Manitoba Lost (Book 1): Run (Survivors #1)

by R. A. Rock

  The vehicle rolled along through the quiet night, but whereas before I had found the darkness an ally, hiding me from those who might want to harm me, now I found it threatening. The black silhouettes of the trees were menacing and I prayed that I would make it at least to Ospwagan Lake. That still meant a really long walk but I supposed it was better than hiking all the way from Thompson.

  I made it to Ospwagan Lake and contemplated trying to get a little farther. But I felt terrified at the thought of being caught on the open road and having to try and sleep on the edge of the two lane highway where anyone might approach.

  No, it was better to waste the last bit of gas, than to get stuck in the open. Well, I wouldn’t waste it. I would leave the engine running with the heat on for as long as I could. I had turned left onto the little rutted gravel road, making my way towards the lake until I saw a little clearing in the trees to the right. I turned, bouncing over the bumpy ground until I came to a stop.

  I gave a shaky sigh and bit my lip.

  I was as hidden as I could be for now.

  I left the car running, with the heat up high and slid down in my seat. I had hoped to sleep but I was so tense that it was a losing battle. I kept my eyes peeled for animals or people or anything that might threaten me.

  There was nothing.

  But I couldn’t relax.

  Eventually, the engine choked, sputtered, and died.

  I gave a little moan and slid farther down in my seat. The adrenaline pouring through me was making me a little sick but I couldn’t settle down. I couldn’t sleep. I was too afraid something else might try to hurt me. I didn’t feel as safe as I would have if the window hadn’t been broken.

  I guess sometime in the early morning, I got so exhausted that I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. I slept but with nasty dreams. I woke with a start to see someone in the bushes. It wasn’t an animal. It didn’t move like an animal. It was upright and wore clothes.

  And where were all the frickin’ women anyway?

  Because in spite of the dim light of false dawn this was clearly a man. Definitely a man.

  Oh no.

  I was so sick of men.

  He wore a hoodie pulled up over his head and as he turned in my direction he froze in place.

  Damn.

  He had spotted me.

  Nessa

  I peered through the fogged up window, trying to get a good look at him in order to decide whether he was a threat. The sky was overcast and dreary and matched the hopelessness that filled me. I really didn’t want to be attacked again. Once had been enough.

  My heart pounded so loud I thought he would hear it. I felt like crying I was so scared again. I pulled out the bear spray I had brought with me, holding it ready.

  Maybe he’d leave me alone.

  But he didn’t.

  Slowly he approached as if he felt as wary as I did.

  I supposed that we would all be a lot more careful of other people until things got back to usual.

  I tried to breathe normally but I think I was hyperventilating. The hoodie he wore and the shadows obscured the man’s face so that I couldn’t see who it was until he was right beside the car.

  He bent and peered in, a worried frown on his face.

  And I let out a shuddering breath of intense relief.

  It was Matt.

  Matt

  As I peeked into the car window, afraid of who I might see hiding inside, I saw Nessa’s white face and big round eyes. She looked terrified and exhausted.

  As soon as she noticed it was me, her face crumpled and she was fumbling with the lock. She threw the door open and hopped out.

  “Matthew, oh thank goodness it’s you,” she said, and then she burst into tears.

  “Nessa, what’s wrong?” I said, feeling extremely concerned by how upset she was. What had happened?

  I opened the back door of her little car and folded myself inside, pulling her after me. When we were in the back which wasn’t warm but wasn’t as cold as outside either, I wrapped my arms around her and held her as she sobbed.

  I didn’t know what else to do.

  I was shot through with adrenaline and fear, wondering what had happened to her since I had seen her yesterday. But she couldn’t explain anything to me right now.

  And through the worry I had about what had scared her or hurt her so much that she was this troubled, I noticed how nice it was to hold her.

  I had only had her in my arms once. I had asked her to dance at graduation and she had agreed. Probably out of pity. But I hadn’t cared. We had danced to some cheesy Celine Dion song but it had seemed appropriate then and I had almost died to be able to wrap my arms around her and hold her close.

  I hadn’t been able to tell her how much I liked her. Not then. And I couldn’t now. Because I was pretty sure she didn’t feel like that about me then. And she probably didn’t today either.

  But maybe we could be friends.

  I would really like to be friends with her.

  And I certainly wasn’t letting her out of my sight until she was safe at her cabin. I guess maybe it’s a man thing but I had a strong urge to protect her and take care of her. Whether she was mine or not.

  After a few minutes of sobbing she started to calm down until there were only a few sniffles here and there.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, when she could finally speak. Her face was still buried in my sweater and the words were muffled.

  “For what?” I said, mystified about what she felt she needed to apologize to me about.

  “For falling apart,” she said, still not looking at me. I really liked the feel of her head on my chest.

  “Don’t be,” I said, wondering how to tell her that I wanted to be there for her when she needed to cry. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

  She lifted her head and looked up at me, her eyes sad and wistful. Her hair was a little messy — some of it having fallen out of the braid she had put it in — and I couldn’t resist pushing it gently off her forehead and tucking it behind her ear.

  “Are we friends?”

