A Green Place for Dying

by R. J. Harlick

  My watch said 8:14. At this hour most people would be finished dinner. Too early for bed, they could be anywhere. And the night was warm enough for them to still be wandering around outside.

  “Be careful,” I said, although I knew it wasn’t necessary. They were both hunters, conditioned to remaining invisible and silent.

  Will continued, “And if we don’t come back say, within an hour, or you hear gunfire or other unusual noise, call in the SQ and then hightail it back to where the canoes are.”

  He passed me his satellite phone. “Their emergency number is speed dial 4 and the lodge co-ordinates are on this.” He passed me a piece of paper, which I zipped into my pocket.

  Without another word, the two men headed towards the flickering light while Teht’aa and I waited at the rock. Apart from a few whispered words, we kept silent, fearful our voices would carry.

  The wait, however, proved to be short. We’d barely had a chance to settle in when the two men returned as silently as they’d left. Only Will’s heavy breathing warned us of their imminent arrival.

  “Seems pretty quiet,” he said. “Apart from a couple of guys smoking on the dock, everyone else seems to be inside.”

  “And we didn’t see no guards,” George added. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait, George,” Will said. “Before we set off, I just want to remind everyone that we might not find Eric tonight. Remember, we don’t know if he’s here for sure. So if we don’t find him, don’t get upset. It will mean they’re holding him elsewhere.”

  Or he’s dead, I said to myself, finishing the thought Will didn’t want to voice. From the intense squeeze Teht’aa gave my hand, she was thinking the same thing.

  We soon lost the flickering lights as the trail veered away from the lodge. Regardless, we tried to walk as quietly as possible. Apart from Will’s breathing and the occasional rustle of vegetation, we made no sound. But I could hear night animals rummaging through the underbrush. A barred owl called out from his distant perch, while overhead the night sky momentarily filled with the honking of a flock of geese heading south on their fall migration.

  At one point I caught the sound of a motorboat, which suggested the lake was nearby. The sound passed close to us, then faded. For a second I thought I saw a pinprick of red light, but it vanished before I could be certain. Shortly after, I heard waves splashing against the shore. Without a word, we stopped and remained frozen in silence while it passed.

  “Bit late to be fishing, isn’t it?” Will asked George.

  George replied, “I think it was coming from the cabin, so we’d better be careful. Might be someone about outside.”

  We resumed walking. A short while later George stopped.

  “The cabin ain’t far from here. You gals wait here while Will and I go check it out. I’ll make the sound of an owl when it’s safe for you to come, okay?”

  Without waiting for a response, the two men vanished into the darkness.

  But this time, we didn’t obey. We were too close to a beloved father and a sorely missed lover to remain behind. Without exchanging a word, we both noiselessly advanced along the path the two men had taken. Within a short distance we were standing on a small embankment overlooking the black expanse of the lake. Below our feet, waves lapped against rocks.

  While night permeated the distant shore in front of us, in the direction we’d come from a faint glow defined a tree-fringed point that blocked the view of the lodge itself. In the opposite direction, at the end of a short bay, I could make out the dark shape of a small building with a narrow dock jutting into the water. There were no lights coming from that structure and there was no movement, either along the path or at the building itself. Will and George must be inside.

  As Teht’aa and I starting walking towards it, I heard her cock her rifle. “To be on the safe side,” she whispered.

  The light from a headlamp suddenly glared from inside the building. We watched it move from one window to the next. Then we heard the clear hooting of an owl coming from the front of the cabin.

  We glanced at each other and giggled somewhat sheepishly.

  I almost called out before remembering that sound can carry a fair distance over water, particularly when the wind was so calm.

  We stumbled over each other in our haste to get to the cabin. But when we reached the front steps, we stopped at the sight of Will leaning over the porch railing, shaking his head, his goggles replaced by a headlamp.

  “Sorry, there’s no one here,” he said. “Although there are signs of recent occupancy.”

