Children of the Fog

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  It was.

  "Okay, let's get this show on the road."

  She turned the key in the ignition. The car sputtered, then purred to life. She glanced at the gas gauge and smiled.

  "And a full tank to boot. Thanks, Philip."

  Shifting the car into reverse, she backed down the driveway and pulled out onto the street. For a moment, she idled in front of the house, the place she had called home for over six years. Against her will, her gaze was drawn upward, to the empty window on the second floor and she saw Sam's pleading face pressed against the glass.

  "I know you're not real. Goodbye, Sam."

  She sped away without a backward glance.

  "Here," she said, handing Leah three keys. "Car, house and storage. After you get my car, just leave the house key under the front doormat for the realtor."

  Leah peeked over her shoulder and caught sight of the Mercedes. "I thought I was storing Philip's car."

  "I decided to take it instead."

  Leah blinked. "Won't he be pissed?"

  Sadie ignored the question and pulled some bills from her wallet. When Leah gave her a questioning look, she said, "My car probably needs gas."

  "Oh, sure." Leah gave her a wounded look. "No problem."

  "Thanks."

  Sadie felt the awkwardness of their conversation, but it was a necessary evil. She had to cut herself off from everyone. That was part of her plan.

  "Sadie—"

  "I'm sorry, Leah. I really am. But this is what I have to do. I hope one day you'll understand. I have to go now. Make sure Philip's lawyer gets the storage key, okay?"

  Leah gave a resigned nod. "Sure."

  Sadie climbed into the Mercedes and drove away. It was only when she was leaving Edmonton's city limits that she allowed herself to consider the plan. She plotted the steps she would need to take, making a mental list of everything.

  "Soon, Sam."

  She flicked a look at the back seat, half expecting to see him staring back at her. The seat was empty. She reached for the radio, then changed her mind. She'd leave it up to fate.

  "I'll drive in silence. When it's interrupted, I'll stop."

  Traffic was gearing up for the afternoon rush hour as she navigated Edmonton's congested streets. Half an hour later, the traffic thinned and the bustling city was replaced by farmland. Muddy fields of dead hay lined with melting snow whizzed past, merging into a blur of endless flatlands interrupted by the occasional cattle farm. The silence and peace was mesmerizing.

  Two hours passed uneventfully.

  Before long, the sign for Edson appeared. She drove through the small town with barely a second thought. But then further down the highway, the traffic stalled.

  The silence had ended.

  17

  Flashing lights and sirens greeted her.

  Sadie eyed the bag on the passenger seat. "Crap!"

  Obeying an orange-vested traffic cop, she slowed the Mercedes to a crawl behind a wood-paneled station wagon filled with tattooed rockers who, between the four of them, had every facial feature pierced with shards of metal. One young man in the back seat turned his head, grinned at her and made lewd motions with his spiked tongue. Ignoring him, she focused on the road.

  "Come on. Move!"

  A minute later, she saw the problem. Up ahead, a silver-bellied oil tanker had flipped across the meridian. Traffic was being re-routed.

  She let out a frustrated sigh. "Where am I going anyway? I need a sign. Come on, Sam, show me where to…"

  A crow silently watched her from the top of a wooden post. Suspended below the bird was a sign. Some of the words had faded, but she could still make it out.

  Cabins for rent! Bat cave! Follow signs to Cadomin, Alberta.

  And there it was. Her sign. Once again, fate had intervened.

  She turned off Highway 16 and followed the road south to Robb. She was grateful for the lack of traffic, having seen one vehicle—an old Airstream trailer—by the time she reached the point where the paved road disappeared and was replaced by gravel.

  "Could you possibly be any further from civilization?"

  In response, the winter tires of the Mercedes kicked up rocks and chunks of melting ice. At the sound of scraped metal, she flinched. "Philip is not gonna like this."

  She guided the Mercedes down the road until she passed the small town of Cadomin. Following the signs for the cabin rentals, she navigated the craters in the road and slowed for a sharp curve.

  A horn blasted.

  "Jesus Christ!"

