Mercy

by Rhiannon Paille

  Sometimes she wished she could be like them. They weren’t tied to one place but were tied to each other and that was all that mattered. She might have stayed in one spot her whole life but she didn’t feel tied to the people at all. The only thing she felt any affinity to was the forest. Most people she knew weren’t nearly as adventurous as she was. They’d wait for guided school tours and stick to campsites scattered across the area. Sure, there were plenty of summer camps, cabins, and resorts, but there were also secluded hamlets, glorious summits and—if she could ever find one—waterfalls.

  The canoe drifted nearer to a part of the shoreline that jutted outwards like a scraggly finger and Maeva stopped. She squinted at the rocks. It was an area her dad passed several times, saying there was nothing there but a dead end. She frowned, reaching for the paddle, ready to scoot around the outcropping of rock and continue further south when she saw something. She stopped, dipping her paddle into the water to slow the canoe. The last thing she needed was to scrape it against the rocks. The canoe slid from the shore for a second before Maeva caught sight of it. An owl perched in the branches of a sloping birch tree, almost completely camouflaged by dark green leaves. She scurried to the shore, anxious to get a better look at the majestic bird when it absconded the branch, slapping its brownish red wings against the wind. Her chest fell as she sighed. If there was one thing she hated about the forest it was timid animals. She glanced at the shore realizing too late she was docking against the rocks and stuck her paddle in just in time to save her canoe. Carefully she slowed, pulling the canoe closer until she safely hopped out and tie the boat ashore.

  She angled herself so her foot was firmly on the rock and grabbed a skinny branch to brace herself as she stepped out of the canoe. She grabbed the rope and wound it around a single tree on the edge of the point. Looking behind her at the branches where the owl had sat, she smiled. This part of the forest wasn’t the same as it used to be. Sure, the point jutted out from the rest of the land and there was a large sapling spreading its branches everywhere on the edge of the point, but the trail obscured by fallen trees last summer was clear.

  Maeva looked back at the canoe, perched solidly against the shore and made up her mind. Grabbing her backpack she took the gradual incline into the forest.

  The path wasn’t straight and it wasn’t completely clear. She stepped over logs pressed against the ground, grass growing around them. She skipped over big rocks protruding from soil, common for the area. One part of the path was a giant mud puddle and she had to detour slightly to avoid stepping in it. Her legs brushed along foliage at her feet, branches nipping at the tight bun she fixed her hair in. She smelled the lake and heard waves lapping softly against the shore. She didn’t dare peek through the trees; she didn’t want to know how high she was until she had to.

  Afternoon appeared. She recognized it by the position of the sun in the sky, though she only saw it through thin strips of sky between leaves. Some of them were already yellowing in preparation for autumn, her favorite season. She stopped to take another sip of water, noticing the bottle was almost empty. It was time to go home. Her stomach rumbled but she already ate a granola bar and wanted to save the rest. The survival kit was meant for survival not for snacking. As far as she could tell there was no emergency.

  She climbed, her hands gripping large rocks as mud and grass disappeared. She pulled herself over one last boulder, landing on a stony plateau. On her left the trees continued to populate the forest, but they were thick, no way to forge a path through them. On her right they broke, showing off a magnificent blue sky, occupied by puffy white clouds. Maeva neared the edge, her breath catching in her throat. She glanced down, a straight cliff on the opposite edge of the curved rock, the lake lapping against the shore. She laughed, tilting her head to the sky and spreading her arms wide.

  She dropped the pack and circled, pulling out her iPhone and clicking through the songs again. Adele was one of her favorites, but there were others she’d considered fantastic. Her thumb flicked over a song and she stopped, pressing down. The guitar lilted through the speakers and she straightened her spine, pressing her feet into the rock. She took a deep breath and as Adele hit the first notes of the song so did she. Her voice skipped over notes, in tune with Adele. She took another breath at the break and continued, turning in slow circles, fingers stretching out, wind trickling through spaces between them. She reached the bridge, punctuating notes with emotion.

