The Big Blue Sky: Forty-nine

After leaving Molly at the Clark Station Doug had slipped quickly down a narrow alley just off the highway, cutting his lights immediately, and coasting through the alley and out of sight without using his brakes. He watched the Suburban pass, and then headed inland, finding a deserted old logging roads through some of the deepest and darkest wilderness in the country. Bouncing and banging over deep ruts. Even with headlights they were often indiscernible from anything that could be even liberally considered a road. Deer crossed lazily in front the truck, at the limits of his headlights, eyeing the would-be interloper to their private domain curiously. In places the grass and weeds grew tall, only hinting at some sort of navigable lane through dense tunnels of overhanging trees whose branches and leaves scraped and slapped against the sides of the truck.

Such places might have evoked all sorts of dangers conjured by the conscious and sub-conscious mind. Doug might have felt lost or trapped here. He might have believed these dark woods were indeed inhabited by the spirits of ancient Ojibwa warriors and demons. But this is where he had grown up. The forests surrounded him protectively like a dear old friend. He could feel secure in the knowledge that no one could find him here, for there were uncountable trails such as this, running for thousands of miles through these forests. An army could disappear in the Hiawatha, or, in Doug’s case, it would take an army to find a single man.

These roads were completely disorienting, especially in the dark, even for Doug, who was accustomed to this place. When he came to Au Train Lake, just off the highway a brief bought of threatening panic at being lost subsided. Doug pulled across the highway into a tiny cemetery and pulled out the phone Carol and Geoff had given him. His heart breaking softly, Doug quickly dialed the ten digit number and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Sea Coast cottage,” a man’s voice answered quickly. “Geoff speaking.”

“Geoff, its Doug,” he said, afraid he might simply dissolve into tears at any moment. An owl cried lonely into the night from the tree above. “Are the girls all right?”

Geoff lowered his voice. Doug could hear the screen door open and close as Geoff went out onto the enclosed porch of the cottage.

“Doug,” he began, “don’t you worry now. Your girls are just fine. I’m cooking them up a couple of burgers. Carol ran out to Marquette and got them a few things; Pajamas, clothes, that sort of stuff.”

“Not sure I can ever…” Doug began. Geoff cut him off quickly.

“Nonsense,” he said, almost scolding. “You just clear all this up and come back to these girls safe and sound. Want to speak with them? I know they’re worried sick.”

Doug was quiet for a moment. He knew the technology, and knew these men had the capability of scanning a fair number of calls at once. Out here that didn’t leave a great many folks. As badly as he wanted to hear the girl’s voices, to tell them how much he loved them, and a thousand other things, but it was just too risky. Every second he spent on the phone exposed him and the girls to greater danger, and Doug just couldn’t risk that.

“Tell them I contacted you and that I’m okay, and will sort all this out soon.” The emotion caught in his chest. Doug paused, fighting through the moment. “And tell them…tell them I love them both more than life.”

“I will.” Said Geoff.

Doug switched off the phone and slid the battery from the back of the small plastic body. He slipped them into his pocket and shut his eyes for a moment. Sleep overtook him like a thief, as Doug, pushed well beyond simple exhaustion, was helpless to hold it back.