  A black pickup with tinted windows came out of nowhere. It careened toward her, forcing the Mercedes precariously close to the ditch.

  She slammed on the brakes.

  As the truck sped past, she saw the silhouette of a man in a cowboy hat. He waved an angry fist at her.

  "Moron!" she yelled, even though he couldn't hear her.

  In the rearview mirror, she watched the truck disappear in a trail of dust. She tried to calm her pounding heart, all the while wondering why she even cared if he had hit her. It would have been a blessing.

  But you're not finished Sam's book, her conscience urged.

  Easing back onto the road, she drove another fifteen minutes before the scenery changed from flat, treed land to a silver ridge of rolling hills in the distance. Far beyond them, the Rockies rose majestically, so pale that they seemed to float in the sky.

  She slowed as she reached another intersection.

  A sign read, Cadomin Cave, left. Harmony Cabins, right.

  She steered right and headed down a narrow lane that wound through the trees. A few minutes later, she saw a small, hand-hewn log cabin. A sign staked into the ground near the front door designated the building as Harmony Cabins Office.

  She let out a sigh of relief, parked the car and climbed out, stretching her aching legs.

  "Travel a long way?" a voice rasped.

  Sadie jumped.

  A pencil-thin elderly woman with dove-gray hair sheered short like a man's stood near the side of the cabin. Her faded jeans, thin winter jacket and tanned, freckled face was evidence of someone who spent a lot of time in the great outdoors.

  "Cat got your tongue?" the woman asked, swinging an axe back and forth in one hand as she walked.

  Sadie stepped backward with a gasp. "I, uh…"

  "You're from the city." Near black eyes squinted.

  "Edmonton."

  The woman reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a slim pack of cigars. She shook one out. With the flick of a lighter, she lit up, the smoke streaming from the corner of her mouth.

  "And you need a cabin," she said.

  Sadie nodded. "For the rest of this month and next."

  The woman took a thoughtful drag and broke into a fit of coughing. The rattle that erupted from her chest sounded like an old freight train on a rickety track.

  "There's four days left this month," she said. "I'll just charge you for May. I got one cabin left, so you're lucky. Hasn't been cleaned though."

  "That's okay," Sadie said quickly. "I'll take it."

  The woman turned and swung the axe hard. It sliced into a stump beside the cabin door with a resounding thwack. To Sadie, it was as if the guillotine of fate had just come down upon her head, slicing it clean off.

  "I'm Irma," the woman said, holding out a bony hand.

  Sadie shook it carefully. "Sadie O'Connell."

  "Nice to meet you." The woman flicked a look at the Mercedes. "You head into town, be sure to drive careful. This road ain't the safest, 'specially with Sarge hogging it."

  "He doesn't by any chance drive a black pickup, does he?"

  Irma scowled. "That old heap belongs in the junkyard."

  Sadie bit back a reply as her eyes latched onto a prehistoric cattle trailer parked behind the office cabin. The trailer looked like a candidate for the junkyard too. But she didn't say so.

  "C'mon, Sadie. I'll show you your five-star accommodations."

  Irma chuckled at h
er own joke, then motioned her down a well-trodden path. After a few yards, the woman paused to discard the cigar.

  "You're in the last cabin," she said, using the toe of her boot to grind the cigar into the ground. She immediately lit up another one. "Want one?"

  "No, thanks. I don't smoke."

  "Yeah, me either." Irma grinned, displaying a mouthful of neglect and decay. "Every day I swear I'm gonna quit. Then I pick up another one. It's a bitch when you make the devil your best friend."

  Sadie swallowed. "Sometimes he's your only friend. You know what they say, the devil you know…" Irma's dark eyes burned into her, so she changed the subject. "Is it this one?"

  Ahead, a cabin with daisy curtains sat amidst bare poplars.

  Irma shook her head. "Yours is down by the river."

  "There's a river back here?"

  "Well, it's more of a creek in some parts."

  As they passed the cabin, Sadie noticed a sign over the back door. It had one word on it. Peace.

  She smiled. "Nice name."

  "My daughter's idea. She named all of 'em. Said it would make 'em more appealing." Irma looked over her shoulder. "Does it?"

