The sensors indicated left but as usual Rob had his own ideas and now they’d been stood there arguing in the freezing cold for 20 minutes. And then Geoff piped up.
“You know, only ten years ago these hills were covered in meadows and trees, even in the winter.”
“We know, Mr. Ventner. We remember too,” said Billie.
At 17 she was the youngest on the expedition and somehow also the most patient with that old fool who could never seem to shut himself up. When he looked up at her sharply, she only smiled sweetly and rubbed her mittened hands together.
“I suppose you do, in your own way, but you must have been awful young then. You won’t have known them like I did.”
Here we go, thought Laura. The ‘back of my hand’ speech.
“Like I still do, “ he continued. “Like the back of my hand. By the time I was your age I’d been up and down them so often…”
Laura tuned him out the best she could and looked over to where Rob and Anton were still talking in circles, both pointing confidently every so often at the screen. A screen which Rob was resolutely facing to the right, in the opposite direction of the last positive readings they’d gotten. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.
“…and sheep too, of course,” intruded Geoff’s voice.
Laura swore to God that if he used the word ‘whippersnapper’ she would bash his head in with a rock.
“Not that you whippersnappers even know what a sheep looks like. They can’t live here anymore, not since the long winter hit. Maybe they have them down by the equator these days?”
The sun had already sunk down beyond the western ranges but there was still plenty of pink-hued light to mark out the large, dark stone at Laura’s feet. It was odd that they should be in an area with exposed rocks now, after seeing nothing but unbroken snow and ice for most of the day. Or maybe not, maybe she just hadn’t been looking close enough before.
When she hefted it up and swung, she caught everyone by surprise, even herself.
“Dude!”
“Jesus, Laura! What the fuck!”
Billie was silent, along with Geoff after a feeble grunt. They all stared down at the sprawled body and the dark red splotch growing from his head.
Written for the #365daysofwriting challenge by 
Photo by Onni Anttoora.
