Have you ever seen somebody’s eyes smile? I mean really . . . not their mouth, but the actual emotional glow from their eyes when they are truly joyful? Well that’s what happened to Michelle as I sat there and watched. My own eyes probably reflected shock as she spoke.
“I’m going with you.” I started to interject, but she shook her head and laid a finger across my lips. “Shut up and just listen. I know what you’re saying—what you’re trying to say—and I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. Now, maybe I’m weird, but I’ve thought this through so many times since it happened that . . . that . . .,” she paused and looked down briefly, shaking her head a few times to try and clear the cobwebs. The gap of silence widened, and I counted thirteen of my heartbeats before she resumed. With a toss of her hair she looked up at me, her brilliant jade crystal eyes now transfixed into seriousness. “Eric, I could live my life—however long I have left—in fear over what might have happened at the cabin. But to be totally honest, I was given a chance—because of you, Emily, and Max—that almost no other girl gets. I got to personally . . . personally . . .,” she said again for emphasis, “put down the son of a bitch who touched me.”
I looked away as my own vision of her captivity fought for an unwelcome place in my mind. She must have known what I was thinking.
“Hey,” she said, “look at me. I’ve been felt up worse than that on dates before.” Her attempt to lighten the situation made my frown diminish slightly. “Don’t get me wrong Eric; I am under absolutely no illusion of what would have happened to me in the next five minutes . . . or over the next five hours, or days . . . if you hadn’t shown up. I could let myself focus on that . . . it would be so easy . . . or I could lock myself in a room and never come out again. I could cringe in terror at the sound of male voices—any male, even you. But I won’t, and I’ll tell you why.”
I matched her stare and waited.
“Because I feel vindicated. I was skyrocketed from abject terror and helplessness to the status of an avenging angel. One swipe of your knife and I was unbound from my chains—chains that every woman, whether they admit to it or not, fearfully tends in the dark garden of their own soul. I was released—I was offered a gleaming sword of retribution. And I swung that blade with all the strength that I had . . . with all the fear that had ever been bottled up and pushed down inside me . . . and I destroyed that incarnation of evil masquerading as a man. Not just for me, but for Samantha, and Melissa, and the thousands of other women who would have suffered a similar fate. Maybe not from him, but from people like him. And because of that, I feel . . . free.”
I said nothing. My preconceived notion about how she would react was spiraling rapidly down the drain.
She took my hands in hers and called my name softly. “Eric, I’m serious. I’m OK—better than OK. I’m going with you to the cabin. You’re not the only one with loose ends to tie up there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
I nodded at her answer and stood. “The train leaves in fifteen minutes.” Without waiting for her answer I turned and left.
It actually took the train almost thirty minutes to depart. I had wanted to talk to my uncle, but he was sleeping soundly when I peeked in, so I didn’t wake him. A chorus of subtle snoring was coming from behind Emily’s curtain as well. Michelle joined me and we tracked down Walter. He answered a few more questions that I had, and then we switched out the batteries in both mine and Michelle’s Fish and Wildlife radios with fresh rechargeables. After that, Michelle and I doubled up on our firepower. Each of us took an AR-15 . . . I kept my M2, and Michelle brought along one of the pump shotguns from her office. The Delta and Glock still rode on our hips. We topped everything off with enough ammo to invade a small country, and then we were gone.
OK, I’m going to start heating up some water for hot chocolate. It shouldn’t take me too long, and then I’ll be right back.
*click*
Told you I’d be right back. The wind is dying down. It wasn’t very strong to begin with anyhow. I’m catching the occasional glimpse of a few stars, but the scattered cloud cover is blocking out the rest of them. In other words, it ought to be a beautiful sunrise. It’s at least thirty minutes away, though, so I’ve still got some time to fill in a few gaps in my journal. It was, I don’t know, maybe 1:45 PM by the time we actually pulled out of the marina parking lot. Max was going ballistic with excitement in the back of the truck, and as I drove, Michelle fiddled with the scan button on the radio. All she hit was the same “boil your water” message that BB had found earlier. The ground was dry once we turned off the gravel and crossed onto the bridge section of the dirt road, and I did my best to not think about my last nighttime race across those ruts and washouts. Anyhow, we made it to the slope that lead down to the cabin. I stopped the truck on the low incline and popped it into park, and we spent the next few minutes just staring at the scene below. From 300 yards away, it looked normal—with the exception of the big yellow pickup truck parked off to the side—but both of us knew that every inch closer was going to make a lot of unwelcome details stand out. I remember looking at Michelle, half expecting to see her shy away from the scene below, but her face was steady, and she regarded me with a half smile and said, “If you want to wait here, I’ll radio you once I’ve done all the heavy work.”
I chuckled, and then drove the rest of the way down the hill. We parked midway between my uncle’s lake and the cabin, just to give us a little buffer zone from any surprises. Both of us chose shotguns as our primary weapons.
“You’re sure that the little kid was infected, right?”
“Without a doubt.”
