Roadside Tents on the Ridgeline

After finals ended, the most popular girl in class organized a graduation trip. She proposed hitchhiking the entire way, crashing in budget hostels, and seeking food and shelter from nomad camps along the route. At 200 dollars a head, she said they could ride the Ridgeline Highway all the way to Alvor Base Camp. Freedom and adventure, that was the pitch. My family ran a highland travel agency. I knew exactly how dangerous that route was. Every year, budget backpackers vanished along the Ridgeline without a trace. Young women traveling alone were the most vulnerable. In my past life, I did everything I could to stop it. I called every parent, one by one, and talked them out of letting their kids go. The whole class backed out, except Phoebe Harding, who left on her own. She went radio silent three days in. A week later, her body was found in the Barrens. I got my acceptance letter to Kingsley University. On the first day of orientation, my childhood friend Wyatt Morse stabbed me in front of everyone, screaming that it was my fault. "If you hadn't stopped us from going with her, Phoebe wouldn't have died alone! Now, you're going to pay for it!" Most of my classmates turned on me, forgetting I had saved them. They even cheered and said I deserved it. When I opened my eyes, I had gone back to the day the trip was first pitched. Chapter 1 Phoebe Harding, the most popular girl in class, walked up to the front of the classroom and looked out at everyone. "Let's go to Alvor Base Camp. We'll take the Ridgeline Highway. We'll head west the whole way, no turning back. We'll see the fall colors at Ember Crossing, the clouds rolling over Carrow Flats, and the blue water of Lake Amberly. "The kind of freedom you get on the Ridgeline? You can never feel that in the city. Highland snow peaks are clean and healing. It's the perfect way to close out our youth. And if we don't end it with a photo at the foot of Mount Alvor, what would even be the point of this summer?" The room erupted immediately. Everyone was sold. "The Ridgeline's a must-drive! You'd regret it forever if you never went!" "Blasting music with the windows down the whole way... Just thinking about it gets me pumped!" "That's how you do a graduation trip. A photo at Alvor? That's bragging rights for life!" It did not take long for a few people to frown and speak up. "Alvor's so far, though. Wouldn't the cost be insane?" "My family's not exactly loaded. If it's too expensive, count me out." Wyatt Morse turned to me immediately. "Nina, doesn't your family run a highland travel agency? Get us a group rate. An insider deal for the whole class." I looked up at the room and said evenly, "A ten-day licensed round trip to Alvor runs 3,000 dollars a person." The entire class gasped. "Three thousand dollars? Are you kidding?" I did not dodge the question. I laid out every part of the package. "The entire route's by four-wheel-drive SUV on the Ridgeline Highway, no unmarked back roads. You hit every major stop along the way—Ridgeford, Ember Crossing, Lake Amberly, all of it. "Quality hotel rooms every night with oxygen tanks provided and all meals included. There's a certified highland medic and a security escort with the group the whole time. Every passenger's covered by a 200,000-dollar comprehensive highland accident policy. No hidden fees, no surprise charges. "That's industry standard. There isn't a single cent of markup. Highland travel is dangerous. Safety comes first, always. You don't cut a single corner on any of it." Wyatt's expression darkened, his tone edged with irritation. "Come on, we've all been classmates for three years. Five hundred bucks at cost price, that's all. Just hook us up." I shook my head. My answer did not waver. "The agency has operating costs. I'm not running a charity. My family's not a nonprofit. We've got no obligation to hand out free discounts." That lit the room on fire. A crowd swarmed my desk, one accusation piling onto the next. "God, Nina, could you be any more selfish?" "You'd really make money off your own classmates? How do you sleep at night?" "Three years together and you still care more about profit than people? That's cold." Phoebe seized the moment and stepped forward to steer the crowd. "Don't waste your money, guys. Don't let some greedy business rip you off." She held up her phone, showing the budget travel itinerary she had already put together. "I've got the whole route mapped out. It's 200 dollars a person. We hitchhike the whole way, so there's zero transport costs. At night, we stay in budget hostels, and if we find herder camps along the way, we crash there. "Herders are generous. Free grilled lamb, warm drinks by the fire. And if we stick to the local back roads instead of the tourist traps, we save on entry fees too. Low-cost, free-spirited travel. That's how young people are supposed to see the world." The class went wild. Everyone rallied behind Phoebe. "Phoebe always knows what's up! She's a genius at saving money!" "Forget paying for some overpriced tour group. Backpacking's the real experience!" Then, the barbs swung straight at me. "Hope your family's little agency goes under!" "All you care about is money. You've got zero heart." After tearing into me, they went right back to buzzing about the scenery and the culture they would find on the road. They argued over what music to play and what poses to strike for photos. They were so young and so foolish. They did not have the faintest idea what that road held. The environment alone was lethal. The