Page 82 of Smoky Lake

No, ever since he’d shown up at Carlo Creek. From the first words he’d spoken, he hadn’t seemed like himself. Jittery, full of himself, irrational.

Why hadn’t he been more forthcoming with Dr. Christianson? The more information the medical community had, the better. Why withhold any of it?

He wished he could make a detour and see Lachlan, but his brother’s house was out of their way.

Before he and Victor had set out, he’d managed a quick text while he still had service in the CDC tent.

Checking in. Just got back. You good?

All good here. Tested neg, but sticking around anyway. You?

With Victor. Heading to Smoky Lake.

Be careful.

That sounded an alarm bell. You need anything?

No. I’m good. Watch Victor.

The dreaded three dots appeared, then dropped. Gil had waited as long as he could, but then Victor had yelled for him.

Did Lachlan mean “watch Victor” as in “take care of Victor” or as in “watch out for Victor”? What sort of warning was it? Sometimes his brother didn’t grasp when something was imminently dangerous. That was why Gil had to get him out of trouble so many times.

The bite of early autumn was in the air as their four-wheelers careened through the thick spruce forest at this southern tip of Smoky Lake. The leaves of the tall cottonwoods trembled in the constant breeze coming off the lake. Were they going to turn soon? In the fall they turned bright yellow, and that time wasn’t far off. Around here, fall was short. The first snowfall could come in early October, the first frost as soon as September.

He’d lost track of time since Ani had shown up on Lachlan’s doorstep…but it had to be August now.

“You know why it’s called Smoky Lake?” Victor called back to him as the first glimpse of the lake appeared through the trees.

“The fog?” Almost every time he’d come out there, there’d been mist drifting across the surface.

“Nope.”

“Wildfires? All the smoke?”

“No. It’s because of the cottonwoods. In mid-summer, the seed fluff can pile up a foot deep around here.” Victor stopped the four-wheeler a few feet from the shimmering water, at the beach where the Institute kept its fleet of boats and canoes. “It’s also shaped like smoke from a candle, the way it curves.” He took a sniff of the mountain air. “I smell smoke.”

“It’s probably from the Institute, sorry to say. It’ll probably smell that way for a little while.”

Victor turned off his four-wheeler and jumped off. “The speedboat’s gone,” he called after poking around in the bushes for a moment.

“It’s probably still at Bob’s cabin. That’s where I left it.” Gil had forgotten that logistical detail. Or maybe he’d assumed the Army crew would put everything back to normal.

“Shit. Canoes are going to take too long. I guess we’ll just have to take the shore trail. It might be a little rough. No one’s been maintaining it. I told them we might need it someday, but no one listens to me. I’m not even sure I could find it.” Victor gestured with his head toward the bushes. “I need to take a quick leak. Can you see if you can locate the trailhead?”

Gil nodded and did a quick reverse and turnaround to head back to the trail. He’d never used the shore trail, and hoped it still existed. Things could get overgrown fast around here.

After much poking around and getting scratched by spruce needles, he found it—marked by a faded orange ribbon tied to a lower branch of a spruce tree. He called out to Victor, but the drone of an engine drowned him out.

Who else was out here? Anyone armed and dangerous?

He turned his four-wheeler off and listened. It sounded like the outboard motor of a boat.

Jumping off the four-wheeler, he raced on foot back to the little beach to track the sound. There it was. The Institute’s speedboat, headed from the shore on a beeline toward the Smoky Lake Research Institute.

Goddamn it.

“Sorry!” The word drifted across the water from the man at the tiller. Victor. “Gotta protect my research!”

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