Author: admin

Reynolds looked at Niko for a long time and shook his head. “Don’t they say a Chamonix never lies?”

“They do.” Niko chuckled, but it sounded forced.

Reynolds began walking again, moving into the yard, scanning as strolled, as if looking for shark’s teeth on a cold beach. “So you’re saying you didn’t hear any shots in the past hour or so. The reports say they were over by the river … where you were.” He was circling towards the tarp.

“Damn Sheriff. I hear shots out here all the time. They don’t really register with me, you know?”

“Well, that makes sense most of the time Niko, but this was a bunch of handgun shots fired off in succession.”

“Shots are shots.”

“I don’t buy that,” Reynolds was next to the trap, eyeing it. Niko’s pulse increased and his face felt hot. “You know what hunting shots sound like and what handgun shots sound like.”

“Sure, sure.” Niko paused, unable to focus on his words as he watched Reynolds stand and scan the yard, standing just feet from Bayless’s still warm body.

Good god. How is he not looking under that tarp already?

“I’ve heard plenty of hunters in my time, but I really don’t have that much experience with handguns.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“You saying I’m lying?”

“No, just hiding something.”

“Now that I think of it, I did hear some shots out there, but I just figured someone was having a bad day hunting or it was a couple dumbasses firing at tin cans or something.”

Reynolds had stepped closer to the tarp. He looked at Niko.

“You mind if I — ”

At that moment, Bob the bear came waddling out of the brush, moving towards Reynolds, who was now also close to the fish cleaning table.

Reynolds startled and ran a few steps towards the street.

“God damn Niko. There’s a bear in your yard.”

“He thinks you have fish. He’s hungry.” Niko was laughing. “He’s harmless. Didn’t know you were that worried about bears.” Bob, seemingly disappointed, was already walking back to the bushes.

Reynolds was flattening his shirt with his hands. His interrogative tone was gone.

“Alright then. I’ll be around town checking things out, but if you think of anything more about those shots, just let me know.”

Reynolds left, and Niko walked back to the porch where Tracey was sitting, staring intently at nothing in front of her face. They sat for some time in silence, and the sun was gone, and the moon rose up, and they could hear the bears rustling in the bushes, but none came into the yard, as if they knew this was different. That something significant had happened.

“Why did you lie?” Tracey asked.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me go.”

She turned to him. “I know why you lied to me, and we’ll deal with that. But there is a damn body in the front yard that you just lied to the police about. What about that Mr. Harvard genius?”

Niko stammered and looked down and began to apologize.

“If you even think about saying you’re sorry right now, I will burn the fly shop down. I need answers, not apologies.”

“I just didn’t think it was a good idea to tell Reynolds.”

“Why not? Some guy tried to kill us and a wild bear killed him. We won’t get in trouble.”

“It’s not that.”

“Am I missing something?” Tracey’s voice was clear, but her hands were still shaking.

Niko told her the story, everything that happened out there. Bayless’s coldness and precision, his satellite phone call, the ruthless message on the other end of of that call.

“We get the police involved, go on record, and whoever was on that call will know exactly who to look for,” Niko said.

“Goddamn it Niko. Why didn’t you just listen to me?”

“Like you said, we need to figure what to do with the dead body, the money, and that damn bag before we get into that.”

Tracey looked at the floor of the porch and rocked back and forth on the bench, her legs pulled up to her chest.

“The police can help.”

“It’s too much of a risk.”

She didn’t respond, but Niko could tell she was listening.

“We need to hide it all. The gun, the bag, the money, and the body.”

“Hide a body Niko? Who are you?”

“Just trying to put this behind us.”

“That’s what got you into this mess. Trying to fix things without actually dealing with them. Without figuring it out. Have you even looked into the bag?”

Niko took a deep breath. “I haven’t. I don’t really want to know what’s in there.”

“You can’t pretend it’s not there.”

“I’ll just take it all back up the river and get rid of it. It never happened.” Niko was leaning forward now, his hands on the sides of his head. Tracey was looking at him.

“Let’s just tell Reynolds you were in shock and now you want to let him know what happened.”

“That won’t work. You didn’t hear that phone call. This has got to go away. Plus if we tell anyone that Big Berry Dumpling killed a person, they’ll euthanize all the bears.”

Tracey paused. “Using the bears is low.”

“It’s true though.”

Tracey stood up. “I don’t care if you’re too scared to look in the bag.” She walked across the yard and pulled the blue tarp from Bayless’s body. She bent over and picked up the bag. Niko looked on as she returned.

“Let’s see what the big deal is.”

She unzipped the bag. “A gun, a silencer, two more clips of ammo, tons of cash.” She rummaged through. “A mask, gloves and foot booties? This guy was a psycho,” she whispered.

“Be careful.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever is in there.”

“It’s not a snake Niko.”