Ridgeline climbed and dropped in altitude without warning. A single day could cycle through all four seasons, and clear skies could give way to blinding snowstorms that sealed off the mountain passes in minutes. In the Barrens, there was no signal for 100 miles in any direction, no supplies, and no working navigation. One wrong turn and a person was simply gone. Highland pulmonary edema and cerebral edema struck fast. They could kill in as little as an hour. Then, there were the animals. Wolf packs roamed the wastelands at night. Sharp-nosed and patient, they would quickly circle anyone who strayed from a group. Highland brown bears were fiercely territorial and did not retreat from humans. Vultures wheeled overhead at all hours, watching for anyone on the ground who had stopped moving. However, worse than the weather, worse than the animals, were the people. My family ran a travel agency, so I had heard every story. Many young men and women chased the backpacking trend and hitched free rides the whole way, only to never be heard from again. Once, a female college student got picked up by an unlicensed driver and was never seen again. Another time, a group of male backpackers was robbed at knifepoint, stripped of everything, and dumped in a sub-zero snowfield to freeze to death. There were countless disappearances in the Barrens, and the vast majority of them were not accidents. Behind almost every one was deliberate, premeditated crime. In my previous life, I was soft-hearted and naive. I did everything in my power to save my classmates. Even knowing I would lose money, I dropped the tour price to 2,000 dollars a person and covered the difference out of my own pocket. All I wanted was for these people I had spent three years with to make it through the trip alive. However, they cursed me for it anyway. Not a single one of them believed the highlands were dangerous. I contacted every parent and talked them all out of going. The only one I could not stop was Phoebe. She went backpacking into the Barrens alone. Three days later, she lost all contact. Seven days after that, her body was found in the Barrens. She had been assaulted before she died. I thought the people I saved would be grateful. Instead, I died at the hands of my own childhood friend. Even after I was gone, those ungrateful classmates still spat on my name. This time around, after being reborn, I kept my mouth shut and just watched my classmates whip themselves into a frenzy in the same classroom. I did not warn them. I did not say a single word. Senior year was over. They were all adults now. They could answer for their own choices. Chapter 2 I packed up my bag and headed for the door, leaving the noise of the classroom behind me. Three girls hurried after me, looking slightly nervous. "Nina, we looked up the market rate for Alvor trips on our own. Three thousand dollars is completely fair. Your family's agency has always had a great reputation—top-tier accommodations, meals included, full medical and security staff, and no forced shopping stops. "We're too scared to go backpacking. The thought of something going wrong on the road terrifies us. We want to sign up for your family's licensed tour. Is that okay?" I nodded and agreed without hesitation. I remembered these girls. In my previous life, they had stayed neutral the entire time. They never piled on with the insults, and they never trashed my name after I died. They were not part of the ungrateful crowd. Before long, three more girls came over on their own to sign up. Including me, that made seven of us in a small, licensed tour group. On the other side of the room, Phoebe was in full swing, tallying up headcount for the backpacking trip. She had collected 33 sign-ups. Most of them were boys who liked jumping on whatever bandwagon was loudest. There were also a handful of girls who wanted to take enough photos to build a social media following off the trip. Between them, the list covered almost every single person who had turned on me in my past life. When Phoebe found out I had put together a seven-person premium tour, she laughed openly at the six girls. "Some people just have more money than sense. They just love throwing it away. Two hundred dollars or 3,000 dollars, you're looking at the same mountain at the end. When we get there safe and sound, you'll wish you hadn't wasted all that cash. "Nina's treating you like walking wallets and you don't even see it!" The rest of the students around her joined right in with the jeering. "Paying for a tour package is basically paying an idiot tax. You're just letting the agency fleece you." "If you've got money to burn, you'd have more fun backpacking with us." I looked at this crowd of blindly overconfident teenagers and felt nothing but contempt. Thirty-three of them marching into the Barrens together… I did not want to picture how that would end. I turned to the six girls traveling with me and gave them a few instructions. "Just pack warm layers, sunglasses, and an insulated water bottle. That's all you need to bring. Give me your IDs and I'll handle the frontier permits for everyone. As for oxygen tanks, medication, and outdoor gear, the agency will have all of it ready." A boy nearby overheard the words 'frontier permit' and immediately scoffed. "You don't even need a frontier permit if you take the back roads. That's a total waste of time. Spending money just to spend it. Must be nice being rich." Laughter broke out again. I did not respond. I set the departure for three days later at 8:00 am, and we would