  “Do you think it was Eric?”

  “Hard to tell. You might as well come inside and see if you notice anything that might belong to him.”

  We climbed up onto a narrow porch, switched on our headlamps, and stepped into the rustic log building. Our lights lit up a modestly furnished room. Curiously, I felt warmth coming from a woodstove. Against the opposite wall was shoved an overstuffed sofa bookended by two similarly overstuffed chairs. In the other half of the room stood a large wooden table surrounded by a number of straight-back chairs.

  My hopes were raised when I noticed a single place setting on the table in front of one of the chairs. But worry set in when I realized the remains of a partially eaten meal lay on the plate.

  “It looks as if someone left in a hurry,” I said. “Do you think it was Eric?”

  “Hard to tell.” Will sniffed the plate. “The stew’s still warm, which suggests they left recently.”

  “They must’ve been in that boat.”

  “Possibly.”

  “They’ve probably taken him to the lodge, then.”

  Will nodded. “Most likely.”

  “Will, come here a minute. I got something you should see,” George called out from another room.

  Teht’aa and I followed the police chief into a small back room lined with two sets of bunk beds. Rumpled sheets were clumped at the end of one of the lower bunks. A dark green windbreaker had been tossed onto the pillow. Teht’aa snatched it up and examined it.

  “Nope, it’s not Dad’s.” She shook her head dejectedly and let the jacket fall back onto the bed.

  George and Will were peering at some dark splotches on the worn wooden floor near the other bunk.

  “It looks like blood to me,” said George.

  Will took a bag of Q-tips from his pocket and removed one. He dipped it into the red smear and examined it carefully. “Yup, and fresh too.” He placed this inside a Ziploc bag.

  My heart skipped. “Does this mean Eric’s been hurt?”

  “It could mean anything. The person could’ve cut himself. We just don’t know and we don’t know if it’s Eric.”

  My eye caught sight of an object wedged between the wall and the bunk bed. I reached down and picked it up. “But we know Eric was here.” I held a tiny hand-carved wooden animal in my palm. “This is Eric’s fisher, the one he keeps in his amulet, along with the sacred stone I found earlier.”

  Teht’aa turned it upside down. “Yes, it’s his. See, here’s the name of the carver, Odjik, his grandfather.”

  I remembered the first time Eric had shown me the thumb-size carving of his namesake. He’d proudly pointed out how well his grandfather had captured the ferocious spirit of a fisher through the tiny carving’s threatening stance and snarling grin. The old man had given his grandson this keepsake to commemorate the younger man’s return to the Migiskan Reserve after an absence of many years.

  Will carefully turned the carving over in his hand. “Yes, it’s his all right. We’re going to have to assume they’ve taken him back to the main lodge. But this half-eaten meal worries me … so does the blood.”

  “There’s more blood.” I pointed to several largish drops on the floor close to the doorframe.

  “And more here,” Teht’aa called out from the front room.

  We followed an intermittent line of splotches onto the porch, down the stairs, and along the dock until they stopped, where he had no doubt cli
mbed into the boat.

  “With this much blood, he has to be badly hurt,” I said.

  Will, no longer bothering to pretend everything was going to be okay, grimly agreed. “Maybe they took him back to the main lodge to fix him up.”

  “Or maybe they took him there to do something worse. Remember what Fran said about not sending him south with the women.”

  Will turned to George. “Do you have any idea where they might be holding him at the lodge?”

  George shrugged. “It’s a big place. He could be anywhere, but I suppose he could be in one of the cabins. And there’s a couple of outbuildings, plus the old staff quarters.”

  “George, we need to get to the lodge fast.”

  “We’ll take those canoes.” The guide pointed to three canoes overturned on the ground next to the dock.

