Gold Fever (m×m) ✔

XII: The Before days

《 ASPEN GRISWOLD 》

I lost the trail, but the lynx showed me the way out of the woods. Now, that is a sentence I never would have thought to say one day. But the day was humid and sultry, and in that merciless heat anyone could have envisioned a deceptively realistic looking giant cat strutting on the trail in front of them.

When I had to sit down and inhale a bottle of warm sports drink, the lynx waited for me. The hallucination was so vivid I could see the black tufts of fur on the tips of its ears and stare right into its thoughtful eyes as it sat there just out of reach. I doubted there would be anything if I tried to reach out for it, in any case. 

It had to be a figment of my imagination, something that would keep me going when my own determination wasn't enough and I started to wonder if I should just turn around. Either way, the lynx got me out of the woods, and soon I was staggering along a paved road under the scalding sun. It seemed to take a lifetime before the endless trees by the road turned to a residential district. The lynx, still strutting ahead of me, looked utterly out of place there.

When I reached this house with faded pale blue blanking and a black, decrepit roof, not much of a house at all, the lynx was sitting on the porch. The gaze of its amber eyes beckoned me to enter the house, and I thought: at this point, whatever. If an imaginary lynx wanted to choose a place for me to sleep in, then so be it. I was too worn to keep walking, and the other houses looked none the better.

I stopped to listen at the door, then pushed it open and winced at the loud creak its hinges let out. The house had that old house smell, an air stale with mold and dust, but a faint scent of coffee made it all the more bearable. I huffed in relief as I let my backpack fall to the ground with a heavy thud. 

The idea of a meal and the couch had never sounded more compelling, so I took myself and my belongings to the living room. There was a cluster of candles on the coffee table, and I lit them to shed some light in the shadowy space. It brought back memories of different times, all of those filling my chest with a wistful ache and left me feeling hollow. 

When I was a child, and my sisters were yet to be born, there was a storm which caused a wide-range power cut. All the houses on our street were dark, and mother lit candles much like the ones in front of me today. She brought a photo album, and even father set down his precious newspaper to look at those pictures with us. We couldn't make dinner, so we ate half-melt ice cream and cookies from mother's precious crystal bowls.

Many years later, I was sitting in that same living room, on our new white corner couch with Liz. My arm was around her lower back and her head was propped onto my shoulder, so I could smell her shampoo. It was an overly sweet scent, the kind she and her friends favored, reminding me of cotton candy. That day was our first anniversary, and I agreed to watch one of her beloved rom-coms.

I fiddled with the pendant she gave for present. It was one of those sappy heart shaped things with our pictures inside of it. She was that kind of girl, all about romantic gestures and tearing up while she quoted The Vampire Diaries or Teen Wolf or whatever her latest attraction was. I refused to watch series about vampires or werewolves, yet I would have done anything else for her.

Liz was popular, always surrounded by friends, but in her free time she was a dyed-in-the-wool bookworm. You might guess what her books were all about, so half of the things she talked about when we discussed literature went in one ear and out the other, but we made it work.

The rumble of my stomach brought me back from my reverie. Fortunately, I had plenty of food with me, thanks to Lorena and her friends. What I was worried about was my water supply. You could go on without food for weeks, but only some days without water, and I was keen on staying alive. I still had my mission and I couldn't wait to see Liz again.