LOST HIGHWAY

by Zac Funstein

  The deceased insisted claiming it was a civil-liberty- eventually after much arguing the one departed spoke to someone on her phone. Ms Edwarns said that the deceased had wanted to go see Alihan Sheripov who was in a nearby town. Gabriela asked her how getting there was to be negotiated without any resources was then rudely told that ‘trucking there’ was the solution, by which the witness understood hitch hike. Ms. Edwarns said the student appeared to be under the influence of something on that occasion-a narcotic although what this was was not determined. Ms. Poppy Xoores was the chaplain at the school who corroborated the evidence of Gabriela- who gave similar descriptions in relation to her observations of the injuries carried by the deceased. On the deceased could been seen some marks which she described like recent welts or they could have been old injuries it wasn’t sure. There was bruising, more welts or (to be accurate) striated burns, but what was incredible was they were like lines or whip marks. They looked like more serious burns to her anyway. They were everywhere-similar had been noticed in a nearby steel-works on employees where the dealing with molten iron was a regular occurrence. The stories of the steel mills were grim. The heat was unbearable; the men wore scars from bad burns like badges. Ladlemen that fell into the steel were buried in the metal sarcophagus that provided their last tomb that’s how dangerous it was. This was the severity of some of the marks the deceased received.

  As far as could be made out the dead-girls last movements involved her getting up then going to a nearby store for some aspirin because ‘doing some shopping would cheer her up’-although provisions for the journey had already been packed. A diversion was then made to the school library but even students that were known seemed to avoid her without knowing why. The deceased then went home again freshened up before searching for Alihan. A note on his parents porchway was left to this effect which explained how ‘G was worried about him’. Another venture into the library was then made even up to the empty incline, past the splintered, sheared- off end of the senior school building, to the abrupt cul-de-sac at the end of that but Alihan was not there either. A group of students began to whisper so that the daughter mentioned to Ellen that it was sure that ‘some item of clothing was wrong or inappropriate’. Then Alihan was noticed with a group of mutual friends. After smiling then walking over to him it was expected reconnection to be made but then after pulling her over to one side of the hall some altercation occurred-just what this was about no one knew. It seemed to be over a missed date but if this the single element that formed the argument nobody really could make out.

  Mr. Prospero Clayhanger known (for a reason better known to themselves) by the children transported as ‘Mr. Bus’ was a municipal driver who drove the school bus. Prospero regularly picked up the deceased’s brother Virgil who was accompanied to the bus stop by either his mother or (more usually) his grandmother. Clayhanger gave evidence regarding an incident that made an especial impression. On that occasion the deceaseds mother asked to get on the bus with her son Virgil. Mr. Clayhanger said the harassed parent was pulling him as fast as possible who was complaining as little boys are want to do. Prospero noticed that Ellen had bruising- described her as appearing to be stressed more than usual. He then saw a male personage coming around the corner. He said he had never seen this person before- describing him as Caucasian, stocky,Nordic workout-trained, with a crew-cut. When this individual approached the bus the deceased’s mother asked the bus driver to close the folding entrance. Prospero did as requested then saw the male make a gesture like a shrug. The school employee then drove the deceased's mother plus Virgil to school. They watched the Nordic type get small in the distance.

  It had been the previous Spring when Henri Labbé had driven some distance out of Penticton when a hitcher who seemed to resemble the deceased in little more than a cotton T-shirt had been seen placard raised high shivering in the British Columbia dawn. The only unusual element in this touching scene was the barrel of a Czechoslovak-rifle poking from a pile of clothing in a large shopping-bag. The teenager seemed easy enough to disarm-almost light enough to blow away-there didn’t seem to be any boyfriend waiting nearby so Labbé in his Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren steered his truck to where the teenager was. This was just before her majority so a driving-licence wasn’t in her possession.

  The jejune swung her gear onto the rear of the Mercedes then introduced herself as Apolline.

  ‘Is that just it or do you have a surname Apolline?’

  ‘Galarneau,’ lied the teenager still shivering from the cold.

  The deception continued Schreiber claimed to be from Kelowna-that a ride was wanted as far as Gulf Islands National Park Reserve where a ‘commune with the elements’ was going to occur.However what was meant by this was not made clear or any attempt at demystification given.

  Labbé-a civil engineer cum electrician was on his way to Tofino to effect repairs in a beach-house.What struck him how little this frail seeming individual was carrying. Anyone would know that for an excursion of that magnitude far more was necessary.

  This couldn’t be someone escaped from an asylum or childrens-home because there weren’t any institutions anymore. There were those that tried to live out some fantasy so it was surmised Apolline rather was one of those. Labbé was fairly sure that it was the same person after checking with the identikit photos.

  British Columbia seemed to attract its fair share of survivalists after flicking casually through ‘British Columbia for Campers’ not realising that it could be dangerous-not only were there extremes of hot/cold even during Easter but there was often little to hunt or if there was it hunted you. As they drove on this unlikely pair seemed to draw close. Apolline seemed to have a good take on what was needed though her supplies were pitiable just an ancient compass plus a torn map a service station had given her with some route worked out plus a Czechoslovak-rifle.

