“I love it here, actually. And Fin isn’t that bad. You’ll see.”
Connor said something inaudible under his breath.
“I mean it, he’s trying hard. He doesn’t want to be completely alone any more than we do,” I said to him.
After a brief silence and only the sounds of our feet crunching the occasional leaf underfoot, Connor finally spoke. “You’re right, he’s not that bad...and this place seems perfect, for now at least.” He paused slightly. “How long do you want to stay here?”
“I guess as long as we can, until it doesn’t make sense to stay. I don’t really have anywhere else to go, you know? But we obviously need to talk with Fin about what to do if others come here.”
He nodded but didn’t speak. For him it was different, I was sure all he could think about was his family overseas and what happened to them. The not knowing had to be devastating.
Zoey barked from the cabin porch. All we could see of her was an amber reflection in her eyes, making them look like a pair of fireflies dancing in the distance. The air smelled of wet, mossy pine and the subtle undertone of Fin’s chimney smoke.
Once inside the cabin, the three of us split off into different directions. Zoey stretched out on top of the sofa and swiftly fell asleep, and I went upstairs to take a bath while Connor began lighting the fireplaces in an effort to warm the chill from the air.
***
I woke up with a start when my lips dipped below the water level and I breathed in a mouthful of tiny, lavender-scented bubbles. I sat up quickly, spitting the soapy residue from my mouth and wiped my face dry with the folded towel that was draped across the edge of the old fashioned claw tub. The bath had chilled to match the temperature of the room--much cooler than the steaming hot water I had slipped into earlier. The bubbles floated thinly in a handful of groups on top of the water, shrunk down to the size of peas.
After smearing on coconut-scented lotion and wrapping the bath towel around my body, I walked lightly into the bedroom, careful not to slip on the hardwood floors. My bags still sat on the bench at the foot of the bed, one of them open, showing my meager wardrobe. I pulled out a softly faded and over-sized cotton scoop-neck shirt with long sleeves the same dark blue color as my eyes, and tugged it on over my wet hair. After I put a thick pair of socks on, I combed the knots out of my hair and twisted it into a messy bun.
Connor must have come into the room while I was in the bath because the fireplace was roaring, warming the room nicely. The wood popped and sizzled as it burned, catching my gaze and holding it there, transfixing me with the mesmerizing flames that leaped upwards. Oranges and yellows and blues burned and twisted into each other, making soft shadows dance around the room bewitchingly. I had to will myself to look away and blinked the flamed-shaped images from my vision.
I found Connor downstairs, asleep on the couch with Zoey draped across his legs. She opened her eyes and looked up at me, slowly thumping her tail onto the sofa cushion a few times while I tip-toed around them and sat on the edge of the massive coffee table. An open book lay face down on Connor’s chest. I leaned forward to read the title off the faded cover and smiled...To Kill A Mockingbird.
I took the brightly checkered quilt from the back of the sofa and gently draped it across Connor. “Sshh...stay, Zoey,” I whispered to the dog when she huffed softly at me. She put her head back down onto her paw, which was resting on one of Connor’s ankles and thumped her tail again onto the cushion. I backed away from them quietly, and wandered through the living room checking the locks on the door out of habit more than necessity, and turning off the few lights Connor had switched on. I ended up in the kitchen and pulled one of the colorful, eclectic-styled mugs down from the cabinet and turned the coffee maker on to heat water for tea.
Other than the soft glow that came from the fireplace, I left the downstairs dark and carried my mug of chamomile up to my room. I left the door cracked open, pulled the covers down on the bed, and climbed beneath the sheets where I scrolled through my mp3 player until I found the song that was on my mind...Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World. After sinking into the plethora of cushy pillows that decorated my bed, I closed my eyes and sipped my hot tea every few seconds until half the mug was drained and the weight of it began to fight against my tired grip. I gave in, finally, and set the cup down on the small wooden bedside table and turned off the lamp. Not bothering to shove off any of the pillows, I pushed my ear buds in deeper and buried myself beneath the folds of sheets and blankets...falling asleep somewhere in between the soulful echo of Adele and the guitar thrumming beat and crooning of Cold War Kids.
