“I was starting to wonder if you were coming back,” Netti says. There’s a smile on her face, but it’s hesitant.
“Nowhere to go.” I kick the remaining snow from my boots before slipping them off. I hang my winter gear on hooks by the door and walk past Netti to the bathroom.
The water from the sink is frigid. During my first winter in the cabin, the pipes froze. Though I was lucky enough that they didn’t burst, I had to have them better insulated before the following year. Considering it’s just now the beginning of winter, I can only hope the pipes don’t freeze again before spring.
“I was going to try to cook something,” Netti says as I emerge, “but I’ve never cooked on a fire like this. I wasn’t sure how to do it.”
“Just like a stove,” I say briskly. “You just have to be a little more careful not to burn the place down in the process.”
“I suppose that’s true,” she says with a nervous laugh.
“Watch.” I say little else as I place a pot of rice on the fireplace hook to cook and then get out a cast iron skillet. I cook up some caribou meat and vegetables to go with the rice while Netti watches.
When the meal is ready, Netti jumps up to retrieve plates for us. She flitters around with a nervous smile on her face, trying to do things to help. I should say something to make her feel more at ease, but I don’t know what to say. I spent my formative years locked up, and the social niceties of regular society are simply something I never learned.
“How long do you think the storm will last?” she asks.
I glare at her.
“I know, I know,” she says as she holds her hands up, “you aren’t a meteorologist. You must have some idea though.”
“Hopefully just a day or two,” I say. “You never really know until it’s over. I don’t usually pay much attention. Once it sets in, I just wait until spring.”
“You just stay here for months?”
“Yeah.”
“By yourself? You don’t go anywhere?”
“I prefer to be alone.”
“I guess I’ve ruined that.”
“Yes, you have.” It’s a shitty thing to say, but it’s the truth. Storm or not, I don’t want her to get too comfortable here. As soon as I’m able, I’ll take her somewhere else.
Anywhere else.
“Where do you think you’re going to go anyway?” My tone is harsher than I intend, but ultimately, I’m going to need an answer.
“I don’t know.” She looks away, biting at her lip and rubbing her hands together. “I was going to try to make it to Yellowknife, but that didn’t work out so well. I guess I should go back to Fort Providence.”
“Do you know someone there?”
“No. It’s just the last city I was in.”
I snort at her use of the word “city.” Fort Providence, though larger than Whatì, is just barely a hamlet. If I can get the Jeep to Edzo, there’s an all-weather road to Fort Providence. The trek is even farther than Yellowknife, but if I drove her, I’d be rid of her.
I’m tempted to ask her a hundred questions, beginning with how in the hell she ended up in Fort Providence, let alone Whatì. Though tourist fishing is decent business in the summer months, no one comes this way in winter. There isn’t a fancy hotel in town, and the main entertainment is Dene Hand Game. She obviously isn’t Dene, and there aren’t too many people around competing in Hand Game who didn’t grow up playing. I’ve tried, and I’m terrible at it.
I don’t ask her because I’m pretty sure I already know the answer. It’s the same reason I am here. There’s only one motive that brings someone this far north—to escape something or someone in the south. If I start asking questions, I’m going to get more information than I want to hear. Best case, she won’t want to talk about it. Worst case, she’ll tell me everything and then want to know how I got here.
“I assume you don’t have any money.”
“No,” she says quietly, “I ran out shortly after I got to Fort Providence.”
“Yellowknife is a better destination,” I say. “A lot more people. Maybe someone would give you a job or something.”
“I don’t know…” She shakes her head as her voice trails off, confirming my suspicions.
Those who don’t want to be found don’t go looking for a job in a city where they might be recognized. It’s part of the reason I don’t go there more than once a year and never stay long when I do. I’m technically a fugitive though I don’t think anyone cares enough to actually go looking for me.
“Would you be able to take me to Fort Providence when the storm lets up?” she asks. “You’ve already helped me so much, and I know it’s a lot to ask. You don’t even know me.”
“It depends on the storm,” I say. “I can get you back to Whatì, but farther than that might not be possible for a while.”
“Why is that?”
“Even getting to Whatì can be difficult once the cold sets in. There aren’t any roads around here, and my Jeep can handle the snow only to a certain point. Once it gets cold enough, it won’t run well. It’s winter, Netti.”
“Netti?” She lets out a short burst of laughter. “No one has called me that in ages. Just Seri, please.”
For a moment, I just stand there. I’m the first to admit that I’m not great when it comes to talking to women, but I don’t think that’s my problem here. This woman is just weird. I know she told me her name was Netti, and I knew then that it wasn’t the name she had given me before. Seri does actually sound right—a shortened version of a longer name.
I have no idea what to say.
Chapter 6
As I light the kerosene lamp and a few candles, I watch Seri as she cleans up from our meal, eyeing her carefully.
I consider her behavior when she first woke up. “Netti” was so calm and relaxed. She spoke softly and with purpose. Seri is not the least bit calm but rather full of nervous energy. She babbles about nothing as she moves around, trying to help as much as possible. She smiles constantly though the look in her eyes is one of trepidation.
