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It was tough for Jericho to make the shotgun look inconspicuous while he walked down the highway trying to hitchhike. Keeping the silver dagger inside the backpack was a different story. Part of Jericho thought that walking through the woods just beyond the main highway was a good idea. Another part of him was sick of the forest and everything inside. He never hated nature as much as he did at that moment. He couldn't wait to get back to Chicago and its sprawling skyline. Fuck these trees.
Every time a vehicle came thundering down the road, Jericho stuck his thumb out to flag the driver down, and every time they kept on driving. It was mostly semi-trucks and a few random cars. AB 58 wasn't exactly the busiest road in the world, so the vehicles were few and far between. So Jericho kept on walking toward High Level.
The time had to be close to midnight. Maybe a little after. Who knew or cared?
It was dark and the cold started getting to him again. He had some glasses, so the idea of building a campsite wasn't out of the question. He could make a fire from raw materials, or at least he thought he could if they were dry enough.
Building a campsite meant going back in the woods. Back to what was waiting for him. Sure, he made a promise, and if that thing came for him, he'd be ready. But Jericho had zero interest in picking a fight. If he didn't encounter the Wendigo on his way back to High Level, so be it.
A set of headlights appeared behind him and he turned to stick out his thumb again.
WWWOOOO
Red and blue flashing lights rotated around, illuminating the dark.
"Of course."
Jericho turned around and saw a white SUV with blue letters reading RCMP. Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Jericho quickly turned his thumb flailing into a wave. He had no reason to be wary of the Mounties. As far as they knew, he hadn't done anything.
"Hey there, fella!" the Mountie shouted from behind the wheel of the SUV. "You okay?"
"Honestly, I've been better."
"Come over here," he said.
Jericho headed toward the SUV and squinted. The green-tinted lenses did a poor job of blocking the red and blue police lights, not to mention the spotlight that was being shined in his face.
"Would you mind turning that the other way, Officer?" Jericho asked. "I got sensitive eyes."
"Oh, sorry, there." The spotlight immediately went dark.
Guess that thing about Canadians being super polite was real.
"You get in a little bit of trouble there, eh?"
"I was out hunting with a friend and we hit a bison. Totaled the truck," Jericho answered.
"Gosh, that sounds awful. I saw the bison a few miles back. You need some help?"
Jericho was speechless. This wasn't the interaction he expected. Canadians really were super friendly. For a split second, Jericho considered relocating the business.
"Yeah, man. That would be really great."
"Hop on in!"
Jericho jogged to the SUV, threw open the back door, and went to take a seat.
"Did you do something wrong?" the Mountie asked.
"No," Jericho answered like a little kid knowing he got caught.
"Then you don't need to sit back there."
Jericho threw his bag and the shotgun in the back and closed the door.
"I assume that shotgun is for hunting?"
"Absolutely. It's empty anyway."
"You got a license for that thing, right?"
"Back in the truck."
"How come you didn't call for help?"
"Don't got a phone."
"You really aren't from around here, are you?"
Jericho laughed. "Is it that obvious?"
The Mountie laughed too as the SUV pulled out.
"So what brings you up to Northern Alberta, if you don't mind me asking? We don't get a lotta people like you around here."
Jericho knew the cop probably didn't mean anything offensive, and was probably right. Tom Fiddler said the same thing. A guy like him kinda stuck out around here. Which would probably explain why he didn't get picked up.
"Hunting trip. It was a huge failure. ’Til we hit that bison."
The Mountie laughed again. "So, not completely unsuccessful! Where you headed?"
"High Level."
"You're walking all that way?"
"Didn't have much choice."
Every bit of that conversation was the truth. Especially the big failure part. Jericho learned a long time ago that the best way to talk to cops was to tell the truth. Just not the whole truth.
"What's your name, stranger?" the Mountie asked.
"I'm Dave."
"Well, Dave, I'm RM Hart."
At first he thought RM was the guy's name, before realizing it was some Mountie term. To be frank, part of Jericho was disappointed this guy was dressed like a regular cop and not in the famous red get-up and big beige hat. Not that he was going to tell him that.
"Mr. Hart, would it be inappropriate to ask to borrow your cellphone?"
"Of course not."
I love the Mounties. Jericho dialed the number and smiled at the officer, almost too friendly. The phone rang three times.
"Hello," a groggy voice answered on the other end.
"Rich!" Jericho said to Rich Weaver, the man who ran the day-to-day operations of Cherry Vale Security.
"Mr. Escalante? It's almost 1:00 in the morning."
"I know, and I need help. This trip has been an absolute disaster," Jericho said.
"Imagine how the poor bison feels!" Hart chimed in.
Jericho smiled. "I need you to buy me a plane ticket."
"Sure."
"I need you to do this right now. A one-way ticket from the airport in High Level, Alberta back to Chicago."
"Alberta? As in Canada?"
"Yes, Rich."
"Midway or O'Hare?"
"I sincerely don't care."
Jericho nodded back at the super nice Mountie. To say this was the most positive experience he'd ever had with any local police would be greatly understated. If this guy only knew.
"RM Hart what's your 20?" called a voice over RM Hart's radio.
The RCMP Officer grabbed the CB and answered, "10-17 on AB 58 headed toward High Level. What's up?"
"We've got reports of a 10-17, roadside check about six miles back from your location. Can you check on it?"
"10-4."
Hart turned his SUV around in the center of the road and headed back in the opposite direction.
Jericho pulled the cellphone away from his ear. "What's going on?"
"Nothing important, just need to do a quick roadside check. It'll only take a minute."
"All right, you're booked," said Rich Weaver on the phone. Jericho pulled the phone back to his ear. "Your flight leaves at 5:30 am from the High Level Airport with a connecting flight in Calgary back to O'Hare," Rich said. "Anything else I can do?"
"No, Rich that'll be just—"
Hart made the same mistake Nashida had and took his eyes off the dark county highway. He didn't see the man standing in the center of the road with the .38 drawn and pointed toward the oncoming SUV.
BLAM BLAM BLAM