by R E Swirsky
***
By 2:00 AM, Michael had Lucy’s brochures and papers laid out in front of him on the table in the campus cafeteria. The cafeteria was open 24 hours a day for another week and he wasn’t about to be high-tailing it back anywhere near his dorm any time soon.
Dishes and glassware clanked intermittently in the background as the night staff cleaned and began the prep for the much smaller breakfast crowd that would begin arriving in about four hours. He sat alone in the corner, leaning up against one of the glass windows, feeling safe for the moment. The manic voices in his head had abated over the last hour. There remained just barely a whisper, and for that he was glad. He hated that the voices had returned, but he clearly understood why. Until he sorted what happened to Lucy, the voices wouldn’t be going anywhere.
“He said I got it,” Michael whispered as he rifled through Lucy’s papers.
Michael scratched his head and stared at the documents. For every trail Lucy hiked recently or dreamed of one day hiking she kept a map or trail guide, even if she had hiked it a dozen times. Maps, photos, trail guides, tips, updates: there were multiple different documents. All were from up and down the eastern slopes of the Rockies; Kootenay National Park, Yoho National Park, Bow Valley Parkway, Jasper National Park, Kananaskis Country and others. When driving out from Calgary, many could be hiked in a single day, and hikers could still make it back home for dinner.
“There’s no way I’ll know which one they took,” he said and shook his head in dismay. His eyes watered and his belly rumbled. He hadn’t eaten since noon yesterday.
“…but they did come for a specific one.” He shuffled through the pamphlets again, studying each one carefully. “There must be hundreds of trails out there.” Even as he said it, he knew it was more like a thousand.
“Jesus.” The pamphlet from the West Coast trail on Vancouver Island’s west coast caused him to pause. He glanced at his watch and let a short laugh that seemed to gurgle up from someplace deep. A very large speed bump had been tossed into their carefully made plans to hike the 75 kilometres along the coast. The flight, her father meeting them at the airport, the ten-day hiking trip was all in jeopardy unless he found Lucy before they had to leave for the airport. And he still had yet to make new arrangements to pick up his belongings from the dorm before next Friday.
He sighed heavily and counted the brochures again. Fourteen. There were many others back at the apartment stuffed inside two shoe boxes that sat under the window atop her dresser. He shuffled through each of them one by one: Mount Bourgeau, Eiffel Peak, Mount Lady McDonald, The Wedge, Mount Tyrwhitt, Castle Mountain, Ha Ling Peak-Ha Ling Peak she had hiked only three weeks ago with Johnny. There was Mount Yukness, Nihahi Ridge, and a few others. He recognized them all.
“So which one is missing?” The answer didn’t come. He gathered up the papers and stuffed them back into his pocket.
His belly rumbled again, demanding he pay it some mind and eat something. He had been up for too many hours and his eyes burned and demanded rest. They weren’t about to get that. Not yet. At this time of night, the food choice was limited to juice, fruit, and some baked goods left over from the day before. He settled for a bagel and was soon wandering around the deserted campus while he decided what he should do next. His dorm was out of the question. Finding Lucy was the only thing that mattered. A wave of worry and loss swirled about, ready to spew forth tears, but he pushed it back.
“One trail. But which one?” A voice replied in his head, but the sentence was garbled and incomplete.
“They came looking for one. Why? And how did they even know she had trail guides and maps?”
The answer was obvious.
Johnny.
He shuffled himself under one of the pathway lights, pulled out the bundle of papers, and rifled through each one again, deciphering the puzzle of which one was missing.
“Of course,” he said as it seemed so obvious now. “Lucy would have told Johnny.”
Michael snatched opened his phone and scrolled though his list of contacts again. It seemed every friend from school had already pulled out over the past two days. But one name popped out at him.
“Jordan.” He didn’t even remember adding Jordan’s number into his phone. Jordan still lived at home with his parents in the northwest part of the city, and though he always caught the C-train to university each morning, it was common knowledge Jordan owned a car.
Did he dare call in the middle of the night? He dialled Jordan’s number. The phone rang a number of times and Michael was about to hang up when Jordan answered.
“Hello?” His voice was raspy and whispery quiet.
“Hey, Jordan. It’s Michael. Sorry for calling so late…uh early really, but I need a favour.…”
“Fuck…” he sighed, “What?” he asked and groaned. “I’m in bed. What’s up?”
Michael kept it short, explaining his need for a ride and exactly where he wanted to go.
“It’s two in the effing morning, Michael. I’m not driving all of the way out there now. Call me back tomorrow and I’ll consider it. Right now all I want is sleep.”
“Jordan, please,” Michael insisted. He knew Jordan was an avid gamer and it wasn’t unusual for him to still be knee-deep in a game when the sun came up. “You probably weren’t even in bed.”
“Yeah, so? I’m tired now and I’m done for tonight.”
“C’mon, man. I really need your help. I can’t go back to my dorm. Please, Jordan.”
“Why?”
Michael couldn’t tell him about Lucy or Johnny. He made up some story about a fire alarm. He said he really needed this ride. Jordan finally gave in.
“Okay, okay. Just quit pissin’ at me. I’ll pick you up outside the dorms.”
“Not the dorms, no. Meet me at the south entrance, on twenty-fourth. I’ll be waiting.”
“Yeah, okay.” He paused and grunted heavily. “I’ll be there in about twenty. And you’re paying for the gas,” he said and hung up.