  "Well, it works for me," Sadie said, amused.

  "Mine's the office—Harmony," Irma said. "Then there's two in back of mine. Hope is close to the road and Inspiration is deeper in the woods. Down here, there's Peace and Infinity."

  Sadie stumbled. Had she heard right?

  "Infinity?"

  Irma smiled. "It's got the best view. You can see forever."

  "And that one's mine?"

  "Yup, only one I got left."

  Sadie drew in a deep breath. The coincidence was disturbing.

  "No such thing as coincidence," her mother always said.

  "Does your daughter live with you, Irma?"

  "Naw, she used to run this place. Before she and that husband of hers ran off to the big city. Country life just wasn't good enough for her once she met up with him. 'Specially after them kids were born."

  "How many grandchildren do you have?"

  "Five. Brenda just couldn't stop once she got going. Popped 'em out every year for five years." Irma snorted. "Now she's home-schooling 'em. In Edmonton, for Pete's sake, where there are schools galore. Lord almighty, that girl's missing a few brain cells." She shook her head slowly. "Takes after her dad, God rest his wretched soul."

  Sadie gave her a sympathetic look.

  "Clifford's dead," Irma stated. "Used to ride the bulls at the Calgary Stampede. He was trampled eighteen years ago by old Diablo. Blind as a bat, that one."

  "The bull?"

  Irma grunted. "No. Clifford. Man couldn't see his own feet."

  They continued walking, both lost in thought.

  "So you're out here alone?" Sadie asked finally.

  "Yeah, just me and them oil workers. They're in the other cabins. Lucky for you, they're gone most days. They come back to sleep, unless they get a room in town. But they shouldn't bother you none. Probably won't see anyone, 'cept me."

  Sadie paused near an uprooted tree stump. A steady stream of ants paraded along the top of an exposed root, while a bulbous-bellied arachnid crept closer to the buffet line. She shuddered when the spider snatched up a lagging ant and consumed it.

  Survival of the fittest, she thought.

  Irma beckoned Sadie onward. "We're almost there."

  The path descended toward the thinning trees, then opened upon a winding river that trickled over rocks, around tree stumps, weaving and undulating through the woods and past the last of the defiant snow banks. In some places, it was so narrow that the water was shallow. In other areas, the river was dark and deep.

  To Sadie, the view was breathtaking.

  "This here's Kimree River," Irma announced.

  An April breeze skipped over the water, caressing Sadie's face in a cool mist. The air was scented with a soft marshy odor—not really unpleasant, just damp and earthy. It made Sadie think of the Screaming Eagle Cabernet.

  "You can keep following this path through the woods or take them stairs." Irma pointed to rough planked steps set into the icy earth. "It's easier to walk by the water if you're carrying stuff. But watch yourself. Those steps are slippery."

  On the river's shore, they walked side-by-side in mutual silence. There were no other buildings to be seen, no people. Once Irma returned to her own cabin, Sadie would be on her own.

  Just the way I want it.

  "There it be," Irma said proudly.

  Approaching from the side, Sadie got the first view of her new home. The log cabin was perched on a dry grassy knoll, its light gray roof glittering in the sunlight. Two windows on the side were framed by heavy white shutters and a small veranda with its front end on supports hung out over the river. A blue and white Coleman cooler, two worn wooden chairs and a table made from a bulging tree stump were the veranda's only adornment, except for a dwarf cedar in a terracotta pot near the sliding door.

  Sadie surveyed her new home. It wasn't much to look at from the outside and most likely not much better inside. But the soothing trickle of the river would make it bearable.

  "You weren't kidding when you said the cabin was down by the river," she said, chuckling.

  "Just better hope we don't get a flood," Irma warned.

  "A flood?"

  "Yeah. A few years back, we had us a flash flood and lightning that lit up the sky for miles. Now that was a storm. If we get another one like that, you'll wanna close them shutters. Out here, we get some awful winds and the thunder gets pretty loud."

