Survival Drive

It’s late August and hot as Hades, but storm clouds are brewing on the horizon promising to bring some relief.

It’s a humid heat, jeans are out of the question - my long linen skirt is the only option for weather like this, paired with a thin t-shirt and converse shoes.

In response to the humidity, my hair is wild and curly, there is no point attempting to straighten it, so it's twisted up in a loose bun, a few curly tendrils frame my face.

Despite the AC running in my century old home, its still unbearably humid, feeling restless I head to the village pub to sit on the veranda with my neighbors and watch the storm roll in, maybe catch a cool breeze and some relief from this damn heat.

I am not the only one, a loose collection of village folk are gathered at the weathered tables on the veranda that overlooks the highway, nothing but fields and sky as far as one can see.

I order a tequila with ice and water, and take a seat joining them.

The conversation ranges from weather, crops, cattle prices and tariffs, the economy and the recession. Holly, one of the bartenders looks to me and inquires as to how business is on my end, I nod and agree the economy has slowed things down, but luckily, I’m still afloat and have a client booked for a camping weekend coming up, which pays quite well.

Holly looks surprised “A whole weekend? God don’t you ever get scared?”

I smile and shrug “My intuition is usually pretty good” She frowns “Has there ever been a time where it wasn’t?”

“Only when I don’t listen to it, and I learned a long time ago to always listen to it”

The conversation around us had come to a lull, and catching this, my cousin through marriage, sitting next to me turns and says “Well, clearly there’s a story there, are you going to tell it?”

The wind has kicked up and a coolish breeze is blowing now, the sky has darkened and rain is starting to patter on the tin roof of the veranda, Holly stares at me intently with those intense Scorpio eyes “I want to hear it” she says.

Those sitting there are old stock village people, they know me well, over a decade I’ve been here, raising my sons alongside them and theirs. The story, I determine, is safe to tell, and with everyone looking at me like little kids sitting around around a camp fire waiting for a ghost story, I grin, “Ok fine, but you should probably get everyone drinks first”

When Holly is back with the drinks, and everyone is settled she says again “Tell us what happened”

I nod, look at my hands, and rub my thumb along the emerald ring on my left hand.

“See this ring? There’s a story behind it. It was 2017? I think? And it was winter, and early in the day I got a booking request to go way out to the RM of Buchanan for an overnight. It’s a very long drive, and I was hesitant as I wouldn’t be able to be there before 9pm, it was cold, like -35, but the client called, seemed nice enough, and before I even asked for a deposit, he sent the full $1500 via e-transfer. I couldn't afford to turn the booking down, so I accepted the e-transfer and got ready to go.”

I pause, sipping my tequila and water, and hold up my left pinky finger

“I used to wear a ring on this finger, a gold one with a yellow tanzanite stone in it, given to me by some guys who robbed a jewelry store when I was a teenager" I smile apologetically to the elders at the table "I had worn that ring damn near 20 years, and just as I was getting to Saskatoon, I looked at my hand and the stone was gone from my pinky ring. It instantly felt like a bad omen, and in that moment I thought, I shouldn’t go, but I ignored it, and in fact stopped at a jewelry store and bought this ring”

I point to the emerald ring on my hand.

“And I went on my way, following the GPS to the pinned location, in the middle of no where”

I pull a cigarette out of my pack and light it.

“So finally I get to the location, a trailer home on the edge of a village smaller than this one, and it’s been snowing all day so it’s piled up in the driveway and for a moment I wonder if I’m at the right place, but then the curtains move and the porch light turns on. A text from the client confirms I’m at the right spot so I turn the car off and go in. I had a bad feeling the whole drive up there, and I was about to find out why”

The storm has fully moved in now, rain is dancing off the tin and puddles are forming in the street, cars pass by tires hissing in the rain. I put my smoke out and take a sip of my drink before continuing.

“You ever seen that movie ‘Spawn’?” I ask, heads nod “You know the gross perv in Spawn? The man waiting for me reminded me of him, and the trailer smelled of cat piss, but I follow him." I inhale smoke and watch it linger back out of me and continue.