She pulled a folder from the bag and opened it. She read, and her eyes widened, and Niko grimaced.

“It is probably better not to look,” he said.

“You’ve got to face what you are up against or it’ll sneak up right behind you.”

She read on, paging through documents and pictures, looking back into the bag.

“There must be two hundred thousand dollars in there.” She handed him a set of keys.

“Shit.”

Tracey looked from the documents. “It doesn’t happen often, but you’re right. We should hide the body.”

She held the folder out to him. “Some pretty powerful people are listed in here. They’re doing all kinds of bad things. All the pages are on the same letter head though.”

“We can’t deal with all of that right now. If you agree on taking care of this ourselves, that’s enough for me.”

“Well, get to it then.”

“Get to what?”

“The body. We can’t leave it sitting here. Reynolds almost tripped over the damn thing while you stammered like a child.”

Niko went to work, running on instinct. He went to the fly shop and opened the cash drawer and pulled the envelope that Bayless had given him just days before. It felt like years.

He ran back to the yard and pulled the tarp from the body to assess the full situation. He didn’t know what to feel. A death touches you whether you want it to or not.

He tried to wrap the tarp all the way around the body, tight enough to hold any fluids, but his hand was throbbing and clicking audibly. Tracey watched him curse his hand.

“Damn it. I’ll help you.”

“No, I’ve got this.”

“By now I would think you learned you can’t do things on your own. You’re not a twenty-five year old dirt bag fishing guide anymore. Anything you do affects me.”

Niko just looked at her, his eyes tearing up.

“Plus you can’t do anything with that mangled hand of yours.”

“Fine.”

They rolled the body and Tracey tied it off with some old fly line that was piled up under the fish cleaning table.

Niko pulled the truck into the yard and they lifted the body into the bed, put the money and the folder in the bag, and stuffed the whole thing under the passenger seat. Niko drove across the street, and they unloaded the body.

It was just sitting in the middle of the garage floor looking very much like a body wrapped in a tarp.

“What now?” Tracey asked.

“Take it way out there tomorrow morning.”

“We can’t just leave it here. Anyone can see it through the window,” Tracey said.

“Under the workbench?”

“I guess.”

They pushed the body as far under the table as they could, and then placed bins and crates in front of it.

“Back to the launch. I hope the boat is still there.”

The drift boat was pinned on the upstream side of the mooring posts, just where Bayless had left it. They dislodged it and pulled it to the trailer and took it back to the fly shop.

They skipped dinner, as neither was interested in eating. They showered and put their clothes directly into the washing machine before climbing into bed. Tracey pulled the cover to her chin and turned away from Niko as he turned to the wall, each knowing sleep was impossible. They didn’t discuss plans, but they knew they would rise before first light and run back up the Nagadan.

At some point in the night Niko turned his head and whispered, “You sure you want to go?”

“Yes.” Tracey spoke into the dark without moving.

Niko turned back and picked up his phone, careful not to let Tracey see the light of the screen.

Meet me at the shop at dawn. One of those times.

The eastern sky was deep purple when they walked from the house, and Mossy was waiting in the shop parking lot.

“What’s he doing here?” Tracey asked.

“I asked him to help.”

Tracey stopped walking. She put her hand on Niko’s chest. “Why the hell would you have Mossy get involved?

Niko raised his swollen hand. “How are we going to do all of this when I can only use one hand? You ever dug a hole big enough for a body? We have two of them to deal with. Can’t just leave Baptiste out there to rot.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Have you ever dug a hole big enough for a body?”

Niko didn’t answer the question. “Mossy will make things a lot easier.”

“Can we trust him with this?

“I trust Mossy with my life. We’re fishing buddies.”

Tracey shook her head. “No time for your stupid jokes.”

“I’m serious.”

Mossy waived and Niko continued across the street. They shook hands.

“Thanks man.”

“Don’t even mention it.”

Tracey walked up. “Mossy, I’m not sure you know what you’re getting into. You can — ”

“Don’t need to know. Niko said he needed help.”

“That is very kind, but this is … well, very illegal to be honest. I’m not sure you want — ”

Mossy laughed and slapped Niko on the shoulder. “It’ll be like old times. Come on, they say illegal things are better done in the dark. Best get movin before that sun gets high. What we hauling boss?”

“It’s in the garage,” Niko said. Mossy turned and walked towards the shop’s garage. He was whistling.

Tracey looked at Niko. “Old times?”

Niko sighed. “Mossy was never just a fishing guide down in Florida.”

“What does that mean?”

“He did all sorts of things to make money. Some not so legal. I helped him out a few times when he got jammed up.”

“Were you ever planning on telling me all of this?”

“This is not the time. I promise I’ll tell you anything you want to know when we get back. We have things to figure out though. Reynolds will be back, and he will be looking around.”