  Chapter

  Fifty—Two

  With one canoe following close on the stern of the other, we hugged the shoreline in an attempt to remain in the shadow of the trees and out of the glare of the lodge’s outdoor lights. But as we drew nearer, it was clear that our fears were groundless. On such a still night we should be hearing sounds of a lodge in full swing, such as people talking, glasses clinking, footsteps echoing on the verandah. Instead, we heard only the quiet splash of our paddles dipping into the water and a distant wolf howl. From the lodge, nothing.

  When we finally hauled the canoes up onto shore and peered through a barrier of low bushes, we saw no one, not even a bartender waiting for business in the empty bar clearly visible through the large windows overlooking the expansive verandah. We did see the parrot, his green feathers luminescent under the overhead lights. He was asleep on a stand next to the window, with his head tucked under a wing.

  From our vantage point, I could make out the end of a dock where an aluminum boat was tied up under the glare of a dock light.

  “I bet that’s the boat we heard,” I ventured.

  “Could be,” Will said. “George, is it always this quiet?”

  “No, I never seen it this empty. Billy, that’s the bartender, is usually behind the bar. He might be gettin’ something from the kitchen.”

  We waited several more minutes to see if he would appear, and when he didn’t, Will said, “I have a feeling there aren’t any guests staying here at the moment. Look at all the dark windows.”

  Several tiny log cabins stretched away from us along the shore on the other side of the main building. Not a single ray of light glowed from their windows or from the second-floor windows overlooking the verandah roof. The lodge seemed eerily empty.

  “When does the lodge normally close for the winter, George?” Will asked.

  “Usually not till the middle of October, when it gets too cold to heat up the main building. They just have a couple of fireplaces, one in the lobby and another in the bar, and I think one or two of the guest rooms have them too.”

  “Got any ideas on why the place is empty a good month or so early?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m wondering if things haven’t gotten a little too hot for them,” Will hazarded. “And they’ve decided to close the place down before the SQ finally get their act together and come flying in.”

  “I did overhear that biker talking about moving the girls out when the place closes,” I interjected. “Maybe they’ve already sent them south, which means we’re too late.”

  But a shrill female laugh from somewhere on the other side of the lodge put the lie to my speculation.

  “Sounds like some of them are still here,” Will said. “George, how many staff usually work here?”

  “Hmm, let’s see. There’s Billy, the chef, and a couple of helpers, the three ladies who clean the place. That’s ah … seven. Then there’s Etienne and the couple of people that work in the office and man the front desk. And Hal, the night guard. What’s that get us up to?”

  “Eleven,” Teht’aa answered.

  “I think there’s a couple of people who look after the girls, but I don’t know for sure. And of course the guides. They usually have two or three, depending on the number of guests.”

  “So we’re looking at about fifteen people. But something tells me they aren’t all here,” Will said. “Either way, in a place this size, we should be able to keep out of their way. I’m gonna —”

  He stopped talking as a door opened and a man stepped out onto the verandah. We froze. He walked over to the railing and lit a cigarette with the flick of a gleaming gold lighter. His bald head glowed under the overhead light as he sucked on his cigarette then spewed the smoke out in a forceful stream. He was dressed for the outdoors, in heavy jeans, a black leather Canadiens hockey jacket, and cowboy boots. His glasses flashed in the light as he passed his eyes over the grounds. He peered in our direction for what seemed like a very long minute. None of us dared breath. And then his gaze drifted back to the lake.

  When two men joined him, we slunk back further, but not before I recognized one with a wrenching churn of my stomach. Though we could hear the sound of their voices, we were too far away to make out their words. A few minutes later the conversation abruptly stopped with the slam of a door. The stillness returned. Will waited until he deemed it safe before poking his head back through the branches of our cover.

  “It’s okay. They’ve gone inside to the bar,” he said. “George, do you know who they were?”

  “The bald guy’s Etienne, the manager. The red-haired guy could be his brother, but I’m not sure. Been a long time since I seen him. I don’t know the other guy.”

  “Yup, that’s Fran, the biker,” I confirmed. “Although the other guy isn’t wearing his leathers either, I bet he’s a Black Devil too.”

