I scan the empty street for any signs of buses or taxis. The men are still staring at me and I feel like prey.
‘Are you going south?’
‘Sure am.’
He sounds genuine, the men are freaking me out, and I’m shaking too much to think anymore, so I jump in. He closes the door with a lever. ‘You look frozen.’ He leans towards me, arm stretched out.
Suddenly, all my nerves go on high alert and my skin erupts in even bigger goosebumps. What have I done? It’s ten at night and I’m alone in a truck with a strange man.
My shoulders tense as he rummages behind my head where there’s a small storage area. I imagine a knife, a gun, a …
‘Put this on.’ He hands me a beanie.
I put it on, breathing through my mouth in case it stinks. My bag on my lap, I fold my arms across my chest as he pulls onto the road.
Now I’m stuck.
Chapter 8
Once I warm up, I take off the beanie although it only smells a little like engine oil. We travel along the dark road and I look around the inside of the truck—a dashboard with lots of switches and buttons, walkietalkie hanging low, enormous wood-panelled steering wheel and oversized rear-view mirror with a glass eagle hanging down on a string. Behind us is a black curtain; who knows what’s behind it.
I cross my legs, relieved I didn’t wear a dress, and start biting my nails. My mind flits to my aeroplane image of God sitting on a sunbeam, promising me my life would be easier from now on. Tonight is pitch-dark, and there’s not a sunbeam in sight.
‘What’s your name?’ the driver asks.
‘Rebecca,’ is the first lie that comes to mind.
‘Pretty name. I’m Ted, delivering some food cargo down south. Is that the direction you want to go, Rebecca?’
‘Sure.’ I peer at him out of the corner of my eye. He seems okay enough. ‘Maybe you know where … There’s a thing, a winter festival that I want to find, somewhere south of here. Is there a place you think it would be?’
‘Festival, ha.’ He chuckles. ‘Tree huggers out in this cold? No, hun, no idea.’
I take out my phone again. At least with the heat blasting through the vents, my fingers are warm enough to move. I try searching for every possible combination of terms. Alaska. Winter. Festival. Forest. South of Anchorage. But I get no leads. I try calling Melody again and again, but her phone is still not ringing.
My father’s called and texted ten times asking where I am, that he’s worried, and can I please come back?
I have no idea what to do. Tears have welled in my eyes and I’m trying to stop myself from becoming a waterfall.
I send a message to Oliver, my fingers racing over the letters at super-speed.
My father’s a major loser after all. We were out having dinner and I couldn’t stand another second. Going to find Melody in the forest, don’t know how exactly, but I will. Getting my passport, then heading to the airport and coming home … Can’t wait to see you.
Ted puts up the heat. ‘You warm enough?’
I nod.
If I survive this weirdo truck driver, I add to the message, and press send.
‘Beef jerky?’ He passes a bag to me.
‘It’s okay, I’ve just eaten.’
‘Want to tell me what’s going on then? I’m not a bad listener, so my wife says anyway.’
I feel slightly relieved at the mention of a wife.
‘Did you have a fight with someone?’
I’m not sure what to say.
‘Maybe I can help?’
I look at him again out of the corner of my eye. He seems nice enough. ‘My father,’ I say. ‘I came here to meet him and I just found out he’s totally different to what I thought. He’s lied to me, well …’ I want to keep it real. ‘Not lied, exactly, but didn’t tell me stuff. I thought he was one way and now I’ve found out he’s another.’
This guy may be a hunter too, so I choose my words carefully. I definitely don’t want to get into an argument.
Ted doesn’t answer for a while, and I stare out the window. It’s just blackness.
‘Sounds like my old man,’ he says eventually. ‘We never got on well. Opposites, you’d say.’
He stops and I wait.
‘I was a righteous, angry dude when I was younger, and we never stopped fighting,’ he says quietly. ‘Now, I’d give the skin off my back to see my father again, make amends.’
‘Why don’t you?’ I ask.
