down, I think we'll have to wait until it leaves before we move on." Shawn whispered soothingly into Razel's proximal ear.

They slowly slid down until they were sitting on the sandy soil at the base of the rock.

The sunlight was touching high up on the redwoods when the beast finally strode into the forest and disappeared.

"It looked like a hairy football player without clothes." Razel said.

"How many of those have you seen?" Shawn replied.

"Oh, you know what I mean, like a Bigfoot or something." She cried, slightly wounded. "Did you bring a flashlight?"

Shawn put his hands up to his shoulders reflexively. Normally he would have brought his day pack with all those little important hiker's items, but Max had rushed them out on the trail so quickly that in his slightly inebriated condition he hadn't even thought about the pack. It was still resting nicely in the trunk of the car.

"You're right." he said "We're going to be hiking out of here in the dark."

Suddenly, what had seemed a harmlesss afternoon outing took on a more serious tone.

"If we hurry, we can get most of the way back before it's totally dark." Razel said.

"You mean we're going to give up on reaching the lake? I thought you were the daring one." Shawn smiled a little needling smile at her.

Razel returned a small upper lip up growl at him.