Dead Hunt (4 page)

“It wasn’t the whole team; it was, like,
three guys,” Paul corrected her.

“Like that makes a difference,” Lauren
laughed sarcastically.

“And you know this how?” Lucy asked Paul.

“I was there,” Paul replied as Lucy stared at
him with insinuating eyes. “And I didn’t touch her! Can we please
change the subject?”

“Good idea,” Wade agreed as he popped in a CD
and cranked the volume.

The sounds of deep hip-hop bass lines rattled
the van’s tiny speakers, drowning out any possibility of further
conversation.

Several hours later they were crossing the
Canso Causeway from mainland Nova Scotia to Cape Breton Island. The
Causeway was 4,500 feet long and the only road on and off the
island.

The rest of the trip continued to be rather
uneventful as song after song pounded the speakers. Paul tried a
few more blonde jokes but couldn’t get any more of a response than
the girls rolling their eyes. Wade laughed at a few. Michael barely
smiled.

The girls were exhausted from the competition
and the long drive. Lauren and Emma couldn’t keep their eyes open
despite the loud music. The teens drove through the Whycocomaugh
Reservation and then through the village of Baddeck.

“What the hell kinda language is that?” Wade
asked, pointing at the huge sign as they approached the turn to St.
Anne’s.

“Gaelic,” Emma answered.

“What does is it say?” he asked.

“One hundred thousand welcomes,” she
announced

“I can read that,” Wade laughed as he pointed
to the English version printed below the Gaelic one. “I meant how
do you say it in Gaelic?”

“Caid Mille Failte,” Emma explained without
giving it a second thought.

“You’re pretty smart for a dumb blonde,” Wade
laughed jokingly.

“Tapadh leat,” she replied.

“Huh?” Wade asked.

“Thank you,” she explained as she batted her
pretty blue eyes.

“She’s pretty damn cute too”, Wade thought as
he stared into her captivating baby blue eyes perhaps longer than
he should have. He pulled his eyes away from her as they reached
the base of Kelly’s Mountain.

At the foot of the mountain was the turn off
for the tiny village of Englishtown, home of Giant MacAskill. The
three boys had stopped at the museum on the trip up to the
competition to see how big this giant really was. They learned the
Cape Breton Giant stood seven foot nine and weighed 425 pounds. His
shoulders were measured at forty-four inches wide while his hands
were eight inches wide and a foot long.

“This guy even makes you look small,” Michael
suggested as he snapped a picture of Paul standing next to the
life-sized statue. Paul laughed, but when he saw the picture he
knew Michael was right; Giant MacAskill did make him look small.
The guys wanted to stop again on the way back to show the girls the
museum, but a thick fog was rolling in, so they decided to just
keep driving before it got worse. As they approached the top of
Kelly’s Mountain it got worse, much worse. Visibility was all but
gone and the road seemed to literally disappear in front of their
eyes.

Paul slowed the van down to a crawl,
desperately trying to keep from driving over the side of the steep
mountain. He’d heard rumors that the fog on Kelly’s got as thick as
pea soup and he now knew exactly what those people had meant. He
didn’t even know he was driving off the road until the van scraped
against a guard rail, scaring everyone in the van, including
him.

“Drive in the middle of the road,” Michael
suggested.

“Why the hell would I do that?” Paul snapped
back. “I could get creamed by a truck coming the other way, you
idiot!”

“Because you’re gonna drive off the mountain
if you don’t, moron!” Michael told him, “You can’t see more than a
foot in front of the van, so keep the yellow line between the
headlights. That way it’s impossible to go off the road.”

“Great idea,” Paul rolled his eyes. “And what
happens if one of those big-ass trucks come?”

“You’ll see their headlights. So pull over
before you kill us!”

Paul knew it was a good idea. He just hated
to admit somebody had a better idea than him, especially
Michael.

Paul eased the van over until the yellow line
was between his headlights and slowly crept over Kelly’s Mountain.
Much to their surprise, and appreciation, not a single vehicle came
the other way. As they reached the bottom of the mountain, they
literally drove out of the fog as if they’d driven through a wall,
but their relief was short lived. At the base of Kelly’s Mountain
red and blue flashing lights from a parked police car and a “Bridge
Out” sign welcomed the teens.