be meeting at the front gate of the school. Then, I turned and walked out of the classroom without looking back at the noise behind me. Every one of them was lost in their cheap fantasy of freedom. None of them knew that the wilderness was already waiting. I went home and told my parents about the seven-person student tour. My family had been running highland travel routes for over a decade and understood every risk along the way. My parents did not cut a single corner on the safety preparations. My parents arranged two full-time guides with ten years of Ridgeline experience each, two certified highland emergency medics to ride with the group at all times, and two professional security personnel for protection throughout the trip. The convoy consisted of five brand-new four-wheel-drive SUVs. Two carried our group of seven passengers. The other three were loaded entirely with emergency supplies. Each vehicle was stocked with triple the necessary drinking water and high-calorie rations, along with heavy-duty down parkas and extreme-weather sleeping bags. Medical-grade oxygen tanks, altitude sickness medication, and trauma first-aid kits were all packed and ready, and the convoy carried multiple satellite phones and satellite GPS beacons. Dad was serious when he spoke. "There's no cell signal through the entire stretch of the Barrens. All navigation goes dead. In extreme weather, even a compass can fail. The only thing you can rely on out there is the guides reading the stars to find direction. Supplies cannot run short." I was going through the equipment checklist when someone knocked on the front door. I opened it to find Wyatt and Phoebe standing outside, one behind the other. Chapter 3 The two of them walked in without a shred of courtesy and went straight to asking for a handout. "Nina, the 33 of us don't have enough funds for the backpacking trip. Your agency can sponsor us a bus and a full-time driver. Throw in some free oxygen tanks and trail food too. Think of it as supporting your classmates' graduation dream trip." I looked them both in the eye and refused without hesitation. "Vehicles and staff cost money to operate. I have no obligation to hand them out for free." Phoebe's expression went cold instantly. She pulled out her phone, filmed the inside of my house, and posted it online. She played up the victim angle for the camera, her voice pitched to sound wounded and helpless. "This travel agency owner's daughter goes to our school. She's always been stuck-up and standoffish. Her own classmates hit a rough patch planning their graduation trip, and she won't lift a single finger to help. "It's cold-blooded capitalism. All about the money, zero humanity. I'm asking everyone online to help us boycott this heartless agency." The comments poured in immediately. [Business owners nowadays literally only care about money. So cold.] [It's just a small favor between classmates. Why be so stingy about it?] [Highland travel is already expensive enough. Can't blame students for opting to do a budget trip…] Wyatt stepped forward and pressed me directly. "Nina, you're so selfish that it's unreal. You won't give anyone an inch. We grew up together. We already promised we'd start officially dating once we got to college. You won't even do this one small thing for me? Then forget it. We're done." I looked up at Wyatt, at this boy I had grown up alongside since we were children, and all I felt was cold disappointment. "Wyatt, the only reason you got into a top university is that I tutored you for free for three years. But you're always taking Phoebe's side and going out of your way to put me down. "I never wanted this relationship in the first place, so calling it off works just fine for me. You think threatening a breakup scares me? I've been sick of you for a long time. Don't flatter yourself." The color drained from Wyatt's face, and he could not get a single word out. Phoebe had not expected me to be that blunt either. The two of them threw out a few parting threats and stormed out of my house. I shut the front door and went back to checking the travel supplies. The wounds from my past life were carved too deep. I was not going to go soft again. … On the morning of departure, five SUVs were parked in a clean row outside the school gate at 8:00 am sharp. All seven of us girls had changed into professional hiking jackets, and matching sets of outdoor gear were lined up neatly beside each vehicle. The guides, medics, and security team were all in position on time, the convoy orderly and precise. Passersby on the street stopped to stare. Less than ten minutes later, Phoebe arrived with her group of 33. I turned and looked, and the gap between the two groups was obvious at a glance. Everyone in the backpacking group wore shorts and T-shirts, completely wrong for highland weather. Each of them carried nothing but a small daypack with a handful of snacks and a change of clothes inside. There was no cold-weather gear, no oxygen tanks, and no emergency medication among any of them. Not a single person in the entire group had even brought an insulated water bottle. One of the girls on our team could not stand it and went over to warn them. "The temperature swing in the highlands is extreme. It drops below five degrees at night. Dressed like that, you're going to get frostbite. Also, there's no cell signal in the Barrens. If you go in blind, you'll get lost in no time. How do you not even have a guide?" Phoebe did not bother hiding her disdain. "Don't be so dramatic. We can ask the herders for