Survival Instincts Page 6

  He drummed his fingers against his father’s steering wheel and looked down at the gun on the seat beside him. He slowed the car, scanning side streets, looking for a quiet spot, somewhere he might not be found for a while. The man pictured his body slumped in the front seat, peaceful for once, and smiled. He saw the street sign out of the corner of his eye and stepped on the brakes hard, turning the wheel, no time for the blinker. Julia Street. His stomach tightened into knots of longing; the feeling was almost unbearable. When he was a child, he’d thought this longing feeling must be some relation to what other people described as “love,” but when he got older, that same feeling led him to Julia. So, he reasoned, it couldn’t be like love at all. The road was dotted with small houses, close together, not ideal, but it had to be this street, he felt it in his bones. He drove to the very end of the long, windy road and then circled around slowly in the small cul-de-sac at the end of the street. The man pulled his car to the side of the street, edging up on neutral lawn, halfway between two brown houses. He peered into the house across the street. The blinds were drawn and smoke billowed from the chimney. Light filtered through the thin blinds and he could make out the outline of someone bustling around inside. He shut his eyes. Imagined the mother, chopping an onion and throwing a handful into a sizzling pan on the stove. The father reading a book in the living room, feet propped up on an ottoman. And the daughter. Her face filled his mind, bangs and pink cheeks. She lay in bed, listening to music through her headphones, writing in her journal about her crush at school. He opened his eyes and looked at the house again. It was still now; he couldn’t make out any shadows flitting across the rooms any-more. Empty. He thought he heard laughter and spun his head around, looking for the person mocking him. There was only the silent street and the dull houses. He felt for the gun near his waist, stroked the top of it. What was he waiting for? Coward, said a clear voice. “Shut up,” the man said aloud. I am calm. I feel nothing. He pulled out the gun and held it in his lap, dropped the magazine between his legs and checked—eight bullets left. He jammed the magazine back into the hollow end of the gun and brought it up quickly under his chin. He closed his eyes again. Pointer finger on the trigger. His eyes fluttered open to the sound of a high-pitched creak. The front door of the house across from him had opened halfway and a figure stood in the doorway, back to him. He put the gun down slowly, wedging it in between his legs, almost invisible. He watched as a girl slammed the heavy wooden door behind her and then pushed it all the way closed with her backside. She wore a puffy white coat and purple hat with two braided tassels trailing down past her ears. A black dog heaved down the front steps, pulling her along, its tail slapping her legs as she followed closely behind. The dog looked like his own childhood dog, a lab, old and fat.

  “Excuse me.” He rolled down his window. The girl snapped her head up, startled. “I’m sorry, do you know if I’m close to 16 Julia Street?”

  The girl walked slowly toward him, tugging the old lab, when she got close enough that he could reach out and touch her, he said, “I’ve just driven up and down the street and I can’t seem to find number 16.” He laughed. The girl smiled, showing big white teeth covered in braces.

  “Well, my house is one thirty-two, so you want to go down almost all way to the main street for sixteen.” Her voice was high and sweet. The man kept his eyes on her eyes but in his peripheral vision saw a single strand of hair coming out of her hat and resting against the white collar of her coat. Red. The man’s hands began to tremble and he placed them against the wheel.

  “Do you think you could possibly show me? It’s just that I’ve been down and back a couple of times and somehow I keep missing it.” He worked to keep his voice warm and open. This was how it was supposed to happen. One last taste before nothingness.

  “Um.” The girl’s cheeks flushed. “I think if you just, if you just—” She stumbled and laughed. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m supposed to—” Her eyes fell to the dog and then her head craned around toward her house. The man could feel time pressing down, closing in. He leaned all the way toward the passenger-side door until his head was out the window, inches away from her.

  “I’ll drop you right back at your house. You can bring your dog. Hey there.” He gave a low whistle and the dog’s ears perked up. “I’ve already tried twice to find the house. I could really use your help.”

  “Ok . . .” The girl sounded defeated and the man felt a surge of blood rush through his body. He knew he had won.

