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“How long is the flight to Thompson?”
“A little over an hour air time.” He straightens his shoulders. “Each way, of course.”
“What do you usually charge for an hour of your time?”
“Five hundred.”
He’s lying, but I don’t care.
“Well, I don’t seem to have any Canadian cash on me.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a roll of hundred dollar bills in U.S. currency. “Let’s say I pay you two grand U.S., and hopefully that will cover your time and whatever the exchange rate is.”
I count out the bills and lay them on the counter. He stares at them suspiciously for a moment, then picks one up and looks at it closely. I would give him a higher offer, but after paying off the sub captain, I have limited funds. I’m still going to need to find transportation from Thompson to the cabin, and it’s not like I can just go buy a car on credit and keep my movements untracea
ble.
He fingers a couple other bills, checking them for consistency. The guy must be satisfied that the cash is real because he looks up at me and nods.
“Yeah, that’ll work.”
“Let me know when you’re gassed up and ready.”
“Thirty minutes.”
The plane is a tiny one and only seats six people. I’m the only one in the passenger area, and that suits me fine. The flight is short and bumpy, but we arrive in Thompson almost exactly one hour after takeoff.
It’s early evening by the time I’ve thanked the pilot and headed out of the airport. I’m starving. The walk into Thompson is a good three miles, and I’m not in any shape to get my ass there. There’s hardly anyone around, and lifting a car is out of the question—it would be noticed far too quickly. I hang out in the parking lot for a while until I find a guy who looks pleasant and has his keys in his hands. He agrees to give me a lift into town after I tell him I just flew in to visit my sister. He yaks about how boring his job is loading and unloading luggage and eventually drops me off at the local Pizza Hut.
Pineapple and mushrooms on cheese-stuffed crust—it’s exactly what I need. I savor every bite until the entire pie is nearly gone. I’m tempted to just sit there for a while and watch the people go in and out, but I don’t want to delay my homecoming any longer, and I still need to find transportation.
There’s a neighborhood just north of the restaurant, and I find a house with dimmed lights and a four-wheel drive vehicle parked outside next to the garage. There aren’t any windows facing the vehicle, and its absence probably won’t be noticed before morning.
I drive into the night, pass the airport, and cruise down the small highway out of town. I fiddle around with the radio, but I can’t get much of a signal. In the center console, there’s a collection of CDs—mostly rock from the seventies and eighties. I pull out The Who’s Quadrophenia album, slide it in, and crank up the volume.
“The girl I used to love
Lives in this yellow house.
Yesterday she passed me by,
She doesn't want to know me now.
Can you see the real me, can ya? Can ya?”
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel and resist the urge to crank up the heat. I’m tried, and I need a bit of a chill to keep me awake. Highway 391 is a decent road, but it also winds around a lot. There are a dozen frozen lakes and bridges along the way. In the dark, I definitely have to pay attention to what I’m doing to avoid going into a ditch.
As I pass by a sign for Leaf Rapids, the tiny mining town near our cabin, I feel lighter. Two hours, tops, and I’ll be home. I run my tongue over my lips as I think about what she might be doing right now. It’s late, and she may have already gone to bed by the time I get there, but sometimes she stays up. I can almost see her leaning up against a stack of pillows on the bed or maybe propped up in front of the couch near the fire, reading one of those smut books she likes. Freyja would be lying next to Lia with her nose on her paws.
I won’t have to leave her again.
I smile at the thought, turn the music off, and crack the window. I like the smell of the cold air. The sky is clear, and I look up at the constellations: Orion, the Big and Little Dippers, Draco the Dragon. Without the light pollution of cities, the stars in the sky are bright and clear. I can even see the sparkling river of celestial bodies that make up the Milky Way.
Maybe tomorrow I can take the dog out for a long hike in the woods. She loves running around and shoving her nose into every rabbit hole she comes across. When I get back, Lia will probably have something warm cooking on the stove. I’ll bring in a fresh load of firewood from the stack outside to make sure Lia’s warm enough as the night winds howl around the cabin. I’ll wrap my arm around her shoulders as we sit on the couch and watch some stupid chick flick. If I bitch about it enough, I’ll convince her to watch an action movie instead.
Fuck it. She can have the chick flick. I don’t really care.
I just want to be home with her.
CHAPTER FIVE
