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by Kellyanne Lynch 6 May 2001, 12:30 PM - 8 May 2001, 2:50 AM Disclaimer: This story is a product of a strange manufacturing plant, (not vegetable), called my brain. The Red Hot Chili Peppers are characters in this tale, but I do not own them, call them, stalk them, or even know people who look like them. The purpose of this story is to entertain, and to distract myself from upcoming finals. Oh joy. This goes out to my Chili Pepper support team, Chewable Morphine and Fastfood Junkie. You guys make me want to write RHCP fanfic 24/7! ROCK ON!!! Peace, Love, and Chili Peppers! Summary: Our heroes go on a hiking adventure, one that they won't soon forget. Recommended Reading: I suggest that you read "Fight Like A Brave" by Fastfood Junkie before you read this story. This story takes place after that adventure. I make a few references back to it, and those parts will not make sense without having read FFJ's story first. Besides, it is an excellent read. So go away and come back when you've read it!!! Rating: PG Please e-mail dearjoan@mikeypower.com with questions, comments, theories, complaints, or words of wisdom. -------------------------- Chapter One Flea tumbled down the incline, head over feet, before his back slammed into a pair of legs. "Oof!" His cerulean eyes wide, he gazed up sheepishly at the owner of the legs. Who snickered. "That was intelligence!" Anthony chuckled. "Right there, Flea! So do you STILL say you'll be the first one up the mountain?" John stepped forward, extending a hand to his fallen band mate. "You okay?" he asked. Pain swept across the back of Flea's head, felt like it was on fire. "Fine," he replied, taking John's hand and getting to his feet. He wiped the dust off his gray flannel shirt and his jeans. Then gazed up the mountain path. Trees surrounded the men on either side of the pathway, limbs stretching, broad leaves waving as they surfed breezes. Flea took in a deep breath, inhaling flower scents mixed with trees and... "Damn, Chad, do you smell!" Flea turned to his friend, who was sitting on a boulder to his right. Beads of perspiration dotted Chad's upper lip, his nose, and his forehead. He swiped his forehead and narrowed his eyes at Flea. "These are the mountains!" he huffed. "I am allowed to smell!" Some manner of bird screeched in the distance. Flea stared skyward, just in time to see a hawk swoop overhead. He smiled. "Not much further 'til we reach the top," Anthony commented, taking a swig from his water bottle. A contented sigh slipped from his lips as he lowered the bottle. Midchug, Chad furrowed his eyebrows. He drew his own water bottle to his side. "How do you know that? Or is this a guess?" Anthony scratched his midsection, under the flannel sleeves tied around his waist. Pointing up the path, he replied, "The trees are getting shorter; that's a good indication." "Oh," Chad breathed, and sucked down more water. "Ah, I'd conserve if I were you," John's dark eyes watched his friend. "You remember our last adventure, don't you?" Chad swallowed and set down the bottle. "Yeah, but this ain't the desert, and I brought a water filter this time!" He patted the external frame pack by his left knee and took up his water again. John shrugged, kicking gravel. Pebbles skipped down the pathway. "So, if we're almost there, why are we stopped?" Lines creased Flea's forehead. Flinging a finger in Chad's direction, Anthony said, "Hey, don't you see the man needs a rest?" Chad looked around. "No, I'm ready. We can go." He flung the water bottle in his bag and buckled down the straps. He got to his feet. John grabbed the bag and helped Chad get it onto his back. The sun shimmered through the spaces in the leaves, tiny rays of light apparent. They striped the packs and bodies of the four as they ascended the trail, toward the incline from which Flea had fallen. Anthony took it at a running jump. He landed halfway up the incline, grabbing a tree root before he lost any footing. Heaving a deep breath, he pulled the root. The frame pack on his back jiggled. The muscles in his bare arms tightened, tendons appearing through them. Anthony climbed the root and reached the top of the incline. Gazing down at his friends, he panted and smiled. "Show off," Flea grunted, stepping back several paces. He ran, jumped, reached for Anthony's root. But his hand slapped down a full foot shy of its mark... And grabbed hold of a hand instead. "I gotcha," Anthony spoke through clenched teeth. But, as Anthony voiced this reassurance, Flea's grip loosened and squeezed Anthony's fingers. "Aah!" Anthony cried out but did not retract his hand. Flea's legs flailed