  “Here, come on in. You can let the dog in the back.” He smiled again. He thought about the eight bullets left; the dog wouldn’t be a problem. “You’re doing me such a huge favor. It will only take a couple minutes.”

  The sound of a wail pierced the air. “JO.” A sharp voice. The man looked up to see a woman, holding a shrieking red-faced baby, in the door frame of the girl’s house. “It’s dinnertime!” she yelled. The man couldn’t see her face clearly, but her voice was hard. The baby’s cries filled the air in short metallic bursts. “Inside. Right now.”

  “Oh,” the girl breathed out. “I’m sorry, I have to go!” He felt the relief come off her in waves as she backed away, pulling the dog with her. She turned and ran toward her yard, up the front steps and into the house. The mother waited for a second, staring, and then slammed the door shut.

  The man pulled his car into drive, eased off the edge of the grass, and back onto Julia Street. He turned onto the main road again, cursing himself, the girl, and the mother. He drove for a few miles like this, until his rage bubbled down to a simmer and then he drove in silence. A sign pointing to a mostly empty parking lot caught his eye and he put on his blinker. He pulled into a space on the far right-hand side of the lot. There were only a few other cars parked. He sat thinking for a few minutes, and then he picked up the gun and put it in his mouth. His thumb found the trigger; he started to squeeze. He released the trigger. A black SUV rumbled through the lot, coming to a stop right in front of the welcome lodge. At this distance, if he squinted, he could make out the last three numbers of the back license plate. The air in the Saab hummed. He moved his eyes up. Two people in the front. A driver and passenger. Both female. He slid the gun out of his mouth and placed it in his lap. If they have dark hair, I’ll let them go, he said to himself. The driver got out. She stood for a moment, took a deep breath and exhaled. Dark hair. The female passenger followed, older than the driver. Dark hair. The man checked the license plate again. The older one buttoned up her coat and circled around to the back of the car, opened the trunk, and began pulling hats and gloves out; a red scarf dangled from the edge and then fell, pooling around her feet on the ground. He picked up the gun. Put it back in his mouth. Thumb on the trigger. Two women. He was wrong. The back door of the SUV opened. A third passenger got out.

  THIRTY MINUTES

  BEFORE THE CABIN

  ANNE

  As soon as they stepped out of the SUV into the cool stillness of the nature reserve, Anne could feel everyone’s mood improve. They left the lurking disappointment from this morning in the car and took in the peaceful quiet surrounding them. Anne felt her body relax and took a few deep breaths of fresh air into her lungs. The parking lot was empty save a few abandoned cars scattered around—other hikers (or walkers, in their case), she assumed. They parked right in front of a small log cabin that must have also served as a welcome center during peak season but seemed to be closed today. Posted on the door and walls of the cabin were maps of the reserve showing all the different trails: Beginner trails dotted the maps in green, intermediate in blue, and advanced in red with the warning “these trails may contain severe and/or extreme conditions.” Anne made a mental note to follow the green dots.

  “Ooh look, it’s snowing!” Thea exclaimed and stuck out her tongue to intercept fat snowflakes as they fell to the ground. “It’s so pretty here.”

  Anne grinned, basking in her daughter’s good mood. “It’s bea
utiful,” she agreed.

  “Mom, don’t be cheesy, though,” Thea said. But she linked one arm in Anne’s and the other in Rose’s and pulled them toward the entrance to the trails marked by a wooden arch.

  “Should we figure out which trail we want to do?” Rose asked, looking over her shoulder toward the log cabin plastered with maps.

  “Mimi, we can just follow the green. Look.” Thea pointed with her nose to a green arrow painted on a tree. “Right, Mom?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Anne clocked the next green arrow a few trees down. “It looks like this trail is well marked, Mom,” she said over Thea’s head to Rose. “I don’t think we’ll have any problems.”

  Rose smiled and shrugged, taking one last squint at the welcome cabin. “All right, girls. I’m following you two.”