  They climbed the steps that were set into the earth and walked around the side of the cabin. Stacks of firewood, covered with a faded forest-green tarp, were piled up against one wall. A fishing rod and an oil lamp lay abandoned in the grass.

  Dismayed, she turned to Irma. "There's no electricity?"

  "Not out here, dear. That gonna be a problem?"

  "I need to charge the battery for my laptop and my cell."

  "Well, I was gonna get me one of them fancy-schmancy generators like Sarge got, but I just can't afford it. Sorry."

  "That's okay. I'll charge my things in town then."

  Irma grunted. "Not in Cadomin, you won't. There's only one store, and that Louisa's a real control freak. She wouldn't even let you piss in the washroom 'cause you're an outta-towner." She wiped a grimy hand across her forehead. "You'll have to go to Hinton, to Ed's Pub. Just tell him I sent ya. He's my brother."

  As they approached the back of the cabin, Sadie spotted the sign above the door. Infinity. It made her think of Sam, of their nightly ritual.

  "Sam," she whispered.

  "Who's Sam?" Irma asked. "He your man?"

  "No, uh—"

  "It's okay, dear. He won't find you here."

  Sadie's head jerked. "What? No, you've misunderstood me."

  Irma shook her head. "Naw, I don't think so. Why else would you be out here in the middle of nowhere? It's in your eyes, dear."

  "What is?"

  Irma ambled to the door and slid a key into the lock. "When I first saw you, I said to myself, 'Irma, that girl's running from someone. Or something terrible.' I can see it in your eyes. And eyes don't lie." She peered over her shoulder. "But it's none of my nosey ol' business."

  The old woman pushed on the door. It groaned in rebellion, then swung open, releasing a cloud of black flies.

  And the scent of death.

  "Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus!" Irma said in horror.

  Sadie gagged. "What's that smell?"

  18

  Their footsteps disturbed the mud-covered floor, and a waft of fine particles—dust, cobwebs and God knows what else—ascended into the stale air, along with the overpowering stench of decomposed chicken skin, rotten fish and sour milk. It reminded Sadie of the time the garburator had clogged and backed up into the kitchen sink.

  Irma rushed to open the windows. "I'm so sorry, dear. Got caught up in Brenda's problems and kept putting off cleaning this place
. I guess I shoulda come sooner."

  Yeah, I'd say so, Sadie wanted to say. But she didn't.

  Holding her breath, she crossed the room, flung back the heavy curtains and opened the sliding door onto the veranda. Light illuminated every grimy corner, and for a moment, she was tempted to turn around and leave.

  And go where?

  Her mouth curled in disgust as her gaze swept across the clutter of unwashed dishes piled in the sink and on the chipped laminate counter. In one corner, a garbage can contained two fat fly-infested fish heads and a slimy, black clump of salad greens—lettuce or spinach, maybe. A two-burner Coleman stove sat on the counter near the sink, a cast iron pot abandoned on top of it. She peered inside, then wished she hadn't. Something brown and furry covered the bottom of the pot, a feast for the black flies, fly larvae and wriggling white maggots that squirmed over it.

  She fought hard not to gag. "When did the last tenant leave?"

  "About two weeks ago. He was in a hurry, that one."

  "I'd be in a hurry too, if I lived in a place that smelled this bad. The guy was a slob."

  She stared at the jumble of sheets on the sofa bed and the dirty socks and stained t-shirts scattered across the floor.

  "Why didn't he take his stuff?"

  Irma shrugged. "Said he had a family emergency."

  "Was he an oil worker too?"

  "Naw, some kind of doctor, he said. But I tell ya, I wouldn't want him sticking no needles into me. He had the shakes real bad." Irma eyed the room. "I think he needed a woman in his life."

  "Or a maid," Sadie muttered.

  "Let me show you around, dear. Over here's the bedroom."

  When Irma opened the door. Sadie was shocked by the state of the room. It was pristine, clean, not a thing out of place. Only a fine layer of dust on the double bed, dresser and nightstand. There was a small closet with no doors at the foot of the bed and a rectangular window facing the woods lined the exterior wall.

  "Guess he didn't use this room much," Irma said needlessly.