Mindy Mejia - Leave No Trace

‘I’m coming.’ Gaze forward, I felt the weight of the gun bumping my hip with every step, the missing gun from the boathouse, the one I’d desperately been searching for the day I’d come here with Derek and Rex. I finally found it. My mind raced with reasons it had been moved, and every version circled back to the same basic motivation; she’d felt scared and wanted to protect herself. A decade later, the gun lay unused under her bed and her body was rotting wherever Josiah Blackthorn had dumped it.

As we approached the house Harry appeared in the woods coming up from the lake, carrying strings of charred, brown fish. He waved them at us. ‘How’s about some smoked trout chowder?’

‘The police were here, Harry.’ I glanced down the hill, gauging the distance of his fish house to the main cabin. It was possible he hadn’t heard them, especially since they’d walked over instead of driving.

He didn’t comment on it, didn’t even seem interested that the police had been here. Instead he pulled open the cabin door and let it thwack against the siding. ‘Come on, you can chop some onions.’

The pain started getting the better of me as we helped Harry prepare dinner, so I changed the bandage and took half a pill. I didn’t want to be foggy or jeopardize the absolute clarity the gun had given me, but I also couldn’t be crumpled in pain on the couch while Lucas disappeared into the wilderness, either. He might suspect enough to never emerge again.

I peeked around the blanket hanging over the front window every ninety seconds and stopped cold whenever I heard an engine in the distance.

‘We go tonight, after Harry’s asleep,’ I murmured as we set the table, my attention deliberately focused on laying spoons one by one at each chair.

Lucas paused, holding chipped mugs of water. He wanted me to look at him, to let him in, but I couldn’t. Finally, after I took the water out of his hands and finished the place settings, he whispered. ‘I don’t know where we are, in relation to him.’

That turned out to be no problem. Harry was happy to produce a tattered old Boundary Waters map as we ate chowder, pointing out his favorite fishing spots. Lucas studied our location and let his eyes move over the terrain, jumping from lake to lake, finding our route. He nodded almost imperceptibly after handing it back, while I stirred the congealing contents of my bowl. The food was good, but I had no appetite, no interest in anything besides the comfort of metal against my ankle. The gun, which I’d transferred to my boot in the bathroom, had absorbed so much body heat that now it was warming me.

After dinner, we moved to the couch – Harry relaxing on one side while Lucas and I sat rigidly on the other. Harry flipped the TV on and we watched a reality show that I absorbed absolutely nothing from, instead watching the clock with obsessive focus, and waiting for Harry to get tired. As soon as the show ended, the local news came on.

My entire body jumped as Lucas’s face filled the screen.

‘Still no word tonight in the missing persons case of Lucas Blackthorn. Blackthorn, who was rescued from the Boundary Waters after being presumed dead for the last ten years, was kidnapped from Congdon Psychiatric Facility where he had been recuperating since his now famous return to society.

‘Authorities believe this woman’ – my Congdon badge picture flashed on the screen, complete with extra spiky maroon hair and deadpan eyes – ‘is responsible for removing the patient in the middle of the night, injuring a guard and destroying some hospital property in the process.’

The screen flipped to the news anchor, but both our pictures hovered over her shoulder, refusing to fade away. ‘A substantial reward is being offered for any information that can lead to Lucas Blackthorn’s recovery. Please call this number at the bottom of the screen or contact your local authorities.’

They moved to the next story, which was the weather. They always opened with the weather. Why hadn’t they opened with the freaking weather? I could have reacted then – made Harry change the station before it was too late.

I felt Lucas looking at me, but my eyes were glued to Harry. He’d sat motionless through the whole thing, legs sprawled, fingers linked across his flannel shirt. Another story passed, then another. I kept waiting for him to say something, but he was like a statue – Hermit in Repose – and no hint of what he was thinking crossed his face. At the first commercial break, Harry finally broke his position and sat up tall, reaching his arms toward the ceiling in an exaggerated stretch. Was I crazy or was he refusing to make eye contact with us?

‘Well, I’m to bed.’

‘Harry—’ I started, not knowing what should come next.

He stood up and nodded vaguely toward us as we sat frozen on the couch, waiting for him to make a move.

‘Get some rest, Maya. You need your energy.’

I couldn’t tell if he was offering to protect us or trying to get out of the room so he could make that call, the call that would send us tumbling into the bowels of the world, Lucas back to the Congdon and me to prison.

‘Harry, it’s not what it looks like.’

He chuckled, flipping the TV off. To hear us better from his room? ‘Looks like a couple of nervous kids in trouble. I could have told you that when you staggered in here yesterday. Rest up, okay?’

And then he was gone, shuffling to his bedroom at the end of the hall. He shut the door, but his light stayed on.

I turned to Lucas, who looked as unsure as I felt. ‘We have to go. Now.’

WE CREPT THROUGH Harry’s house as quietly as possible, folding the bedding and stacking it on the couch, getting our cold weather gear from the car and changing into it. Lucas filled up our water bottles while I retrieved all the bloody bandages from the trash and bagged up every other trace of our stay I could find. Right before we left, I laid three hundred dollars on the kitchen table. It was nowhere near the ‘substantial reward’ he would have received, but it was all I had and I wanted him to know I was grateful for his help, no matter what he thought of us now.

When everything was ready I climbed into the car and put it in neutral so Lucas could push us out of the driveway. He threw his weight into it and we started rolling, crunching quietly over the gravel, until Lucas snapped upright and shouted a warning. I whipped around and saw a figure standing directly in our path. Slamming on the brakes, I stopped the car inches before we collided.

Our brake lights illuminated the person’s face. It was Harry.

I shifted into park and gave Lucas a warning look before sliding out and bracing my weight against the door panel. Harry wore a dark robe and slippers and held something in his hands. He wasn’t smiling or moving out of our way.

‘You might need this.’

‘What is it?’ I didn’t move, either.

‘Something for a journey.’

Lucas stepped up to my side and we both scanned the black horizon, listening. The snow was powdery enough to muffle any footsteps, anyone approaching from the sides or stationed behind the house.

‘Stay here,’ I whispered and walked to the end of the car where Harry stood holding a knife.

The gun was still tucked in my boot, but before I could decide whether to pull it out Lucas cut in front of me, shielding me from Harry.

‘Hey!’ Harry held his hands up and retreated a step. ‘If I meant harm, I would’ve done it when you were sleeping, right?’

‘You didn’t know our situation until an hour ago,’ I reminded him.

He laughed now, his deep, thoughtful Harry laugh. ‘I hate to disappoint you kids, but his mug’ – he waved at Lucas, who stepped back and scanned the edges of the clearing again – ‘has been on the news more times than tonight. And most people go to a hospital when they’ve been skewered, unless they’re running from something worse than a hole in the side.’