  “I wish we could be, Nessa,” I told her, holding back all the words that wanted to spill out about how I felt about her.

  “I want that, too.” She closed her eyes. “Everything went well until I got to the edge of town.”

  And she began to tell me the story. It all spilled out with some tears again at the end.

  I would have been damn scared if it had happened to me. But to a woman alone?

  God damn it, that sucked.

  “Well, you’re not going to have to face anything like that on your own anymore,” I said, in a firm tone of voice, hoping she wouldn’t argue with me. I remembered that she sometimes liked to argue.

  “Why not?” she said, sitting up and away from me. I felt the loss of her immediately and my heart ached a bit. But I pushed the sad feeling away, remembering that I was going to get to hang out with her while we travelled to Sipwesk lake. And that way I could at least protect her. She ought to have someone to defend her. Not that she needed it. She was smart. And strong. And brave.

  But I wanted to protect her, anyway.

  “Because I think you should travel with us now. There’s five of us going south. Safety in numbers, you know.”

  “Really?” she said, sounding as if she couldn’t believe her luck.

  “Really. So will you?”

  She nodded, almost in disbelief at her good fortune.

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” I said, feeling relieved. “Because there’s no way I would have let you go off on your own again, anyway.”

  I wanted to hug her again but didn’t.

  “Come on,” I said, indicating with my chin the direction of our camp. “You can wash up and go to the bathroom by the lake. And then I’ll take you to meet the rest of the crew.”

  But she didn’t move, still gazing at me in confusion.

  “You wouldn’t have let me go off on my own again?” she s
aid looking bewildered, as if her mind had got stuck on that one thing.

  And I studied her for a long moment before I answered.

  “No, Nessa. I wouldn’t.”

  Nessa

  My limbs were shaky when I got out of the car into the shockingly cold, grey morning after my little melt-down. It was damp probably because the lake was open. The ice must have gone out only a few days ago. That was pretty early for here but not unheard of. I glanced around at the frozen, bare trees, checking for people. I felt completely paranoid.

  Grabbing the keys from my pocket, I pressed the remote to lock the doors. There was a loud click so I knew the car was locked. It seemed silly to do it with the window broken, but I wasn’t about to worry about breaking the habit today of all days.

  I followed Matt towards the lake. I was overcome with gratitude that he was going to let me travel with him and his group. It just seemed like his little bit of kindness had completely undone me.

  God, I was such a mess.

  He must think I was a total wimp. But actually, I couldn’t remember the last time I sobbed like that. I’m not the kind that cries at movies. I may feel sad but I don’t cry. And I had been unhappy lately in my life but not sad enough to sit down and weep.

  Maybe it had been a release sort of thing to wash away all that fear. At least I hoped it was. Well, I hoped he thought it was. Sheesh, I had totally embarrassed myself in front of a guy I used to like. How humiliating.

  How could I just go and cry all over him like that?

  Then I remembered that it was him that had pulled me into the back seat and wrapped his arms around me.

  I furrowed my brow, thinking.

  That was true. He had comforted me. And he hadn’t had to. It had been his decision.

  I sighed, hating how much I had liked it.

  But at least he had said we were friends. I smiled a little at the thought. Matt was such a cool guy. It would be great to be friends with him. And it seemed as though I would be needing friends, the way things were going these days.

  We got to the lake and I held my breath at the sheer beauty of the scene before me. The pale grey of the sky overhead, changed to light orange, and then descended into indigo clouds that hovered over the tree tops, shot through with bright streaks of pink and orange. The lake seemed unnaturally still. I scrabbled in my pocket for my phone to take a picture and post it for my friends to see. I knew just how I would caption it.

  Ospwagan Lake dawn.

  #beautiful #nature #sunrisewithafriend

  Then I snapped back to frickin’ reality. I had my phone with me, of course, but not on me because I was trying to conserve the battery.

  And there was no internet so there was no social media.

  “I know just the hashtags to put on that picture,” I said, gesturing with my arm at the gorgeous vista before us, figuring if I couldn’t post it, at least I could share it with Matt.

  He laughed from where he was crouched near the edge of the lake splashing water on his face.

  “Which ones?” he said, sounding intrigued, a grin on his handsome face, those brown eyes sparkling with humour.

  “Hashtag #beautiful. Hashtag #nature. Hashtag…” I paused. Should I tell him the other one? Well, he was the one who had said we were friends. “…#sunrise with a friend.”

  He laughed again and I liked that he thought I was funny.

  “No… hashtag #sodamnrelievedtobeoutoftown?” he said, standing and wiping his face with his shirt so that I got a glimpse underneath. Oh, I was so done for. He did have abs. Washboard abs. A god damned six pack to die for. A shot of desire went through me and I wondered how I could be thinking of such a thing at a time like this.

  There was also some sort of money belt wrapped around his torso and I wondered why he would do that. It’s not like people were too worried about money right now. Food and supplies was more important, for sure. Well, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to ask about it.

  “That’s the one I would add,” he said, dropping his shirt and I hastily yanked my eyes back up to his face. He had a smile on his face that made me a little weak in the knees. “Because I am.”

