Page 6 of Loud Unspoken Memories

“Florida State, huh? You’re a Seminole?”

“That’s right. And you?”

“I’m a Bulldog.”

“You went to Georgia?”

I snort at the common mistake. “I’m theotherBulldog. Yale.”

Her eyes become dinner plates. “You went to Yale?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

She shrugs. “At least I know you’re asmartserial killer.”

I laugh. It’s super uncharacteristic of me to laugh these days and it feels…odd.

“Speaking of which”—she holds out her hand—“I think I’ll take that knife now. You know, in case we see a bear.”

“Sure thing. Just keep it in the holder.” I pass it to her, handle first. “You don’t want to slip and accidentally impale yourself.”

Sitting on the bumper, she carefully removes her flats, puts on three pairs of socks and then squeezes into her Nikes, loosening the laces to make room for the extra layers.

I look at the sky. It’s getting darker by the second. “We should get going.”

“My phone. I need it. It slipped off the seat along with everything in my purse when I hit the tree.”

“I’ll get it.”

I fish around under both seats and find it wedged between the passenger seat and the console. The screen is cracked, but it’s on. I shove it, and everything else I can find on the passenger floorboard, into her purse and hand it to her.

She adds a few more things from her suitcase into her purse then closes the trunk and locks the car.

I raise a questioning brow.

She eyes the huge hole in the windshield and says, “Habit.”

I thumb to the trees lining the road. “If we want to make it before dark, we’d better get a move on. Think you can keep up?”

“I ran a few 5Ks this year, so yeah.”

“Good. Tell me if you need me to slow down.”

She motions ahead. “Lead the way.”

She’s quiet as she trudges behind me. There’s really not that much to say. I’ve gotten used to not talking to anyone, so it really doesn’t bother me. After a few minutes though, I get the feeling she’s more uncomfortable with the silence than I am. Either that or she thinks I’m leading her to the slaughter. Wearewalking through a darkening forest.

“How do you even know the way?” she asks. “Everything looks the same.”

“I’ve lived here for several years. I’m always out running or hiking.” I point. “The Adirondacks are that way. Great for day hikes or camping.”

“As in mountains?” she asks, surprised.

“Yup. One wrong turn to the east and you’d have really been fucked.”

“As if I’m not now?”

I turn and give her a hard stare. “No, actually, you’re not. In fact, I’d say you’re pretty lucky I heard your horn or you very well could have frozen to death.”

---