  Will shook his head. “Well, guys and gals, it looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us. I’d say they’re settling in for a drink in the bar, so it gives us an opportunity to check out the outbuildings and those cabins over there. George, lead the way.”

  “We’re gonna have to go ’round back, but we gotta watch out for the dogs. Etienne keeps ’em in a pen right by where we gotta go.”

  Maintaining the same order, with George in front, Teht’aa and I in between, and Will taking up the rear, we followed another narrow track through the trees away from the lake towards the back of the lodge. Once again we kept our headlamps off, although the light filtering through the trees made our passage easier. I could hear rock music coming from somewhere in front of us, but not from the lodge. And more laughter. Surely if the girls were being held hostage, they wouldn’t be laughing.

  The darker shape of a shed loomed into view. We stopped while Will checked it out with his infrared goggles. After he declared it empty, we continued onwards. A short while later, I heard a deep growl before I saw the chain link fence and then another growl from a different part of the pen. George called out in a low voice and threw a couple of items over the fencing. The two Rottweilers pounced.

  “Moose bones,” George whispered. “I always bring them. Never know when I might need these dogs to be friendly. Etienne lets ’em roam around the grounds after everyone’s gone to bed. Says he does it to keep away the bears.”

  “Or to prevent the girls from running away,” I suggested.

  “Yeah, that too.”

  We continued until we were behind the main lodge, where the lighting was more spaced out. Although the vegetation at the front of the lodge had been tamed, back here the trees and shrubs had been allowed to grow wild. Off to the right, music, laughter, and light streamed from a building partially hidden by the dense bush.

  “That’s the staff quarters down there,” George said pointing towards the noise. “There’s another building back there.” He pointed to where I could see a path leading away from the lodge and staff quarters.

  “What’s in that building?” Will asked.

  “Don’t know, never been in it, but I have my suspicions.” He gave Will the kind of look men pass to each other when they’re sharing a secret they think only men un
derstand.

  “Okay, we’ll split up,” Will said. “George, you and Teht’aa check out the staff quarters. Try to see what you can through the windows without being seen and then meet back here in fifteen. Meg and I’ll check out this other building. Right now I just want us to determine where Fleur and Eric are and how well they’re guarded. Once we know, we can plan the rescue operation, okay?”

  Teht’aa and George nodded briskly before trotting off towards the staff quarters. I followed the police chief down the dark path towards the squat black shape of a building huddled under the trees. Before we reached it, he signalled for me to stay behind while he went ahead to check it out. I tensed when I heard him call out Eric’s name in a low voice, and I waited anxiously for a response. But the only reply was the sound of an animal scurrying through the underbrush. Within minutes he whistled for me to join him. As an extra precaution I approached stealthily with the bear spray, ready for action.

  Will was standing at the front of a single-storey structure with his rifle hanging loosely at his side. I clipped the bear spray back onto my belt. I had the impression that the building stretched far back into the woods, but without light it was difficult to tell.

  “There are doors on either side,” he whispered. “You take one side, I’ll try the other. Check what’s behind each door. I suspect single rooms. And Meg, don’t be surprised at what you might see, okay?”

  “I’ll need to put on my headlamp.”

  “Yeah, sure, go ahead, but don’t shine it in the direction of the lodge, eh?”

  “What is this place?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  “Do you think they might be holding Eric here?”

  “Hard to say. It’s pretty quiet. I thought if they were holding Eric in this building, there would be a guard. But there’s no sign of one. I think we should check it anyways to make sure he isn’t here.”

  Will disappeared down a covered walkway attached to the right side of the building. I flicked on my headlamp and found a similar walkway on the left side. I stepped onto the wooden planks, careful to walk as lightly as possible. There were four doors, spread out equally along the length of the building, like a motel. Beside each hung a lantern style light fixture, but none were lit. My headlamp lit up colourful images painted on the top middle of each of the doors.