"He takes me to directly to the kitchen and opens the fridge where a variety of drinks are, offering me one. I clock the new flat of Co-op water bottles, beers, and in the door of the fridge, a battered Dasani water bottle, half full."

I swirl the ice in my own drink now, looking at it floating in my glass.

"I didn't take one, as I had a travel mug of coffee that I had brought with me, so we

move towards the living room area, I am clocking everything around me as I put my bag down and take off my jacket. I put my go-mug on the table and ask to use the bathroom, which I do"

I look over at Holly, my eyes meeting hers.

"When I return and sit down in the arm chair, I pick up my mug, and take a swig of coffee, and as I'm drinking I feel his eyes on me, heavy, he’s really WATCHING ME DRINK THAT COFFEE, and in an instant that Dasani water bottle flashes through my mind and I spit what I can discreetly back into my mug.”

Those listening look confused, so I clarify for them “The date rape drug liquid G is a clear flavorless fluid, it looks just like water a very small amount can incapacitate you. It didn’t take long for the wave of weakness to hit, and he’s watching me, he offers me a bottle of water, I refuse it, struggling not to let myself slip under as the world begins to spin.”

I light another smoke, take another sip of my drink and look at my companions and continue the story.

“I somehow managed to stay conscious, my survival drive had kicked in and I was able to get up and stumble to the kitchen, he’s offering me bottled waters, and saying maybe I should go lay down. Of course, I refuse, insist I’m fine and drink directly from the kitchen faucet. There was no way I was going to drink anything he offered."

" I don’t know how long it was before I was able to regain enough strength to be able to attempt to leave, but during the time between, this man opens a wooden box, in it are all kinds of drugs, needles and pipes, and money. He wants something I don’t offer, and won’t give freely. ‘Everyone who’s come before you had their price, I always get what I want’ he told me. He talked about the girls who had come before and insinuates he handed them off to transporters, to be sold south of the border”

I let this sink in, my eyes scan the horizon, watching the car lights reflect off the rain as they pass by.

“There was a big knife sitting on the table next to the box of drugs I had refused, waiting like a silent threat, and all I could think was ‘I have to get home to my kids’ and I told him exactly that, purse in hand, backing up slowly towards the door, 911 on the screen, all I had to do was hit the call button, instead I hit the remote start on my suv and reached for my jacket , maintaining eye contact. ‘I'm leaving now, I have KIDS to get home to, and they have my pinned location’ he can see my phone is set to call 911 and lets me leave.

"I booked it out of there, half expecting him to come after me, grateful for remote start.

It’s the middle of the night, I’m still drugged, and I know I wont be able to keep it at bay for much longer, I set home as my location on the GPS and drive and drive, passing sleeping towns until I got to one with a little motel, it was about4 am, the sky was starting to get light, and at this point survival means sleeping, right? So I get a room, and pass out”

“That is so fucked up!” exclaims Holly “He could have killed you! Did you report him?”

I take another sip of my watery tequila, ice long gone.

“I did, actually when I got back to the village I called the RCMP, they came to the house and took a statement.”

Old man Jack had been quite this whole time just listening “He was probably one of them serial killers, like that Pickton guy out in BC”

Holly frowns “So did they....did they do anything about it?”

I smile and shake my head slowly “You know, a few years later I had contacted them and asked just that, the whole Mykayla Bailey thing out by Yorkton had me wondering if he didn’t get her....” I frown “But according to the RCMP, there is no record on file for the statement I had made. It was like it hadn’t been made at all”

I let the weight of that sink in.

My cousin through marriage looks at me with a serious expression on his face “The next time you get a weird feeling...” I laugh softly “I listen to it.”

The storm has passed and the air is much cooler, a nice breeze brings a chill that speaks of fall, and a shiver runs over me.

“The house should be cooled down by now, I think I'll head home. I should really write these stories someday huh?”

And off I go, skirt swishing around my ankles, back to my big old house where my sons, my little dog and cat wait.