Golden

by Mary Victoria Johnson

  It was too perfect. I almost wanted to laugh in their faces. Go on, then, act all tough with a group of sympathetic grandparents.

  Ersa cocked her head and whispered to Diana. In sync, both Diana and Sol gave tight shakes of the head.

  “Sorry,” Sol said. “Wrong place.”

  “How do you make that mistake?” Robbie laughed. “This is the only place around for hours!”

  “Apologies. Come on, guys.” Diana pivoted and melted into the twilight, with Ersa on her heels. Sol lingered a heartbeat longer, eyes shooting daggers at Hera and me, then followed.

  “I CAN’T STAY LONG. MY LIFE AS A FUGITIVE AWAITS.” Janus didn’t seem upset by this. In fact, he was almost excited. “This is for you, Lou-Lou, to go with those portraits you snapped, just in case. I doubt they’ll cause any more trouble now their plan has imploded, but it’s always better to be safe.”

  He pressed a slip of notepaper into my hand. Full names, birthdays, addresses. Still nothing concrete enough to do real damage, but they’d already proven what damage a simple description could do. If all their personal details were dragged into the open, they’d have to go even further into hiding. No more parading about or whispering to the police.

  “You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Hera said to Janus. “It was them who stole the money, we could try and . . . ”

  “Please, Wilson, we’re screwed,” he retorted brightly. “My conscience isn’t exactly clean, so if any of us are going to run, it might as well be me. Just make sure you get in contact with everyone trustworthy in the ring and let them know what’s going on. Then disappear.”

  “But you—”

  “I’m looking forward to it. I’ve got enough money to purchase an island if need be, and I’ve always thought I’d make a rather dashing outlaw.” Janus bared perfect white teeth in a grin, daring us to disagree. “You just gave me an excuse.”

  We were sitting on the porch of one of the cabins, watching the sun rise over the paddock and wooded hills beyond. None of us had been able to sleep. It turned out Janus had escaped the police station rather than actually clarifying anything, but he wasn’t concerned about it. He wanted to run, and he would do so until the police either gave up or were overwhelmed with more pressing issues, which, he guessed, shouldn’t take too long.

  “Right.” Janus stood up, pulling on his gloves and buttoning a dress coat. This early, the wind was biting. “This is goodbye, then.”

  He offered a hand, which I shook. “Is that the pistol?”

  “You expect me to give it back?”

  “Please don’t kill anyone,” Hera said, only half joking.

  “I don’t make promises.” Janus winked and leaned in, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Jealous, Lou-Lou?”

  “Shut up!” Hera shoved him away, laughing.

  “I’d say pistols at dawn, but only I have a pistol, so it wouldn’t be very fair. Don’t worry. I rarely go for girls, if you get my drift.” He was being playful as usual, but this time, there was also a sadness behind the admission, and I was reminded of his words in the station. We were all unwanted, one way or another.

  “Go on, get out of here,” Hera said. “And—thank you.”

  “Yeah,” I seconded. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “I like debts in my favor.”

  Then, with an overly dramatic pivot, he vanished into the darkness. We hadn’t asked him where he planned to go or how he planned on getting there, but I supposed there was no need. If Janus needed help, he’d find a way of asking for it.

  Hera and I sat on the step for a while longer, wrapped in fleeces, and watched the sun lazily ascend. Today, we’d leave 100 Mile House for Clinton, and by this evening, we’d return to the car lot in Vancouver. Then what? was the question. But we’d already discussed what to do about Diana and her crew, and I’d seen her already discuss with Janus what steps she should take next. There were no more secrets left to unearth.

  In silence, she slipped her fingers through mine. They were ice cold to the touch. I put my arm around her shoulders, and neither of us moved again until we heard the guests beginning to wake up.

  “So, everyone, we made it!” A chorus of cheers resounded from the bus. “We did hit a few bumps, but all in all, I think it was a pretty successful maiden voyage.”

  “And nobody died!” Robbie exclaimed. “Given the odds, that is something!”

  This, on the other hand, was met with a round of awkward coughs.

