by Alan Russell
She was tempted to look at the shotgun, but she didn’t. If Baer turned around, she wanted it to appear that all her attention was on the jig. But it was odd, wasn’t it, that Baer wasn’t keeping tabs on her? Of course, he already had another fish on his line, and that seemed to be commanding all of his attention. But it wasn’t like him to not take notice of everything she was doing. Even more out of character was his leaving a weapon behind. During her time as captive, he’d made sure she had no access to anything that might be used as a weapon. And he seemed to have preternatural senses about any threat. Baer had known about her sharpened bone. He seemed to know everything she was thinking and even anticipated what her hatred might spur her into doing. Leaving his shotgun behind made no sense. Unless . . .
It’s a test.
His back had been to her when he’d walked over to the willow. She remembered him suddenly turning his head, as if seeing or hearing something, and she’d followed his gaze. It was then that she’d heard an unfamiliar sound. Now she guessed that sound was a shotgun shell being unchambered.
He wanted her to go for the shotgun.
That’s two, she thought.
He was giving her just enough rope to hang herself.
Nina cast the line, pleased when it actually landed near to where she’d hoped. The shotgun would stay where it was until Baer retrieved it. That was the right move, Nina was sure. But there was a part of her that wondered if her nerves had failed her, and if her inaction was because she was afraid.
Know your enemy, she thought. That’s what Elese had written. Nina exhaled pent-up air and suddenly felt reassured. She was getting to know her enemy, and she was certain that Baer wouldn’t be so careless as to leave a loaded gun behind.
She reeled in her line and then tried a second cast. As Baer had shown her, she let the current take the jig. After it played out, she began cranking the reel. That’s when Nina noticed the pull. There was a fish on the other end of the line.
The exhilaration of the moment was something she hadn’t expected. It felt like an electric charge that extended from the line to the rod to her arms. She began reeling and pulling, then forced herself to slow down. It was important she land the fish. She could see it now in the clear water. Colors flashed: hues of pink, blue, and gold. But instead of smoothly bringing the fish to shore, she panicked as the grayling fought back, and she made the mistake of jerking hard on the line. Luckily for her, the yank cleared the fish out of the water, but that wasn’t the same as landing it. When the grayling hit the shore, the hook came free from its mouth, and it began thrashing up and down; each flip and flop brought it closer to the water.
Nina fell to her knees and tried grabbing the fish. One moment she had it, but the next it wriggled free.
“No!” she cried.
The grayling was almost to the water. She grabbed a fist-size river rock and pounced on the fish. Before it could make its escape, she brought the stone down on its head, stunning it. The grayling’s thrashing slowed, but it still wasn’t dead. Nina raised the stone, then brought it down again, this time with killing force.
As she caught her breath, Nina’s eyes stayed on the fish. In death its colors were fading. While alive, its speckled belly had looked as if gold dust had been sprinkled over it, but now that orelike sunshine was turning gray. Dead fish eyes looked at her. Nina wasn’t sure what she felt.
“Good fish.”
Baer’s voice came from directly behind her and made Nina start. Not for the first time, she wondered how a big man could move so stealthily. He picked up the fish, made quick work of it with his knife, and then laid it down on the moss. There were four fish in total; Baer had caught two more in that short time.
She watched him as he made his way downstream. He picked up his rod and started fishing again. It was a signal for Nina to do the same. She got to her feet, and only then noticed the mud and blood on her hands. She bent down at the bank and rinsed her hands in the cold water, fighting the urge to pull them out before they were completely clean. Her fingers felt like icicles. She wrung her hands and then blew on them.
Until I escape, Nina thought, cold hands are just one more thing to endure.
She picked up the rod and cast her line.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nina watched Baer make what he called a “log cabin” for the cooking of their fish. At a spot off the river that was partially sheltered from the wind, he gathered the makings for the fire. Using the pointed end of a rock, he cleared a small depression in the ground. In the hollowed space, he laid down his tinder, which consisted of a layer of moss, bark from a birch, and resin and needles he’d cut from a spruce. Atop the tinder he placed a handful of small, dry sticks.
The logs were next. He’d found a snag and been able to snap off the dead branches. He quickly trimmed the branches with his knife until there were eight pieces of wood roughly the same size.
From his pocket Baer pulled out a black strip of cloth that wasn’t even half the size of his thumb. “What’s that?” Nina asked.
“Char cloth,” he said. “Otherwise known as surefire.”
Nina didn’t know what a char cloth was, but saw how it worked. Baer struck a piece of flint, and the shower of sparks set the char cloth to smoking. He leaned over and gently blew on the smoldering cloth. With each breath the flame sprouted up higher and higher. Baer added more kindling, and then quickly constructed his log cabin. He put down the foundation of two logs, positioning them right next to the tinder and kindling, and built up from there. There were four stories to Baer’s log cabin. From above it looked as if he’d built an elaborate structure for playing tic-tac-toe.
It had been a long time since Nina had eaten from a campfire. She and Luke had thought that few things were more fun than cooking hot dogs over a fire. Nina remembered how they used wire hangers to skewer their franks. The fish was being cooked in much the same way. Baer had speared half a dozen of the graylings with green sticks, laying them out atop the log cabin. Nina was glad for the fire, basking in its warmth.
