Frost and Furrow

5. The Wendigo

The mining crew have started to pack up, the heavy equipment parked in a row lining the edge of the dirt clearing where they will sit untouched, buried in snow,  until next year. Roger and his remaining miners stand by their vehicles and chat, seeming to accept the fact that their gold mining season is over. Monica and Alice are by her trailer, her eyes red from tears. Jake and Hanson were able to convince her that the investigators were right, and that it was just a bear attack. She was resistant at first, but with Alice backing them up and her urge to get back home to Colorado, she inevitably believed them and agreed to leave.

"We are staying behind, to keep looking for Fred." Alice reassures her, squeezing her shoulder. The sun burned off some overcast after noon time, and now it sets on the hills, blanketing everything in a soft orange glow. Monica nods, holding her arms to her chest.

"I hope you find him, what ever is left of him. His family would want to know for sure one way or the other." she whispers with a shaky breath. Alice pulls her into a hug and holds her there for half a minute before letting go and walking her to Rogers truck.

"You guys travel safely," she says, glancing around at everyone. 

They keep the goodbyes short, and before long the sun sets on the empty mining camp, leaving Alice, Jake and Hanson alone in the dark.

"Alright," Hanson says, "Jake and I will take turns keeping watch so someone is always awake. Alice, you should sleep though. You are the survivalist and we need you on your game tomorrow when we go into the woods and track Freds trail." Alice nods and yawns reflexively at the thought of sleep. Her headache is a little better, but the last two days have drained her. 

After Monica packed up and cleaned out her trailer, she had offered it to the three of them. There was one small bed in the back, and a couch with a small TV perched on a rickety stand. The kitchen is bare besides some boxes of pasta and bottled water Monica graciously left behind. They each take a water to sip, and Jake boils some to make enough pasta for them to put in their stomachs. 

~

"Are you sure?" Alice asks as she stands in the tiny back room, her and Jake looking at the single bed.

"Yeah, it makes the most sense, to not wake you up every time dad and I change watch. You sleep here, we'll take turns on the couch." He smiles and shrugs. "I've done plenty of sleeping on couches." The room is small, and the space between them is not very big. Jake looks down at her, his eyes heavy with desire for a second and Alice thinks he is going to open his mouth to say something, but he shakes his head slightly and smiles. "Okay, goodnight." he turns abruptly and leaves Alice standing alone in the room. She takes off her pants and work shirt and vest, piling them neatly on the side table so she is wearing her biking shorts and a tank top, which she wears under her uniform all the time. She then slips into the fresh sheets and in a matter of minutes, is sleeping.

"I'll take first watch." Hanson offers his son as he slides out of his jacket and hangs it on the back of the chair closest to the window. He sits in it, leaning back and cradling his neck in his intertwined fingers.

"Sure," Jake says, taking off his jacket too and using it as a blanket as he lays on the couch, which is comically small. He uses the armrest as a pillow, and his legs dangle off the other end by his knees. He starts to laugh quietly, but Hanson looks over and sees him on the tiny couch and starts chuckling himself, causing them both to turn red with wheezing laughter as they try to keep quiet. They calm themselves down and Jake breaths through pursed lips, still stifling a smile, his cheeks sore. 

"Mom would've loved you, kid." Hanson says through gasps, his eyes watering with the remnants of the joke.

Jake frowns and watches his father wipe his tears with the back of this button up shirt, his wrinkled eyes sparkling. Even though Jakes mother died during childbirth, his father mentioned her often throughout Jakes 30 years of life. He could feel the love every time his father spoke of her kindness, or her bright green eyes and soft brown hair. He keeps a photo of his father and mother smiling at the beach in his wallet, his mothers belly swollen tight with his unborn self. He subconsciously reaches down to his pocket and squeezes his wallet, seeing the photo in his head. If she were here, would she approve of his lifestyle? Of him following in his father's footsteps, putting himself in danger to fight unknown dangers of the world while everyone else lives in blissful ignorance? He closes his eyes to keep from tearing up and lets out a sigh.