Waiting for Harvey (The Spirits of Maine) (8 page)

I bagged up the trash as if it mattered to me.  I carried it out and crammed it into the crowded metal trash barrel.  With the lid on it again, I secured it with a bungee cord to keep out the raccoons, skunks, and other scavengers.  Careful not to smile, I went inside and checked to make sure the hot water reserve tank was full.

“It will be good to have a hot shower before supper,” I announced, confident he would be listening.  I filled two water bottles and tucked them into my pockets before striding confidently outside

Whistling cheerfully, I secured the front door.  I allowed a smile to touch my lips as I rolled the ATV out of the shed and started it.  After a last look around at the beautiful scenery, I settled on the seat.  I accelerated and rode over the uneven trail through the woods.    

During the night more snow had fallen, leaving drifts here and there.  The tree that blocked the road was partially covered.  Beyond it, there was no sign of any vehicle or human.  I maneuvered the ATV down the banking and up the other side to get around the massive log.  Tracks left by deer, rabbits, and several other animals crisscrossed the road ahead. 

Growing more excited, I sped along the lane.  I had been alone in the cabin for a month, with no human contact.  It had been a great opportunity to break through the writer’s block and begin writing seriously again.  Still I was ready to return to civilization and enjoy conversation again.  I chuckled, thinking I was looking forward to Christmas with John and our sisters or maybe even our dad.  The chaos of a family holiday celebration would be a welcomed change from the isolation of the cabin.

A light breeze dusted snow from the trees.  I guessed that the temperature was near 40° as slushy spots began to appear on the road.  A thin layer of ice was melting with the snow.  When the sun set again it would refreeze, but that didn’t concern me.  I knew I’d be in a warm bed at a hotel or John’s house before midnight.  I could almost taste the blueberry pancakes I would order for breakfast the next morning.

Speeding along the road I was smiling with
Hakuna Matata
playing in my head.  “…it means no worries for the rest of your days…” I shouted out and laughed, startling a small flock of birds.  The last of the clouds broke apart and moved to the north.  By the time I reached the end of the next fire lane, I was singing
Supercalafragalisticexpialadoshus
at the top of my lungs.  I turned right where I had chosen left the day before.  Excitedly, I travelled along the snow covered dirt road and continued my song.

For more than an hour I drove from one rough road to another.  Some showed signs that trucks or other ATVs had used them, although not recently.  I slowed the machine and studied the sky.  The sun was high overhead.  I was surprised that I hadn’t yet encountered a paved road.  I halted the ATV, shut off the motor and listened intently.  I hoped to hear some kind of traffic in the distance.  Nothing but the sounds of the woods could be heard. 

I needed to find the route to the main road.  It would be bad to be out on the ATV, after the sun went down and the temperature dropped with it.  I had no shelter and wasn’t confident that I could build a fire out there.  Time was ticking by and I couldn’t fail.  I had prepared to travel out to the road that day but had not considered what I might do if I couldn’t find it.  At what point would I surrender and turn back yet again? 

I continued along the trail.  Not far ahead I saw a fork in the road.  I looked to the left and right and steered to the right.  For about a mile, there was nothing but dense pine trees on both sides.  The machine climbed higher, and I felt colder air on my face.  With a growing frustration, I continued on for a few more miles. 

Discouraged, but unwilling to give up, I stopped to think.  I dug through my pockets and pulled out a stale granola bar.  I regretted that I hadn’t brought a thermos of coffee.  I drank the last of the water from the first of my two bottles.  I shook my head, feeling like a fool for my poor planning.  John would have been prepared the day before, and he would have found the main road.

I stopped and looked to the sky again.  I estimated that no more than a few hours of daylight remained.  Soon, I would need to turn back or commit to staying out in the woods overnight.  Neither of the choices appealed to me.  I hated to admit that I lacked the skills to survive on my own.  I needed to spend more time with John, to learn what he had tried to teach me years earlier.  If I had listened I wouldn’t be in the spot I was in.    