‘He’s gone now. Watching me from heaven.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
I wonder if Mum’s watching me too. She would not approve of the crazy situation I’ve got myself into here. Even though I’m positive she wouldn’t approve of my father either—she and Melody have been part of huge protests to save forests and they, unlike my father, truly love nature and all its creatures. But I can imagine her telling me to go back, that what I’m doing is crazy, and that I’ve overreacted.
‘If there’s anything I learnt, it’s that people aren’t perfect,’ Ted says.
‘My father’s a long way from that.’
‘Hun. Even if he’s a good-for-nothing criminal like my old man was, who does nothing but gamble, drink and curse, you know what? Most everyone has love in their hearts even if they’re a little broken. And that’s where we gotta start. Just sharing the love.’
‘I guess,’ I say.
We listen to corny country music for a long while, and I focus on the words, my mind blank.
Suddenly, Ted puts on the indicators and veers the truck off the highway, snapping my attention back to my present situation.
Where is he taking me? How did I get myself into this mess?
I bring up my father’s number on my phone and hover my finger over the call button.
All my muscles tighten as I stare out the window. Even my toes are clenched.
‘Been driving this damn truck nonstop for hours. Need a hot coffee, if that’s okay with you?’ Ted says.
I see the glow of a neon sign and allow myself to take a breath. It makes sense. Long-distance driver. Coffee. He’s not pulling the truck into the forest to attack me. Phew doesn’t quite express my relief.
We pass the gas station and pull up behind Jo’s Truck Stop. ‘Go on inside,’ Ted says, yanking on the handbrake. ‘I’ll be there in a minute. Save a donut for me.’
Donuts. Makes me think of a few days ago when my father, despite me insisting he didn’t need to, drove across the city to find me a vegan one. He didn’t succeed, so instead we ended up in the only organic cafe in town where they had a suitable fudge brownie. He bought me three.
What a contradiction—a hunter looking for vegan food. And why would he care about me, when he’s clearly an uncaring person? You can’t watch a fawn’s mother die knowing you caused it horrible pain, and still be caring.
I jump out of the truck, my boots hitting the snow with a thud. With Ted’s beanie still pulled over my ears, I run into the truck stop.
I stomp my boots free of snow in the doorway and rub my nose—which has turned into an ice statue in the ten seconds I was outdoors—back to life.
The place is empty except for an old man filling a mug at the coffee station.
The girl at the cashier is on her phone. She’s not much older than me, and pimply with a shot of pink through her hair. I ask if she’s heard of a winter festival and if she knows where it is. No luck. I even try the old man but he just stirs his coffee and gives me a weird look. I feel utterly alone.
I use the bathroom and when I come out Ted buys me a tea. At the counter, I pick up a weird-looking candy bar and ask him what it is. He thinks it’s hysterical I don’t know and insists I try it.
The pink-haired girl manages to ring up the bill while still tapping away on her phone. Serious skill.
I try to pay, but Ted insists.
My phone shows another eight missed calls from my father, and messages from Jaxon asking where I am and to please call. Nothing from Melody.
/> For a moment I deliberate if I should tell them I’m safe. I don’t want Adam to worry. That wasn’t the point. But just as I begin to write, I imagine the fawn again. He’s lost his mother and she’ll never come back. I put my phone in my bag. I’ll stick to my plan: find Melody, get my passport, return to my life and pretend this stupid trip never happened.
Ted and I sit down at a table, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, and sip our hot drinks. The candy is goopy inside, and tingles of sugar flood my body. Delicious. I wouldn’t mind another.
Ted asks if I want to use his phone to call anyone to let them know where I am. I say no and he raises his eyebrows. I hadn’t noticed how bushy they are until now. Thankfully he doesn’t push the matter and changes the topic, asking where I’m from.
‘You’re not Scottish? I have a tin ear,’ he says and then chuckles as I try to put on a Scottish accent to demonstrate the difference. He soon gets me talking about West Creek and is full of questions about life in Australia. It’s making me homesick. He can’t get over the fact that kangaroos don’t box and there’s even a species that live in trees. When I throw in a platypus, it totally freaks him out—a furry creature who swims underwater, has a bill like a duck’s, and who keeps its babies in a pouch but also lays eggs. He takes out a pen and paper and insists I try to draw one for him. His horrified face when I show him my sketch makes me laugh. I feel like I’m having a little break from my crazy day, chatting to Ted happily. I pull out my phone to search for a real platypus picture.