She crossed her arms. “Fine.”

Mossy was already gassing the boat from one of the tanks Niko kept in the garage.

“Can you take care of that?” He pulled a bin from under the workbench and pointed at the blue bundle.

“For sure,” Mossy said. “You want to know any details?”

“Just make sure he won’t be found. There’ll be more than police looking for him.”

“Got it.”

“His vehicle is out front too. That needs to get out of here.”

“Torch it?”

“No, just get it somewhere it won’t be found.”

“You got keys?”

“On the bench.” Niko pointed to the set Tracey had found in the bag the day before.

“Consider it done.”

“Appreciate it Mossy.”

“Drop in the bucket.”

“I got a few other things to take care of, but let me know if anything goes wrong. Otherwise, I’ll see you down at the brewery tomorrow night.”

“For sure. Be safe out there.”

“You too.”

Niko walked back to Tracey, who was still standing outside arms folded. “Mossy’s got Bayless. We have Baptiste and the bag.”

She walked to the truck in silence and climbed in. Niko followed and began backing out. Mossy had the tarped body in a wheelbarrow already and was carting it across the driveway.

“You cold?” Niko asked.

“No.” She pulled her jacket tighter.

Niko turned the heat up in the cool morning air. “We’ll drive way up there. From the last launch we should be out and back before dark,” Niko said.

“I said I wasn’t cold.” She turned the fan off.

“I don’t even know how to apologize for all of this, but right now I just need your help.”

“Oh, you know how to ask for help? Didn’t think you had that particular skill.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“For what?”

“For all of this. For going out on the river. For lying.”

“Damnit Niko. You don’t even know what to be sorry for.”

“What’d you mean?” Niko was speeding now.

“What was all that about old times?”

“I told you I would tell you after we figured all this shit out.”

“That’s how you always operate. You think you can figure everything out and then deal with talking about the problems. You want your cuts to heal up and then put the stitches in. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“What do you want then?”

“I want to know why you know how to hide a body. And what you and Mossy did that was so crazy, and anything else you have been keeping from me for all of these years that we have been together.”

“Fine. You really want to know?”

“Yes Niko, I don’t know how I can be more clear than that.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Try me.”

Niko slammed his hand on the wheel, and they were silent for a few minutes. He slowed the truck back to the speed limit, and then started talking. His voice shook and his eyes teared up. He didn’t have the courage to look at her. He told her about meeting Mossy, about his time in Florida, and then all of the other places he had been, and about all of the things he had done — the bad and the worse. The things he had never told anyone, even Mossy. The things he told himself he would take to the grave. He talked for an hour without stopping. He was sure she’d be done with him anyway, so he might as well get it all out. When there was nothing left to say he stopped and drove and waited. He still couldn’t look at her. The road was tight and bumpy by then. They pulled to the last boat launch, and Niko stopped the truck.

“You’re an idiot Niko.”

“What? I pour my heart out, say all those terrible things, and you call me an idiot?”

“Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?”

“I knew you would just run away.”

“Jesus Niko.”

“What?”

“None of that is really that bad. I thought you were a murder or something.”

“Not that bad. Really?” Niko looked at her and smiled a little.

Tracey shrugged. “I mean it’s not great, but you didn’t do anything unforgivable.”

Niko started laughing. “Holy hell. I should have told you a long time ago. I feel better already.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Chamonix men are complex.”

“Well, this is no time to try to be funny. We still have a body and a bag of all sorts of bad stuff to deal with, and I’m still mad at you anyway.”

“I know.” Niko was still smiling.

He backed down the launch and went about the business of preparing the boat, like he had done a thousand times. This time though instead of loading rods, he loaded a shovel and a pick axe. Realizing the task at hand brought him back to reality, and the weariness of his recent stress wore on his soul, but the setting did not match the mood. The feel of clean river water on a summer Maine morning and the vanishing dew — it all almost felt normal when Niko smelled that first puff of diesel fuel.

They rode up the drainage and onto the Nagadan to the rocky flat where Niko and Bayless had camped. They hiked back into the woods, following the winding path. The late afternoon rays seeped through the canopy, and it smelled of spruce. In the daylight with Tracey next to him, it felt almost pleasant, much different than trailing Bayless through the same woods in the dark.

When they approached the cabin, Niko became quiet and he slowed his pace.

“I don’t think you want to see what’s in there. Maybe you can just help with the hole and I’ll get the body in and covered up?”

“That’s not how this works Niko. We do this together.”

Niko opened the door and the stench made him dry heave. Tracey walked in without hesitation.

“Maybe you need to start on the hole while I deal with this,” she said.

Baptiste’s face was too damaged to recognize, and Niko never could remember much from that afternoon as he and Tracey dragged the corpse from the cabin and buried him as deep as they could thirty yards into the brush, careful to redistribute the forest duff over the freshly disturbed area.

