All right, folks, this is going to be a longer story than you've seen from me up to now. I hope you enjoy it, as this particular trope isn't the most popular in this fandom but I love writing it so the joke's on all of us. Full disclosure: the picture belongs to m01229 on Flikr, not to me. I've never actually been to Canada yet... (but I do love its wintry landscapes to the extent that this is actually the third Vauseman story set in Canada I've written so far. The other ones have just been harder to polish to the point of posting).
Monday, November 4
Halfway on his way up to Lake Louise on a clear November morning, local Jack of all trades Joel Luscheck found a pretty spot for a panoramic piss. He crossed the road, away from the cold blue shadows of the sloping woods on his right. When he was a kid, a rogue squirrel had jumped off a dead evergreen and bit him right on the balls, likely having taken them for over ripe acorns; he'd been keeping his leaks away from tree trunks ever since. Humming under his breath, he basked in the unusually balmy sunshine and aimed at the frozen over bed of the Kootenay River. The sun bounced off playfully against the sparkling white blanket of heavy wet snow that covered everything along the valley, all the way to the mist enveloped peaks in the distance.
Everything except for the bloody clothing scattered on the gentle incline leading to the river.
"Fuck," Luscheck mumbled as the doobie dropped from between his lips.
Captain Healy poked the frozen light blue jacket with a dry evergreen branch. No doubt about it, the thin jacket was soaked in dark blood. A few yards away was a pair of black jeans – too tight looking, in Healy's estimation, to normally accommodate the body of an adult.
"It's the fashion, Captain. I can assure you we're talking adult female here," Sgt Bayley said, kneeling next to the jeans and the one dirty blue suede boot (left foot) they had found. Healy wrinkled his nose in distaste.
The sorry ass rental had been parked – if you wanted to call it that – headed north into a frozen snow bank. The passenger door had been hanging open, god knew how that numskull Luscheck hadn't taken it clean out when he'd sped off from the crime scene. More surprisingly, nothing was taken. The young woman's mobile phone, passport, driver's license, credit cards and $264.91 in cash, along with 23 Canadian cents were all scattered across the driver's seat.
According to her brother, the two had parted ways in Cranbrook. He was going to drive all the way to Calgary and drop her stuff over at her friend Polly's, then stay with his friends as planned. She was going to meet her friends Polly, Pete and Larry in Lake Louise for the weekend and then return with them to Calgary on Monday, right on time for school (Polly's).
"When was the last time you spoke to your sister, Mr Chapman?" Healy asked the weed-infused hippie in front of him. The young man appeared stricken, bewildered and quite a bit tearful. Healy wanted to puke and ask him to man up.
"When we stopped for lunch in Cranbrook," Cal sniffled. His eyes were riveted to the animal tracks that followed the trail of red blotches all the way to the river. His sniffles intensified.
"Thursday," Healy repeated, thoughtfully. The strong odor of ganja had given him a massive headache. "You mean before the snowstorm."
Thursday, 31 October
Piper was just an hour and a half out of Cranbrook when the large frame of an askew 18 wheeler came into view up ahead. She slowed down, trying to avoid the orange cones and the reflective signs dutifully arranged across the road. The transport looked like a dinosaur surprised by a fluke earthquake: ungracefully slumped to the side and leaking dark sticky liquid into the Kootenay River. She couldn't help herself snap a picture as springboard for future snarky commentary: The Canadian Affair, Part 1: The Dark Side of Wilderness.
A very young cop trotted over to her car.
"We're sorry, Miss, but you're gonna have to take the diversion," he said rather pleasantly, pointing to a partially obscured sign that said Black Lake.
"What happened, Officer?"
"We got this 18 wheeler spilled toxic material all over the interstate. It's gonna take a while until we get it all cleaned. Sorry for the inconvenience, Miss."
The pungent, alarming stench had alerted Piper that something was amiss with the idyllic picture even before the cones. As a lifelong city dweller, though, she hadn't been sure whether or not to immediately feel worried.
"So what do I do? Just take the right?" she shot an unconvinced glance at the overgrown sign and the evergreens densely covering the steep incline to her right. "How do I know when to get back on the interstate?" she asked as she was fiddling with her GPS. On the map, the road the cop was pointing at looked more like someone's driveway, no name or anything, winding up a bit then simply finishing in the middle of nowhere.
"It's a loop road, Miss. Just follow it and it's gonna take you right back to the interstate," he smiled.