about, seeking footing, when his left boot dug into a soft, unstable surface. He glanced over his shoulder. "Just climb!" Chad gritted his teeth, pushing his friend's foot. Flea thrust himself forward, his right hand latching onto Anthony's upper arm. He climbed it. "I didn't say you could climb me," Anthony mumbled, wiggling his fingers. He sat back on the gravel behind him. John wandered into the clearing. Anthony and Flea just stared at him. "How the hell did you get up here?" Flea's mouth dropped open, and he sat back. John pointed behind him. "There was an easier way, right over there, with lots of rocks..." Anthony and Flea each slapped their foreheads. "Is somebody going to give me a hand?" a voice strained from the incline. The three looked over and saw Chad hanging onto the root. "Like today? Today would be nice." John grabbed Chad's wrist, and Flea reached for his friend's other hand. Chad latched onto both helping hands, which pulled him to the top. "John found an easier way, buddy," Anthony informed him. Chad shot daggers at John. "And you couldn't tell me when we were both still down there?" He thrust a thumb over his shoulder. John shrugged. "Hey!" Flea exclaimed. The other three turned to him, watching him run up the trail. "We're almost there! Race ya!" John, Anthony, and Chad took turns glancing at one another before taking off after Flea. Trees that they passed shrunk until there were none. Their feet plodded off dirt, onto stone, as the sun shone in every direction, unfiltered. Anthony reached the summit just seconds before his friends. Flinging his frame pack to the ground, he exclaimed, "Yes! I am the king of the...Oof!" Flea barreled into Anthony's midsection. The two toppled to the ground, laughing and smacking each other. John and Chad slipped their bags off their shoulders. Their hair danced on their heads as wind swept over them, cooling their heated bodies. Chad smiled and sat down. John gazed out at the world, at rolling green textures of forests. Mountains towered over the miniature trees, shading ones closest to them. Closing his eyes, John breathed in the breeze of... there was no other way to describe it. Of pure nature. An arm slammed into the back of his knees, and John tumbled onto Anthony and Flea. "Hey!" Anthony's muffled voice exclaimed. "John, your ass is in my face!" "I can't get up!" John cried. "Somebody's holding my arms!" His hands scanned the ground beneath him, slapping human flesh. "Ow!" Flea howled. "Chad! Help!" Chad hopped to his feet and peeled apart his friends. He chuckled to himself as he sat back down. "I don't think it's funny," Flea sulked, rubbing his nose. Anthony flopped down beside Chad and opened his frame pack. "You started the whole thing!" Platinum blond strands slipped over his eyes as he dug around in his pack, and he flipped them to the side. "We should eat." "Yeah," John smiled. "No better place to eat than on a mountain top." He pulled his bag closer to himself and unlatched the top flap. Flea bit into his sandwich. "How much longer 'til we set up camp?" Chunks of chewed-up bread showered out of his mouth, splattering on Anthony's jeans. "That's... that's just lovely, dear," Anthony commented as he wiped off the crumbs with a serviette. "Appreciate it." John glanced over at the glowing hands on Chad's wristwatch. "It's three o'clock now," he announced, then took a swig of water. Setting the bottle beside him, he added, "We should set up our camp before it gets dark." "Which'll be around five-thirty," Chad spoke through a mouthful of sandwich, but he did not share. "Not too long from now." Flea nodded and took another bite out of his sandwich. The sky was so blue. John couldn't get over how the sky looked without a film of smog. He lay back and stared up at the sky. "John, aren't you going to eat?" Anthony asked, nudging his foot into his friend's side. John shook his head. He watched as clouds floated across his field of vision, how almost cartoon-like their perfection was. So brilliantly white that John had to squint to look at them. They made shapes. Most just looked like fluffy mattresses, but others took the form of submarines, giraffes, flowers, and guitars. John smiled. His eyelids drooped, and his mind slipped into the clouds. "Hey, we gotta get going!" John's eyes fluttered open and watched Anthony crumpling tin foil into a ball. Flea and Chad stood beside him, their frame packs in place. Anthony tossed the foil into his bag. "John, you awake?" John nodded, and he rolled onto his knees. He took a swig from his water bottle before repacking it. Chad helped John slip his pack on, and the two followed Anthony and Flea off the mountaintop. |