“You want to say anything?” Tracey asked.

Niko paused, looking down. “Just thanks and I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Perhaps.”

They returned to the cabin, and Niko tidied the place without knowing why. He poked around, looking for something that might tell him more about Baptiste, but it was all so anonymous, probably an intentional move. Niko considered how hard it must have been to live in a place for so long while avoiding leaving a personal mark. Were there pictures Baptiste would have liked to hang, books he left on a shelf somewhere else? Niko pulled a rug over the blood stain as Tracey watched him.

“How long were you here?”

“About a week or so.”

“What was he like?”

“Quiet, kind. I don’t know much else. Seemed afraid of the outside, like something was coming back for him.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but it just feels like it. It always does.”

“Richard was not your fault either.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do.”

Niko was looking at the bag sitting by the door.

“You want to leave it here? Hide it?”

“Maybe it’s better to keep close. In case we need it.”

“You want more about what is in there?” Tracey asked.

“Not now, maybe soon. I don’t feel right knowing it all. Baptiste died for it, and I don’t want to jinx that for him.”

“I don’t think you know what jinx means.” Tracey picked the bag up.

“Sure I do.”

“Well, just let me know when you want to look. We can see together.”

They walked from the cabin, and headed towards the boat. They rode the Nagadan River downstream on the edge of daylight, the sky orange and the summer warmth fading, and the air was still. The river moved, but it was slick and calm like glass, and Niko felt home there, and he felt like himself again, even as he looked at all the spots he had slept out and suffered on his way back twice now. And each time he had gotten in trouble out there, it was Tracey or the thought of her that saved him, but now she was next to him, in the boat, and the river was calm and low and the rocks were easy to see.

It was dark when they finally made it home.

“That’s not good.”

“What?” Tracey asked.

Niko pointed to Sheriff Reynolds’s truck parked outside of the fly shop. Niko pulled up, and Reynolds walked from around back of the shop, his flashlight scanning back and forth.

“Can I help you?” Niko called out.

“Where y’all been?”

“Just out for a ride.”

“How’s the hand?”

“Hurts like hell.”

Reynold shined the light on his hand. “It don’t take a doctor to see that thing is broken. You went out for a ride all day before getting that set?”

“He has always been as stubborn as hell when it comes to doctors,” Tracey said as she walked around the truck. “I told him to go in this morning, but he just wanted to run the river. I didn’t want him out there alone.”

Reynolds forced a smile with his mouth while his eyes stayed hard. “Best get that thing set Niko, don’t want those bones healing up in the wrong spot.”

“Will do. What you looking for around back?”

“Oh, just wanted to see what was around.”

“Let me know next time. I’ll give you a tour.”

“Kind of you.” Reynolds turned and walked towards his SUV. Just before getting in the vehicle, he turned back. “It’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d ask if you’ve seen a guy named Bradley Bayless around here.”

Niko looked at Tracey for a moment, and then back at Reynolds. “Bayless?”

“Yea. Bradley Bayless.”

“Uh, he stopped by a few days ago to try to get on the schedule. Didn’t have any open slots. Haven’t seen him since.”

“No slots? I haven’t seen you with any sports recently?”

Niko laughed. “I guess I should be more precise. I didn’t have any spots for him. Seemed a little stuck up when I talked to him.”

“Did you send him to anyone else? Know where he headed off to?”

“No. Just told him I was busy. Why you asking?”

“Well, we can’t seem to find him.”

“What do you mean you can’t find him? Why’re you even looking?”

“He’s missing, just thought you might know where he is.”

“How do you know he isn’t just hiking or hunting something? Maybe he left town.”

“We got a call from a friend of his. Said he was here and he was supposed to check in and he didn’t.”

Niko paused, considering the “friend” who would be making that call.

“Well sometimes people get a little delayed out there.”

“Yes, I guess they do sometimes. You’d know all about that huh?”

“I would.”

“Wasn’t there an SUV parked in your lot yesterday?”

“Sure. Some guy bought a few dozen flies and then wanted to fish. I told him he could hike on down to the creek and get as many little brook trout as he wanted.”

“Ahh,” Reynolds nodded. “You remember the tags on that vehicle?”

“I don’t Sheriff, sorry.”

“I feel like they were out of state, but I can’t be sure. Anyway, where did Bayless want to go with you?”

“Up the Nagadan drainage. I told him I didn’t have time for that.”

“Dangerous up there,” Reynolds said.

“Only if you take it with you. Nice country otherwise.”

Reynolds nodded his head. “True of most things I guess. Well, if you hear from Bayless, you let me know.”

“Don’t know why I would, but of course.”

Bob and Big Berry Dumpling had emerged from the brush and were across the street licking the table.

