I Followed the Trail to the Unknown

 I Followed the Trail to the Unknown VIDEO

“Two days,” I repeat, running my finger along the marked line on the map. “We can do it in two days.”

Thomas nods. He sits down across from me, on the other side of the table. The kerosene lamp throws his shadow against the wall.

“The road is abandoned. No one uses it. But you have to be careful with the bridges. Some of them may be rotten.”

“Is there another way around?”

“Yes. Here,” he says, pointing to a spot on the map. “There’s a stream that cuts across the valley. If the bridge doesn’t hold, you can go down to the bank and cross there. The water comes up to the waist this time of year.”

Emma comes closer. Her arm brushes mine.

“Are there any towns on the way?” she asks.

“None. Just forest and mountain. That’s why it’s safe.”

“And if we get lost?”

“Follow the sun. The road goes north the whole time. If you see a hill shaped like a whale’s back, you’re on the right track. That hill marks the halfway point.”

Sam has fallen asleep on Emma’s lap. His breathing is calm. Steady.

“You should rest,” Thomas says. “Leaving at dawn will give you an advantage.”

“I don’t want to stay long,” I say. “The men chasing us...”

“They won’t find this cabin. Not if they come from the river. The forest is thick. And I know every trail. If I hear anything, I’ll wake you.”

Emma looks at me. She waits for my opinion.

“We need to sleep,” she says. “Sam can’t take any more.”

“Neither can you.”

She smiles. A tired smile.

“Neither can I.”

Thomas gets up. He walks to a cupboard and takes out two thick blankets. They smell like mothballs.

“The bed is for the boy and the lady. You can sleep on the floor by the stove. I’ll make a fire so you don’t get cold.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you get to Canada.”

Emma lays Sam down on the bed. The boy doesn’t even move. She lies down beside him, on her side, watching him. She strokes his hair.

“Go to sleep,” I tell her.

“You too.”

“I’m going to wait a little.”

Thomas adds more wood to the stove. The fire crackles. Warmth spreads through the cabin.

“Do you want more tea?” he asks.

“No, thanks.”

“Then I’ll leave you with your thoughts.”

He sits in a rocking chair by the window. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t look asleep. More like alert. Like an old animal that has learned how to rest without losing track of what’s happening around it.

I sit on the floor, my back against the wall. The gun is beside me, within reach.

The silence in the cabin is different from the silence in the forest. Here there are walls. A roof. A closed door. But there’s also the memory of the men crossing the river. Of the dogs. Of Detective Mitchell and her cold eyes.

I don’t know how long passes. Maybe an hour. Maybe two.

Thomas opens his eyes.

“Still awake,” he says.

“I can’t sleep.”

“That’s normal. The body is tense. The mind keeps running.”

“How do you do it?”

“I’ve learned how to empty my head. To think of nothing. It’s harder than it sounds.”

“That sounds impossible.”

“It isn’t. Close your eyes. Listen to the fire. Feel the heat on your face. Don’t think about what’s coming. Only about this moment.”

I try. I close my eyes. I listen to the wood burning. The crackle. The warm air rising.

But my mind goes back to Emma. To Sam. To the map. To the two-day road.

I open my eyes.

Thomas smiles.

“The first time always fails.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Sixty-three years. I came when this was just a clearing. I built the cabin with my own hands. Cut down the trees. Made the furniture.”

“You never wanted to leave?”

“I left once. When I was twenty-five. Lasted three months in the city. Came back running.”

“Why?”

“Too many people. Too much noise. Out here there’s only what you need. Nothing more.”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

“Loneliness is a good companion when you understand it.”

I stay quiet. I think about what he said.

“You have a family,” Thomas says. “That’s more than many of us have.”

“I don’t know if I deserve it.”

“That isn’t for you to decide. Time decides that. And actions.”

The stove cracks. An ember falls to the floor. Thomas gets up and picks it up with tongs. He puts it back in the fire.

“You should try to sleep,” he says. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“I know.”

“I promise I’ll keep watch. If I hear anything, I’ll wake you.”

I nod. I lean back against the wall. I close my eyes.

The exhaustion weighs on me. My muscles ache. My head throbs.

But slowly, the stove’s warmth wins. My breathing grows slower. My eyelids heavier.

And then sleep comes.

Something wakes me.

A hand on my shoulder. A gentle shake.

I open my eyes.

Thomas is bent over me. His wrinkled face is lit by the lamp’s soft glow.

“It’s time,” he says quietly. “Dawn is coming.”

I sit up. My neck hurts. So does my back. But I get to my feet.

Emma is already awake. She’s folding the blankets. Sam is sitting on the bed, rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning, little one,” I say.

“Good morning, Dad.”

The word hits me in the chest. Every time. I never get used to it.

Emma looks at me. Smiles.

“You slept,” she says.

“A little.”

“That’s better than nothing.”

Thomas has prepared something to eat. Hard bread. Dried fruit. A jug of water.

“It’s not much,” he says. “But it’ll give you strength.”

We eat in silence. Sam bites the bread with difficulty. Emma breaks it into small pieces for him.

When we’re done, Thomas gives me a small backpack.

“More water. And some bandages. Just in case.”

“Thank you.”

“You have the map. Remember: two days. Follow the sun. The whale-shaped hill.”

“I will.”

We step outside. The air is cold. The sky is tinted pink. Birds are singing.

Thomas walks with us to the edge of the clearing.

“The trail starts behind that group of oaks,” he says. “Follow it until you find a big rock shaped like an arrow. Turn left there.”

“Thank you for everything,” Emma says.

“Take care of the boy. And take care of each other.”

“We will.”

Thomas looks at me steadily.

“You’re a man who’s done bad things. I know that. But I also know you’re trying to do better. That counts.”

I don’t answer. I don’t know what to say.

“Go,” he says. “And don’t look back.”

I take Sam in my arms. Emma takes my hand.

We walk toward the oaks.

The trail appears among the undergrowth. Narrow. Covered in dry leaves.

I start walking.

Behind me, the cabin disappears among the trees.

Ahead, only forest and mountain.

And the promise of a place on the other side.