  She lost her breath at the end of the verse and stumbled over the next two lines, picking it up again towards the end. She closed her eyes and looked at the horizon, moving as close to the ledge as she dared. She hunched her knees to her chest and let out a long breath, willing herself not to breakdown. Her parents weren’t bad people, but they didn’t understand her and they didn’t try. Half the time she was shoved aside, ignored or overshadowed by her all-star brother. The rest of the time they scrutinized everything about her; mannerisms, schoolwork, hobbies, dreams. She desperately wanted to leave Kenora and go to Toronto’s School of Music but they were saving everything to pay for Scott’s tuition, despite the fact he was likely to get a full scholarship playing hockey.

  She hugged her knees tighter and traced the patterns of clouds with her eyes. She tried so hard to impress them, but nothing was ever enough. They didn’t see her as anything more than a burden, another mouth to feed, clothe and shelter. She sucked in a deep breath, her chest tightening, making her feel lightheaded. She shook away the feeling, knowing somehow she’d escape Kenora and find the paradise she had been seeking since she was old enough to know the difference between ice cream from the store and ice cream from the ice cream truck. Some things couldn’t be replaced by no-name brands and cheap imitations.

  She stood and brushed her butt off, shoving her hands into her pockets. Senior year would start soon, which meant seeing the people she had avoided all summer. Sure, they came to Red Boot all the time but she was a server, and if she was lucky, they’d tip her. The only person she kept in contact with was Stephanie, partially because they worked together and partially because Stephanie was one of the only people who hadn’t labeled Maeva a freak.

  She closed her eyes, feeling another song in the back of her throat. She didn’t need the song playing to know the lyrics, she began singing, feeling heavier with every note she sang.

  She tripped, almost lost her balance, the sound dying in her throat. She frantically swayed on her heels and pulled herself upright, walking over to her backpack and bending over to get another granola bar. She paused, hearing the distinct sound of footsteps behind her and whipped around. Nobody was there. Curiously she tarried down the rocks, careful not to lose her balance, but as far as her eyes could see, the forest was empty. She turned back to the rocks, intending to get her backpack and leave when she heard a rustling sound between the trees. She looked again but there weren’t even squirrels on the path. Sighing, she climbed the rocks, noticing shadows and thick dark clouds roiling over the horizon. She pulled herself over the last rock and grabbed her iPhone, hitting the weather app. The forecast took a minute to load, but she jumped as something behind her snapped and cracked, lightning lighting up the sky in jagged purple lines.

  Maeva glanced at the phone, the forecast reading sunny with chance of light showers, but the sky was an ominous maelstrom of heavy clouds. A quarter sized raindrop landed on her arm and Maeva flinched, dropping her phone into its waterproof case and taking out the flare gun. She slung the pack over her shoulder and climbed down the rocks.

  A ripple of thunder rolled across the sky and rain erupted in a thick sheet. She ducked under the canopy of a few trees but cursed her luck. As she looked up, a scream escaped her lips. She froze, her eyes glued to the electric blue eyes of a boy standing awkwardly on the trail. He wasn’t dressed for hiking at all and the first thing that struck her mind was danger. The second was fear and her traitorous fingers squeezed the trigger, unleashing a flare and sending her onto her back. The flare hit a
tree, igniting sparks. She opened her eyes momentarily and watched the tree creak and groan as it fell across the path. Flames skated across it, a wall of fire separating her from the boy.

  Maeva pushed herself to her feet, too scared to think straight, her terrified eyes meeting his. Frightened bright blue eyes, spiky dark hair, black skinny jeans, and t-shirt pulled over ghostly white biceps. She focused on his eyes, the clearest sapphire crystals she’d ever seen, flecks of deep blue punctuating the irises. Vertigo clouded her vision as her stomach turned to sludge. The flare gun slipped out of her hands before she accidentally fired another shot, her eyes plastered on the boy. He seemed paralyzed, staring back at her like she was a ghost. Seconds ticked by, an incomprehensible tangent of thoughts, words, and images skating through her mind. She couldn’t hold onto a single coherent thought, her entire body on fire with nothing but pure desire, fear, anxiety, and sadness.

