Cheryl Tardif - Children of the Fog

She moved closer to the car.

Did she dare?

“Well, Philip’s not going to use it,” she muttered.

She popped the trunk of the Mercedes and pushed aside a plastic bin filled with files and letters. She wedged the two suitcases beside the bin and dropped the duffel bag on the passenger seat. Then she climbed into the car and flicked a look at the bag beside her. The shape of the gun box was visible. Giving in to a sudden urge, she unzipped the bag, just to be sure that the gun was still inside the box.

It was.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

She turned the key in the ignition. The car sputtered, then purred to life. She glanced at the gas gauge and smiled.

“And a full tank to boot. Thanks, Philip.”

Shifting the car into reverse, she backed down the driveway and pulled out onto the street. For a moment, she idled in front of the house, the place she had called home for over six years. Against her will, her gaze was drawn upward, to the empty window on the second floor and she saw Sam’s pleading face pressed against the glass.

“I know you’re not real. Goodbye, Sam.”

She sped away without a backward glance.

“Here,” she said, handing Leah three keys. “Car, house and storage. After you get my car, just leave the house key under the front doormat for the realtor.”

Leah peeked over her shoulder and caught sight of the Mercedes. “I thought I was storing Philip’s car.”

“I decided to take it instead.”

Leah blinked. “Won’t he be pissed?”

Sadie ignored the question and pulled some bills from her wallet. When Leah gave her a questioning look, she said, “My car probably needs gas.”

“Oh, sure.” Leah gave her a wounded look. “No problem.”

“Thanks.”

Sadie felt the awkwardness of their conversation, but it was a necessary evil. She had to cut herself off from everyone. That was part of her plan.

“Sadie—”

“I’m sorry, Leah. I really am. But this is what I have to do. I hope one day you’ll understand. I have to go now. Make sure Philip’s lawyer gets the storage key, okay?”

Leah gave a resigned nod. “Sure.”

Sadie climbed into the Mercedes and drove away. It was only when she was leaving Edmonton’s city limits that she allowed herself to consider the plan. She plotted the steps she would need to take, making a mental list of everything.

“Soon, Sam.”

She flicked a look at the back seat, half expecting to see him staring back at her. The seat was empty. She reached for the radio, then changed her mind. She’d leave it up to fate.

“I’ll drive in silence. When it’s interrupted, I’ll stop.”

Traffic was gearing up for the afternoon rush hour as she navigated Edmonton’s congested streets. Half an hour later, the traffic thinned and the bustling city was replaced by farmland. Muddy fields of dead hay lined with melting snow whizzed past, merging into a blur of endless flatlands interrupted by the occasional cattle farm. The silence and peace was mesmerizing.

Two hours passed uneventfully.

Before long, the sign for Edson appeared. She drove through the small town with barely a second thought. But then further down the highway, the traffic stalled.

The silence had ended.

Flashing lights and sirens greeted her.

Sadie eyed the bag on the passenger seat. “Crap!”

Obeying an orange-vested traffic cop, she slowed the Mercedes to a crawl behind a wood-paneled station wagon filled with tattooed rockers who, between the four of them, had every facial feature pierced with shards of metal. One young man in the back seat turned his head, grinned at her and made lewd motions with his spiked tongue. Ignoring him, she focused on the road.

“Come on. Move!”

A minute later, she saw the problem. Up ahead, a silver-bellied oil tanker had flipped across the meridian. Traffic was being re-routed.

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Where am I going anyway? I need a sign. Come on, Sam, show me where to…”

A crow silently watched her from the top of a wooden post. Suspended below the bird was a sign. Some of the words had faded, but she could still make it out.

Cabins for rent! Bat cave! Follow signs to Cadomin, Alberta.

And there it was. Her sign. Once again, fate had intervened.

She turned off Highway 16 and followed the road south to Robb. She was grateful for the lack of traffic, having seen one vehicle—an old Airstream trailer—by the time she reached the point where the paved road disappeared and was replaced by gravel.

“Could you possibly be any further from civilization?”

In response, the winter tires of the Mercedes kicked up rocks and chunks of melting ice. At the sound of scraped metal, she flinched. “Philip is not gonna like this.”

She guided the Mercedes down the road until she passed the small town of Cadomin. Following the signs for the cabin rentals, she navigated the craters in the road and slowed for a sharp curve.

A horn blasted.

“Jesus Christ!”

A black pickup with tinted windows came out of nowhere. It careened toward her, forcing the Mercedes precariously close to the ditch.

She slammed on the brakes.

As the truck sped past, she saw the silhouette of a man in a cowboy hat. He waved an angry fist at her.

“Moron!” she yelled, even though he couldn’t hear her.

In the rearview mirror, she watched the truck disappear in a trail of dust. She tried to calm her pounding heart, all the while wondering why she even cared if he had hit her. It would have been a blessing.

But you’re not finished Sam’s book, her conscience urged.

Easing back onto the road, she drove another fifteen minutes before the scenery changed from flat, treed land to a silver ridge of rolling hills in the distance. Far beyond them, the Rockies rose majestically, so pale that they seemed to float in the sky.

She slowed as she reached another intersection.

A sign read, Cadomin Cave, left. Harmony Cabins, right.

She steered right and headed down a narrow lane that wound through the trees. A few minutes later, she saw a small, hand-hewn log cabin. A sign staked into the ground near the front door designated the building as Harmony Cabins Office.

She let out a sigh of relief, parked the car and climbed out, stretching her aching legs.

“Travel a long way?” a voice rasped.

Sadie jumped.

A pencil-thin elderly woman with dove-gray hair sheered short like a man’s stood near the side of the cabin. Her faded jeans, thin winter jacket and tanned, freckled face was evidence of someone who spent a lot of time in the great outdoors.

“Cat got your tongue?” the woman asked, swinging an axe back and forth in one hand as she walked.

Sadie stepped backward with a gasp. “I, uh…”

“You’re from the city.” Near black eyes squinted.

“Edmonton.”

The woman reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a slim pack of cigars. She shook one out. With the flick of a lighter, she lit up, the smoke streaming from the corner of her mouth.

“And you need a cabin,” she said.

Sadie nodded. “For the rest of this month and next.”

The woman took a thoughtful drag and broke into a fit of coughing. The rattle that erupted from her chest sounded like an old freight train on a rickety track.

“There’s four days left this month,” she said. “I’ll just charge you for May. I got one cabin left, so you’re lucky. Hasn’t been cleaned though.”

“That’s okay,” Sadie said quickly. “I’ll take it.”

The woman turned and swung the axe hard. It sliced into a stump beside the cabin door with a resounding thwack . To Sadie, it was as if the guillotine of fate had just come down upon her head, slicing it clean off.