Normally a bridge out sign was no big deal,
but Cape Breton, although called an island, was actually two
islands. The Atlantic Ocean ran through each end until they met in
the middle at the Bras D’or Lakes, a fresh water lake famed for its
sail boating and spectacular views. The combination of fresh and
salt water gave the Bras D’or Lakes a unique ecosystem. The Seal
Island Bridge was the largest bridge on the Cape Breton and the
only way to cross over on this end.

A thick, burly man got out of the police
cruiser and eyed the van cautiously as it rolled to a stop. Paul
rolled down the tinted window as the cop approached.

“You kids lost?” the cop asked.

Paul motioned his head to the bridge, “What’s
the problem?”

The cop looked at Paul for a few seconds
before answering, but it was long enough for Paul to notice the cop
looked like he was ready to snarl. The cop nodded towards the
bridge out sign.

“If you actually knew how to read, what do
you think that big sign over there would say?”

“Jesus, man!” Paul responded. “Who pissed in
your corn flakes?”

“Listen, smart ass,” the cop growled, “a car
filled with partying teenagers tried passing an eighteen wheeler
and slammed head-on with an oncoming car. The tanker jackknifed and
exploded and a lot of innocent people were killed here, so I’m
really not in the mood for your stupid questions because you’re not
smart enough to read the signs.”

“Hard to see the signs when the fog is so
thick we could barely see the road!” Paul snapped back.

“You’re wearing my patience thin, boy,” the
cop sneered. “So turn this rig around and go back to wherever the
hell it was you came from.”

Paul, who had little respect for authority
figures and even less respect for cops, wasn’t smart enough to be
intimidated or quiet.

“No problem, officer. That’s what I’m trying
to do: get back to where we came from. Maybe you heard of it. It’s
called Glace Bay, and it’s on that side of the bridge,” Paul
sarcastically said, pointing across the bridge.

“That’s it!” The cop barked as he reached for
the van’s door handle.

Lucy quickly leaned over Paul towards the
open window.

“Excuse me, sir,” she flirted in her best
sexy voice.

The cop was instantly pacified as his eyes
traced the contours of her tight and revealing shirt before looking
her in the eye. She had that effect on men, and she used it
whenever it was to her advantage. She leaned out the window,
crossing her arms so they squeezed her breasts together, enhancing
her cleavage.

The cop’s eyes dropped instantly to take in
the view.

“Bat your eyelashes, lick your lips, show a
little cleavage, and you can have a man eating out of your hand in
seconds,” Lucy thought. It was so easy it was almost
embarrassing.

“Is there another way over?” she asked in a
sultry voice. “We really don’t want to drive all the way back to
the causeway and go through St. Peter’s. I'm really tired and I
just wanna go to bed.”

The cop swallowed a lump in his throat and
forced his eyes away from her cleavage. She licked her lips and
smiled seductively.

“Men are pathetically predictable,” she
thought.

The cop, his chest now stuck out like an army
drill sergeant, tried to compose himself.

“W-w-well,” he cleared his throat and tried
again. “When you get to Little Narrows, turn left. There’s a cable
ferry that can take you across the channel. It might still be
operating. If not, than you kids have no choice but to try St.
Peters or find a motel somewhere.”

He stopped, then looked at the other
girls.

“I suggest you girls phone your parents and
let them know where you are at,” he looked a Paul, “and who you are
with. They might want to rent a helicopter to come get you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Paul blurted.

“Shut up, Paul,” Lucy hissed as she elbowed
him.

“Yeah, Paul,” the cop said matter-of-factly.
“That's good advice. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than
throwing your sarcastic ass in jail. But the jail is on that side
of the bridge, and I don’t feel like babysitting you all night. So
turn this rig around and get going before I change my mind."

“Thank you, officer,” Lucy winked as she
crawled back into the van.

Paul dropped the van in reverse and eased it
around. Without warning, he floored the accelerator, throwing
everyone in the van forward and spraying dirt at the cop.

“I hate that kid!” the cop grumbled as he
brushed off his uniform.

“You’re an asshole!” Lucy yelled as she
picked herself up off the van floor and slapped the back of Paul’s
head.

“Oh, my god, you are such a flirt!” Lauren
laughed at Lucy.