  “Me too,” I said, feeling the most cheerful I had since I had decided to leave. Somehow knowing that I wasn’t alone anymore made me feel a million times better. This was probably why prehistoric humans had begun to stick together, though, right? Because it was way, way better than roaming around the jungle on your own.

  “When you said bathroom, did you really mean bathroom or was that just a euphemism for squatting in the bush?” I said, and this seemed to surprise him into another chuckle.

  “No, there’s an outhouse,” he said, pointing behind me, where a small brown building peeked out from the trees. “There will be squatting in the bush, but not yet.”

  “Thank goodness,” I said. “I’m not looking forward to it. You’re lucky you’re a man and are built for peeing anywhere.”

  “To each his own equipment, I suppose,” he said, grinning. “I’ll wait for you here.”

  I walked over to the outhouse. It was very stinky and didn’t have any sinks to wash my hands but I didn’t care. It was the last toilet seat I would see till I got to my place. Once I had done my business, I went and washed in the lake.

  And admired Matt’s stoicism.

  The water was like liquid ice. It hurt my hands to put them in. And splashing it on my face made me gasp as the frigid liquid hit my skin. It was very refreshing, though, I had to admit — when it was over.

  And then and there, I decided to adopt a look-on-the-bright-side attitude. There would likely be many inconveniences and annoyances and things that were downright uncomfortable or even painful on this trip. And it wouldn’t do to complain about it.

  I should be glad I was still alive. I thought of the people who were on life support at the hospital. Their time was ticking. As soon as the hospital’s supply of gas was gone, so were they. And there were probably people who were injured or going through bad things right now.

  I couldn’t complain about cold water.

  I was away from town.

  I had my supplies.

  And now I had Matt and his group to travel with.

  I was a grateful woman.

  But I would have to be a strong woman, too, to face the hardships that would come. I only hoped I had the toughness I would need for what lay ahead.

  Matt

  Washing in that ice cold water had woken me up completely. My mind was clear and ready for anything. There was a crispness to the air and I was thankful to be out of Thompson and into the bush again. This was where I was in my element and I felt much safer here.

  I looked around, listing in my mind all the ways the forest was better than the city. No crazy people — except Gideon, who was a bit of a loose cannon. Plenty of fish in the lake and game in the woods. I could see that when it had been warmer, bright yellow dandelions had started popping up in the sheltered spots of the forest. That was food, too.

  No, this was good. I was in a much better place today than I had been. Everything was going to be okay.

  When Nessa was done washing, I led her towards the camp we had assembled yesterday in a clearing that was encircled by close growing bushes. We had chosen the spot more to give us the illusion of being sheltered than because the bushes with no leaves really provided any protection from the wind.

  There were five of us in the group I had inadvertently assembled. The others might still be sleeping but I had told them we needed to get an early start and I hoped that they wouldn’t mind me waking them up.

  I knew the couple well because they were my neighbours and friends. One was an acquaintance and fellow guide. And the other woman was his friend, who I didn’t know at all.

  My neighbours had come to talk to me about getting a ride out of town, because they knew I was leaving, and they had asked about bringing the guide and his friend, who they knew. Somehow it had all come down to the five of us squashed into my
Nissan Frontier truck, heading out of town yesterday.

  “So these people are your friends?” Nessa said, as we walked through the frozen grass towards three tents in one of the clearings that were meant for that purpose.

  Ospwagan Lake wasn’t a place to camp, per se. But people camped there enough that there were certain things like an outhouse and a clearing that had already been flattened, which was a good place to pitch a tent. As we got closer, I saw the four of them milling around, getting food, breaking camp.

  No need to wake them, then. That was good.

  “James and Carlynne are,” I said, lifting my hand as they spotted us.

  James was a little overweight, with thin blond hair and glasses, and pasty white skin. Carlynne was tall and thin, also with blonde hair — gorgeous like a model. I never could understand what she was doing with bookish James but I guess you love who you love.

  “I only just met them and we started hanging out since I moved back, so I haven’t known them long. They’re my neighbours. That big guy that just waved is Gideon.”

  Gideon was six four and a wall of muscle. He could paddle all day up river - just like a voyageur in the olden days — and haul a canoe over a portage, too, I would imagine. He had long black hair and was at least half Cree, I think, and he’d learned his skills from his Grandpa in Nelson House. He was a bit of a schmuck, thinking that women aren’t good in the woods, or something macho like that. But overall he was a good guy and I trusted him. Sort of.

  “He’s a guide, too. I only know him through work. That woman with him is a friend of his and I don’t know her at all.”

  The woman he had brought was called Oona. She was silent and self-effacing, with mousy brown hair that she always tied up in a ponytail. I swear she hadn’t spoken more than ten words the whole time. But she seemed nice enough.

  “Okay.” Nessa sounded nervous.

  I was a little anxious, too, travelling with these people that I didn’t know terribly well. I was sort of glad that Nessa was here because now I felt that I had someone on my side. It was sort of weird to feel that way because we had never really been friends, except when we were kids, but I trusted her. More than these other four. More than probably anyone, except my mother. And I wasn’t sure why.