I shake my head. I’m obviously reading too much into this. She was probably in shock when she first woke up, and this is more normal behavior for her—at least normal, given the abnormal circumstances. Giving me a name that she obviously used in the past was probably just a slip of the tongue. The cold can make people do weird shit.
“How can you walk around like that?” she asks. “It’s freezing in here!”
I look down at my bare chest, sweatpants, and socks. It’s the way I usually dress while inside, and I’m used to it. As long as the socks are warm, the rest of me typically is. If I do get chilled, I sit closer to the fire or put on a hat.
“Go outside for a minute,” I reply with a shrug. “I bet you’ll think it’s warm in here then.”
She giggles and rolls her eyes. I smile back a little sheepishly. I’m used to the temperature inside, and I’m perfectly comfortable running around half naked. It doesn’t bother me at all. Considering the wind chill is at about negative forty right now, inside is a summer vacation on a nice, sandy beach in Florida. I didn’t think about how she might react to me dressing this way. Not that it matters—I’m not about to change for her.
“I suppose you get used to it. Back home, it never got this cold, not even in winter.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, her eyes go wide and she looks away. She’s given me more information than she intended.
No worries. I’m not going to ask you any questions. I don’t care.
“It’s so dark already,” she says in a lame attempt at changing the subject. “I don’t see a clock…what time is it?”
“I dunno.” I shrug. “I don’t own a clock or a watch.”
“Really?”
“When there is no set schedule, what time it is doesn’t really matter much. When it gets dark, you go to bed. When it’s light again, you get up.”
“Wow. No clock, no phone. I’m not even sure how you can survive without th
ose things.”
“Neither of those things are required for survival.”
“True, but people think of them that way.”
“Not around here,” I say. “If you’re going to talk about survival here, you’d better mean it.”
“I guess that’s true.” Seri nods and fiddles with her fingers. “So what do you do when it’s too cold to go outside?”
“I stay inside.” I narrow my eyes at her, wondering why she’d ask such a stupid question.
“And do what?” she asks.
“Just…whatever.” Once I understand what she means, I realize I don’t have much of an answer for her. “Keep the fire going. Repair whatever might be broken. Read.”
“All winter long?”
“Pretty much.”
“What do you like to read?” she asks.
The stack of books I purchased in Yellowknife is piled up next to the chair. I debate pointing them out to her and telling her to look for herself, but I’m not sure I want her to know what my reading preferences are. The subject feels very personal to me, and I don’t want to share that with her. The very idea puts me even more on edge.
“Words,” I finally say. I turn away from her, hoping to deter any further questions, but it doesn’t work.
“How often do you go into town?” she asks.
“There isn’t any town.” I let out a long sigh. “If you mean Whatì, I’ll go there for supplies if I need them, but I won’t. I already have enough to last me until the ice thaws.”
“Do people come here to visit you?”
“No.”
She stops washing the dishes and just stares at me for a long time. I turn my attention away from her and poke at the fire.
“That sounds very lonely.”
“Didn’t really ask for your opinion.” I grab a log and shove it into the coals. I stare at the flames as they lick around the wood. All the tension I felt before is back, and I envision myself picking up a burning log and smacking her with it.
I push off the floor and stalk over to the kitchen, brushing Seri aside and grabbing a pack of cigarettes out of the carton. I sit down next to the fire and light the cigarette off a nearby coal, nearly scorching my forehead but not caring.
I take a long drag and blow the smoke toward the fire. The smoke burns my lungs, and it takes all my willpower to keep myself from coughing. Solo mews and rubs up against my thigh, providing a much-needed distraction. The kitten is very interested in my cigarette, and I have to hold it away from him when he tries to sniff the burning end. The violent images leave my head, and I end up feeling like an ass. Apparently, Seri agrees.
“Did I do something to offend you?” Seri takes a step away from the sink and folds her arms across her chest.
“Other than existing?” It’s like I can’t stop shit from spewing from my mouth. Even Solo jumps a bit at my harsh tone.
“I didn’t ask to be here, you know!” Her voice rises in pitch and volume.
“Would you have preferred it if I left you in the snow?” I keep my own voice as quiet and calm as I can. The cabin is small enough that whispering can be heard from the far side, and yelling is hardly necessary.
“Of course not!”
“Then what are you bitching about?”
“I’m bitching because it’s very difficult to be grateful when you’re jumping down my throat every time I say anything!”
“Maybe it’s best if you just shut the fuck up, then!” Apparently, yelling is going to be necessary after all. I quickly finish the cigarette and toss the butt into the fire.
“I’m not the one being nasty!”
“Believe me,” I say through clenched teeth, “I could be a lot worse.”
“I don’t see how!”
I pick the kitten up off my lap and set him down on the rug beside me. My stomach is so tight, I can’t sit up straight. I want silence. I want solitude. I don’t want any of the shit that has been thrust upon me, and it’s all her fault for being stupid enough to trust some redneck tourists. Standing quickly, I face my unwanted guest and point a finger at her.
“I saved your fucking life.” I’m practically snarling at her, but I can’t stop myself. “I got you inside, fed you, and gave you a fucking toothbrush. What I haven’t done is bash your head in, though the thought keeps crossing my mind. So yeah—it could be a whole lot worse!”