***
Connor was on top of the hill again. The grass was swishing gently at his feet, the wet wind swirling about him, plastering dark chunks of hair to his face. The roar of water crashed into the bottom of the cliffs beside him, beating into the rugged rocks again and again...relentlessly. He stood still, his naked feet streaked with mud, breathing the crisp air into his lungs in shallow gulps. The clouds blocked out the sun, like they so often did in Ireland, yet he still squinted to see the small dark spot far below him crouching next to a patch of scurvy grass growing around the rocks. He opened his mouth to call out to the young boy picking the white flowers off the plants and tucking them into the curls of his hair but only hot breath escaped past his lips.
The boy turned to him with a smile and Connor’s heart swelled. Little Roan stood up, his messy hair full of tiny white flower petals, and ran awkwardly up the hill with his face full of happiness. Connor knelt down and reached out to him, tears spilling onto his cheeks. But when Roan reached the top of the hill, he didn’t run into Connor’s waiting arms; he ran right through him. He felt all of Roan, the softness and newness of his little boy skin and the silkiness of his hair. He could smell the soap Roan bathed in and the peppermint candy on his breath. And the joy, the total joy only a child can have...he felt it rush around inside him, passing through him briefly, before leaving...leaving him hollow again.
His hands dropped into the grass before him, and he sat down hard, almost crumpling into the earth. He could hear Roan at his back, laughing. When he turned to look over his shoulder, he felt the warmth of his tears run down his neck and dissolve just above his collarbone. The sun broke through the clouds just then and he saw them walk away. Roan, safe between two people...his small hands held by his mother, and a man he thought he knew. He closed his eyes and listened to the family laugh. Roan squealed with delight and he opened his eyes to see the couple lift Roan’s arms up, and swing him between them as they walked.
The man and woman looked up from the child and smiled at each other. He saw the man’s face for the first time...his own face. He screamed and the air that forced its way from his lungs ran off with the wind. He had no voice to call out to the happy family that never was. He screamed again and again until the little boy turned and looked right at him, a familiar crooked smile on his face. But Connor recoiled in horror as the boys smile began to change into a grimace and his lips dissolved into his chin. His eye sockets stretched out, exposing red muscle and the milky white cartilage of his nose. Roan’s flesh split at the top of his head and his hair fell backwards while the skin of his face slid off and landed at his feet in a bloody heap.
Little white flower petals floated in the breeze around the boy’s body and drifted towards the cliffs, carried by Connor’s silent screams. He didn’t stop screaming until he was ripped from his nightmare back into reality, by a long, wet canine tongue licking his face.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
For several days, we explored the lodge inside and out, collecting things we wanted or needed from the storage area, stocking up our woodpiles and setting up ‘home’ as best we could in the cabin. Connor made a genuine attempt to befriend Fin, which eased everyone’s anxiety, including Zoey’s. Fin returned the favor by giving Connor some gardening lessons. I spent the majority of my time listening to the long-range radio every day at sundown and laughing at Connor’s lack of
gardening skills. He did little more than poke around in the dirt with a solitary finger, as if he thought the potting soil itself might attack him.
Other than a severe thunderstorm that flooded the trails, downed two trees on the street side of the property and damaged at least one solar panel on the recreation building roof, all was quiet and mellow around our mountain hideaway. In a week’s time I saw one rabbit and a set of deer tracks, which meant something other than the birds and the four of us were alive in the woods. I made Fin promise not to hunt the deer, after he saw the prints and remarked that he could track the creature down and shoot it.
“You can’t possibly be serious.” He stared at me wide-eyed.
“I’m absolutely serious. If you shoot this deer, I’ll shoot you myself and toss your murdering ass into the lake.” I faced him with my hands on my hips.