  There was a period of silence despite attempts to initiate conversation then the reasoning for this became clear.

  “You’re not a cop are you-you sound like a cop somehow?”

  There was something didactic about their exchange only because Labbé was not sure if this was a hostile person or not. Sometimes even though frail those like the recently gone could show incredible strength. The rifle didn’t help.

  “No I’m not one of those-just a lonely traveller on lifes highway like yourself.”

  Apolline had some negative experiences from encountering law-enforcement agents as a child. When only a toddler the impressionable G had the ignominy of watching her father being dragged off-Ellen screaming punching trying to pull them away. One called her ugly names which to her infant self made no sense-only when older could what had happened be pieced together-how Douglas had tried to bribe them.

  When it was learnt by Labbé that Apolline hadn’t got a license it was offered to take him to the nearest big town (wherever they arrived at first) buy a licence then drop her off. But Apolline became insistent that this wasn’t necessary that ‘laws were made to be broken’. A photo was taken of her with the rifle (which was blurry) then Labbé proffered his wrist-watch which was declined-where Apolline was going time wasn’t really necessary. Having dropped her off at her chosen destination with his email address plus phone number the hitcher was said goodbye to for the last time. Labbé- when news filtered of the attack-checked the picture of her with the rifle. There was no mistake in him that this was the same person that had been met previously though the picture was somewhat grainy.

  The smart person behind the desk was very polite-seeing Dexter Ducharme enter the hall immediately stood up then begun to pin a lapel badge on him-a little laminated piece of cardstock with a Zodiac graphic and the word ‘press’ at the top “Your press badge will allow you to utilize the pressroom to write, interview, collect new product releases, review material, or just chill out ‘n relax. The press badge will also admit you, free of charge…..”

  This very eloquent person was stopped in their tracks.

  “Please th
ere must have been a mistake somewhere. The serious-looking young security man outside must have assumed I was a member of the journalistic profession, because he motioned us forward, adding in a very firm voice, ‘Please, put on your press badge,’ but I am infact a member of the legal department.”

  “That’s okay Mr….”

  “Ducharme.”

  “It’s the same for wherever you are in the building Mr. Ducharme.”

  Some directions were scribbled down after pinning on the laminated rectangle. There was much that was the same, the stairwell, with an alarm positioned within soundproof linings, the same power fan you could hear day or night. A bit tricky to find, tucked away in the side-streets between rows of anonymous office blocks, the internal architecture hardly seemed capable of containing all this.

  When Dexter got off the elevator on the appropriate floor, the rep followed the signs that lead him down a corridor to, what seemed like, a very secluded ward of a hospital. When Dexter eventually reached the end was found to be some flaps of transparent rubber again like in a hospital ward. There were bell buttons adjacent, presumably one for each department; from a metal plate with a circular pattern of a grill for the intercom speaker a seemingly staccato robotic personage invited him to press the button with a hexagon embossed on. There is the sound of a lock clicking open. This noise always took Dexter to when a child by chance finding a ring of keys then taking them to kindergarten with him then trying all the locks. The sound of the lock on the dressing-up chest clicking open was the best sound ever heard.

  Inside was a gaggle of men/women all seemingly intent upon various activity the most serious of which was pouring powders into transparent plastic tubes then recording their results using a keyboard pad.

  “Cotton fibers are so common they have so few visual distinguishing features that they are largely ignored by forensic scientists at scenes," muttered Landers L'Angelier,after a brief introduction-a lab-coated myopic techie who was a scientist at KWV Scientific, a laboratory-instrument company based originally in Massachusetts that moved to Canada for tax reasons, then noticing Dexter’s curiosity about his new surroundings especially the large KWV carved in stone which seemed to tower above them all explained:

  “Founded post war, KWV is a not-for-profit professional society that promotes communication between academia, government laboratories, plus industry for the purpose of sharing research/development findings over a broad range of technologically relevant topics.”

  Chief Charlot Grignon himself a former KWV employee said that it was high time to employ the talents of these dedicated teamsters towards the safety of those aboriginal women especially who are forced to use this dangerous piece of road. Those like the one lost must not be allowed to die in vain. There had been several unexplained attacks all within a close proximity of where Schreiber died. This has lead many to draw the startling conclusion that the perpetrator/s of these atrocities might live nearby even might be in hiding. KWV might be just the collective we need to find them.

  When asked why KWV hadn’t been assigned to this until now Grignon stressed they had been interested ever since their inception which came a little after the first attack so were ‘a welcome addition’-even if they didn’t find who was responsible it was anticipated that they would contribute to road safety factors. The privately funded org was originally created by retired military personnel with the aim of making ‘Canada safer for everybody’.

  Ducharme tried to bring matters to a culmination.

  “What does our sample tell you-you’ve got to help if you can it is all that we found at the Schreiber site that possibly could give an inkling as to the assailant.”