Discouraged, I turned the ignition key to on again.  The engine sputtered and hesitated then roared to life.  I let it idle while I secured my backpack again.  The shoe lace of my right boot had come untied.  I lifted my foot, putting it against the side of the ATV to tie it again.  I heard the sloshing sound as the machine rocked.  The gauge on top of the tank had no numbers, but the hand had dropped below the last divider, into the red zone.  I flicked the cover of the gauge, hoping it was only stuck. 

“No, no, no!” I roared and slammed my fist against the tank.  My pointless venture the day before had done nothing more than waste fuel.  Furious, I kicked the machine several times.  I couldn’t remember when I had ever felt so angry.   

Hoping to conserve the remaining fuel, I drove slower along the road.  I breathed a silent prayer and followed the trail around another curve.  After only a few more miles, I saw a sign nailed to a tree.  It warned against hunting on the property.  My hopes rose.  People!  There would be no need to post the land if there were no people out there.  The new sign was a vibrant hunter orange. Someone had been out there recently to put up that sign.  Whoever owned the land cared enough to post it.  They might even live in the area.  People!

No more than 50 yards further along the road, another sign had been posted.  It was another warning for hunters, advising that they were not welcome.  I sped up and saw a larger sign in bright blue up ahead.  As I approached, I was able to make out the words,
Lamoureaux Brothers
.  They might not live in the area, but they worked there!  They would have transportation to Saint Francis, Fort Kent, or Van Buren!  Or cell phones with reception!  I accelerated again, smiling as I passed the large signboard.

Ahead on the road another warning to hunters had been nailed to an ancient pine tree.  Beyond it, I saw a wide gap between the trees.  I slowed and turned off the road.  Bordered by pine, poplar and spruce trees a driveway had been carved through the woods.  Nearly a quarter mile wide circle had been cleared.  The bright yellow construction equipment was been parked in a neat row at the back of the property.  To the left was an ugly old house trailer, resting on stacks of concrete blocks.

My heart sank.  None of the snow had been disturbed.  I looked for the usual pick-up trucks and other small vehicles, but there were none.  I wondered what day of the week it might be and tried to calculate it.  I guessed it was a Thursday, but I couldn’t be sure.  It would not be unusual for the men to leave early or even take the day off during the work week.  Yet the more I studied the worksite, the more it appeared to have been closed up for the winter season.

Sorrowfully, I stopped the ATV and shut it off.  The silence was heartbreaking.  There were no people, no pickup trucks, and no cell phones.  I felt a lump in my throat and swallowed hard.  I tipped my head back and examined the tree tops. 

The gas tank on the ATV was too low to venture much farther.  It was unlikely that I would reach the cabin before the last of the fuel ran out.  I risked being left out in the woods, without shelter overnight.  Dejectedly, I moved to start the ATV again.  It started, stalled, started, and died.  I dropped my head.  It couldn’t be happening.  Feeling defeated, I climbed off the machine and stared down at the fuel gauge.

Leaving it behind, I walked toward the mobile home.  Simple, wooden steps led up to the middle of three doors.  I climbed the snowy stairs and tested the door and found it locked.  Given the alternatives I couldn’t give up.  I found two plastic milk crates under the stairs and stacked them in front of the door at the right end of the house trailer.  That door was locked too.  Lastly, I tried the one to the left and nearly gasped as the knob turned with little effort.  Awkwardly, I maneuvered up onto the floor.

The small room held a picnic table and several outdoor chairs.  They had been stacked hastily, leaving only a narrow path through to the hallway.  I looked through the first doorway along the hall.  It was a bathroom with pink and mint green tile.  Gold asterisk like stars, on the shower wall, made me think of the old Jetson’s cartoon.  The wall was partially concealed by a weathered blue tarp, hung up as a make-shift shower curtain.

In the next room, file cabinets and office equipment filled the space.  Sheets of clear plastic had been draped over a computer, copier, fax, and printer.  I checked the multi-line phone, and it was no surprise that the line was dead.  