Reynolds shined his light on them. “I thought you said you were going to move that table. Those bears are a damn liability.”

Niko began to speak, but Tracey cut him off. “If he said he’ll move the table, he will. A Chamonix never lies. We’ll get it fixed up in the fall when the fishing dies down.”

***

About a week later, a SUV with Diplomatic tags pulled into the fly shop parking lot. The driver held his phone, a twinkling light in the dark Maine night.

Ladawambuck ain’t much.

A reply: Don’t get ahead of yourself. Just get what we need and get out.

Niko watched the vehicle from the bedroom window. His rifle was leaning on the sill.

. . .

The end … of part 1

Niko stood and swung the oar in a single swift motion, but Bayless was ready. He ducked and leaned with the boat and the oar flew out of Niko’s hand. Bayless raised the gun and shot.

Niko heard the gunshot. He looked to his torso but felt nothing and saw no blood.

He heard Bayless curse as he stumbled and slipped to one knee in the bucking boat — he was off balance and had somehow missed the close-range shot. Niko didn’t have time to be thankful as he saw Bayless raising his arm once again.

Niko jumped onto him, grabbing for the gun. They grappled like uncoordinated high school wrestlers in the shifting boat. There was another shot, but it missed again as Niko held Bayless’s arm and the muzzle pointed away from his own body.

Niko slammed his foe’s arm on the back of the seat, but Bayless didn’t drop the weapon. Bayless grimaced at the physical strain, but his eyes showed no fear nor any emotion Niko could detect. The fight was slow and ugly, and the two men were quickly breathing hard, muttering curses and grunting unintelligible things.

Niko gritted his teeth and stood for a moment and slammed Bayless’s arm down again. This time he kept pressing down, pinning the arm against the seat, pressing all of his weight, feeling the bone strain on the plastic ridge. He kept his eyes on Bayless’s free hand as it punched and flailed.

Niko lifted again, coming dangerously close to allowing the barrel to come within the arc of his body, and he slammed downward. This time Bayless dropped the gun and it slid the full length of the fiberglass deck to the bow.

Bayless, now released from the pin, swung and hit Niko in the jaw, and Niko stumbled, nearly falling overboard. He regained his balance, lunged back and punched the side of Bayless’s head. He saw his hand break on Bayless’s skull. Niko’s adrenaline was rolling, and he couldn’t feel his hand, but he could see where the bones were misplaced.

Bayless grabbed the other oar and swung. Niko absorbed the blow with his arms, but still felt the force full and hard. He tripped over the gunwale and splashed into the water head first. The coldness took his breath, and he nearly inhaled water as he flailed and grasped for the boat — simultaneously fearing the man inside of it, but knowing any distance between them would just allow Bayless to get closer to Tracey.

Niko rose to the surface and gasped and saw the boat, but didn’t see Bayless. He scanned the water, looking for the man bobbing. He feared he may be underwater, swimming towards him. Then Bayless popped his head over the gunwale, gun now in hand and aimed at Niko.

He shot, but the bullet whizzed past Niko’s head. Niko dove back down, swimming as deep as possible, seeing the white lines of foam, tracing the bullets. There was no safe place to surface, so he swam under the boat and held on.

He felt the boat shift back and forth above him as Bayless leaned from side to side looking for him.

Niko’s lungs burned, but he could not leave the boat. He could not allow this man to find Tracey. So he slid back towards the motor, waiting as long as he could, and then as delicately as a brown trout rising to a spent fly, Niko pressed his mouth through the surface film and gulped the air. He could see the top of Bayless’s head, searching side to side as they drifted towards the landing. Niko knew that landing was well marked and that Bayless would have no trouble figuring where he was and how to get back to the fly shop from there.

Niko felt the flow of the river quicken and he saw Bayless lean over towards the back, and peer down right at him. Bayless smiled and pointed the gun, but before he could shoot, Niko bucked the boat as hard as he could and Bayless stumbled back, and they hit the small set of rapids just upstream from the landing.

Niko smashed into a boulder and was dislodged from the boat. He tumbled through the hydraulics cursing his luck as he caught glimpses of the boat floating through the churning water, the distance between him and the vessel increasing. Bayless was shooting blindly into the water, and Niko had no choice but to simply float with the river and hope.

The shooting stopped, and Niko floated and watched the landing pass by. He tried to remember how many shots had been fired. Useless though, he didn’t even know how many rounds the clip held.

Bayless was struggling to control the boat and did not see Niko as he swam to the bank just downstream of the landing. Bayless and the boat collided with one of the mooring posts and he was able to wedge the boat between two boulders. Then he scanned the river. It was clear that he still did not see where Niko was. He scanned and waited as Niko lay in the shallow water downstream behind a log, eyes and mouth just above the surface like an alligator.

What is he waiting for?

