Alpine

Gambit 2 - Hinterland

We picked up dinner around 3PM. Canadian winters are marked by such short days and long nights. He worried we would miss the next McDonalds though the snow and darkness. We used the drive through this time. Between the argument at the gas station and the spin out, he felt we had lost too much time to spare another stop. Not that I wanted to eat that early anyway.

The problem was he disapproved of eating in his car. So, we sat there. With cold fast food making the cabin smell like grease. For hours. The sky faded from storm cloud grey to black. At least the snow let up.

My concern started rising when we left the freeway. Streetlamps stood too far apart. The white blanket on the roads was untouched. No buildings for miles. We crawled through unploughed snow as he fought to keep the car straight.

I exhaled sharply. "Is it possible you took a wrong turn?"

"No."

"We're in the middle of nowhere."

"That's Canada for you!" He laughed.

"For real, this isn't a highway."

"It's not supposed to be."

My pulse throbbed through my neck. "Why not."

"Consider it a detour?"

"Why in the fu—!?" I stopped myself. Took a long, deep breath. We had agreed on politeness given, politeness granted. Civility was my only chance at a real answer. The crackling of his suppressed laugh filled the car. "Why are we taking a detour?"

"It's kind of a surprise. Do you really want me to spoil it?"

"Please."

"Well... we're not staying in a hotel tonight." He paused, listening to the scream I swallowed down. "Check the glove compartment."

At that point, I was done. Too tired to disobey and barely able to comply, I flicked my hand at the latch. It took a few tries to catch it. The glove compartment dropped open. Car manuals. A puny, hand ice scrapper. I snorted at that. He willingly bought that useless thing but not the snow shovel.

Finally, I noticed a metal shine. I pulled out two keys on a ring. It also had a keychain. A pine tree. It looked eerily similar to the Alpine logo. Maybe that was where he got the inspiration for the design.

He tapped energetically on the steering wheel. "Are you excited?"

"I don't know what it's for."

"My dad's cabin."

I blinked.

"Before you get upset, there are two bedrooms, so you'll get your own space. Just like our arrangement back home. Or you can lock yourself in the master bathroom if that feels right to you. I want you to be comfortable while you're my guest."

"Why does your dad own a cabin out here?" A pointless question.

"I'll have you know that I am one quarter Canadian." A meaningless answer that was more than likely a lie.

"You're messing with me, right?"

"No."

He slowed at a sign bearing the same tree logo as the keychain. Juniper Grove. It sounded like a planned community. Though, it was beyond me what kind of person would want to live in the middle of this barren tundra.

He turned left onto an unlit a road. It snaked through sparce tree cover. There was so little difference between the road and the woods, that the best markers for where one ended and the other began were the sagging, snow-laden pine branches. If we passed any cabins in the dark, I did not see them.