  She went to open her mouth, forcing herself to find her voice as the fire spread to nearby trees, the heavy rain not enough to snuff it out. She realized too late she was trapped. The boy turned, fleeing the other way down the path and Maeva’s eyes widened.

  He wasn’t going to help her.

  “Wait!” she cried, waving her hands in the air, smoke billowing into her lungs. She coughed and turned, climbing the rocks, huddling on the stone plateau, rain soaking through her, keeping the fire at bay. She closed her eyes, trying to remember everything they taught in fire safety. She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere, and she couldn’t anyway. She opened her backpack and pulled out the square fabric container, and shook out the shiny fireproof blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders but it wasn’t going to be enough. Fire inched closer to the rocks, obscuring the only escape route. She steeled herself and glanced over the cliff at the water. She could try to jump but her whole body stiffened at the thought. She couldn’t even swim let alone cliff dive into frigid water.

  She cleared her tear-soaked cheeks and pulled out her iPhone, hoping it would last against the rain. She dialed the direct line for the fire department and waited; her mind still on the boy, her stomach a muddle of angry butterflies. The phone connected and she let out a breath when it rang.

  “Lake of the Woods Fire Department,” a voice answered. Maeva recognized the voice, he taught the seminars at school. She’d known him for almost ten years.

  “Commissioner Gold?” she asked, her tone reduced to a squeak. The rain slowed, but the fire raged on as she tried to make a tent out of the fireproof blanket.

  “Maeva? What’s wrong?” Gold asked; his voice deep. Maeva caught the panic in him as another rumble of thunder rolled across the sky and she winced.

  “Remember when you taught us not to go alone?” she stuttered, trying not to let her teeth chatter. She imagined Gold’s eyes being as round as saucers as she said the words and cringed at the amount of trouble she’d be in when she got home.

  “Where are you?” he barked, not bothering to cover up the urgency in his voice.

  “Um … hold on,” Maeva said, taking the phone away from her ear and clicking to the compass app. She memorized the coordinates in seconds and put the phone back to her ear. “Forty nine point seven, four five six and ninety seven point eight one five four.”

  Gold’s breath hitched. “You’re on Treaty Island.”

  Maeva let out a groan. Another tree cracked and fell over and she flinched, willing herself to keep her eyes on the ground. She cast around for a way to tell Gold the rest of it but came up with nothing. “Uh … I started a forest fire.”

  “Shit,” Gold said, and the phone went dead.

  O O O

  The rest of the day turned into an episode of 9-1-1 Rescue and Maeva wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She sat in the living room, her knee bouncing nervously, fingernails chewed to the quick, cheeks stained with tears. Gold, his partner Korowicz, and her parents were huddled around the kitchen table. Her mother was sitting, her father standing behind her chair, one hand on the back of the curved polished wood, hints of vitiligo creeping over the edges of his fingers. He was calm, cool and collected as always. Maeva strained to hear their conversation. Her dad and Gold spoke in hushed tones while Korowicz stood there looking menacing with his arms across his uniformed chiseled chest. He kept glancing at her and she gritted her teeth. Korowicz was one of the twelve guys that made up the calendar models for the Burn Fund Charity Drive. She used to have a crush on him but he had such a rotten attitude she felt nothing but contempt for him now.

  The back door rattled and swung open, Scott appearing in the doorway. Everyone looked at him and he mimicked a deer in the headlights, his brown eyes widening, his mouth curving upwards to form a smile. “What’s up everyone?” he asked, moving past Gold and finding a seat on the couch opposite Maeva, his smirk disappearing the moment he looked at her.

  “I better not be in trouble too,” he said, glancing at the kitchen.

  Maeva buried her face in her hands. “Shut up, Scott.”

  “What happened?”

  Maeva groaned but recounted the details for him with as few words as possible. She left out the part about the boy. Scott was grinning like the Cheshire cat by the time she was finished and she wanted to smack him. She was in trouble, really big trouble and he thought it was funny.

  “If I lose my license I’ll have to go with you to school,” she hissed.