"But why can't I see it on my GPS?" Piper insisted.
The cop shrugged.
"Your app has probably not been updated. It's not a heavily used road."
That turned out to be a massive understatement. The road, having started decent enough as two paved lanes, morphed into something curious, between old cracked asphalt and logging road within about 15 minutes. Treads of heavy logging machinery had bitten into its surface and dark soil mixed with evergreen mulch was well on its way to reclaiming what had once belonged to it.
Piper was still too early into her journey not to find the "experience" fascinatingly rugged. As she navigated the difficult drive for a car specifically designed for the city, she imagined herself an early outback hero, on her way to conquering the thus far unreachable depths of the Canadian Rockies. As it were, she grinned at herself, when, after a sudden bump on the road, she met her own amused baby blues in the rear view mirror.
"Where are you now?" Polly's chipper voice came through the speaker.
"Just out of Radium Hot Springs. I had to take a detour because of this massive toxic material spillage on the Kootenay Highway," Piper said just as the car bounced painfully to the right, having met with another stealthy obstacle. She winced, hoping she'd get the car back to Cranbrook in one piece.
"That's fucked up."
"I know. It was disgusting. I could smell it like miles away, made my eyes water. Upturned 18 wheeler."
"Good thing you weren't stuck behind it."
"I know, can you imagine?"
"So how long's that detour?"
"Not sure. Another half hour?"
Piper considered telling Polly the weird fact about the road not really showing up on the map, make it sound like an odd joke, like it was nothing at all – well, it wasn't, was it? – but she decided against it, thinking it wasn't worth giving Polly the willies over nothing. The woman was apt to convince her to turn and drive right back to Spokane.
"All right. I'm gonna go get some stuff for the weekend with Pete. Call me when you're here, yea?"
The music returned to Piper's speakers. It was kinda pretty how the early sunset dusted the tops of the trees with gold, though at road level the shadows had started to take on a deeper blue hue. She enjoyed the unusual – for her – solitary driving and was starting to get a little better at anticipating half hidden roots and larger rocks, though the car was still dancing under her every time she caught a particularly deep rut.
The road smoothed some as she picked a bit of altitude and her biggest concerns now were occasional but rather sharp curves, which Piper wisely decided to negotiate at very slow speed. Lana del Rey's Born to Die came on and she turned it up, joining in at the chorus. I mean, she thought grinning, Larry and I aren't quite the epitome of YOLO but sometimes a weekend away with Mother Nature is all it takes…
She ventured into the convenience store, dying for a drink and a snack. This one – most likely her only option on the loop road – was a square-shape corrugated shack, lit up like a Christmas tree even before sundown. A young – is she old enough to work? – white girl with cornrows sat on a tall stool behind the counter, her eyes riveted to her phone, one foot tapping a brisk rhythm. As Piper was browsing the underwhelming offer, trying to decide between the revolting yet attention-focusing Red Bull and the gentler – but equally as dubiously removed from "natural" – ready-made convenience store coffee, the bell rang.
"All right, Captain Healy?" the girl asked, without lifting her eyes. Piper found that a bit odd, but perhaps they were all so acquainted with one other around here, they knew each other by the way they opened doors.
"Hello, Tricia," the not-exactly-in-shape graying man referred to as Captain Healy answered. "Watch the store, you've got a customer."
"I know. She's just deciding on her drink," Tricia answered when Piper reached the counter. She felt a bit irked that people were talking about her like she wasn't there. Not the most welcoming bunch, perhaps?
"There's a snow storm on the way," Captain Healy addressed Piper in a fatherly voice. Everything about him gave off a very old fashioned "father knows best" attitude. Piper could easily imagine him insisting his children be home schooled and not indulge in anything that could remotely pass as fun, for their own good, of course. He probably folded his underwear – tighty-whities, for sure. Piper shuddered a little.
"I know," she smiled when it was obvious he was waiting for an answer, judging by the eager expression on his face. Piper felt uneasy. Why is he talking to me? She turned to Tricia, who looked very relaxed behind the counter. Piper breathed a sigh of relief and continued, addressing the cashier. "I heard it on the news. But it's not going to hit here for another couple of hours by which time I'll be back on the interstate."
As she extended her arm to pick up a pack of weed, she missed the curious look exchanged by Healy and Tricia. She'd just remembered you could buy it legally in Canada even if you were under 21 and thought it would be funny to sample the goods before Polly showed her all the other reasons why Canada was a better place to live.