“Riley, don’t be an idiot. That deer’s potential food.” He stepped forward with a sour look on his face.
I raised a finger and pointed it at him. “Fin, we have the chance to change the things we’ve done in the past. This deer is a sign of life. Why kill it? We have plenty of food, and we have no idea how important it could be to this ecosystem. What if it’s the last one left in these mountains? Did you think about that?” I glared at him.
Fin rocked back on his heels and sighed heavily. “I think you’re crazy,” he said to me.
“So, maybe I am.” I continued to glare at him.
He crossed his arms at his chest and slowly dragged a heel through one of the small deer tracks in the dirt. He looked up at me and laughed before turning to Connor, “She’s serious, ain’t she?”
Connor shrugged and leaned against a nearby pine tree, picking at the loose bark.
“Shit,” Fin grumbled. “You wouldn’t really shoot me, would ya?” He smiled. When I didn’t smile back, he pulled his lips into a tight line and nodded curtly. “I believe you just might.”
I crossed my arms and stood defiantly before him. “Damn straight.”
***
Three days later, we saw the deer for the first time. Connor was in the kitchen brewing coffee for breakfast when he called me over to one of the windows. Behind the cabin, a large fawn stood cautiously at the lake’s shoreline, lowering her head for a few seconds at a time to lap up water. She was a golden brown color, dotted with a handful of faded cream-colored spots. The white-tailed deer appeared to be alone and monitored the area very well with her dark brown eyes, ears flicking at all angles to the sounds of the forest.
“She’s beautiful!” I said with my face nearly pressed against the window glass.
Connor stood behind me with an arm around my shoulders. “Do you think it knows we’re here?”
“It must. We haven’t made an effort to be quiet really, and it has to be able to smell our food and the fireplaces,” I answered him, still watching the deer take turns drinking and surveying.
“Why would it come so close then? If it knows we are here?” He leaned towards the glass, his face just next to mine.
“Maybe it’s lonely,” I said sadly. I turned away from the window and walked across the kitchen, to the backdoor. “Will you keep Zoey in here for a second?” I asked Connor before quietly slipping outside.
The deer raised its head quickly at the sound of the door and stood still, watching me walk slowly across the deck. She flicked her tail from side to side and stuck her tongue out of her mouth to lick the side of her nose. I leaned onto the deck railing and smiled at her and for several more seconds she simply stared at me. She bent to drink more water but suddenly turned her head to the forest, both ears forward and alert. She glanced at the cabin once more before darting away in long strides and hops along the shoreline and disappearing into the woods, south of us.
Zoey began barking from inside the cabin and Connor tapped on the window, signaling for me to come back inside. Once I joined them, Zoey rushed at me and wiggled between my legs, whimpering.
“Dog...you scared the deer away!” I said to her, as I rubbed the top of her head.
Connor walked past us over to the front door and peered out one of the windows. “Actually, she was barking in this direction, out front.”
“Is Fin outside?” I asked him.
“I don’t see him.” He turned to look at me and shrugged. “Maybe we should go see if he’s up?” he asked.
“Okay.” I ushered Zoey to the door and then remembered the coffee sitting in mugs on the kitchen counter.
“Oh, wait...let’s not forget this. It’s cold out there.”
I handed a mug to Connor and we left the cabin, taking the trail back up the tree line to Fin’s place. He met us out front before we could knock.
“I thought I heard something,” he grumbled and nodded vaguely at the dog.
His face was scruffy, his eyes still heavy from sleep, and he was wearing the same shirt from the day before. His hair was pressed comically to one side, the front strands smashed against his forehead like he had passed out face down. He smelled faintly of stale beer. I crinkled my nose at him.
“Sorry if she woke you. We thought she might be barking at you, but looks like this is your first time seeing the sun today.” I smirked playfully at him.
“Hey baby-doll, if you don’t like my morning look, you can just kiss my-” He was cut off by Connor, who interrupted him with a loud and exaggerated clearing of his throat.