help along the way. We can always borrow a sheepskin coat if it gets cold. The GPS on our phone is accurate enough. We don't need some extra guide tagging along. Paying top dollar for a babysitter is just a waste of money." The 30-plus students behind her laughed and jeered along with her. I reached out and gently held back my teammate who wanted to keep arguing, shaking my head. "Don't bother. Just respect everyone's right to make their own choices." I gave the signal and our SUV convoy pulled out smoothly. On the other side of the road, Phoebe's group stood at the curb with their thumbs out, flagging down rides. Before long, they managed to stop a westbound freight truck convoy. There were several trucks in the line, and the convoy leader had an honest face. He was a regular long-haul driver, nothing suspicious about him. He agreed to let the backpackers ride along. "We're headed down the Ridgeline anyway. Fifty bucks a head for gas and you can hop on." Over 30 students cheered and scrambled to climb into the truck beds and passenger cabins. Phoebe stood at the front of the lead truck bed, waving at our convoy and shouting after us, "See you at Alvor! Have a great trip, suckers!" Wyatt joined in right behind her, his eyes full of contempt. I watched them through the rearview mirror. I knew, with complete certainty, that their excitement would turn to despair soon enough. Two groups set off toward the west at the same time, heading for very different fates. Chapter 4 Our licensed tour followed a strict, scientifically paced schedule to deal with the altitude, so we moved slowly. On the first day, the convoy stopped at Ridgeford so everyone could rest and adjust to the elevation. On the second day, we reached Ember Crossing, and the scenery along the way gradually shifted into highland terrain. The altitude increased in careful stages to minimize the risk of altitude sickness. The medics on our team ran full blood oxygen and heart rate checks on everyone twice a day, morning and evening. Two of the girls developed mild dizziness, and their lips started turning purple. The medics brought over medical-grade oxygen tanks right away and walked them through slow, steady breathing. Within a few minutes, both of them had returned to normal. At every stop along the route, the guides set aside plenty of time for sightseeing. The girls took countless photos along the scenic photography trail at Ember Crossing. At the Sky Terrace in Carrow Flats, everyone got out of the vehicles to take pictures and soak it in. At the foot of the Three Peaks in Dawnridge Valley, the girls were so thrilled they could barely stand still, snapping photos of each other nonstop. Every night, we checked into climate-controlled hotels with built-in oxygen systems. The rooms had full oxygen saturation, so there was no risk of altitude sickness flaring up overnight. Every meal featured local highland cuisine, with as much highland beef stew as anyone could eat, plus local free-range chicken soup, highland grain flatbread, and fresh plateau vegetables on the side. The girls sat around the dinner table, one compliment rolling into the next. "Three thousand dollars was worth every single cent. We haven't had to worry about a thing this whole trip." "It's safe, it's comfortable, and it's a thousand times better than stumbling around on some backpacking trip." "Thank God, we didn't follow them on that disaster. We'd be miserable right now." I sat off to the side listening, and all I did was smile faintly. Meanwhile, Phoebe's group had an exceptionally smooth first three days. The freight trucks drove steadily the whole way, and midway through the route they passed a herder settlement. The group showed up uninvited and asked to stay the night, and the herders were kind enough to take them in. They ate freshly roasted lamb for free and drank spiced herder's tea straight from the pot. Phoebe seized every opportunity, posting over a dozen short clips and updates to her social media every single day. Her captions were loud and boastful: [Two hundred dollars and we're on our way to Alvor. You can't put a price on youth.] She made a point of tagging my family's travel agency account, taking a not-so-subtle jab at our premium pricing. The comments section was flooded with praise, every last one of them jumping on the bandwagon. [Budget travel is the real way to do it. Paying for a tour package is literally just an idiot tax.] [Young people should be brave enough to rough it. Don't let businesses squeeze you dry.] [You're looking at the same mountains either way. No reason to spend ten times more for nothing.] Wyatt shared her posts at the same time and openly mocked me for making a big deal out of nothing. [The highlands aren't nearly as dangerous as people make them sound. That's just travel agencies drumming up fear to sell packages. Some people just want to make a dishonest buck, so they blow the risks way out of proportion on purpose.] The backpacking group's sense of superiority grew with every passing day. Every single one of them was now convinced that my earlier safety warnings had been nothing but lies. They even made plans in their group chat to take a big group photo once they reached Alvor and send it to me the second it was taken, just to rub it in my face. The whole chat was on board. All of them were waiting to watch me eat my words. What they did not know was that the truck drivers were only going as far as the junction. Beyond that point, the blizzards and the dead silence of the Barrens were waiting for them.