Aby was tired, still more than three hours outside of Winnipeg, and had no words to describe the horrible feeling in her legs. It was as if a thousand tiny, jagged pieces of shell were floating through her bloodstream, pushing at her skin from the inside. Aby had vowed that she would not stop until she was on the far side of Winnipeg, but as the sensation grew severe, she had to. Slowing down, Aby pulled onto the side of the road. She got out of the white Honda Civic, attempted to take a step and collapsed. Leaning on the hood, she looked at the long crack in the windshield.
Even though Ást had told her she didn’t have to worry about the crack in the windshield, Aby did. But as the kilometres went by, she’d managed to turn her worry into a game: if she reached the Prairie Embassy Hotel before the crack touched the left-hand corner of the windshield, her mother would still be alive. The rust would not have started. In addition, both more importantly and more improbably, Margaret would be receptive to her daughter’s unannounced visit. As Aby drove through Manitoba, most of her understood that this was simply a way to make the time pass more quickly, but a small part of her began to believe it. Now the crack was less than two inches from the corner of the windshield.
Aby stood at the side of the Trans-Canada Highway, alarmed by the continuing and still unnamed sensation in her legs. She feared it was permanent, but after five minutes of leaning against the stolen white Honda Civic, she began to feel better. After fifteen minutes, the sensation was gone. Determined to get past Winnipeg, if not all the way to Morris, before she slept, Aby got back into the driver’s seat.
Three and a half hours later, Aby reached the outskirts of Winnipeg. The sky was moonless, the road was not well marked and Aby was tired. All of this led to confusion, and instead of bypassing the city, Aby found herself in the centre of it. Her attempts to return to the highway only led her to residential streets. Just after 10:00 p.m., her eyes were beginning to close on their own, and Aby acknowledged that she needed to rest. She selected a quiet, tree-lined street and after several attempts managed to parallel park. She reclined her seat and fell asleep quickly.
A short time later Aby was startled awake when she heard someone at her left right rear tire. Eagerness to get out of Winnipeg made her forget her promise to have as little contact with the Síðri as possible. She opened the car door, stepped onto the pavement and walked to the rear of the vehicle. At first she thought she had hit the young man who was squatting on the curb, because his body was so close to the back bumper. But he appeared uninjured, so Aby relaxed, though just slightly.
“Mavbe vou could velph me?” she asked.
The man did not immediately respond, which made Aby very nervous. Her gills opened and closed slightly and she wiggled her fingers, stretching the webbing between them. Aby was unaware that she was doing this until the Síðri looked at his hands. Self-conscious, Aby put hers behind her back.
Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, he spoke. “I think I know you,” he said.
“I von’t fink sooh.”
“Yeah, I do. You almost crashed into a limousine I was in.”
“Fat was vou?” He looked very different.
“I was in the back.”
“Neye am so soohrry aboot vat,” Aby said. “Please vait here?”
The man continued to squat, and Aby took his lack of movement as agreement. Still impressed with her improving ability to walk, Aby returned to the car and thrust her head into the back seat. She knew she’d hidden the keys somewhere safe, but she suddenly couldn’t remember where that was. After pushing her hand down the crack in the seat behind the seat belts, then searching in the pocket in the driver’s side door, she found them underneath the back floor mats. Holding them firmly, Aby returned to the man, who had remained at the back of the car.
“Cav vou please make saue fese get back tau her?” Aby asked. She held out her hand. At first it seemed like the man would deny her request. Then, slowly, he reached out his hand. Careful to make her movements slow and predictable, so as not to spook him, she handed over the keys.
“I will,” he said. He stared at the keys.
“Verv impaurtant.”
“It’s unbelievable,” the man said.
His answer satisfied Aby, as she assumed he’d meant it in the Aquatic sense of the word. Returning the keys was a weight off her shoulders and filled her with satisfaction and renewed energy. “Dou vou phow vow to get to Morris?” she asked him.
“Where?
“Vit’s verv close. Morris?”
“Sorry. I’m not from around here.”
“Auh. Auvay. Feranks, then.”
“No problem.”
“It’s sau drv here.”
“I find that too,” he said.
Aby nodded. The man returned the gesture. She felt that this brief interaction had somehow been significant, of even greater significance than returning the keys. Perhaps he was an Almennt, a word that has no English translation, but that describes God’s brief appearance in the world in exactly the form the seer needs to see.
Aby looked back at the man to see if this was true, but he just continued to stand there, looking dumbfounded, and she concluded that he wasn’t an Almennt. She got back inside the white Honda Civic, rolled up the window and started the engine. The gills in her neck opened and she took a very deep breath, then mistakenly put the car into reverse. Still feeling like something had been left unsaid, Aby gave a small, embarrassed wave, then pulled onto the street. She was less than two hours away from Morris, but first she’d have to find her way out of Winnipeg using nothing but allt, or, in English, trial and error.