by Arthur Slade
“This sucks,” Michael announced. “It’s just completely wrong.”
I agreed with him. But I had no will to move or to say anything else. I felt sapped of my strength. Empty and tired.
A hot, dry wind came up, twirling with dust and scraps of paper. It twisted its way against the side of the building and right over us and seemed to hover there. I coughed, rubbed at my eyes. A second later the mini-tornado was gone, but I was still trying to clear my throat. A pound of dirt had found its way onto my face and into my hair.
I heard the door squeak open again.
“Are you alright?” Althea asked. Her voice sounded muffled. Were my ears filled with dust? She had three tickets in her hand. “You sound like you have something stuck in your throat.”
“The . . . wind,” I answered. Then coughed again before I could say any more.
“Maybe I’ll get you all a drink before you go.” She turned and went back into the depot.
At the same moment I heard a screeching, scraping noise that sounded like metal being twisted and torn in two. The bus was here, slamming on its brakes, bringing another cloud of dust with it. My coughing doubled. The bus went by only a few feet away from us and I glimpsed tinted windows and a bus driver with sunglasses. I knew already that I was doomed to sit beside the most boring person in North America and listen to his or her stories about what it was like to be a kid.
For hours on end.
I stood, choking now.
“Sarah?” Angie asked. “You gonna be okay?”
“No . . .” I mumbled. The dirt was clinging to the inside of my throat. “Just gonna go . . . to the bathroom. Wash my face. Gargle water too.”
I stumbled away from the bench and into the coffee shop. I pushed open the door into the ladies’ room. There I twisted on the taps and wet my face with cold water. Then I bent down and gulped a few mouthfuls of icy, bland-tasting water. It woke me up and my coughing slowly died. I ripped off a paper towel and dabbed at the excess water. It was like drying my face with sandpaper.
When I looked in the mirror, I almost scared myself. My hair was wild. There were black bags hanging below my eyes. The stress of the night before had worn lines in my face, deep creases. I looked like one of those old rock stars who should have settled down years ago. Was my face going to stay this way?
But there was something else I hadn’t seen before in any of my family pictures. A hardness. A strength. It was revealed in the shape of my jaw, in the steadiness of my eyes—a look that reminded me of my grandfather. A similarity. Passed down through the ages.
Blood of my blood. That’s what he was. And he was in danger . . . a danger I was beginning to realize even the police couldn’t save him from.
I drew in my breath. Straightened my back, heard it crack.
I looked around, not sure why—like there was something in the bathroom that I needed to find.
The window was set low in the wall, open to let in the summer air. I went over to it, yanked it all the way up. I knew I could fit through if I stood on the toilet.
And if I went out the front, Althea would see me.
I climbed on the back of the toilet, stood, and pulled myself out. I scraped my knee on some metal part of the window, but didn’t really feel it. Then I lowered myself onto the ground and glanced around. I was at the back of the bus depot. Gimli was in front of me. Houses and more houses.
It was only a short dash to the alley. Beyond that was a park.
I was overcome by a burst of new energy. I was taking action, doing something.
I started running.
14
Not once did I think of Angie or Michael in those first few minutes. I just knew that I had to get away from Althea, from the bus that would swallow me up and take me home. I sped through the park and up another back alley, not sure where to go. I stayed away from main streets, afraid Althea would be searching through them. I knew that, even with one eye, Althea would be able to see much farther than most people. Maybe even into the future or the spirit world.
I realized that by running I would attract the townspeople’s attention, so I slowed to a quick walk. I must have gone down every back alley in Gimli. Finally I found a brick school that was large enough to be a fortress. It seemed quite old, maybe even as old as Grandpa. It was surrounded by a big yard and walled in by a carefully trimmed hedge. I wandered around back and found a hiding place in the bushes. I had this fear that Althea could sense where I was, just like those people who point and find water, so I snuggled deeper into the branches.
I had no idea what I was going to do next or where I would go—just that I had to stay here in Gimli. I hugged my knees. Some of the strength I felt only an hour or two ago was slipping away now that I had stopped moving.
What could I do here? What had happened to Grandpa? I felt small and too young to be trying to do something on my own. And most of all, I felt alone.
Right at this moment, Angie and Michael were riding a bus, miles from Gimli, wondering what had happened to me. I probably should have told them, but I couldn’t without getting caught. They’d just have to tell Mom and Dad: “We had a great time, but we lost Sarah. Is that okay?”
A group of crows landed in the grass a few yards away. They pecked at the ground. One of them watched me, showing no interest in worms or bits of garbage at all.
Was every animal in Gimli extraordinarily intelligent?
Grandpa used to say crows were the smartest of all birds and they watched everything and reported back to their master, one-eyed Odin.
Maybe they would lead one-eyed Althea to me. I grabbed a few pebbles and tossed them at the birds. They all took off, cawing and flapping their wings.
Except the largest one. He continued to stare at me.
“Go away,” I whispered. “Go back to your nest.”
He cawed. A loud, startling cry.
“Beat it! Go on!”