“It got us directions didn’t it?” Lucy
replied with a smile. “And it kept big mouth here out of jail.
Paul, you really should learn when to shut the hell up.”

“He started it!” Paul snapped.

“He started it!” Lucy repeated mockingly.
“You can be such a child sometimes.”

Lucy turned to take her seat and noticed
Lauren had moved up and sat next to Emma. Lucy stared at the empty
seat next to Michael. Lauren just smiled, but Lucy shot her a dirty
look. Lucy took the seat next to Michael. Michael smiled briefly
but said nothing.

“Whatever you do,” Lucy silently ordered
Michael, “don’t stare at me, and please don’t do something stupid
like look down the front of my shirt or Paul will freak. I’m going
to kill Lauren, she knows better.”

A few seconds later, as if Michael heard her
silent plea, he turned his head away and stared out the window.

“Thank you,” Lucy thought as she looked to
the front of the van just in time for Paul to look in the rearview
mirror. His eyes narrowed accusingly when he saw her sitting next
to Michael, but as the van drove back through the wall of fog, his
focus went back to the task at hand. They all looked straight ahead
as if everyone’s eyes were needed to navigate. With the yellow line
between the headlights, the van crawled back up and over Kelly’s
Mountain.

“Why don’t we just go to Margaree?” Lucy
suggested when the van broke free of the terrifying fog.

“That’s a great idea,” Emma chimed in.

“My parents have a cabin in Margaree Valley.”
Lucy continued, “We could go there for the night instead of driving
the long way around.”

“A cabin in the woods with three girls. Works
for me,” Paul joked.

“And we can call our parents,” Emma added,
“in case they want to rent a helicopter.”

The van filled with laughter.

“Hey, Emma,” Paul smiled, “what do you get
when a blonde dyes her hair brown?”

“I don’t know,” she answered.

“Artificial Intelligence!” Paul roared as
Emma rolled her eyes.

“When you pass Baddeck,” Lucy told Paul,
ignoring his lame joke, “turn right at the Red Barn. You can’t miss
it. Then just follow the signs.”

As the trip wore on, one by one the tired
teens fell asleep. Lucy had to make sure she leaned far away from
Michael. If she accidentally leaned on Michael, or he on her, poor
Michael would probably not wake up because Paul would kill him
while he slept.

“I don’t know why he gets so jealous.” Lucy
thought, “It’s not like I ever gave him a reason to be jealous.
It’s Michael for crying out loud.”

Paul turned at the Red Barn Gift Shop and
Restaurant and navigated the winding and steep roads of Hunter’s
Mountain.

Two hours later, the van jolted to a stop,
startling everyone awake.

“Where are we?” Michael asked.

“Beats the hell outta me,” Paul answered.

“Huh?” Lucy mumbled, trying to wipe the sleep
out of her eyes.

“There’s the ocean on our left, so we must be
getting close,” Paul suggested.

“Ocean?” Lucy repeated, stumbling to the
front of the van to get a better look.

“Paul, you idiot!” She slapped the back of
his head. “We’re in Cheticamp!”

“Cheti-who?” Paul asked.

“Cheticamp, you moron, you drove past the
turn off. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You said to turn at the red barn and keep
going,” Paul argued.

“I said to follow the signs,” Lucy snapped
back. “Think about it dumb-dumb: Margaree Valley. A valley means
between mountains, not next to the ocean.”

Lucy looked around and saw a field of stick
figures dressed in clothes and Halloween masks.

Lucy pointed to the figures, “Joe’s
Scarecrows.”

“Joe’s what?” Lauren asked.

“I remember those,” Emma told them. “I was
here with my parents a few years ago. The whole field is a bunch of
scarecrows dressed up with cute little nametags and stuff. The
restaurant over there has great cheeseburgers.”

“Oh, my god, Emma!” Lauren shook her head.
“Do you think about anything other than food?”

“But I’m hungry,” Emma tried to explain.

“You’re always hungry,” Lauren told her. “For
how much you eat you should weigh like five hundred pounds.”

“Part of her already does,” Paul laughed.

“Ha, ha,” Emma said dryly. “Like I never
heard that one before. That’s about as original as calling someone
with glasses four-eyes.” As soon as Emma said it she lowered her
gaze to the floor.