Bayless’s heavy breathing slowed as the oddly still game of chicken developed. He showed no emotion, and simply scanned the river, his glance increasingly directed down-stream.

Niko counted the seconds that felt like hours, remaining perfectly still even as a snake slithered past his face. He waited and waited, watching as Bayless began looking around the boat. He reached down and moved a number of things. Niko felt violated seeing him in that boat alone.

Bayless pulled up his duffle bag. He checked that it was still closed, looking up every few seconds like a predator eating its kill midst a group of scavengers.

Niko knew the next move, and his heart broke because he knew he couldn’t stop it, not from that position in the water facing a gunman on solid ground.

A slim chance is better than no chance, and to charge was insanity. Perhaps it would have felt more noble, but it would have just meant death for Tracey as well. He knows I’m dead or hiding. And he knows I’ll follow if he makes his way to Tracey.

Niko watched as Bayless hopped out of the boat with the bag and the gun in hand. He took one last look over the river and then disappeared into the woods.

It was less than a quarter of a mile to the house, and as soon as Bayless vanished into the trees, Niko climbed from his hiding spot and darted through the brush. He stumbled and fell over deadfall and into boggy thickness and stagnant oily pools. He cursed the very ground that he loved as each delayed step he took was a moment more for Bayless to race away from him.

Finally, Niko burst through the brush and onto the gravel road that led from the landing to the main road. He was loud and exposed and began running down the road, following the fading wet foot prints heading back towards town. He didn’t care if Bayless was waiting around the next bend gun raised or hiding behind a tree. His only thoughts were of Tracey back at their little house.

She would be distracted with something in the yard or shaking her head and repairing a thing that Niko had long forgotten to attend to — the chipping paint on the window trim, the old hose that needed to be thrown away. That was how she filled her time when she was mad at him. Distracted from her art and her writing, just tinkering and waiting for him to return from whatever foolish errand he had embarked on.

He thought of the menace out in front of him, running towards her. His lungs were burning and his head was throbbing from the blows from the fight, but he kept on as fast as he could. Trying so hard to catch something he knew he could not, but he would not stop trying.

He hoped to see Bayless in the trees or standing in the path with the pistol, but he knew Bayless was too far ahead. The boggy delay was too much. He would not risk a fight in the woods when he knew Niko would come running up like a lost puppy anyway. Niko tried to turn his mind off. But he could not escape the fact that his lie and his choice to go out with that man, that his blindness to that badness was going to kill all that he loved.

His mind flashed the image of Tracey, shot and laying in front of the house he had built. He couldn’t turn his mind off to those things as he ran and followed the wet foot marks as fast as he could.

He was still a few minutes from the house when he heard the unmistakable sound of the screen door slam.

Either she came out or he went in.

He kept running, waiting to hear the fateful shot, or a scream. His soul crumbled as his body pushed on. Running and waiting. Waiting to absorb the enormity of the tragic moment. Tears mingled with sweat on his face.

Then he heard it.

A bell, clear and light, the sound floating through the trees like a kind invitation to dinner. He smiled for a moment and ran on.

The bell rang again, and then there was a pause and a shot, and deep guttural screams for a moment. Then silence, and Niko could hear nothing but his breath and his feet on the gravel.

Niko emptied out of the woods and saw Tracey standing at the fish table looking at Big Berry Dumpling hunched over a crumbled form. Tracey rang the airhorn and the bear took off for the bushes, but the form did not move.

Niko sprinted across the street and looked at Bayless’s body on the ground laying in the patch of grass about ten feet from the fish cleaning table, mauled and torn open but still clutching the pistol and the duffle bag. Undoubtedly dead.

Then he walked to Tracey and crumbled at her feet. Hugging her legs, smiling, crying, shaking, heaving from the exertion. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” Tracey said. Her calmness was striking next to Niko’s wild dishevelment, but as Niko stood and hugged her, he could feel Tracey’s heart pounding through her chest. Her voice was soft and vacant. “I’m fine.”

Niko pulled back from Tracey and looked at her. She was crying now and shaking and looking back and forth from Bayless to Niko.

“What happened?” Niko asked.

“He said there was an accident. I could see blood on his face and his clothes. He wanted to go inside to call for help. I asked him why he had a gun and he wouldn’t answer, so I told him I wouldn’t go inside with him.”

She started to hit Niko and she screamed at him. “How could you do that to me again? Go out there and do that and put me through that?”

Niko had nothing to say. He just hugged her, and he would have understood if she ran away, but she let him hug her. And he just repeated “I’m sorry.”

“When I told him he couldn’t go inside, he said that you wouldn’t be back and that I could either walk inside or be dragged inside by my hair.

“Then I thought about you, and this table and how much I would miss you and how you talk to the bears and how much you thought Big Berry Dumpling was the smartest. Then he came right up to me, and I knew that if I went in the house, I would not come out. So I just swung on him. I hit his head and I ran.”