  The path, encompassed by trees thick with snow, ran along a wide, gushing river. Anne watched the water rush forward, moving furiously through jutting rocks toward . . . the ocean? She did a mental check. Yes, all rivers lead to a larger body of water. She gave herself a pat on the back just as Thea asked, “Where does the river go?”

  “The Atlantic, honey,” Anne said. It had started in earnest a few weeks ago—her daughter questioning and critiquing everything Anne said and did—but there were still instances when Thea accepted Anne’s words as fact, merely because she fit squarely in the category of “adult.” More and more, though, Anne felt her authoritative façade crumbling. She tried not to dwell too much on how little she actually knew about life, about the world, about raising another human. She wondered if other so-called adults felt this way—that life, and especially parenthood, was a guessing game. Guessing which answer, which punishment, which reward would lead to the least fucked-up young adult. Considering her daughter had spent the majority of her life in and out of hospitals, Anne felt she had quite a bit of catching up to do in the game.

  “Brr.” Rose shivered and placed her free hand over Thea’s glove. “Don’t get too close. Look at those rapids!”

  Thea sighed. “Mimi, I’m not going to jump in. I would get hypothermia like . . . immediately, right?” Before they could answer in the affirmative, two hikers were almost on top of them. The noise of the river and the bend in the path had masked their arrival from the opposite direction almost completely.

  “Whoa!” the woman called out, giving the leash in her hand a hard tug before a huge dog licked Thea’s face. “So sorry about that!” She laughed as the man yelled, “Riley, down!”

  “Look at you. You’re beautiful.” Thea was bent over the dog, stroking his huge furry ears before Anne could say, “Thea, you have to ask before you pet.” She turned to the couple and smiled. “It looks like it’s ok.” The husky sat quietly thumping his tail as Thea whispered sweet nothings in his ears.

  “He’s humongous,” the woman said, adjusting her sunglasses up to rest on silver hair. “But he’s a big teddy bear, don’t worry.”

  “He loves kids.” The man crossed his arms over a bulky ski jacket. “Big teddy bear,” he repeated.

  “Beautiful dog,” Rose said, and they all stood admiring the majestic white-and-gray-furred animal before the man whistled.

  “Come on, Riley.” He gave a wave as they moved away. “Enjoy the hike, ladies. It’s a great day for it.”

  “Mom, what kind of dog was that?” Thea asked as they continued around the bend to see a straight path of white sprawled ahead as far as the eye could see.

  “I think a husky, Thee. Kind of like a well-trained wolf that likes people.” Anne dug into her backpack and pulled out a furry white hat. “Put this on, please.”

  “Mom, I’m fine.”

  “Not arguing about this. It’s negative five degrees out here. The hat goes on.”

  Thea rolled her eyes (Anne didn’t see this, but a mother knows) and pulled the hat snug over her head. “Is it really negative five degrees, Mimi?”

  “Not quite.” Anne shot Rose a glance. “But it will be soon,” her mother finished.

  For the next twenty minutes they trudged on; the sound of the gushing water punctuated by Thea kicking a rock and a discussion of dinner plans. Thea wanted to go out to a pizza place in town, and they all agreed that they would go straight from the trails to the restaurant, followed by roasting marshmallows in the wood fire at the cabin.

  Anne heard the crunching behind them first. She turned her head over her shoulder to see a man, closer than she would have expected, walking toward them briskly, head down, body hunched forward. Rose’s head followed next, glancing behind them and then at her daughter, noticing that Anne had noticed, too. Later, Anne could pretend that she felt a chill, that she immediately, instinctually knew—but truth be told, her heart did not accelerate and her hands did not shake. Perhaps because the dog couple had surprised them at first but turned out to be lovely, or perhaps, more likely, she felt insulated, protected, much like the nature reserve itself. She should have known that one is never really, truly safe. She knew it was no way to live, expecting at any given moment that something could happen, travesty could strike, and life could be irrevocably altered. But there were too many moments in her past, moments that had sliced her life into “befores” and “afters,” for Anne to shake the feeling. In any case, when Anne first saw the man, she wasn’t frightened. He wore a thin gray sweater and dark khaki pants. His hair was thinning on top but he had a thick beard. Within thirty seconds, the purposeful crunching was right behind them, and then he was passing them with a “Hi” that came out more like an exhale than a word. Anne’s “Hi” and Rose’s “Hello” chimed together and they shared a glance.