I nodded and whistled for Max, and we spent the next thirty minutes or so sweeping the entire area, outbuildings included. We found nothing alive. Even the toddler, still bundled and restrained by ropes and straps was deceased. A large steak knife, one from the cabin I’m sure, was protruding from the side of its neck. Embracing the child’s body was the blanket-wrapped corpse of Melissa. Her throat had been torn open and shredded. The last act of a mother’s love sculpted in front of us, temporarily immortalized by the stiffness of rigor mortis.
“I wish I could kill them again, all of them.” Michelle mumbled as she looked at the mother and child, gruesomely locked in a hug below the open tailgate of the monster truck.
“I’d be glad to help you.”
We turned away from the scene that was both emotionally heart wrenching and ghastly at the same time. The short walk back to my truck was done in silence. After stowing the shotguns, I leaned against the hood and laid back; Michelle mimicked my posture a few seconds later.
The sky was patchy blue with two layers of clouds shifting and sliding at different speeds as they raced, or moseyed, to whatever was in store for their destination. Looking up, I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Just drifting with the currents and being totally at peace with your journey seemed like an enviable position to be in. Instead, my life . . . our lives . . . the world even . . . seemed like it was coming apart all around me. My uncle used to have an expression for times like this. It was “you’re in a metallic crapstorm wearing magnetic underwear.” There were bright spots, to be sure. One of the most brilliant was stretched out beside me on the hood of the truck. Uncle Andy was still alive. Heck, I was still alive. I just wished that I could somehow wave a magic wand and eliminate the bodies that speckled the area around the cabin . . . the memories that went with them too. If I could do that, then I could almost envision that the world was back to the way it used to be. Yeah . . . if-if-if.
Michelle nudged my shoulder and jarred me back to reality, “Where do you want to start?”
I sighed and stood up, offering my hand to her. She took it. I’ve got to say this . . . that simple gesture did more to rebalance my soul than almost any other single act in my life. I’d held her hand many times through the years, but it was always as a friend—to help each other get up a hill, or out of a creek
onto a slippery bank. This time, it was different. The words that had passed between us, the feelings that were finally allowed to come to the surface, the secrets that we’d both apparently kept inside for so long, they all seemed to distill into a simple, private moment shared only with each other. For the first time in my life, I had offered my hand to the girl, the woman, that I had always been in love with, and she chose . . . chose . . . to take it with the same understanding. It blew my mind.
My face must have given away some of my thoughts, and I’d bet my bottom dollar that she was feeling some of the same. I noticed a slight blush in her cheeks, and her eyes darted away for a second. “What?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just thinking.” Before she had a chance to press any further, I continued, “To answer your question, I want to start by the lake.”
“The lake?”
“Yeah,” I pointed towards the hourglass-shaped, seven acre body of water that I had pulled several pike from just a few days ago, “it’s that big thing down there filled with water.”
She scoffed in amusement, but didn’t reply. She also didn’t let go of my hand as we walked down toward the water’s edge with Max bounding in front of us. There were several half log benches that had been semi-permanently positioned in front of the areas where I’d had the most luck fishing through the years. I steered us towards the closest one. I felt confident that our sweep had covered the entire area, but I still sat with my back against the water.
I squeezed Michelle’s hand, feeling the warmth of her own pressure in return as I tried to organize my thoughts into some semblance of speech.
“Here’s what I’m thinking. Feel free to stop me, or jump in at any time.” I exhaled deeply before continuing, “You and I need to head towards Devils Lake to try and find your mom. Now, I’ve got a few ideas floating around in the back of what’s left of my brain, and I’m sure you’ve got your own thoughts as well, but I think we can do this. It’ll be dangerous, no doubt, but I think it can be done.”
“Whether we succeed or not, I need to know that I gave it my best effort.”
“I understand, and I agree . . . so hear me out for a second. I know that time is of the essence, but so is planning. You and I need to have our heads on straight before we attempt this. What I’d like to do, I think, is use tonight to just relax. We need to be well rested or we’ll make stupid mistakes. I’d like to stay here tonight—not in the cabin, though . . . I have another place in mind . . ., but I’d like to stay here . . . away from the hustle and bustle and responsibilities of the marina. So, like I said, tonight we just relax. Tomorrow morning, we clean up a little bit around the cabin, and then use the rest of the day to work out the details of our Devils Lake run. Then we get one more night’s rest—probably at Walter’s, though—before we leave.”
“So we leave the day after tomorrow—no later—correct?”
“I think it’s our best bet.”
I watched her face firm in concentration. Michelle was smart. Not just book smart . . . she was also a gifted with an extra helping of street smarts.
Her countenance finally eased as she let out a small breath. “OK, I can live with that.”
I smiled at her and stood, pulling her up with me. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“I’m going to pick up a few things from inside the cabin. After that, we’re going to drive up toward the ridgeline, where I’ll pick up some more things. Then I’m going to take you . . . somewhere.”
Her eyebrows arched in a questioning look, but she didn’t ask, and I didn’t volunteer.