He made three more loud caws, then with a majestic movement, unfurled his wings. He was even larger than I had first thought. With the easiest of motions he was suddenly in the air. He circled around the bushes three times, then flew off.
Grandpa had also told me that crows were messengers. That often they brought tidings from loved ones.
Was it trying to pass on a message about Grandpa to me?
I shook my head. Sarah. Sarah. Sarah. This town is getting to you. Now you’re starting to think like them.
I sat for at least another hour, then finally decided it was time to wander again. I got up, dusted myself off, walked out of the school yard, and headed downtown.
I intentionally stayed away from the bookstore. I meandered quickly up and down the streets, not sure what I hoped to find. Finally I saw a sign that said Ye Ol’ Ice Cream Shoppe. Luckily I had my wallet in my pocket.
I knew exactly what I should do.
I went inside the air-conditioned store. It was small. The whole counter was see-through glass with pail after pail of multicolored ice cream behind it.
“Hello there,” an old man said. He had a white cap on and his shirt was like a hockey referee’s. It said Mr. Scoop on the front. “What flavor can I do for you today?”
I shrugged. Looked through the glass.
“There are so many choices.” It was ice cream heaven.
“I’d recommend Tiger, Tiger,” he said. “It’s the perfect taste for this kind of day.”
Immediately I started to salivate. I hadn’t eaten anything for hours. “Yes, please. Just a small cone.”
He grabbed a cone and started scooping up the ice cream. When he was finished he stood and handed a heaping orange-and-black mass of Tiger, Tiger to me.
“That’s as small as we go here,” he explained.
I smiled and slid a dollar coin and two quarters over to him. I licked the cone. It tasted perfect. “Uh . . . is . . . Br
and around?”
“Brand?” He raised one eyebrow and winked at me. I didn’t get the joke. “Brand’s just finishing up in the back.”
As if on cue, Brand came out. “All done,” he announced. Then he looked at me, smiled. “Hey . . . hi! It’s Sarah, right?”
“Yes. I . . .” I paused. Was I blushing? “I came to take you up on your offer . . . to . . . uh . . . show me around.”
“Good.” He waved at the man. “See you, Scoop.”
We went outside, down the sidewalk.
“You know,” he said softly, “I heard about your grandfather. I just want to say I hope he’s okay.”
“Me too,” I answered. “How did you hear?”
“My best friend’s dad is on the force. Derrick Roberts.”
“Oh . . . Sergeant Roberts . . . I met him.” I paused. “Did your friend know anything about what’s going on?”
“Just that they were still looking. That’s all he told me.”
We walked a little ways in silence.
“He’s a tough old guy,” Brand said, “He’ll pull through.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t take comfort in his words. Because something had entered my room last night that I had never seen or felt before. If it could tear holes in the cabin and kill Hugin like snapping a toothpick, what chance did Grandpa have? I shivered.
Brand pointed at a long narrow street to our right. “Why don’t we walk up this way—we can see the lake then. Boardwalk is just up here.”
“Sure.”
We changed direction. I finished the last of my cone. The center of my stomach felt cold, as if the ice cream refused to melt.
“So where are your two friends?” Brand asked.
“Uh . . . Michael and Angie went home. They had to get back to do some . . . stuff. They’re not my friends though . . . Michael’s my brother and Angie’s my cousin. But I like them just as much as friends. Most of the time, that is.”
“I thought you all looked alike, especially you and Michael.”
“He’s my tvinnr.”
“Your what?”
I shook my head. Why was I suddenly speaking another language? “My twin, sorry. Tvinnr is an Old Icelandic word that Grandpa says is the origin of the English word twin. But yeah, we’re twins. Not identical twins, of course.”
“Twins! That’s cool! You guys ever have any of those twin things happen? You know, he stubs his toe and your toe feels sore . . . that kind of thing?”
“Well . . . I’m not sure,” I answered. My right ankle suddenly tingled with pain—the same ankle Michael had hurt. Could there be a connection? I wondered.
Brand was staring at me. I blushed. “Uh . . . sometimes I know when he’s just about to make a bad joke.”
“I guess that’s the same thing.” Brand paused. “So you’re here by yourself then. Where are you staying?”
“Um . . .” For some reason I didn’t want to mention Althea’s name, almost as if she might hear me and come running. “At a woman’s place. A friend of Grandpa’s. Andrea.”
“Andrea who?”
“I can’t remember her last name. She lives just past Grandpa’s house.”
“East, west, north, or south?”
“I’m not sure.”
Brand nodded. He was staring at me, almost as if he didn’t believe anything I was saying. “I thought I knew most everyone up that way. I guess I don’t.”
“I think she just moved into her house recently.” Now I was outright lying to him. I had to change the topic. “How far is it to the lake?”
“We’re almost there.” A few steps later he cleared his throat as if getting ready to say something important. Was he going to call me an out-and-out liar? He turned to me, a worried look on his face. “You know . . . I don’t want you to take this in a mean way but . . . you look really bad.”
