Page 18 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

Still—should I really manage to lure and sedate Lou here—who will drive the RV? After using the drops I’m sometimes farsighted for up to two hours. I can’t possibly stay in this place any longer than necessary. On the other hand, a hasty departure would be just as conspicuous. It might even be better to wait a bit. Yes, waiting a bit is definitely the better option.

After the shower, I slip into a clean black hoodie and dark cargo pants. Maybe Lou is more into jeans, but I need the pockets. At least the outfit doesn’t make me look like a square, more like an adventurer, which is what Lou wants.

I smile to myself, this time out of an inner need. One last time, I check the steel brackets on the walls, the iron chains in the upper kitchen cupboard, and the handcuffs right next to it. I dig my tools out of my old pants and deposit the nostrum into the cargo pocket before I carefully inspect the RV.

The inside feels too sterile, like the working environment of a lunatic who likes gutting young girls. A girl like Lou, growing up with four brothers, might be suspicious of this tidiness. It looks too arranged. I quickly grab my leather jacket from the upper compartment and throw it on the bench in the front area, then I put an opened bottle of Coke and a glass on the table. Or better yet a beer? No, Coke fits better, I wouldn’t want her to think I’m a drunk. I look around again. It still looks far too tidy. At least for a guy who is traveling alone with an RV. Nervous, I glance at the clock. Five thirty. I rip open a cupboard and carelessly scatter granola bars, bandages, pens, rubber bands, cups, and two plates on the worktop.

Definitely better!

Finally, I squeeze myself back into the tiny bathroom and smile my confident smile. Then, I get the eye drops out of my old pants and put them in my pocket. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to Lou today. Maybe I can win her trust during the second encounter or maybe she’ll directly accompany me. Better to be prepared for any eventuality.

Opposite the turnout is the part of the forest that leads to the tent campground.

I look around carefully, but there are no cars or hikers to be seen as I disappear between the gray shadows of the trees. In this section of Lodgepole, the sequoias stand close together, their canopies forming a solid green umbrella above me. Hardly a ray of light falls on the ground, but despite the protective dim light, I am careful. I can’t rule out that playing children might venture into the area. The gravel road isn’t far off, maybe a little less than half a mile to the west, as are the tent campgrounds and public bathrooms. It would be fatal if, afterward, someone remembered I was sneaking through the forest here.

When I’m within three hundred feet of the Scrivers’ site, I move stealthily as if I were stalking a caribou. Single shouts penetrate the forest followed by voices and laughter.

I look around cautiously. To the left of the Scrivers is an unoccupied campsite and to their right is a blue-and-yellow family tent with a canopy surrounded by a circle of boulders. Dark smoke and the smell of steaks drift toward me. Through the branches of a young incense-cedar, I see two little girls hopping up and down beside the tent, digging their hands into the soft fabric of the tent.

I inch even closer.

“Are these all the clothes you brought?” I suddenly hear a voice that I attribute to Ethan solely because of the unfriendly tone. I stop.

“Yes. So what?”

Lou’s words make me duck behind a young sequoia. It’s slim and tall, but big enough to completely hide me if I don’t move.

“No long pants? No sweaters?” Ethan continues to rant. “What about your hiking boots?”

“I can walk in my Chucks."

I bought you hiking boots, Lou. If only I could see you! She sounds so close. It’s so wonderful to hear her voice. Live, not thousands of miles through a laptop speaker.

“Or these sandals, which you didn’t pay me back for yet. Where exactly did you think we were vacationing? A spa-hotel campground?” Ethan scoffs grimly.

Wild giggles come from the left of me.

“Rain? Summer? Stop this nonsense!”

“Rain started it… Daddy, Daddy…”

When the girl suddenly falters, I hold my breath and turn toward the children’s voices. Did they spot me? I don’t see them anymore, and instead, an aged hippie in a Hawaiian shirt appears next to the tent, tongs raised like a forefinger.

“And where are the two camping lanterns?” Ethan hisses from the front. In slow motion, I squat down and pray none of the girls saw me.

“That was Summer!” a child’s voice screeches.

“You really are completely useless.” Ethan again. “It’s not like I asked you to think of a thousand things. It was only the two lanterns and the tablecloth. That was it! Three things. Shouldn’t have been too difficult even for you.”

Summer and Rain seem to have forgotten their argument, no wonder, given the way Ethan is yelling. Fortunately, the sudden silence next door ensures that I understand every word again.

“Sorry.” Lou sounds pissed.

“Maybe you left them home on purpose.”

“I didn’t! I simply forgot about them.”

“Like your math stuff?” Something bangs, it sounds like a trunk lid. “Go to the visitor center and buy two new ones. Right now!”

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