Cold Shoulder
Casper rode on my left shoulder, the strap of my bag over the other. I had given each of my friends a hug and made them promise to keep me in the loop.
Barnes followed me, silent, anger like a shield around him. We walked out of the tower at 5 am. Two blocks passed before I approached a car, parked on the side of the street. I knocked lightly on the roof and a tinted window rolled down less than an inch.
“It’s Ray, get in.”
Barnes hesitated at the door.
“You can trust me.” I spoke quietly.
Blue eyes pierced mine, searching. I’m not sure what he found there but he got in the car. Nothing was said until we arrived at a private airstrip. A small jet, waiting steps on the tarmac.
“Marcel asked me to give you this.” Ray handed me a brown envelope.
“I can’t possibly accept.”
“He knew you’d say that.” Wizened eyes crinkled, “He also said to tell you that he’s been paying it forward.” The paper was pressed into my hand.
“Thank you, Ray… and thank Marcel for me.”
“That I’ll do ma’am.” He tipped his hat and the car disappeared in a cloud of dust.
I walked towards the waiting plane, pain radiating through my side with each step. Clutching my ribs as I reached the steps, I felt the weight of my bag lifted. James stepped past throwing it over his shoulder. Casper sat still perched on my left side, balancing.
Checking the envelope, I found cash which I had expected, keys, and some new IDs with a note: Just in case. Smiling I tucked them into a hidden compartment in my bag. The five-hour flight was an opportunity to catch up on the sleep I’d missed.
We touched down on a small tarmac just outside of city limits, walking through the parking lot I found just what I was looking for. Hello old friend, I patted the hood fondly.
Hopping into the cab of the old truck, I tossed my bag into the narrow backseat.
“Coming?”
Barnes was shivering as he entered the truck and Casper quickly leapt into his lap as I pulled out of the parking lot.
“It’s cold.” He said leaning into the frozen seat.
“Yep.”
“It’s May?”
“Welcome to Canada! We’ll get you properly fitted-up before we head out.” I couldn’t help the amusement in my voice, it was a cloudy 5°C (41°F). Not bad for early spring.
On the edge of the city, we grabbed a bite to eat for lunch and I filled a couple bags with the gear I thought he’d need.
“What about you?”
“I’ve got what I need.” I opened a locked box on the back of the truck and pulled out a pair of boots, leather gloves and a toque. I didn’t take the winter jacket out, feeling sufficiently warm in the coat I’d brought. I slipped the envelope into the box and locked it again. A quick visit to a grocery store for food we could eat on the road, and we left the city behind.
“Buckle in Buchanan, it’s a long drive.”
“What happened to James?”
“James?" I shrugged. "Nice guy, but he seems to have disappeared overnight.” Trying to mask my pain behind the sarcasm. He looked confused so I asked, “you angry at the situation? Or me?”
He just shrugged and looked out the window. Uncertainty was the prevailing sense from him.
We drove for two hours before pulling up to a gas station to fuel up. I grabbed a couple of instant cold and hot packs and a coffee for each of us.
“Next pit-stop is three hours down the road, need anything else?”
“No.”
Passing him the coffee, a stabbing sensation through my ribs made me gasp, wrapping my free hand around the point of pain.
Barnes was still giving me the cold shoulder, but he slid across the bench seats to the drivers-side.
“I can still drive.”
Grunt.
Fine. I lifted myself carefully into the truck, grateful it wasn’t higher.
“Just keep to the highway.” I groaned as I settled into the seat, activating a hot pack and tucking it under my shirt.
“You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“I’ve kept it off the record, no one knows about it and I’d like to keep it that way.” I let a hint of steel bleed into my tone, hoping I wouldn’t live to regret bringing him.
I opened a new burner phone and called ahead.
“Frank, I’m coming home. ___ about 5 hours away ____ an extra bed, I’m bringing someone. ____ see you soon Sarge.”
I curled into the pain as the vibrations from the road lulled me into an uneasy slumber.
I woke as the vehicle slowed, finding myself in the center seat, my back against his shoulder, feet against the opposite door. Casper stretched and leapt from my belly to the center seat back, poised as always. A neon sign told me we were nearing home. He pulled over at the fuel station I pointed out, and I took the opportunity to stretch and grab the food I’d purchased earlier. Eating quickly, we hit the road again this time I was behind the wheel. Veering from the highway I found the backroad I was looking for, as the sun sank below the tree line. I took a few unnecessary turns and satisfied that no one was following us, drove a meandering route to the farm. An hour of gravel roads and 20 minutes of a dirt track and I pulled into a patch of trees. The porch light was on in the dusk. I got out of the truck and the smell of hay, spruce trees and good earth nearly brought me to tears.
Home.