New Birds

Tester Fourteen Part 13

It took Louis forever to get out of Calgary. Four residential roadblocks, all requiring a fee to pass through, and a religious demonstration near the outskirts had traffic at a near standstill until midmorning of the next day. By the time he reached the foothills, he was tired, jittery and slightly paranoid, so he veered from his normal route in favour of one of the older roads. It was longer, but it felt safer. Not that the magpie owner, or the pied avocet's owner, would cause him trouble. Neither had appeared quite that bold. But he had just won the Late Minister, and this news would have spread by now. Possibly much further then he would have wished while he had sat, delayed in the city. Plenty of time to set up an ambush. And although his nondescript U-Haul felt more a blessing than a curse now, a detour was even safer.

He touched the gold-plated trophy beside him and then each of the four raven feathers. He smiled. Finally, he had something to show for all his years of hard work. This would put an end to Tilly's wish to downsize his flock to a few. She would be hard pressed to find fault anymore in Simon, when he was now a major contributor to the ark's continuation. Although, there was still the problem of her wanting more outdoor space for her cranes. He tapped the steering wheel as he mulled it over. It was still possible. He could at least net off a quarter of it for the cranes. Not that he thought it would solve the cranes' decline, but it would sate Tilly. He would have to release a few dozen more of his storks into the wild to accommodate this, and he could sell some of the more show-quality ones to interested breeders. This would also mean making those extra trips into Calgary to become a better spokesperson for the breed and its ongoing protection. Not only was it about time, Simon's win made it the best time.

As he drove, his thoughts started drifting towards Tilly's reaction again. Starting with the smile his win would bring to her face. The blush to her cheeks when she realized she had hired the right person all those years ago. He even imagined her smothering him with kisses, which was something Tilly never did. All the while thanking him for saving her mountain. It wasn't long before his daydream morphed into a passion laden one. One that contained everything Louis ever wanted in such a daydream. So much so that he missed the last turn off, only noticing his mistake when the road he followed became steeper, narrower and more treacherous.

He soon found himself driving slowly around fallen rock, while trying to avoid the crumbling outer edges. He kept driving, hoping to find a space wide enough to turn the Hummingbird and U-Haul around. As it was, he was almost a day late getting home and his snail pace up the wrong mountain side quickly took the remaining air from his daydream. Tilly would worry and that worry would turn into fury at some point, win or no win. He had somehow sabotaged what had all the makings of a wonderful reality by fantasizing about it. Occasionally, a silhouette of a long-abandoned structure would appear on his right. This he took as a good sign because there were still many small nests of nefarious factions that lived near fringe areas. One occupied dwelling wasn't too concerning, but if he came across a settlement of any sort up here, it could spell trouble. His vehicle was now making straining noises, which, although a worry, had him seeing the climb itself as a deterrent for many would-be settlers. Few would stake this steep, narrow space as their own.

The sunlight was leaving, and he would soon have only his headlights to guide him around each deadly turn. It was time to stop. To park against the cliff side, hang tight for another night, and get a few winks of sleep.

As he rounded the next bend, and into a patch of shadow, he spotted an old motel on the roadside above him, with light spilling from an office window. Although the light had given his heart a little jump, he breathed a sigh of relief, for the parking area in front had ample enough room to turn completely around in. He all but inched into the parking lot, his hands firmly on the stirring wheel, ready to twist it sharp enough to point it down the hill if trouble started. But it was quiet. No rowdy voices, no other vehicles, no anti-establishment graffiti. Just a motel with welcoming light from a dusty office window. Although the metal sign on its flat roof was pitted and twisted, he could still make out enough of the lettering to read Skyline Pines. A rocky incline hovered behind the motel like a disproportional shadow. After making his turn, he braked, tapping his fingers on the stirring wheel. Was asking for a bed and a bit of shuteye any riskier than parking somewhere along this mountainside in the dark? Most probably not. He had hidden his winnings before leaving Calgary, hoping if anyone robbed him, they wouldn't find it all. Some he taped beneath his seat, some he stuck in his boots, some behind a panel wall in the U-Haul. But truth was, if they were aiming on robbing him, they were probably also aiming to toss him off the mountainside. Still, he left his vehicle and cautiously approached the motel. The door tripped a small, tarnished bell as he stepped into the office.