  “He’s in a hurry,” Anne remarked.

  “He should really be wearing a jacket,” her mother said and shivered, as if absorbing some of the cold for the man.

  “Let’s turn back in a few minutes, ’k?” She glanced up to the sky. The sun was starting to set and she could feel the air turning from thirty degrees laced with sun to just thirty degrees.

  “Ok, let’s race to the next tree with green and then turn around!” Thea took off without waiting for confirmation. Anne groaned, “Jesus Christ,” to Rose before taking off after her daughter. She started slow, testing her arms and legs, letting her body warm up. She dug her boots into the snow, pumping her arms and widening her strides. It felt good to run. Faster and faster. Her mouth broke into a smile and she whooped into the air to let Thea know she was close. She watched Thea’s gangly arms pumping wildly, her daughter’s head bent in determination. “I’m gaining on you,” Anne yelled and she heard Thea’s excited scream over the roar of the river. It felt so good to play with her daughter again, and she was so intent on catching up to her that at first she didn’t even notice the man. She had almost closed the distance between herself and Thea when, for some reason, her eyes moved beyond Thea. Her first thought was one of confusion. Why is he running, too? The man ran in a straight line, his hands formed sharp points, his mouth tightly sealed. And then: Oh god, what is he running from? Anne stretched her eyes beyond the man, scanning the path, waiting for an animal to come barreling out of the woods, her breath now coming in ragged spurts. Her eyes darted from the man to Thea, who was still running wildly a few yards ahead, head still bent, completely unaware of the man and whatever danger surrounded them all. It only took a few more seconds, maybe even just one more second, for Anne to realize that the man was not running away; he was running toward. It was his eyes; in the seconds before they all collided, she saw that there was no fear in his eyes, only a glint of excitement. And then, finally, the last coherent thought that shot through her head, though even while she was thinking it, she knew it didn’t make sense: Why is he running at Thea? Because he was, without a doubt, running directly toward her child.

  In those last few seconds before impact, she knew only that she had to put her body between the man and Thea. “Thea,” Anne choked out. Thea screamed again with glee, at her
mother’s voice so close. A couple of minutes ago, at about the halfway point of the race, Anne had felt her body maxing out, and she knew she had reached her top speed. She now found that she could go faster. She pushed in front of Thea right as the man angled himself at his target, opening his arms from sharp points into what looked like a hug. Anne let out a guttural “No” and lunged from behind Thea into the inside corner of the man’s body. For a moment they kept moving, Anne and the man, their bodies tangled together, her chin mashed into his chest, his arms circling her in a rough embrace, and then her head snapped back and she was airborne.

  She landed flat on her back, the air knocked out of her. She tried to yell to Thea from where her daughter lay startled and dazed on the ground after glancing off Anne’s back, but all she could do was open and close her mouth like a fish. The last time she had the air fully knocked out of her was in high school. She went to catch a pop-up—“It’s mine,” she called to center field, claiming the white ball blotting out the sun in the sky. The ball whizzed up, up, up and then down, down . . . except she underestimated how far she would have to move to meet the ball with her glove, and at the last second, she dove, glove outstretched, salt and sweat blurring her vision. Smack, she felt the ball in her glove right as she landed hard on her side. As the crowd cheered, Anne had the very clear thought, I can’t breathe. I am going to die, and then a command as if from outside her head, Keep your glove closed. Of course, eventually her lungs opened back up and she gulped in air and stood up shakily, opening her glove to reveal the white orb tucked inside.

  How long did it take for her lungs to expand back out? As Anne laid on the ground, watching Thea struggle to stand on her skinny legs and then, once her daughter found her balance, run toward her, she realized that it had taken too long because she couldn’t call out to Thea to run in the other direction.