“Not much fat to a grayling,” said Baer. “They cook up quick.”
The dog had settled next to Nina. “What’s his name?” she asked.
Baer looked puzzled for a moment before saying, “Three.”
“What kind of a name is that?”
“It’s not a name, it’s a number. Each dog has a number. He’s Three.”
“Why don’t you give him a real name?”
“It’s as good a name as any, and better than some. This one musher got quite a reputation for giving his dogs some colorful names. You knew when his team was coming down the trail by the laughter of the spectators. Everyone would crack up when they’d hear him yelling, ‘Come on, Fuck. Hurry it up, Shit. Faster, Cock. Let’s go, Cunt. Pick up the pace, Piss.’”
Nina didn’t hide her disdain. “What a shame I missed that.”
“Makes Three sound good in comparison, don’t it?”
Instead of responding, Nina asked, “Do you even know my name?”
“You’re Mrs. Baer the third,” he said. “But since you don’t seem fond of that, I guess I could call both you and the dog Three.”
The dog, hearing its name, looked up.
“Or you can call me by my given name, which is Nina.”
“Nina?” he repeated. “It sounds like you already have a number for a name. Doesn’t that mean nine?”
She shook her head. “It’s a shortened version of a much longer name. But it’s also a Native American name. Nina means ‘strong.’”
“Strong, huh? I hear Indians used to come up with names based on things that were going on around them. That’s why you hear names like Owl Calling and Running Deer. At least that’s what my friend Broken Rubber told me.”
“What about your own name?” asked Nina. “Is Baer your last name? I can’t imagine a mother giving her child the first name of Baer.”
Baer’s smirk disappeared. He shrugged and didn’t answer.
�
�What’s your mother’s first name?”
When Baer answered, it wasn’t his words, but his tone, that threatened. “Why would you ask about my mother?”
Elese had written that Baer was prickly about the subject of his mother. Nina wondered if she could find a way to use that to her advantage.
“Aren’t men supposed to be what their mothers made them?”
“My mother is long dead.”
“What killed her?”
“Curiosity,” he said.
His threat hung in the air, and neither of them said anything else until Baer announced, “Fish is done.”
Unmindful of the heat, he pulled three of the skewers from the makeshift rack. Nina grabbed some leaves and tried to use them like oven mitts. She took hold of one of the remaining skewers, holding on to both sides of the stick as if she were holding a piece of corn between two cob holders. The skin of the fish had flaked away, leaving firm, white flesh.
The fish rapidly cooled, and Nina started pulling the meat from the bones. Two years ago she’d eliminated seafood from her vegetarian diet, but there had been a time when she enjoyed ordering trout meuniere. Even without the butter, white wine, lemon juice, parsley, and salt and pepper, the grayling was still tasty.
Most of the fish they’d caught weighed in at around two pounds. Nina had thought she wouldn’t be able to even finish one, but it wasn’t long before she started in on her second. The dog—Nina refused to call him Three, although she hadn’t yet come up with another name—had remained at her side, and Nina rewarded him with pieces of the fish.
“Catch,” said Baer, tossing the dog the remains of his fish.
Everything disappeared, including the head, bones, and tail.
Nina’s breath caught. “The bones,” she said.
“What about them?”
“They could pierce his intestines.”
Baer threw the remains of his second fish, and like the first, it was inhaled. “Better tell him that. Of course, if he could speak, he’d say you were crazy. My dogs have always eaten up the whole fish, bones and all, and they’re just fine. They’re not fussy. That’s how they’re able to survive and thrive. They love entrails and offal; they devour smoked chum and frozen eels. Give ’em a bird carcass, and they’ll do everything but thank Jesus.”
He took the remaining fish from the fire and started eating. “Dogs gorge because they never know when they’ll eat next. In this climate you can learn from them. Eat when you can, and eat as much as you can.”
“I’m full.”
“There’s a lake that’s only a ten-minute walk away. We’ll catch another dozen fish for the other dogs while we try for a duck dinner.”
“Is your rifle for duck?”
“You mean my shotgun? But that’s not what you really want to know, is it? What you’re really curious about is whether this shotgun could take down a two-legged sort.”
Nina said nothing, which only seemed to amuse Baer. “I’d have thought in finishing school, they would have taught you how to be more subtle in asking how you go about killing someone.”
“I never went to finishing school.”
“You’re not a debutante? I kind of feel I’ve been cheated. You’re not as advertised. And here I thought I’d hooked up with a high-society girl, Mrs. Baer.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. And I am not Mrs. Baer. I’m engaged to be married to another man.”
“Oh, that’s right. Some kind of big muckety-muck. How’s that working for you?”
“It will work out. You’ll see. At this moment I know he’s doing everything he can to have me found. It wouldn’t surprise me if law enforcement was getting closer and closer to rescuing me.”
“Why not angels?” asked Baer.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if you’re going to practice wishful thinking, you might as well go all-in.”