At the end of the hall, I entered what might have been the living room when the trailer had been a home decades earlier.  It had been converted into office space with a large drafting table and two desks.  The surfaces were neat and orderly… too neat and orderly.  There was no work in progress.  The place had clearly been vacated for the season.  The office staff was unlikely to return before early spring.

I moved on to the small kitchen and began searching through the drawers and cabinets.  Two cartons of protein drinks had been tucked under the kitchen sink.  Salt, sugar, honey, and a box of tea bags had been left on a rotating tray in the center of the table.  In the small cupboards above the refrigerator, I found a gallon size plastic bag filled with breakfast bars, candies, antacids, hot chocolate mix, peanut butter crackers, and other treats. 

Feeling scared and desperate, I pulled out a box of heavy duty trash bags.  Like a common thief, I rummaged through the kitchen, grabbing everything that I might be able to consume or use in any way.  I shoved it all into the garbage bag and carried it outside.  Greedily, I returned to take the toilet paper, paper towels, matches, the remaining trash bags and other goods.

On the shelf above the toilet, I found books and magazines and I took them, as well.  In the desk drawers a flashlight and batteries had been left behind.  I threw them into another garbage bag along with a calculator that I had no use for.  I grabbed a battery powered lantern, the First Aid Kit, Tylenol, and other items.  When I reached to unplug the fax machine to take it, I stopped myself.   

There was no bed or blankets in the trailer.  More importantly there was no heat.  Staying through the night was not a good option.  I would need to find a way to get back to the cabin.  I thought of the office equipment and realized there had to be a generator to power it all.  No lines for electricity had been run so far out.  Struggling with the bags of stolen goods, I hurried back outside.  I ran down the steps and reached up to pull the last bags out before locking the door and banging it shut.  In the spring, I would return and reimburse them for everything that I had taken.

I left the bags near the ATV and plodded through the snow, around the end of the trailer, and along the backside.  At the far end I found the large generator, set on a concrete slab and bolted in place.  Twenty feet beyond it was a battered shed with broken equipment piled beside it.

The wind blew snow down from the roof and into my face.  I wiped at it with the back of my glove and murmured another string of obscenities.  I pried open the rusty door of the shed and looked inside.  Shovels and other hand tools were propped against one wall.  Nearly hidden in the fray was a rusty, red gas can.  I shook it and guessed there was a gallon or two at most in it.  I could only hope that it would be enough.

I removed my gloves and felt for the nozzle inside the can.  I screwed it in place and began pouring the foul smelling liquid into the tank of the ATV.  I closed my eyes and turned the key.  The engine spluttered and I cringed, but it started!  Relieved, I left it idling as I secured the trash bags on the back of the ATV.  With renewed hope, I circled around, and sped out onto the dirt road again. 

I didn’t dare push my luck by continuing my search for the main road that day.  The wind was blowing harder and the day was growing colder.  With the additional fuel from the gas can, I would be able to try again in the morning, but I needed to get back to the cabin for the night.  A small voice in the back of my brain asked why I had taken the supplies from the trailer.  If I was sure that I would be finding a way out soon, then I had no need for any of it.  I sang the first refrains of ZZ Top’s
She’s Got Legs,
at the top of my lungs.  Focused on my song, I ignored the question.

*

Confident that it was a Sunday in the middle of December, I sat in the cabin watching the snow falling.  It had been accumulating for two days.  I returned safely with the ATV and my stolen goods.  There had been no more encounters with the being who called himself Harvey.  He wanted me to stay and there was no risk of my leaving until the snowstorm finally passed.  The monotone voice on the radio warned of more snow to come with high winds and frigid temps.

I knew it couldn’t snow forever.  Repairs would surely be underway along the Maine coast.  The freezing temps and snow would complicate matters, but it would all get resolved.  The latest snowstorm would end and the roads would be cleared.  John would return for me.  Somebody would return for me.  I would be missed and somebody would come for me!  I just needed to be patient for a few more days and wait out the storm.