I find such a cute one on Instagram that I send it to Lucy too, despite the circumstances. She’s obsessed with platypuses, and when she’s not drawing birds she has a sketchbook full of them. I also remind her to tell me what’s happened with Malcolm.
Another message from my father pops up just as I’m about to put my phone away, pleading with me to let him know I’m okay. I can feel his desperation, so I write a quick text: I’m safe, don’t worry. Don’t want to talk. Finding Melody and then I’ll get my stuff and fly home.
Just as I’m about to press send, I hear the automatic doors open and see two police officers walk in. They look around and walk straight towards us. Did my father call the cops?
‘Ted Craw?’ the female officer asks.
Ted nods.
‘This the girl?’
‘Sorry, hun.’ Ted turns to me. ‘I called the state troopers from the truck. Hitchhiking can be dangerous—lucky it was me who picked you up. If I had a daughter, I’d want to know she was okay.’
I swallow my tea. I’ve never spoken to a police officer before, and I want to look older and sure of myself.
‘Miss, I’m Officer Hickie,’ the officer indicates the name on her pin, ‘and this is Officer Scott. Do you have any identification on you? Where are you headed to this evening?’
My heart’s beating fast as I look to Ted to help me out, but he just shrugs apologetically.
I take out my wallet and search for something, anything, that looks like ID. ‘I don’t have my passport with me, but here’s my library card if that helps. I’m heading south to see a friend.’
She inspects the card. ‘Sky Lawson.’
Now it’s my turn to give Ted a sorry look for giving him a fake name.
‘It’s your birthday today?’ the officer says. ‘Well happy birthday, Sky Lawson.’
‘You should have told me,’ Ted says. ‘I would have added a candle to that chocolate bar!’
‘And where are you sleeping tonight?’ Officer Hickie asks. ‘Do you have accommodation arranged?’
‘Accommodation?’ I ask, trying to buy time, but I can’t think of a single town or a single lie. ‘My mum’s friend is at a festival and I’m going to find her. I’ll stay with her in a cabin or something.’
‘And the address of the festival is?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Her name?’ She takes out a notepad.
‘Melody Ramp.’
‘Melody. Right. Let’s get this straight, Miss Lawson. You’re sixteen years old, hitchhiking alone, on your birthday, to a festival in the “forest”’—she air quotes— ‘location unknown. You do know it’s nearly 11pm and thirty degrees out?’
‘Yes, officer,’ I say.
‘And your mother is where? At the festival too?’
‘No. She’s in Australia.’ I swallow. ‘She was. She’s not alive anymore.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ says Officer Hickie. ‘Do you have another guardian, a father perhaps?’
‘He’s in Anchorage. I was staying with him. But now I’m on my way to Melody.’
I give her my father’s name and address, and she tells me to wait. She returns to the entrance with Officer Scott and they talk. She picks up her walkie-talkie and starts speaking into it.
‘Miss Lawson,’ she says as she returns, ‘you have two choices here. Either come with us to the station or we can call your father to pick you up right now. Unless you have another relative or legal guardian.’
‘What happens at the station?’ I ask. ‘Can I sleep the night and keep going tomorrow morning to the festival?’
She stares at me like I’m a nutter.
‘It’s not a hotel,’ Officer Scott says. ‘I’d highly recommend the other option. Have you seen a police cell before, Miss Lawson? It’s hardly the Hilton.’ He looks at Officer Hickie and stifles a chuckle. ‘Stay the night. That’s a first. We should start offering room service too.’
But Officer Hickie isn’t finding it funny. She pulls up a chair next to me and leans close. ‘Unless you would like to make a complaint against someone, Sky. Would you like to talk to me in private? If you’re in trouble, someone tried to hurt you …’ She puts her hand on my arm. ‘We can talk.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s okay. I just had a fight with my father, but I’ll call him now.’
She watches as I pick up my phone.