"That thing's gonna kill ya," Healy went on, depositing a packet of burger meat on the counter.
"Weed? I doubt it," Piper smiled, a little less friendly this time. Can't he just shut the fuck up with his daddy banter?
"Well, it's still not good for you. You don't know what else is inside."
"This is the whole point of government approved weed, Captain Healy: you know exactly what's inside," the girl behind the counter laughed. Piper joined her, happy for some levity.
"Anyway, thanks for the heads up," Piper felt the need to be polite, even though all she really wanted was to put distance between her and the older man.
Below the last vestiges of the deep orange and purple twilight slashing across the sky, the road had plunged into deep blue shadows. She wondered how long she had been in the store; it barely felt like minutes. The temperature, though, had dropped, as she could clearly feel in her extremities. Perhaps the suede boots had been a mistake…
She let out a slow expletive when she had to squeeze in between her driver's door and the cop car. Shouldn't the fucking police know better than to park so close to another vehicle? Especially when there's all the space in the world. The only other vehicle in the store's parking lot was the small snow plow neatly backed in between the air pump and the recycling bin. Irritated, she yanked the door open… and managed to graze Captain Healy's spotlessly clean steel grey cop vehicle. Shit. She looked surreptitiously around to see if anyone had seen anything but she appeared alone. The cop was still inside, talking to Tricia.
A milky full moon shaped like a lumpy piece of mozzarella peeked from behind the tops of the evergreens as she quickly pulled out onto the road. At least it's not gonna be so dark out there, she thought, trying to cheer herself up.
The first flurries started to dot her windshield about 30 minutes later. They picked up slowly, gently, sticky like candy floss. It occurred to her that she should've rejoined the interstate already. The GPS was still showing the car float eerily in "no man's land", the little blue cursor simply changing direction in space.
"Well," her voice rang hollow inside the somewhat wheezing car, "as long as I'm moving, that means there's a road." She had meant to add a chuckle, but it died on her lips. With a shiver, she switched the radio back on.
"… inches of snow but y'all know that on nights like this you should all be snug at home with a cup of something hot –"
"And someone hot under the covers with you, ain't it so, Chip?"
"Well, I wasn't gonna get quite as detailed in my description, Chad," Chip chuckled in that squeaky door way very young man sometimes do. A lower voice – Chad, obviously – joined him in strangely perfect harmony.
"Anyway," Chad continued, "we're expecting enough snow to keep the plows busy for the next 36 hours, so I guess the kiddies out there are gonna enjoy a couple of unexpected snow days –"
"Unexpected," Chip's squeaky door returned, "like how unexpected is snow in the Rockies, Chad?"
"Hey, geniuses," a third, somewhat whiny, voice joined in the banter, "you know we're heading into the weekend, right? So the kids are getting zilch."
Piper laughed right along with a wah-wah-waaaah sound effect.
"Don't be a smart-ass, Chuck," Chad's voice returned, a pleasant baritone to Piper's ears, "the kids are at least getting Friday off."
She was glad for the chatter – it took her mind off the monotonously winding road. In an effort to squeeze the last drops of entertainment out of the tame banter, Piper pulled over to the side of the round and rolled a spliff. She wasn't particularly good at it, so it came out a bit uneven and the papers stuck badly to each other but it lit up and did its job. To an extent, Piper soon found out. The Canadian government seemed to think the drier meant the healthier when it came to weed.
She was on her third roll-up and her edge had eased a bit when she first noticed the fuel gauge needle tipping low-ish. That was kinda odd, normally rentals came with full tanks. She kept driving, hoping for a gas station, finding it was too much of a hassle to turn back to the convenience store if she wanted to make it to Lake Louise in time for dinner.
The snow was now coming down in large, fluffy chunks that easily stuck to the rest of the car, not just to the windshield. Which didn't help, considering this rental, the cheapest they could find, had rather slow moving wipers. Then again, there was nothing ahead but more curves – a tad sharper now – and nothing to the steeply sloping left, beside snow covered evergreens – were they leaning in closer now or was it just the super dry Canadian weed? – and nothing on the right, but more twilight muddled pines and fir trees descending into the ravine. Nothing behind, bes… wait, there was something behind. Her eyes lazily glanced in the rear view mirror and she saw them: the lights of a car.