  The piece of fabrics that had been picked so delicately from the Volvo is given a going over.

  Ducharme is taken to when last with his niece Marphisa Mercier who lives in Quebec Rue Sault-au-Matelot on the top floor of a large narrow house thereof. The sightless teenager often knelt over a low table covered with a model- a scale miniature of Quebec. It contained scale replicas of the hotels, stores residences within its boundaries Acton Vale railway station is there-recognised although it now operates only as a town tourism office/exhibition centre, as is Église Ste-Thérèse-de-l'enfant-Jésus. Marphisa waits for her great uncle Beltane Laboissonnière even though nothing has been seen of him since Beltane walked out the previous winter with no indication of his destination or when returning was intended. Her touch explores the city as if it was Marphisa’s creation alone.

  Landers explains.

  “I can’t tell you immediately but the total path should be completed fairly quickly. The critical path, consists of activities that might delay the total project if they are tricky but this seems straightforward enough-I’m sure we should have a result before much effort is expended.”

  “With the answer as to who was responsible for the fatal attack?”

  “You must ignore my hesitation. The law does not enjoy the luxury of debating difficult questions without the need to assign definitive answers, as do other disciplines such as philosophy or ethics. The law must provide an answer when properly asked a question.”

  “In your humble estimation Landers.”

  “Naturally-that is the raison d’etre for the exercise-I don’t have any problem with that. If what we are searching for is there-then yes.”

  A printed sheet is perused-it is scrawled with data of an almost esoteric nature-although it only probably appears so to the uninitiated.

  “What is this schedule-I have never come across it before L'Angelier?”

  For Dexter a schedule was all about instant gratification. Very much get what you want, when you want it. If I want to watch the news don’t wait until it is on- flip on CNN or go to any number of online news sources see the news as it happens.

  “You’ve never heard of Dr. Eufrasio Barragán Valdez-incredible I would never have believed it in your line too. While vigorously defending the traditional faith, you could get the biggest pitchfork in the world poke at him, to get him to move, but Valdez'll refuse-then something new will hit. The doctor will then ignore you completely indeed use angry uses words you've never heard before (so don't judge him) until whatever it is, is worked out. In the new method, Valdez plus his colleagues used a well-known technique called photoelectron spectroscopy (PS) –like the conventional sort but with a new slant. In PS, the test sample is zapped with a focused sonic shot, which then knocks out electrons from the surface of the sample-many more than with analogous shots. A detector then counts the electrons measures their kinetic energies. The resulting mass reveals the chemical signature of the sample like your Schreiber relic here.”

  “What can you tell us just on what we have here-before the PS?”

  Another lab coated technician came over intrigued by the interest-they were about the same age as L'Angelier but maybe a little bit taller-they might as well have come out of a test-tube themselves.

  “Is everything going as we anticipated Landers I heard you waxing lyrical about PS-Dr. Valdez. Eufrasio is a hell of a guy-I respect him totally. I won't argue, because I trust him- have absolute respect for his integrity.”

  “Sure Seth-cut the hyperbole-I was just telling Mr.Ducharme here how the doctors innovation can probably help if not solve the Schreiber attack then contribute something.”

  “That terrible attack in British Columbia-what a terrible world we live in. I heard about it I was deeply shocked.”

  Seth was one of those that seemed to have everything the world dictated from birth; tall, slim, Nordic plus being aggressively bourgeois from a wealthy Stockholm family-it seemed as if his coup d’etat of his immediate circle was always in the offing. Why such a grisly career with such a charmed origin bemused some-being tucked away in some cosy office in one of his fathers companies could so easily have been his fate. Stepping out of the comfort zone was unnecessary but make such a move Seth did.

  “Now where was I here’s what we know for sure-a fiber is the smallest unit of a texti
le material that has a length many times greater than its diameter? Fibers can occur naturally, but they can also be man-made. A fiber can be spun with similar yarn that can be woven or knitted to form a fabric. How am I going Ducharme -anything you don’t understand?”

  The enquiry was warm sincere like L'Angelier really cared though if this was a put on or not wasn’t known.

  “Keeping up so far L'Angelier-this is what we get drummed into us at academy-can you add a bit more-to give us something to go on-something we haven’t heard before.”

  Getting techies to give that little extra was difficult-they didn’t believe they got enough remuneration.

  “The type length of fiber used, the type of spinning method, plus the type of construction all affect the transfer plus the significance of fiber associations.”

  “How is this gathered-I’m fascinated since I wasn’t there-do they still use tweezers or is too ancient for words?”

  There was always a certain disappointment when these hardy perennials like using tweezers or aluminum dust were brought out. It was hard sometimes to accept that much of what they did wasn’t very glamorous there was a lot of boring spadework involved. The toys only helped they didn’t do the work.

  “Those are gathered at scenes such as the Schreiber will have been found with tweezers, but it is as likely to be a vacuum nowadays-not a conventional variety. Briefcase, briefcase, where could I have put that briefcase? I know I brought it in here and that dumb Suzette didn't have it when he left so it must be here somewhere.”