  It was sundown, so the mountains encircling Vancouver were tinged a soft pink, and a light mist was beginning to rise from the ocean. Given that Clinton only possessed a quarter of the population of 100 Mile House—my high school had twice as many people—our stop there had only lasted about an hour. We’d visited a quaint red-bricked museum holding relics of the village’s once-bustling past, although really, I understood that it had basically been a glorified pit stop for prospectors traveling between Lillooet and Barkerville. And then, with a sense of deflation, we sliced back through the coastal mountains, passing the ski resort at Whistler and granite massifs of Squamish to arrive where we’d started five days ago. We were a few hours early, but no one seemed pleased by this. Despite Sergio opening the doors, no one left their seats.

  “I’m so jealous of you, Lewis,” Grace Schatz sighed. “You get to do it all again.”

  “Well,” I glanced at Sergio, “that depends on whether I passed or failed probation.”

  Sergio pulled something from between his teeth and popped it back into his mouth. “Nah, kid, you passed. Extenuating circumstances, eh?”

  “There you go.”

  The idea wasn’t as terrifying as it had been at the beginning. Sure, it was all going to feel on the boring side if next time the clientele really was just a busload of mild-mannered retirees, but at least the likes of the Deslumanes had proven even they had their unconventional sides too.

  “Can I just hide in the toilet and come with you?” someone joked.

  “It’s not the best hiding place,” Hera said under her breath. “It reeks.”

  With the air conditioning turned off, it was the heat that finally forced everyone to leave the coach. Luggage was unloaded, and customer satisfaction surveys were handed out along with a brochure of other Golden Tours road trips. Unable to stand the baking heat of the car lot, a good portion of people shuffled off to cars and taxis as soon as they’d collected their things, but just as many lagged behind.

  “Thank you,” said Doug, almost reluctantly. “It was . . . fun.”

  “Did you learn anything new?”

  “Not really, but . . . ” His face burned when he realized I’d been mocking him. “Well, maybe. A few things.”

  After exchanging a handshake, he and his wife—who was, as ever, on her Blackberry—hailed a taxi and disappeared. The Japanese sisters, after each saying their thanks, followed soon after.

  “Hey, you.” Hera had her backpack slung over one shoulder and a sideways, pensive smile. “I guess it’s my turn to say goodbyes now.”

  I glanced around. Those who remained appeared to be preoccupied chatting to each other.

  “Where will you go?” I asked. It was oddly difficult to speak.

  “Nowhere far. I just have a few loose ends to tie up.” The smile turned shyer. “I do have a plan, don’t worry. Unless it’s what you want, you haven’t seen the last of me.”

  “No! I mean, of course, if I could see you again, that’d be—”

  Then, as unexpectedly as before, my words were cut off by her lips pressing against mine. But this time, there was nothing rushed or impulsive about it. It just felt right.

  “Finally!”

  We jumped apart to see all of the remaining guests either staring at us or cheering.

  “I told you!” Jess cried. “Didn’t I tell you, Emily? I’m so glad. I hate unresolved endings.”

  To my increasing surprise, I saw several ten dollar notes shift pockets.

  “What?” Robbie gave a la
ugh, counting out fifty dollars he’d been given from Perle. “We do not always have much to look forward to, Lewis. Betting put some excitement into ending the trip.”

  “You . . . ?” I shook my head and returned his laugh. “You all bet on whether or not I’d get together with Hera? Perle, you bet fifty bucks against it?”

  “I thought Hera would not still be here by the end.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “Honestly, I’d probably have bet the same way.” Hera winked at me. “I’m not sure what made me stay.”

  Robbie and Perle bid us both goodbye, nattering as they got into a taxi of their own. Hera hovered a minute longer, then with one last wave in my direction, pulled a baseball cap over her hair and began walking toward the SkyTrain terminal a few blocks away.

  “Come on, Mom.” Emily steered Jess toward a waiting car. “We’ve got to get home. Cheryl and Patrick are coming for dinner this weekend, and the house is going to be suffocating in dust.”

  “Before you go”—I caught Emily’s shoulder—“was she ever actually in a Bond film?”

  Emily nodded. “Thunderball. An extra. She doesn’t lie, just exaggerates.”