This new development left her disconcerted. She'd been alone on the road pretty much since she'd split up with Cal. She wasn't sure how to catalog a newcomer, or if it even needed cataloging to begin with. Should she slow down and let whoever it was move past her or speed up in hope she never had to find out who it was? Was the weed bending her thoughts paranoid? It had never happened to her before, but, then again, she'd never had government sanctioned product either… What she did was turn up the radio instead. The hosts were discussing hockey results now. She enjoyed the distraction, letting the incomprehensible talk wash right over her. She considered lighting up another roll-up but decided against it. Sharp-ish decision making was the safe option, especially as the snow had started to pile on top of the road surface.
But just as she eased off another curve, with just a smidgen of a skid, she noticed the car had approached. On reflex, she accelerated slightly and the vehicle fell back into the heavy twilight. For a good 10 to 15 minutes, there was nothing beyond the scope of her back lights. She even managed to follow a bit of the sports talk when it occurred to her than perhaps another spliff was the right answer given current conditions.
She once again pulled to the side and rummaged a bit through her weed pouch, trying to select the greener bits. The coast was still clear when she lifted her eyes to check her mirror. This new roll-up proved more promising so she eased into what she'd gauged was the rental's cruising speed when climbing. With a chuckle she realized she was thinking absolute non-sense.
"That means both that this batch is more decent and that I'm not overdoing it," Piper spoke out loud to her image in the mirror, when the car lights behind her reappeared. Piper took a look at the roll-up and angrily stubbed it onto the side of the steering wheel. "Fuckin' government…"
She sped up, adrenaline surging within her every time the tires slid as she took a curve on the progressively icier road, spraying powdery snow in their wake. The car behind had kept up. In fact, it had approached enough for her to feel a sense of familiarity. Eyes glued to the rear view mirror, she could only make out one person inside. Within a few stomach churning moments, the driver sped up and came level with her. He edged her towards the ravine so slightly she wasn't even sure it had happened. She felt so unnerved, her hands were slipping with sweat on the steering wheel. She shot a look sideways and she could see it was Captain Healy.
Goose bumps covered her back and arms. Without thinking, she slammed on the brakes, which sent the rental spinning like a dreidl. With a heavy thud, it banged right into Healy's steel grey cop car. Piper hit her head against the soft roof and for a few interminable moments she was unsure if up was down or left was right. By the time she'd regained control – blanched face, white knuckles and a flurry of half coherent expletives – Healy had gunned his car away from her. But he didn't stay there for long. Just as they were approaching another curve, he came level with her again. Except now she'd wisely taken the inside of the road. He had the gall to smile fatherly at her and to even nod, slowing down just enough to align himself unnervingly close behind.
"What the fucking fuck?!" Piper asked aloud, her voice cracking in frustration and abject fear. Tears started to stream down her face, mixing with the Red Bull that had spilled all over the console and her jeans, and had somehow managed to also spray her right cheek. She angrily wiped at her face.
This was proper harassment now. She was determined to report it, as soon as she got… some-fucking-where. And the maddening road continued on and on: snow burdened evergreens looming, sometimes so low, the sides of her car sent snow flying with audible thuds; more curves, the ravine gaping into the darkness between ghostly tree trunks to the right; snow continuing to accumulate over all but the center of her windshield; wipers slowing down to a tired wheeze, unable to cope with the sheer amount of powder coming out of the sky; the fuel gauge needle on E; tires slipping her control more frequently now that her nerves were on edge…
The passenger seat airbag randomly deployed, scaring the bejesus out of her. A particularly low hanging pine branch scraped against her window like nails on a chalkboard. The road widened without warning. A red neon sign appeared, intermittently flashing its silent beckoning: Vacancies. She sharply pulled into the gas station, surprised to see there was even room for anything like that on the left side of the road.
She jumped out and immediately started pumping gas, her eyes out for the cop car. It was stalling just outside of her line of vision, engine purring quietly over the gusts of wind. She took a step behind when the tank filled and still managed to spill gas on her boots. With a muffled "shit!", she did a silly little dance, trying to shake the liquid off, managing to get snow all over them instead. As she twisted the cap back on, she noticed off the side of her eye that the cop car was slowly rolling down into the pump area. Crying in earnest now, she turned around and marched right into the lodge lobby.
PS: second chapter is already written but it should extend to three or four. I don't really know, I'm not used to sustaining a story over 6000 words and I've already felt a bit like I was rambling as opposed to my usual super concentrated writing - but I do want to break out of my normal routines and I hope I don't literally lose the plot along the way ;-)