  The smile drained and he fidgeted on the black microfiber couch. “That’s embarrassing.”

  Maeva wished she could stab him with her glare. “For me or you?”

  Scott furrowed his brow. “Me. Whatever, tell me what happens.” He stood, his near six-foot frame towering over her. He lumbered out of the living room and down the hall. Maeva closed her eyes, trying to blot out the perfect blue eyes and inky black hair. The boy left her there, he didn’t call for help, he just … left. She could have died. She stood, unwilling to let the anxiety attack creep into her and lingered near the wall separating the kitchen from the living room. Gold looked at her, his blue eyes registering disappointment.

  “Something to add, Miss Jonsson?”

  “Uh …” Maeva said, playing with her sweater sleeve. She listened idly while they went over the details of the rescue mission and the firefighting brigade that successfully doused the fire. The only thing missing were the final details, the ones she wanted to keep a secret. Her dad turned to look at her, and her mom swiveled in her chair, their eyes, Gold’s eyes and Korowicz’s eyes digging into her. She buckled under the pressure of authority and let out a breath. “I wasn’t alone.”

  “You weren’t?” her dad seemed surprised, his eyebrows pulled together.

  Maeva shook her head, her fingers rolling and unrolling the cuff of her sweater. “There was a boy in the woods.”

  Gold relaxed. “But you shot the flare gun at the tree correct?”

  She groaned. “He startled me. And the storm came out of nowhere.…”

  “I’ve told you so many times before, check the weather before you go. You never listen to a goddamned thing I say,” Grace’s shrill voice cut in.

  “It wasn’t in the forecast,” she muttered, digging her toe in the carpet. She pulled her sleeves over her hands and waited for the scolding to continue.

  “I’m putting you on probation, no canoeing after dark,” Gold said, taking control of the situation. Maeva didn’t look at him. “Mr. Jonsson? I’ll need to confiscate the flare gun. I’m revoking your license to carry it. You have a cell phone … everyone has a cell phone.”

  Maeva looked at him, relief clouding her face. He didn’t say anything but his expression said he was happy to save her from the wrath of her mom.

  Gord nodded, shoving the flare gun across the table. He pivoted to look at Maeva. “I’m further restricting this probation, Maeva. You can use your canoe to go to and from school and work but no more trips.”

  Maeva pressed her lips together. She knew that was coming, but she wished they had waited until the firefight
ers left before strapping on the chains. She looked at Gold, not smiling with her mouth but with her eyes. “Thanks,” she mumbled, pushing off the wall and retreating to her room in the basement.

  ***

  Chapter 6

  Hurt

  Krishani couldn’t breathe.

  His combat boots clacked against the mud as he retreated from the fire. His heart felt like it was disintegrating in his chest, his head buzzing with the sound of a thousand wasps. He felt lightheaded, assaulting ferns along the edges of the path. He breathed in short shallow gasps as he fetched up against a nearby tree, pressing his hand to the bark, then his cheek. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath. His chest constricted, making aches scatter along his rib cage. He pushed away the lump in his throat and clenched his fist, anger bursting through his body with unseemly force. He pounded the tree with his fist and pain shot up his arm, registering in the back of his neck. He let out a cry. It felt like the forest was spinning. He got tangled in branches hanging over the path and batted at them with his hands, his vision blurry from tears in his eyes.

  Her face, beautiful pale oval face, hazel eyes rimmed with violet specks, black curls falling to the small of her back. He shook his head and tried to swallow, tasting bile in the back of his throat. She looked so much like Aulises, so much like the girl who froze to death in the snow.

  His stomach heaved as he wrapped his arms around himself and tried to see the ground. He walked until he heard cars zipping down the highway and slowed, hitting a patch of moss, rocks, and fallen trees, hollowed out by mites. Elwen leaned against a Toyota Corolla on the shoulder, arms crossed. Krishani carefully descended the rocks and without looking at his legal guardian, pulled the passenger door open. Elwen rounded the car and took the driver’s side, silently making a U-turn and heading back towards the main road.