‘Put it on loud speaker, please,’ Officer Scott says.
My father answers after one ring.
‘It’s me,’ I say.
‘Oh my God, Sky, I’m so relieved to hear your voice. Are you okay? Where are you?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Thank God. I was about to get in the car and start driving, anywhere. Half the restaurant staff are out looking for you. Jaxon, too—he borrowed the neighbour’s car and drove to the restaurant to help search. We’ve called all the bus companies, the taxi depot …’ He’s breathless and talking faster than I’ve ever heard him. ‘We tried every restaurant and diner. You disappeared into thin air. I was freaking out, Sky. Are you sure you’re okay? Where are you? Are you really okay?’ It’s like he’s reaching through the phone, needing, wanting me to be okay. But I’m not. I feel bad for scaring him, but nothing’s okay between him and me.
‘It’s just that I need you to pick me up. There are police here with me.’
‘Police? Yes. Of course. Pick you up. Yes, yes.’
I can hear voices in the background. Shouting. I can just make out Jaxon’s voice saying, ‘Is it her?’
‘Shush,’ my father says. ‘Yes, it’s her. She’s okay. Hold on.’ He returns to me. ‘Where are you? I’m coming now.’
After I give him all the details, the officers settle at a table next to me with a couple of bear claws—donuts shaped like a paw and covered in icing and cinnamon. They’ll wait with me until Adam arrives. Cops and donuts, it’s like a real-life Simpsons episode.
Ted insists on buying me another snack before he goes. He has to get back on the road. We go to the cashier together and he tells me my father sounds like a good dude.
‘Nobody’s perfect,’ he says. ‘You’ll realise that one day.’ He gives me a pat on the back. ‘You have to take the good with the bad.’
I try to give the beanie back to him, but he insists I keep it.
‘A reminder to never hitchhike again,’ he says, before leaving me with a story he heard when he was a kid of a serial killer who used to prey on backpackers. Yikes.
I open my packet of chips, stuff a few in my mouth, and am about to return to my table when the cashier waves me over. ‘Did you say festival before? So freaky. I just saw this picture of someone I know at some festival. Looks pretty awesome.’ She turns her phone around to show me. It’s on Facebook. I zoom in on the image— there’s a bunch of people sitting around a blazing fire, snow everywhere, drumming. It’s captioned, New Moon Women’s Gathering.
This must be it.
I ask the cashier if I can use her phone for a second to check the address.
‘Take it for as long as you want,’ she says, surprising me and disappearing into the storage room out back. So generous.
The festival is marked by a red pin in a big white space. I zoom in and out, looking for a location until I find it. South, just like Melody said. I take a picture of the location with my phone.
Next, I search for Melody and pull up her profile. There are no new status updates since we landed. I go back to the photo and click on the tags. Everyone who has checked into the festival on Facebook is there. I scroll down. One picture catches my eye. Eight women grouped together with the caption, New friends from faraway places. Melody’s name is among them.
Bingo.
I’m this close to finding Melody and getting out of this icebox to return home.
The cashier is still out back. I return to the table, grab my bag and let the officers know I’m using the bathroom.
‘Hey, thanks for your phone,’ I call out, but there’s no answer. I peek around the counter and see a storeroom. I slip behind the counter. ‘Here’s your phone back,’ I say, walking into the large storage space. Still, no answer.
The back door’s ajar and I hear a rustle of boxes outside. I walk through, wrapping my jacket around me tight. I see a streak of pink by the dumpster. The cashier is throwing a cardboard box into a large heap, a cigarette dangling from her lips.
She’s surprised to see me there.
‘Are the buses still running?’ I ask, giving back her phone. ‘South?’
She looks at her watch. ‘Last one going south to Homer in, like, three minutes. Are you leaving now? What about the police?’
‘Where from?’ I ask, ignoring her questions. Three minutes. If I go now, I can get to Melody after all. No waiting for my father. The thought of the long drive back with him, forced to talk to him, no way to get home, is too much. And Jaxon too. He lied to me. He knows everything. How can he explain himself? Pretending to love wolves while his wannabe dad kills them. The whole thing is a bad joke.
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