The Calling

EIGHTEEN

AFTER ABOUT AN HOUR of walking, I started thinking maybe I’d cuddle up with Daniel again, just to make Corey laugh. The morning had started on a light note, but it darkened fast. The sky darkened too. We’d escaped the threat of rain on our first night, but now the black clouds gathering overhead said it had only been a temporary reprieve.

The rain began as a light drizzle. Being part cat, I’m not keen on rain, but I’ve always liked a light one, especially on a hot summer’s day, tramping through the woods or rock climbing, enjoying the cool mist on my face, the sweet fresh smell of it, the inevitable rainbow afterward. But this wasn’t a refreshing mist on a hot summer’s day. It was an icy drizzle that slid down the backs of our necks and plopped off the end of branches and froze our ears and soaked our shoes.

“Can we stop?” Hayley asked.

“If I see a sheltered spot, we’ll hole up for a while.”

“Can we look for one? I have a blister—”

“We all have blisters,” Sam said.

“We need to keep going,” Daniel said. “We lost a lot of time yesterday.”

“What? Are we on a schedule?” Hayley said. “Is there a bus waiting to pick us up somewhere?” She sighed, then said, “I hate complaining.”

“So don’t do it,” Sam said.

Hayley glowered at her. “You think I like being the whiner? If Nicole was here, she’d be complaining just as much. We’re tired and wet and miserable, but I’m stuck being the one who says it while everyone else just hopes I whine loud enough so we all get to stop and rest. Maya and Daniel can’t complain. They need to set an example. Unless Corey’s in enough pain that he snaps again, he’s going to tough it out. And Sam? Well, she’s not even human, so she doesn’t count.”

“Excuse me?” Sam said.

“Face it, you’re not one of those bendo-things. You’re a robot. A cyborg. Probably an evil one, programmed to murder us all in our sleep.”

Corey snickered.

“Yeah?” Sam lifted a fist to Hayley. “You want to try that one again, blondie?”

Hayley looked at Daniel and me. “I rest my case.”

“Hayley’s right,” I said. “About the complaining part. We’re not on a schedule and the harder we push, the more exhausted we’ll get.” I waved to the west. “The redwoods seem to thin over there. We might find a grove of ferns for some shelter.”

We tramped over, and as we stepped from the thick trees, we all stopped and stared. Then Corey raced forward, arms raised.

“It’s a road. Oh my God. A road!” He dropped to his knees by the roadside. “Oww.”

Daniel helped him back to his feet.

“The knee is good,” I said. “But the knee is not completely healed. Be careful.”

“It’s a road,” Corey said, pointing.

“A dirt road,” Hayley muttered.

“So? We’ve been slogging through the forest for two days. What do you want? A six-lane highway?”

“That’d be nice.”

“Yeah, until you raced out, screaming for help, and got mowed down by a logging truck.” He walked into the middle and turned, waving his arms. “It’s a road!”

I patted his back. “It’s a lovely road. Now, which way do we go?”

Corey looked one way, the brown ribbon extending into emptiness. He looked the other way, saw the same thing and his shoulders slumped.

“Damn.”

Yes, finding a road did not mean finding civilization. Not right away. But at least it was a two-lane road, which was better than stumbling over one of the many dirt tracks leading into the bush … and nowhere else.

And, like I said, on Vancouver Island, if you want people, your best bet is always to head south. So that’s what we did.

The road wasn’t as promising as we might have wanted. It was overgrown at the edges, and no hydro poles meant no nearby homes or cabins. But it smelled of diesel, and had tire tracks, so we knew it was still in use. At least no one was complaining anymore, and after a few minutes, the rain stopped.

We’d gone about five kilometers when we rounded a bend to see a tiny roadside store with a gas bar.

“Yes!” Corey said, pumping the air. “We are now, officially, rescued.”

“You think?” Hayley said. “I’m not seeing any vehicles.”

“Because it’s out in the middle of freaking nowhere. They’re probably lucky if they get three cars a day.”

“No, I mean transportation for the person running the place.”

Corey peered at the empty lot surrounding the small building. “Oh.”

The shack had one gas pump out front, and a diesel one around the side. The lack of a vehicle meant that unless there was a house nearby, no one was manning the place.

“But it should have a phone,” I said. “Or maps to show us where we are. Also, there must be cottages nearby if there’s a gas bar.”

“Ha!” Corey said, spinning and pointing at Hayley. “Ha!”

He took off at a lope. We followed.

Corey stopped a few feet from the door. “Open weekends after Labor Day,” he called. “What’s today?”

“Not the weekend,” I called back.

Corey walked to the barred window, then turned to us. “The window’s filthy. I can’t see anything.”

“How about we try the door?” Sam said.

She was walking toward it when Hayley grabbed her arm and pointed to a window sign warning that the place was armed with security alarms and cameras.

“Um, yeah,” Corey said. “Which will bring the local cops. If we’re lucky.”

“At this point, I’ll take any ride out of here,” I said. “Even handcuffed in the back of a police cruiser.”