Chapter 51
Thank God!” Joni said as the torch beam illuminated a small timber building perched on an exposed outcrop of rock. Two square windows reflected the harsh beam of their torchlight.
Joni moved her torch beam over a slim wooden door, which had a red sign beside it, reading dnt blafjell. “We made it!”
“What if it’s locked?” Helena said from behind the others.
Liz said, “It shouldn’t be. The cabins are left open so they can be accessed by anyone on the mountain.”
Pressing her palm flat to the cold wood, Joni made a silent prayer that Liz was correct.
She pushed.
The door creaked open, and she took a tentative step inside, breathing in a dank, woody smell. “Hello?” she called instinctively.
No answer.
She shone the torch around the wood-clad space, illuminating four bunks, a small table and chairs, and a log burner. A nook branched off from the main room, where a sideboard was set up with a two-ringed camping hob, metal sink, and cupboards.
“It’s open! Come in!” she called to the others, holding the door wide so that Liz could support Maggie as she hobbled inside.
The door clanked shut behind them and the wind died. There was quiet, apart from the creaking of floorboards beneath their boots, the rustle of their jackets. The air was icy cold, but at least they were out of the wind.
“We made it!” Helena said, relief thickening her tone.
It was so strange to be inside after days of walking through the ferocity of the elements. She pressed her filthy palms gratefully to the wooden walls, marveling that they had a ceiling above them, a firm floor beneath their feet.
Liz pulled out a chair for Maggie, helping her to sit. Then she dragged a second chair closer to settle Maggie’s raised foot on it. While Liz was assessing her ankle, Joni searched through the cupboards by torchlight.
“Candles!” she said, finding half a dozen used candles wedged into holders, beside a box of matches. With numbed fingers, she lit each of the blackened wicks with a single match, the flame burning down to her fingertips.
She set out the candles—two on the table beside Maggie, another on the windowsill, more by the woodstove and hob—and their warming glow was an instant comfort.
“There’s food! And water!” Helena cried, lifting her torch to one of the cupboards. She pulled out bottles of water, packs of noodles, tins of beans, and canned meat.
“There’s more here,” Joni said, opening the next cupboard and finding sachets of coffee and hot chocolate and powdered milk. A note explained that the cupboard was kept stocked with dry goods and you paid via an honesty box.
“Can you fetch Maggie some water?” called Liz, who’d located a first aid kit and was cleaning the cut on Maggie’s knee where she’d gone over.
Joni delivered it to Maggie, asking, “How’s the ankle feeling?”
“It’ll be fine. We made it to the cabin. That’s the main thing,” Maggie answered, smiling bravely.
“You were my hero on the ridgetop,” Liz said. “I wouldn’t have made it across without you.”
Joni squeezed Maggie’s hand once. “I’m going to get the woodstove lit.”
She found a basket filled with dry logs and kindling, and beside it there was a box full of Norwegian newspapers.
She knelt, bare knees on the cold wooden floor, scrunching the paper into balls with icy fingers.
She laid the kindling on top, remembering all the times as a child that she’d laid the fire for her grandmother before school.
She struck a match and held it to the paper, watching as it began to light and flame, licking at the dry wood.
In the kitchen area, Helena had found a camping stove and had now set a pan of water to boil, ready for noodles.
With the candles lit and the fire beginning to kick out a little heat, Joni felt her shoulders soften. They were safe.
—
The smell of warming noodles filled the cabin. They’d pulled their chairs close to the woodstove, and all that could be heard was the clink of forks against enamel bowls, steam rising in the candlelight.
Joni burned her tongue, too hungry and impatient to wait for the noodles to cool.
“This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted,” Maggie said, the bowl lifted close to her mouth.
“Have you warmed up now?” Helena asked Joni.
She nodded. “I don’t know if I’d have made it through the night if we hadn’t found the cabin.” It must have been close to freezing out on the mountain now, with the wind chill.
“Thank God we did,” Maggie said, her expression serious. Everyone knew the stakes if they hadn’t managed to locate the cabin.
No one wanted to think about what tomorrow would bring—how they would get Maggie down the mountain. They ate the rest of their meal quietly, exhaustion washing over them.
When Joni was finished, she gathered the empty bowls and stacked them by the hob. Warmed up finally, she unzipped her jacket and hung it over the back of her chair. As she did so, she noticed Liz’s hanging there—the bulge of the cocaine visible in her pocket.
An instant kick of longing filled her.
She dragged her gaze away, wishing she’d chucked the stuff while she’d had the chance. Knowing it was right there, in the cabin with her, was messing with her head. It would be so easy to do a quick line.
A dark, sticky feeling of loathing squirmed through her insides. She disgusted herself. They’d found the cabin; they were safe—but still it wasn’t enough.
She stretched across the table, reaching for the notebook that had been left there.
dnt loggbok was printed on the front and a pen was attached to the spine by string.
She opened it, flicking through pages of handwritten names, dates, notations.
She drew the candle closer, then searched for today’s date and saw it was empty.
She traveled back a few lines and realized no one had stopped at this cabin in ten days.
Pulling the logbook closer, she clicked the pen and committed their names beneath today’s date. Her writing was small, shaky. Seeing the four of them on the page felt meaningful in a way she couldn’t put her finger on.
Joni looked up toward the window: the night was black and starless, ravaged by wind.
She could see her own reflection in the glass, hair in a ragged topknot, loose strands falling over her twisted bandanna.
The reflection of the candle burned at the edge of her face, and she focused on it, letting the flame distort her image, burning away the mask of who the world saw, melting her, feature by feature, until only something twisted and horror-struck was left.
She blinked. Snapped her gaze away, disturbed by the dark places her thoughts traveled.
She drummed her fingers on the table. Thought once more about the coke. Just a hit, that’s all she needed.
She forced the thought away, instead returning her attention to the logbook. She flicked through it, reading lists of names and nationalities. In the winter months the cabin was mostly empty, but throughout summer, there were entries most weeks.
Joni found herself pausing on today’s date one year earlier, reading down and seeing only two names. “On this day a year ago,” she said quietly, “Erik was staying in the cabin.”
Opposite her, Maggie’s brow dipped. “Who was he with?”
Joni read the scrawled handwriting beneath his name. “Karin.”