Niko held her shoulders as he looked right at her.

“He ran after me, and lunged and grabbed my leg, but I was already at the table. I grabbed that stupid bell and rang it. Then that fat ass bear came running up, and then I swear he knew what was happening. He charged like he was angry, and that man tried to shoot him, but the bear was already on him by the time he fired. Big Berry Dumpling crushed him and tore him open. Then you ran up and I rang the horn so Dumpling didn’t keep at the body.”

“I told you he was the smartest one.”

Niko walked over to Bayless’ corpse and kicked the gun from his mangled hand.

“He would have killed you and Mossy and anyone else here who saw him and then come back for me.”

The odd calmness of Tracey’s shock fell away and she crumbled to the ground sobbing. The emotion of losing Niko once again, of fearing for her life, of watching a man die, and of getting Niko back once again was too much. She cried and Niko picked her up and carried her to the porch.

He walked back to the body, there by the fish cleaning table. There was a blue tarp folded under the table. Niko picked it up and placed it over Bayless. He couldn’t think of what else to do.

Niko was walking back to the porch when he heard an engine in the distance coming up the road from the south. He turned and saw a dark blue SUV in the distance, and he groaned when he saw the rack of police lights on top.

Niko looked at the blue tarp, laying like a blanket over a pile of unfolded laundry. He quickly weighed the edges down with a few loose bricks that had been sitting under the fish cleaning table and began walking back to the porch.

He did not look, but he heard the SUV stop in front of the house. A door closed. Niko turned to see Sherriff Reynolds standing in front of the driver’s side door.

“Hey there Niko,” he called out.

“Hey there sheriff.” Niko waved and smiled. Keeping his broken hand at his side, out of Reynold’s sight line. “What can I do for you?”

“Got a report about some gunshots sounding off around here.”

“Well, lots of people are hunting out here. It is Maine.”

“Why you all wet?”

“I fell in the river.”

Reynolds nodded and looked at Niko for a few seconds. “Your hand alright?” He pointed to Niko’s side.

“Just banged it up when I fell in. Been a rough day for me.” Niko smiled.

“Reports said the shots didn’t sound like a rifle or a shotgun. Said it sounded like a handgun. You know anything about that?”

Niko shook his head. “No sheriff, we haven’t heard a thing.”

. . .

I am very sorry about the delayed release of this episode! Check in soon for the final episode of The Chamonix Chronicles!

–Niko is rapidly running out of time as he and Bayless move towards Ladawambuck–

They had just pushed off from camp. Bayless still held the gun and had not taken his eyes off of Niko

“You’re acting like I’m going to steal something from you,” Niko said as he settled into his seat at the oars. He looked over his shoulder in Bayless’s direction. He had chosen the rear seat for the return trip.

“That noise in the woods last night spooked me a little.”

“Having you up front would be helpful. Keeping the bow down helps me steer, and you’re right in the way of the motor.”

“I like it back here. I damn sure paid enough to pick my own seat.”

Niko’s mind flashed to the money back at the fly shop. He had always lacked a desire to acquire wealth for its own sake, and he never developed the foresight to anticipate monetary needs months or years in advance. This was not about money, but Niko felt a sharp stab to think that the cash is what initially tempted him, what opened this possibility.

He had betrayed himself as his ambition in life had always been peace — a desire to quiet the mind and soul and sink into the moment. To absorb a river at dawn, the electricity of a woman’s hair brushing his arm in an evening breeze, a glowing wood stove as snow fell outside the cabin. Those moments were his currency. He collected them, worked for them, saved them in his soul’s safe for times when there was no fire to be had, no woman to kiss, and when the river itself was danger.

“You feel better now that you have spread those ashes?” Niko asked.

“So so. Still a few loose ends, but that was a big step for me.” He paused and looked around. “Run the motor. I’d like to speed this up.”

“Burned most the gas on the way up. The river is pretty fast though.”

“Burn what we have.”

“Pretty standard to keep a little in case we need it for emergency navigation.”

“Good god Niko. How blunt do I need to be? Run the damn motor till there’s no more gas. I paid your entire season.”

Niko thought again to that thick envelope. He looked at Bayless, smiled and nodded all while thinking, you would have handed me a million knowing you were going to take it all back a few days later. He thought of Bayless in his fly shop, collecting his bribe, rummaging through the drawer, smiling at his own calculations and clearness.

“Fine.”

Niko stood on the rocking boat and leaned over the man, bumping his chest on Bayless’s head as he reached around him to turn the motor. They set off, and the morning and the landscape disappeared with an astounding speed. Niko knew that time was relative in both a physical and metaphorical sense, but he had never been so bluntly confronted with this truth.

