Walking to that spot, he folded back a blanket that had been on the arm of the couch and disrupted when she sat down, then picked up the pillow and plumped it like his mother used to do. He was about to place it back down, but then found himself slowly bringing it to his face.
He inhaled…
It smelled like her. She smelled the same way at the restaurant the first time he saw her. Her scent had drifted his way when she took his order. Soft. Floral. A bit of cinnamon, too. He gave the pillow another sniff, then begrudgingly placed it back down on the couch.
He headed upstairs to his bed and lay down, arm behind his head, feet propped up on a pillow. He had the fireplace on there, too, as he flipped through various stations on the television. Nothing caught his eye, so he kept on surfing.
His thoughts wandered, as they often did. There was no work scheduled that day due to the pending evening storm, and he was certain the majority of his traps in the nearby woods were empty. He had a couple of cameras set up in the forest behind his house but didn’t notice much activity as of late. He’d even ventured in his backyard and noticed the lack of tracks the past couple of days. Not even a vole or shrew prints.
He stopped messing around with the television stations just long enough to see on the weather channel that the storm was even worse than originally predicted, and it had already begun to freeze many of the roads. Visibility was falling fast, like tipped-over dominoes.
Somewhere between him planning to fix a glass of beer and heating up leftover spaghetti, paying some bills online, and calling his cousin, Martin, to make sure he and his family were okay on firewood, he’d fallen asleep. Dreamless. Exhausted, down to his bones. When he awoke, the house was much darker than before. The bits of sun that dared to shine through were long gone, replaced by shades of dusk.
He saw the television on mute but showing another weather update along the ticker. He blinked a few times, scratched his chin through his dense beard, and grunted as he stirred, the blood flowing through him faster now as he maneuvered about. As his eyes adjusted in the semi-darkness, he took the television off mute, and could now hear the weather lady, dressed in her dark purple pant suit, discussing in a polite way that everyone who was outside would soon be fucked. Things were becoming a complete mess. Fast.
I hope Kim got home all right. If she went straight home, she should be fine.
He imagined the main roads would be blocked soon, portions of the park closed to visitors indefinitely, and he’d need to go out on the snow mobile, just to ensure no one was stuck or trapped, which happened from time to time due to people believing they knew better than the rangers and other park personnel. There was always some daredevil who would be warned to stay in their vacation cabin until the storm passed, and they’d ignore the cautions anyway, go out full of bravado and foolishness, then find themselves stuck in a snow-covered embankment, or worse.
He noted the time on the television screen. He’d been asleep for a little over an hour. Getting up, he went to look out his triangle-shaped window. He could see his entire side lot from that vantage point. It was beautiful—a snowy oasis. Glistening icicles hung from the bare black and white spruce, and willow and birch tree branches. The snow appeared to be falling slowly, but he knew better. Looks were deceiving, and days like this were trickery at its finest. It was dangerous out there, due to falling temperatures and impacted roadways.
He glanced at his watch and made his way to his closet to pull out some clothing in anticipation of touring the nearby park grounds for any stragglers, poor saps, and hard-headed people before they froze to death. After all, he was the head park ranger, and living so close to the premises, regardless of how remote he was from the main fairgrounds, meant he was expected to be accessible twenty-four-seven.
He removed his revolver from his nightstand, checked the chamber, and set it next to the holster. Dressing in multiple layers, he prepared to step outside and check some of those traps after all, too, but as he slipped a long sleeve plaid shirt off a hanger, his cellphone rang. Figuring it was someone at his job, or perhaps his cousin or another member of the family needing help, he snatched the phone off the nightstand and answered, even though he didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Jack? Jack?” came a voice over crackly reception. The person sounded as if they were a million miles away, barely audible.