Page 75 of Trapped: Until The Darkest Of Night

“Don’t come any closer, please…” The helplessness in her voice is unmistakable. The pulse in her throat twitches.

I immediately back away, not wanting her to be afraid of me again. “You can’t look at it that way, Louisa,” I answer gently. Truth means closeness, which Lou is probably not ready for yet. “There was another matter, a little while ago, that gave me the idea in the first place.”

“Which was?” Her face is tense as a spruce branch repeatedly brushes against her cheek in the wind.

I shake my head. “I’m not going to tell you when you’re too scared to breathe.” I nod toward the RV. “It’s time we head back and get the food ready. That is if you still want to.”

Trembling as she takes Grey out of the sling and clutches him to her chest, I feel a queasy feeling in my heart. I can convince myself and wish for many things, but it will take Lou a long time to get used to me. And she will mourn for a long time. I can’t say for how long. As I try to remember my own grief, all I find is a big black hole in my soul. A hole like a trapdoor to a dark room.

You won’t be able to stand it, the boy whispers to me from his hiding place when I suddenly see him standing in front of me with his close-cropped hair and dirty pants. He raises his hands defensively as I look at him. You can’t come in. Too dangerous.

Chapter

Twenty

It’s almost dark when I start the pasta water. In late July in the Yukon, this means it’s after ten o’clock at night.

I get a jar of pickled garlic cloves and a cutting board from an upper cupboard and unhook the matching knife from my belt.

Inconspicuously, I look at Lou who is sitting at the table slicing sundried tomatoes. Every now and then, she glances at Grey who is sniffing my fleece sweater.

“We still have to roast some pine nuts,” it suddenly occurs to me as I’m about to open the jar with the garlic cloves.

Lou stands up startled, her bells jingling. “Shall I get them?” she immediately asks. It seems a little too spontaneous to me.

“They’re in a cardboard box in the storage compartment, all the way up front. It’s labeled Kitchen 5,” I say, eyeing her carefully.

“Okay.” She nods a little too hasty.

Watch out!

As if not doubting her intentions, I unclip the key to the storage compartment from my belt. So nonchalantly that I deserve a pat on the back for it, I put it in her hand without saying anything more.

Lou disappears into the gray-green twilight. I stay in the RV, stop, and listen to the bells jingling. It moves around the RV with Lou. Okay, so she’s really going to the back. I grab the glass and open it with a hard jerk. I skewer a clove with my fork and listen again. Ah, she is unlocking the compartment. What if she runs off into the dark in spite of the bells?

If a flashback knocks me out, I won’t be able to catch her. Then she would be alone in the wilderness. I’m not even all that worried she’ll find the road and hitchhike from there to the nearest police station. Instead, I’m more afraid she might get lost in the Yukon and freeze to death during the night. Even on the unpaved forest road, it is incredibly far to the highway.

For a moment, it is dead quiet apart from the bubbling of the boiling water. I can no longer hear the bells jingling.

What is she doing?

In the night, the loud hoot of an owl rings out three times.

Quietly, I hook the knife to the carabiner and walk out as silently as if I was hunting. I creep around the RV and breathe a sigh of relief when I spot Lou in front of the open storage compartment. For a few seconds, I feared she had done something stupid. I’m relieved to see her not rummaging around in another box either, but actually in the one I told her about.

Wordlessly, I remain alongside the RV. I know she’ll jump when she turns around, but despite her confidence and her growing ease, I don’t want her to forget that I’m watching her. Always. Even when she’s not aware of it.

I watch as she closes the box, pine nuts in hand, slams the compartment door shut, and locks it neatly.

She turns and flinches.

“You were taking quite a long time,” is all I say.

She stares at me as if I’m going to sedate her again, but then I see her shake off her shock with a short sigh of relief. “I rummaged around in the box a bit.” She pointedly shows me the packet of pine nuts and hands me the key.

“I just wanted to make sure you got the right box.” With gallant exaggeration, I wave her in front of me and she passes me with stiff strides.

Was she thinking about making a run for it? Is that why it took her so long? Was she debating with herself? Run! Stay here! Run? Did she actually consider it? But then why did she stay? Because of the darkness or because of Grey?

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