“Right. I’ll be back.”
He grabbed his keys and jacket and jogged through the shed.
# # #
Alan pulled over to the side of the road and Amber came to a stop behind him. He rolled down his window to wave her around—they would need room to get the snowmobile off the trailer.
He took a deep breath before he opened his door. If he was completely honest with himself, Liz had been right the first time. He had wanted her to talk him out of this idea.
Amber came jogging up to his door as he got out. Hopping from foot to foot, she already looked cold.
Alan pointed. “You have anything else to put on?”
“I’m already sweating. I don’t want to get too hot.”
He nodded.
“It’s going to be colder out there. Once we’re in the shadows, you would be surprised. Let’s add some layers. What else do you have?”
Amber went back to the rear of her vehicle and he joined her there as she opened it up. He had been through the same routine with Joe a million times. No matter how often he came home with frozen fingers and toes, Joe always refused to dress appropriately.
“This hat is good.”
“Ricky’s mom made me bring it.”
“It’s breathable, but warm. Use that with this windbreaker on top. You can double the hoods. Bring these goggles too. I know it doesn’t seem like you’ll need them, but you would be surprised.”
“You keep saying that. I think you’re overestimating my capacity for surprise.”
“I’m not from here either. I’ve learned all this stuff the hard way. Trust me,” Alan said.
He made her change her boots too, but that was mostly because Liz’s boots would fit the snowshoes better. Amber had just worn them the day before.
“Okay?” he asked.
“I’m hot.”
“Good. Unzip everything you can and you’ll be cold in no time.”
Alan backed the snowmobile off the trailer and then made sure everything was locked up. They both tested the satellite messaging one more time.
He unfolded a paper map on the seat of the snowmobile.
“The trail crosses the road back there,” he said, pointing, “and then it follows the train tracks all the way to the Canadian border. We’re going to try to cover ten miles today, but we’ll do it in two-mile chunks.”
“Can’t the snowmobile go a lot farther than that?”
“Yes, but we’re not going to count on it. If something goes wrong and we have to hike out, I want to be guaranteed that we can do it before dark.”
Amber nodded. “You’re more careful than I thought.”
“That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”
“No. I’m fine with that,” she said.
“Have you ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle?” he asked, handing her a helmet. Amber had to remove her hat to put it on.
“Once? Not far though.”
“Well, don’t sweat it. This is even easier. Let me get this thing up onto the trail and then you get on.”
Alan navigated the snowmobile down to the trail, aligned it, and then powered it up and over the bank. After she got on, he took it slow. He didn’t have all that much confidence. They had bought the snowmobiles for the family, thinking that it would be a good way to get outside during the long winter months. Liz hated it immediately—only going on two trips before she began to politely decline invitations. Joe and Alan kept it up for a couple of winters. Eventually, Alan suspected that Joe wasn’t all that enthusiastic about snowmobiling either. Then, without really discussing it, they had just stopped going. Alan still serviced the snowmobiles each year, making sure they were ready at the same time that he put the boat away.
He let off the gas and they slowed.
“What’s wrong?” Amber yelled over the sound of the motor.
“Nothing,” he said. He looked down at the gauges. Everything looked fine. There was something wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was the same feeling he got whenever they went on vacation—like there was something he forgot to pack—but on vacation he could just find a store and pick up whatever was missing.
It didn’t take long to reach the first place marked on his GPS.
Alan found a wide part of the trail and pulled the snowmobile as far to the side as he could. He killed the engine.
Even with the helmet off, it was too quiet. The woods absorbed all sounds.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Amber asked.
Alan went to the back of the snowmobile and began to unstrap the snowshoes.
“I don’t know exactly,” he said. “We’re here based on a set of hunches, you know? The train tracks could be their mode of travel. This area is near what we’re guessing is their source. I looked into hibernation strategies. We could be looking for a den or a cave. Beavers, for example, don’t really hibernate. They stock up and hide out.”
“So why did you stop here?”
“Convergence,” Alan said. “We have train tracks, a body of water, and a ridge that could have caves.”
Amber turned slowly. There was nothing to see, really.
Alan compared his paper map to the GPS screen and then pointed towards the woods.
“This way, I guess.”
# # #
“Wow,” Amber said. She was crouched down so she could see under the low pine boughs and across the water.
“What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful. It’s hard to believe that there could be pretty little lakes like this and nobody around to enjoy it. There are no houses or boats or anything.”
“Do you feel anything? Like yesterday?” Alan asked.
“Oh,” Amber said. She took a deep breath and let her eyes close.
Alan tried to open himself up as well. He was nervous about the snowmobile and the car. He could almost feel Liz worrying about him. It was difficult to shut all that off and just feel what was around him.
“No,” she said, standing up. “Nothing.”
“Me neither. Let’s go to the next location.”
He wanted to rush back to the snowmobile, but forced himself to go at a nice,