Oh shit.
I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Yeah, sure, I’d thought about it. I thought about it whenever I spent too much time with anyone. When two people are in close proximity for an extended time, someone inevitably starts asking questions. As soon as someone asks me where I come from, if I have any family, or any similar, normal questions, I’d get images in my head. I’d recall the feeling of my hands as they gripped the long handle of the axe. I’d shudder from the sensation of tendons in my arm tearing under the sheer force of the swing. I’d remember the feeling of warm blood spattering my face, and I’d lose all ability to function.
I don’t look up. In my peripheral vision, I can see Seri pressed up against the sink with her mouth hanging open. My throat tightens, and I can taste bile in the back of it. Even with my lack of social graces, I know I should apologize for my outburst.
Regardless of what Miss Manners would say, I’ll be returning Seri to the outside world at some point. If she tells people about the crazy guy in the cabin outside of Whatì, threatening her, someone might just come out to pay me a visit. Someone might decide to do a little investigating and figure out who I am. Extradition from Canada to the United States is pretty straightforward as such things go, and I’d probably end up back in prison.
Seri moves quickly, and when I glance up at her, I see she’s grabbed a knife off the counter. Her eyes fill with fire and fury as she brandishes it at me.
“Don’t you fucking threaten me, you asshole!” she screams, and it’s my turn to drop my mouth open in shock. “I’ll fucking gut you!”
My heart starts to beat a little faster. Seri’s not a big girl, and I’m confident I can disarm her without a lot of difficulty, but damn if she isn’t scary looking anyway. Her words aren’t like anything she has said to me before. In fact, I don’t recall her using a single cuss word.
No…wait. She did call me an asshole outside the gas station the first day I met her. She even had the same look in her eyes as she pointed a finger in my direction rather than a knife.
“You dragged me out here, fucker! Keep talkin’ to me like that, and I’ll kill ya and live off all the shit you’ve hoarded out here!”
I raise my eyebrows, trying to figure out if she’s serious or not. I watched plenty of guys lose their shit in lockup, and they typically had that same look in their eyes. Their actions were often followed by a month in solitary, and I wonder if this woman has spent any time behind bars.
I’m not going to ask, certainly not now.
I take a few breaths to calm myself down. The last thing either of us needs is for both of us to freak out. If I have to disarm her, I’m not sure what I’ll do with the knife once it’s in my own hand. I need to keep myself together long enough for the storm to pass and then get rid of her. It will be worth the dangers of the ice-road drive to Fort Providence or wherever she wanted to go. Then I can settle in for the rest of the winter without all this bullshit drama.
But first, I need to de-escalate the current situation.
“Look…” I start to speak—to apologize—but I don’t know what I should say. I take a deep breath. “I’m not a social person, okay? I don’t like people in general, and I definitely don’t like people in my place.”
“I got that idea.” She’s still glaring at me and holding the knife tightly.
“The storm should let up soon,” I say. “Once it does, I’ll take you to Fort Providence or Yellowknife or wherever you want to go.”
“Suits me, asshole.”
“You can put that down now.” I ignore the insult and try to sound calm as I motion toward the knife.
I sit down on the floor, and Solo immediately climbs back in my lap. I can only assume I look less threatening with a tiny kitten sitting on me.
“How about I don’t?” Seri squares her shoulders like she’s about to stand off against a grizzly. “Maybe you should just stay the fuck away from me!”
“Whatever.” I take several deep breaths as I watch her from the corner of my eye. She seems content to just stand there holding the knife and doesn’t move any closer as if she were going to use it. I decide to ignore her.
Time passes, and we say nothing to one another. I keep my eyes on the fire, the cat, and the floor—anything to keep from looking at her. At some point, I hear her turn the water back on, followed by the clink of dishes. When I do glance at her briefly, her back is to me, and she’s humming.
I shake my head at the odd woman and light another cigarette. Smoking is doing nothing to alleviate my tension, so when Seri finishes the dishes and politely excuses herself to the bathroom, sans knife, I toss the half-smoked cigarette into the fire and stand up. Solo whines at the closed bathroom door as I go to look out the window. I’m hoping the snow has subsided enough to allow me to head outside and chop wood but no such luck.
In fact, the storm seems to be getting worse. I grab the weather radio, spin the crank on the side for a minute to give it some juice, and begin to listen to the mechanical voice just as Seri comes back into the main room.
“This hazardous weather outlook is for the Canadian Northwest Territories, Tłįchǫ Lands, Whatì, and Lac La Martre areas. Temperatures dropping rapidly and heavy snowfall predicted overnight and into tomorrow. Expected totals ranging from eighteen to twenty-four inches…”
“Fuck me.” I grumble to myself as I switch the radio off.
“Don’t you want to hear the rest of the forecast?” Seri asks. “It sounds pretty bad.”
The bathroom break must have done her some good because she’s back to her usual, nervous energy. She looks at me intently with her head slightly bent to one side—a natural and unconscious sign of deference. I watch her fingers twist around each other as she sways slightly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.