We’d already been through the cabin on our sweep, so I popped in by myself and headed toward the gun safe. Michelle's job was to load some firewood from the pile out back, and Max helped her out by stealing every other piece that she threw in the truck. The big safe had several dings and scratches in it where the trio of . . . of . . . I don’t even know what to refer to them as. Criminals? Assholes? Human filth? Whatever you call them, it looked like they had halfheartedly tried to break in. That dark specter in my mind clawed its way to the surface with a brief vision of the suffering that Melissa and Samantha must have endured. Sadly, their sacrifice must have distracted the three men enough to put the problem of the safe and its contents on the back shelf for a while. I spun the dial and opened the door. Inside, I grabbed my laptop, and my CZ pistol with the drop leg holster. Despite the recent carnage that had taken place, the cabin was remarkably whole. Not counting the bullet holes, broken whiskey bottles and blood trails, of course. And the corpse lying in the kitchen. I walked over to the power panel and hit the test button. A digital readout momentarily flashed thirty-eight percent. Ideally, you want to keep your batteries from discharging below seventy percent for the longest life you can get out of them. If you frequently drain them a lot lower, they won’t last near as long, and they’re expensive to replace. Obviously, the men who hijacked the cabin didn’t know, or care, about this. I went out back and filled the little Honda generator with gas, started it, and then kicked on the transfer switch. Back inside, I plugged my laptop in, turned off three additional lights that had been left on, and then doubled checked to make sure the battery bank was showing a “charging” status. It was, so after a final stop in the kitchen, I shut the doors and headed out back.
“Your mutt keeps stealing our firewood.”
I grinned. “So it looks like the wolf lady has met her match. Allow me to educate you.”
Michelle furrowed her eyebrows in mock anger as she motioned towards the truck. “Please do.”
“You’re starting from the woodpile. You need to get him focused on the truck.” I scooped up a double armful of the split and seasoned firewood and tossed it in the truck. Max immediately jumped in the bed and went for a large chunk of aspen. “Max, wait.” He froze, his nose scant inches from the log. I slid over and grabbed the chunk he had keyed in on, and then thumped him on the haunches with my free hand. “Max, get the stick . . . get the stick!” I tossed the aspen back onto the woodpile and Max vaulted off the truck and bounded over. A moment later the log had been deposited on the tailgate.
“Good boy.” I scratched his ears and pointed at the log pile again. “Go get a stick.” He trotted over and brought back another large chunk, earning him another pat on the head. It earned me a glower from Michelle.
My cheesy smile broke through her spurious look of distaste, and she began to giggle. “OK, I’ll give you this one.” She crossed her arms and tilted her nose slightly downward. “You said you were going to take me somewhere?”
“Yep . . . are you ready?”
“Always.”
After several more scoops from the woodpile, we hopped in the truck; all three of us in the front seat this time so Max wouldn’t have to ride with the loose firewood as we bounced up the ridge line. True to form, he took over as “shotgun,” which wedged Michelle between us. My eyes flicked towards the rearview mirror. Three happy faces were smiling back.
Behind the cabin, as I’m sure I’ve already mentioned . . . well, let me describe it again. The cabin sits in kind of a scallop shaped depression, with the hourglass, or more accurately, sunglass shaped lake at the lowest point. The front door of the cabin faces directly north, which is also the direction toward the lake. When you leave the gravel and turn off onto the dirt road, you’re heading basically west through the low rises and foothills that are the beginnings of the Turtle Mountains, the majority of which are across the border in Canada. Anyhow, you’ll drive west on the dirt road for about a mile until it starts gradually curving north. That curve continues to, well, curve, until you’re now heading east. In essence, you’ve done a long, gradual, 180 degree turn. You don’t head east very long before you enter the low valley where the cabin sits. Now, if you were to keep heading east past the cabin, you’d start climbing a low ridgeline. Before you crested that ridge, you would find the old logging road. I know I’ve mentioned that before, so you know what I’m talking about. Anyhow, that’s
where Emily and I left the Gator with the flat tire. The logging road is as far east as I can go in my truck, four wheel drive or not. If you got out and continue walking to the east, the ridgeline will crest, and then drop away relatively quickly to the shores of Ghost Echo Lake. Do you have it all pictured now? Good.
We drove up the rough skid trail until I came to a spot where the pines thinned enough for me to pull over. “Be right back.”
“Emily’s camera?” Michelle asked.
“Yeah,” I said glancing up, “it doesn’t look like a rain, but I’d rather get it right now just in case.”
She nodded. “I’ll wait here with Max.”
I was back in less than five minutes with the Emily’s backpack and camera. The camera seemed undamaged, but I didn’t mess with it.
“Where to now?” Michelle asked curiously.
“The logging road. I’ve got to grab a few things from the Gator.”
“And then what?”
“You mean ‘where.’”
“OK . . . and then ‘where?’”
Fade to Grey (Book 2): Darkness Ascending Page 36