The Search
Leif grips the nail between his lips, while he lifts the door back into position, aligning the hinges.
Using his full strength, he holds it in place with a single arm, while pinching the nail from his lips and slotting it into the hinge.
He twists the screwdriver, securing the first hinge, then repeats it with the second.
He tries the door, moving it back and forth, hearing the satisfying click as it closes smoothly. Done.
He returns the tools to the locker at the side of the lodge. While he’s there, he clocks Vilhelm’s old blue truck parked on the gravel. He knew it was there—he’d seen it earlier—but its presence draws a shadow over his mood.
Last week, Vilhelm had delivered his mother a freshly caught river fish—and she had invited him to join her when she cooked it. Leif had walked into the lodge kitchen and seen Vilhelm, feet under the table, where his father used to sit. He’d looked up as Leif entered and smiled easily.
Now Leif pauses by Vilhelm’s truck. He glances about, then opens the driver’s door—no one keeps their vehicles locked in the mountains.
He’s not looking for anything in particular, rather just wants to get the measure of him.
It’s strange how you can live in the same village as someone for years without ever really knowing them.
Inside, there is a dog blanket neatly folded on the passenger seat.
A roll of fishing line and a pair of binoculars stowed in the glove compartment.
There’s nothing beneath the seats except for the original vehicle manual, its pages browning and water stained.
He takes out the binoculars and balances them against the bridge of his nose, adjusting the magnification so they focus on the distance. A gust catches the strap and it flutters around his neck.
A flash of movement fills his vision.
He blinks, startled. He adjusts the focus so he can see the foreground.
Emerging from the tree line only a hundred meters away is a woman. Her dark hair is loose, shielding part of her face. Instinctively, he knows something is wrong. It’s the way she’s moving: fast, a half run, half stagger.
Her head jerks around as she looks over her shoulder.
Behind her, Leif sees a second woman. He tracks her with the binoculars. The pack on her shoulders seems to weigh her down; her mouth hangs open as she pants.
Leif drops the binoculars and begins to run.