  IT WAS A WEIRD SENSATION. Like waking up from a particularly vivid dream only to fall asleep again and return to dreaming about something quieter. Sergio, under the condition I’d keep my mouth shut about his expired license, fed Swierenga a glowing report about my performance. Combined with the overwhelmingly positive feedback from the guests, he’d decided I deserved to be slated for another tour right away.

  “How d’you feel about doing the Cariboo trail again? There’s another one leaving Monday. We have a few that focus more on the Klondike too, if Barkerville wasn’t northerly enough for you. D’you know anything about that, Crake?”

  Throughout the rest of July and into August, I took another four groups into the interior. The main demographic never changed, although the third time, a few families were also present. I ended up seeing several bears, and over the course of a month, the weather never interfered with our plans again. The largest hiccup was a woman’s tongue swelling into a balloon after eating an oyster, due to a seafood allergy. Police stations and cybercrime rings were worlds away.

  I found with each trip, I relaxed a little bit more. I got to know the locals, and my massive stack of papers was no longer needed. Falling into routine put all my homesickness on a back burner.

  It wasn’t until the last weeks of August that Swierenga called me to his house again and informed me my routine was going to change. In my spare time, I’d completed coursework on the Klondike, and apparently, the scheduled guide had broken his ankle and couldn’t complete the last tour.

  “I know it’s a bit last minute,” Swierenga apologized. “And it comes with an extra few tasks too. But you’re one of my best.”

  “What extra tasks?”

  “Training.” He raised his palms, as though I’d started shouting. “Now, it isn’t as bad as it seems. It’s come to my attention that maybe our guides should actually complete a tour before taking control of one, so all you’d have to do is show a newbie the ropes. She’d take notes, you’d just be your usual charming self. I understand you haven’t gone to the Yukon yet either, but you seem to respond well to being thrown in the deep end.”

  “Sure. A challenge would be good.”

  Looking pleased, he reclined in his chair and called for Rachelle. “Have you finished with the paperwork? Yes? Can you bring the trainee in to meet Lewis?” Turning back to me, he whispered, “You’ll like her. Very quiet, very sweet.”

  A few minutes later, the “trainee” followed Rachelle into the living room.

  “This is Melanie Torres. She’s seventeen, I believe, Vancouver native . . . ”

  Swierenga’s words faded into background noise. Because even though the girl’s name and general appearance were unfamiliar, for me, it wasn’t difficult to see through all that. Hera.

  Outwardly, the biggest change was her hair. No longer shocking blue, it had been returned to what I assumed was its natural black. It was shorter too, and feathery layers nearly obscured one eye. Her clothes were different, though I couldn’t place how, and there was even something changed about her posture. Less languid, more . . . shy, almost. She’d truly transformed herself into someone else.

  Swierenga frowned. “Do you already know each other?”

  “Ah, no. No.” I regained my composure. “She just reminds me of someone I used to know.”

  “I have one of those faces,” Hera shrugged. Her eyes were bright and her lips kept twitching into a smile. “It’s great to meet you, Lewis.”

  DEAR LOU-LOU & WILSON,

  It’s me! I’m pretty sure mail interception isn’t much of a thing anymore, but if it is . . . well, sorry. I know you’re both worried sick about me, so I decided I had to put you out of your misery. As you may have been able to tell from the stamp, I’m living the high life in a little place called Stockholm, and I’ve eaten so many meatballs that the police wouldn’t be able to recognize me if they tried. I doubt I’ll ever leave. Come winter I might be singing a different tune, but hey. Ingen ko på isen, as the Swedes say.

  I have to say, Watermelonie, I do enjoy your new name. I hear you’re Lou-Lou’s tour partner now? Very cute. Don’t forget, if you neglect to invite me to your wedding, I’ll never forgive you :)

  On a more serious note, everyone else in our old playgroup seems to have vanished entirely off the map. I’m taking it as a good thing, but if you have any news, tell me.

  Well, my hand is cramping, so that’s all you get for now. There’s a return address on the inside of the envelope.

  With indifference,

  The God of Beginnings

  P.S. That’s Janus, Lou-Lou.