He leaned ungracefully into the door frame with a thump and glowered at Connor. “Oh my god, dude. It’s too early in the morning for your chivalry shit.”
“Come on now boys. Play nice. It’s a beautiful day.” I sipped my coffee and listened to Connor and Fin banter back and forth before my attention changed to Zoey. She was emitting a long, low growl from her throat as she faced the trees. I turned behind me and looked into the intricate maze of trunks, branches and treetops, not seeing anything different. The longer I stared the more I realized how quiet the woods were. Too quiet. I sensed more than heard something that was definitely not organic. Something…mechanical.
”Guys...” I urged, “listen.”
They continued talking, having moved on from the friendly buddy-bashing banter, to a more adult dialogue of ball busting, before I cut them off with a sharp hiss. “Sshh!” I ran down the porch steps and stood on the path with Zoey whining anxiously at my feet.
“What’s got her panties in a twist?” Fin said to Connor and snatched the coffee mug out of his hand and took a long swig.
Connor came down to meet me on the trail and the three of us stood there, staring into the woods. “What is it?” he asked.
“Something in the trees has her spooked. And I think I heard something.” I paused and looked behind me at Fin and then to Connor, before saying a bit louder, “I think I heard a car.”
***
It took us less than two minutes to arm ourselves with the pistols Fin kept hidden inside one of his cabin closets. Three more minutes and we were halfway up the trail, jogging quietly, shushing the dog and darting behind trees to keep out of sight. We were listening to the woods, for birds, insects, the rustling of leaves, but we heard nothing.
The week before, we sat down one night after dinner and talked about what our options were if anyone showed up at the lodge. Connor and I had been there long enough at that point to know the ins and outs of every trail, every building and every hiding place. Our plan was simple...if anyone arrived, we would remain out of sight if possible, long enough to assess the strangers and get a feel for their intentions. We would make ourselves visible only if necessary. Our biggest fear was if someone showed up at night, or caught us off guard in the front of the property during the day.
We crept through the trees, avoiding the trail so as not to be seen, and circled around the south-east side of the property, staying low to the ground…moving quickly, but carefully. Thankfully, Zoey had rehearsed this enough times with me to know to stay quiet.
When we could see the lodge building in the distance, we stoppe
d and hid behind a pine tree and the dense underbrush, our eyes scanning the back of the property for any signs of movement. Fin was crouched close next to me, so close that I could smell the faint aroma of his deodorant. It was a masculine essence, clean and crisp and surprisingly not unpleasant. I leaned into him slightly, breathing in the scent and when he shifted, my nose bumped into his shoulder. He turned to look down at me.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
I felt a burst of warmth heat my cheeks and I rubbed the back of my hand across my nose, pretending to wipe away snot that wasn’t there. He opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut when we all heard the unmistakable sound of a car door slamming shut. Zoey huffed and I shushed her, pulling her down to the grassy ground by the collar.
“Where?” Connor whispered above my head at Fin, who was peering around the tree trunk.
When he turned back to face us, he slid down the trunk, causing a cascade of broken tree bark to come crashing down around me, and he whispered back, “I can’t see anyone. But that was definitely a car door, right?”
We nodded yes, and I crawled around Fin’s feet, tugging on Zoey’s collar as I pushed her over to Connor.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
I was crawling away from him but with his free hand, he grabbed my foot. I shook him off gently.
“Let go, I’m just going to look through the bushes,” I whispered at him forcefully.
With my foot free, I crawled on my hands and knees around the tree and through at least ten feet of brush before I was at an angle where I could see a partial view of the front of the property. Four men were crowded around Connor’s truck...checking out the front-end damage, kicking the tires and peering inside the windows. One of them, a tall and lanky young guy with thick bottle glasses tried to open the passenger door and looked irritated when he discovered the handle was locked. Connor hadn’t left anything valuable inside the truck, but he must have locked it out of habit.
I Hope You Find Me Page 16