“I don’t think you understand just how powerful an enemy you’ve made.”
“I don’t think you understand I don’t give a shit. If you want to think the cavalry is coming, go ahead. Why, is that their bugles I’m hearing now?”
She’d had enough of his goading and turned away.
“Most people can’t stand the thought that they’re in it all alone,” he said. “It’s too scary a prospect for them. Almost everyone wants to think there’s someone, or something, out there ready to help. But you’re just deluding yourself, Nina, if you think someone is coming to rescue you.”
It was the first time he’d used her name, but Nina was no longer sure if that was a good thing.
“Stay here with Three,” said Baer. “I don’t want either of you spooking the waterfowl.”
“Down,” Baer commanded, and Three sank to the earth. “You stay.”
Nina had the feeling he meant the commands for both of them, but she continued to stand while Baer silently stole off. The monster was taking a roundabout route to the lake, which was only several hundred yards off. He kept low to the ground and seemed to be able to cover space in such a way that there were few discernible movements. It didn’t take him long before he was lost from sight.
The day had grown colder, and Nina was feeling the chill. She was underdressed for the elements, and the fire was already reduced to embers. As much as she liked the idea of fleeing, she knew she needed to better prepare for her escape. Her survival would depend on that and more.
“He’s right that I shouldn’t count on others,” she told the dog. “Elese said the same thing. I need to be able to survive on my own. And that includes being able to deal with the cold.”
She’d already memorized much of what her secret sister had written. She closed her eyes, doing her best to visualize Elese’s words.
Of course, it’s not enough knowing directions, and which way you should be heading. You must plan for unimaginable cold. Watch how Baer prepares for extreme weather. Take stock of what he puts in his pack. In addition to his knife and gun, he always carries several fire starters, tinder, a poncho, trash bags, and a reflective tarp. When you attempt your escape, you’ll need to pack those items as well. They take up very little space, and yet not having them would certainly mean your death. The poncho can be utilized for any number of things—as a raincoat, as an overhead covering, or as a ground cover.
In cold weather you must keep your body off the ground. The more layers you can put between you and the frigid earth, the better your chances for survival. That’s one reason for Baer’s plastic trash bags. He fills them with leaves, twigs, moss, and anything that might act as insulation.
Before you attempt your escape, you’ll need to know how to make a shelter and utilize materials that can offer a break from the wind. That might mean you have to build a lean-to or a snow cave. In those circumstances a reflective tarp not only works as a shield from the wind, but more importantly it reflects heat back to you. You’ll want to position it parallel to your fire in order to get as much of its warmth as possible.
Nina opened her eyes. The world around her was just as hostile, but she felt a little more confident. The dog had curled up at her feet, and she leaned down to stroke its nape.
“There are people looking for me,” Nina said. “I know it. But like my mom always says, ‘The Lord helps those who help themselves.’”
A loud cracking sound split the air. Nina’s first thought was thunder, but that was before she heard a rapid succession of the same sounds, one right after the other. Exploding echoes reverberated around the lake, causing an exodus of birds into the air. She watched them flapping their wings in all directions.
“Let’s go,” she said to the dog.
He whimpered, unsure whether to follow her or to remain where he was as Baer had instructed him. “Come on,” she said sharply.
The dog followed her.
Half a dozen birds were laid out, and Baer was busy working on them. At their approach he stopped his work and scowled.
“Bad dog,” he said, his voice low and mean.
/> The animal cringed and tried to hide behind Nina.
“I told you to stay,” Baer said, and started toward the dog.
“I told him to come,” said Nina.
“Then you can blame yourself for his beating.”
Baer raised his hand and struck the dog, causing it to yelp. He raised his hand a second time, but Nina stepped between man and dog.
“Hit me instead,” she said. “He only did what I told him.”
Nina closed her eyes as Baer’s hand descended. She tried not to flinch like the dog had. But instead of hitting her, he struck the dog again. She wanted to comfort the howling animal, but was afraid that would only make Baer hit him again.
“I need to count on my dogs doing what I tell them,” he said. “It could be the difference between life and death. They are not pets. They are not playmates. They serve a purpose. They must respond to my commands. I can’t have them wandering off when I need them.”
“I won’t interfere again,” Nina said.
“You had better not, because the next time I’ll kill him.”
She nodded, and hated herself for her placating posture.
“Since you interrupted my field dressing,” he said, “you can help me.”
She followed him over to the laid-out birds. One of them had already been butchered, with its parts put away into a plastic bag.
“I got lucky,” he said. “I snuck up on a bunch of birds in the shallows. There are hunters who don’t think it’s sporting to shoot sitting birds. I say if the birds are stupid enough to be flocking together, take advantage of them. Not that it’s usually that easy. I was able to get behind a natural blind of skunk cabbage. My old man used to say, ‘If you can see the eye, the bird will die.’ He was right.”
Baer lifted up a bird Nina recognized as a Canadian goose. “To dress this goose, you really don’t even need a knife, but it does make it easier to remove the wings.”
He sliced away the wings, and Nina fought off queasiness in her stomach. Surprisingly, there was little blood.
