Page 102 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

Lou may not realize it, but I see signs of autumn coming with every breath of nature. It’s not only the screams of the geese in the sky; the willows and poplars are already glowing green gold and the air carries a hint of mold besides the fresh scent of spruce.

Spear in hand, I step into the cold water and wade upstream where the river meets the lake. I remain motionless on a steep slope, the spear already in the water so as not to be fooled by its reflection on the surface of the water when I strike.

At first, nothing whatsoever happens, but after a while, the fish seem to have accepted me as a natural obstacle and swim through my straddled legs. I persevere with numb feet, glad that I perfected the maneuver during my first summer exploring my leasehold land.

By evening, the fish are often tired and easier to catch once you get used to the rhythm of their routine. I’m about to thrust when I sense movement on the bank. Confused, I look at the golden poplar. Lou is standing by the tree suckers, watching me lost in thought. Her hair is almost the same color as the leaves on the tree. Her sweater and pants blend into the dark bark.

She fits so well in the Yukon. Tenderness creeps into my heart, and without realizing it, I smile in her direction. Lou smiles back. Again with that shy reserve behind which she hides. I don’t know why, but it’s this reticence that touches me so much.

Lou watches me for a while longer, then limps back to the spread-out sleeping bag.

I look down at the bottom of the lake again and remember how much she cried after my promise this morning. Much more than the time before. All day, I’ve been wondering why without finding an answer until now. I only know one thing for certain: part of her crying has been stuck deep inside me since then and it feels like her tears continue to flow there.

The wind blows cold and softly through the spruce trees and the last yellow light of the day fades in the western sky. I caught two salmon and grilled them over the flames using thick logs. After deboning them, I cut them into pieces and hand Lou her half in a tin bowl.

“Is the head in there?” she asks cautiously, eyeing the pink fish flesh with a frown.

“Of course! Including the brain and eyes,” I scoff and sit next to her on the sand. Teasing Lou amuses me to no end. Mainly because it’s so easy to upset her. It may be unfair since I am superior to her in nature, then again, it makes her smile—I owe her that much.

I grin when I see her poking at the pieces of fish with her fork, looking like she’s searching for a gooey eye. “Lou, that was a joke. I make it a rule not to eat anything that can still look at me, dead or not.”

She lowers the fork. “Oh…” I get the smile I want, but only momentarily.

We eat in silence. The night deepens over the forest and the lake with every passing minute. The wind, which had previously rustled the tops of the spruce trees, dies down as if giving way to darkness.

“It’s delicious,” Lou says, following my gaze toward the trees.

How strange the mood is between us. No hostility at all and no suspicions either. It has changed, gradually but steadily, like nature, like autumn, which I can smell and taste before it fully reveals itself.

After dinner, Lou suddenly gets up, hobbles in my socks to the lake, and sits on the shore. My down jacket is slung over her shoulders, but it’s too big and Lou almost drowns in it.

I leave her alone for a while and watch the army of stars twinkle down on us from the night sky.

Girls’ hearts.

Again the words that changed everything. But today things are different than they were back then in winter. Lou isn’t who she used to be and, I realize, probably never was. I only saw what I wanted to see.

A girl who is my counterpart. A girl who takes everything easy. A girl standing in the light. I thought I knew everything about her, but I’ve never been so wrong.

Out of the need to be close to her, I go to the water and sit next to her.

She doesn’t move, but continues to stare at the night-black lake, on the surface of which the reflection of the moon shines brightly. It looks like someone poured silver liquid into it, which now floats on the water as a sparkling disk.

I look furtively at Lou. Who am I to her? Still her cold-blooded kidnapper? But here, in the heart of the Yukon, away from the RV, the chains, and little bell bracelets, that hardly seems real anymore. Lou will not run away because she would be lost on her own. Besides, she’s injured. For the first time, I can relax in her presence without having to monitor her every move. Maybe she feels relieved. Maybe that is what’s different between us now.

I take my eyes off her and follow her gaze out onto the lake, directed at some invisible point.

“This is your land, isn’t it?” she says suddenly into the stillness of the night.

I’m honestly surprised. “What made you think that?”

“I saw a sign. Private property. Do not enter.”

I almost forgot the sign my predecessors put up on the shore. She must have noticed it while crossing the river. “Legally, it doesn’t belong to me.” I grab a large pebble and turn it in one hand. “I’m leasing this land. That’s why I’m allowed to hunt and fish. Otherwise, it is strictly forbidden. Conservation and whatnot.”

Lou raises her eyebrows. “So you’re renting it all? How much land are we talking about?”

A lot of land, a lot of land. So much, you probably wouldn’t be able to escape anyway. “I forget the exact square footage. I know the boundaries, that’s all I need to know,” I answer evasively.

---