I had a sudden flash image of how I had appeared in the bathroom mirror, hair pointing in all directions. I didn’t imagine I had gotten any prettier, though. I wanted to be at my best around him. “It’s . . . I’ve been through a lot . . . that’s all.”
“Well, we don’t have to walk any farther . . . we can just go sit somewhere.”
“I—I actually don’t mind walking. It’ll help keep me awake. And . . . uh . . . I like talking to you too.”
He smiled. A very handsome smile. A moment later we went past the last building. We were on Gimli’s boardwalk and the lake now appeared in front of us. Brand spread out his arms, sounding like a circus announcer. “Here’s the wonderful wacky world of Lake Winnipeg.” There were a few motorboats out, one or two sailboats. Seagulls were darting through the air. I suddenly realized that even though my life had been turned upside down and inside out, the rest of the world carried on as it always had.
There were a few clouds forming in the distance. But here we were splashed with bright, warm sunlight. I still felt cold though, as if nothing could heat up my bones after the night before.
“I spend a lot of time here in the summer,” Brand was saying. “Water-skiing and fishing and stuff. Have you ever tried tubing? You know—where they drag a tire tube behind a boat. Do they have that in the States?”
“Yes, of course! But I haven’t tried it yet.”
He smiled. Ran a hand through his short hair. “It’s absolutely wild.”
We went a bit farther down the walkway. Brand waved at some kids our age out on a motorboat, and they waved back, then made a sharp turn, sending a huge wave rolling our way. I could hear them hooting with joy. That was the kind of fun I wanted to be having right now.
“This lake is huge,” I said.
Brand nodded. “I know. My grandma and grandpa used to bring me out here when I was a kid and tell me stories about the lake. It was even bigger during the ice age; it covered most of this part of the province . . . it was called Lake Agassiz or something like that. Kinda makes you realize how old this place is.”
We walked by a giant statue of a Viking. I couldn’t help thinking of all the Icelandic people who had settled here. Including my ancestors. I could use their strength and help right now.
“Are your grandparents still around?” I asked.
“Uh . . . Grandpa died last year. But Grandma’s still here. The only person I know who could tell stories as good or better was your grandpa—is something wrong, Sarah?”
“I . . .” I held my stomach. “I just feel sick suddenly.” I knew what it was—just mentioning Grandpa was affecting me. Making my stomach turn with fright.
Then a second wave of nausea swept over me and I felt as if I would black out. The bright sky disappeared, the clouds swirled around me. I knew I was hallucinating. I was buried in dirt and I couldn’t move my limbs. I smelled smoke and for one brief moment a face hung in front of me, with a twisted mouth and large, moon-colored eyes. Then I heard a pounding sound, the creaking of wood. A snap.
A moment later it all disappeared. The sky was blue. Brand was saying something I couldn’t understand and my knees were shaking.
“Can . . . can we sit down?” I asked.
He helped me to a bench and we sat. I breathed in and out slowly; trying to steady myself. Finally my stomach returned to normal.
“What was that all about? Your eyes rolled back into your head. I thought you were going to pass out.”
“I just got a very powerful feeling of Grandpa. He’s in trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“I . . . I don’t know. Just a gut feeling, I guess. Like Grandpa was buried or something.”
“Really?”
“Yes . . . really.” I decided it was time for me to take a chance. “Uh . . . have you ever noticed how . . . weird this town is?”
Brand laughed. “Weird? Of course, it’s what makes us such a great tourist attraction.”
“I mean really
weird. Scary weird.”
He looked suddenly serious. “What do you mean? Did something happen?”
Then I just started talking, not caring if he thought I was some crazy American girl. I described the little boy in the trees and explained how something had broken the window in the cabin. I spoke until I was tired, describing as much as I could. Brand stared seriously at me through all of this, his jaw muscles clenched.
When I was finished he took my arm. “C’mon,” he said.
“Where to? The loony bin?”
“No,” he said. “I know what we have to do.”
15
Brand wouldn’t tell me where we were going. He led me back into town and I followed him like a zombie.
He pulled me into an old restaurant with a jukebox and black-and-white pictures of hot rod cars on the wall. He guided me to a booth and sat on the other side. Before I could even open my mouth to ask him a question, the waitress popped up in front of us as if she had just risen through a trapdoor. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail—she looked like a character from an Archie Andrews comic.
“Whattya want?” she asked.
“Coke, please,” Brand said.
“Hot chocolate,” I answered.
She narrowed her eyes. “Hot chocolate? It’s twenty some degrees out there, dear.”
“Please,” I said.
She smiled. Shrugged. “Sure thing. You kids are into the weirdest stuff these days.”
After she left, Brand said, “Just sit here, okay. I’ll be back in a second.”
“Uh . . . sure.”
He stood up and went outside. I watched him walk past the front of the restaurant. He waved and gave me a quick smile. I leaned closer to the window and twisted my neck to see where he was going. He went a little farther down the sidewalk and stopped at a pay phone. What was he doing?
The woman appeared with the hot chocolate. I drank, feeling it heat up my stomach. I took another sip and another.