His previous trip home on this river was brutally slow as he suffered starvation and hypothermia without the knowledge that he would ever arrive at his destination. This trip, carting his own death and Tracey’s death, directly to the spot he wished to avoid, could not have been more different. Hours passed like minutes, and Niko could think of no way to stop it.

They approached a set of rapids, and Niko had to repeat the same awkward dance move around Bayless in order to raise the motor. As he leaned over the man, he scanned for any advantage he may have. Bayless still held the gun. Niko noticed that the safety was off.

“Be easier if you were up front,” Niko said.

“Deal with it.”

Niko fell back into his seat and grabbed the oars to steer the drift through the rapids. He considered just wrecking right there, hit a boulder head on and bust the hull and see what happens.

No, that won’t work. Should have bought a shittier boat. Thing old thing won’t break for anything. Just smile, point to the horizon, and wait for a solution.

Once through the rapids, Niko climbed back and dropped the motor and headed on. It didn’t take long for the motor to sputter out and stop.

“Out of gas,” Niko said.

Bayless grunted in affirmation, and the two remained quiet as the boat slowed and drifted once again at the speed of the river.

Niko was relieved by the slowness. He had spent the day estimating their proximity to town by the landmarks on the river. The log jam where he lost Richard. The spot where he encountered the deadfall in the woods. The rotting-fish dinner, the little beaches where he waited out rain storms.

Each minute of silence further broke the façade between the two men, and each moment brought them closer to Ladawambuck.

No longer if, but when.

Niko considered turning and fighting many times, but it’s hard to turn towards a gun, to face the menace you know is behind you, to decide this is the moment to take a chance.

Then, they came around a fairly sharp bend in the river, and Niko spotted in the distance the very spot where he laid in the mud when his stomach turned on him three years ago. He had vomited and shat and shivered with fever for days. And he didn’t like to think about it, but it was right there that he decided that he would stop trying. He gave himself to the river and the bug in his gut.

They floated on, and Niko knew it was just about a quarter of a mile past that spot to the Ladawambuck landing. He knew Bayless was holding the gun behind him. He knew there were no more rapids to wreck them on — a foolish plan to begin with. Niko considered floating past the landing on purpose.

For what? To delay?

It wouldn’t help. A mile past the landing they would pass a bridge and Bayless would know they had missed the destination. The fight would be there, right by the road, a clear path back to Ladawambuck and to Tracey.

They were now right at that muddy spot where Niko had given up before. He could see where he had curled up and hugged his knees to his chest because there was nothing else to do. Where he would have crawled into the river and drowned himself if he had the energy.

“We close?” Bayless asked.

“No, we still have a ways,” Niko lied. He thought of his father.

I guess Chamonix’s lie sometimes.

The sun was approaching the trees on the west side of the river.

“Thought you said we could make it by nightfall.”

“We will.” Niko refused to turn, not wanting to see what was behind him.

“Then we must be pretty close.”

“Couple of miles and few more rapids.”

Niko remembered the third day at that muddy spot years when his body miraculously stopped purging and his fever broke. When he heard Tracey’s voice, floating like the hum of a distant motor on a still afternoon. He figured he was hallucinating or already dead, but the thought of seeing her once again moved him, literally. He got up and grabbed a log and pushed off into the frigid river. He didn’t know how close he had been, and he figured the proximity of the landing was part of the hallucination. He emerged from the river and found the path and collapsed, and then Tracey saved him.

And now, he was there again, with a choice to make. Riding along with death on that unstoppable river as he navigated by the reminders of his experiences and traumas and wounds, knowing all along exactly where he was heading. A loaded gun behind him and a river in front dragging him home no matter how much he didn’t want it to go.

His mind flashed to Bernard swinging the oar at his face, to advice he received from people much better at violence than he was, you have to charge a gun. To his father telling him once and only once, “I’ve actually lied a few times. Some for good reasons and some for bad. But, the secret is to never lie to yourself. If you avoid that, you’ll never have to wonder if you can trust yourself.”

“We must be close,” Bayless said.

Niko felt Bayless move behind him as the boat rocked. Niko lifted the right oar from its lock.

First, last, and only chance.

Niko stood and swung the oar in a single swift motion, but Bayless was ready. He ducked and leaned with the boat and the oar flew out of Niko’s hand. Bayless raised the gun and shot.

…

Check in next week as we head into the final episodes of The Chamonix Chronicles.

Bayless was about twenty feet away, holding the duffle in one hand and the pistol in the other. His gloves and hat had been removed, and he was smiling.

He repeated his question. “Going somewhere without me?”

Niko’s pulse was racing, but he pulled that guide mask on. He laughed and spoke in a steady voice. “No. Guide-school 101, make sure to bring the client back with you. ”

“Good advice,” Bayless scanned the camp site. “What you looking for then?”

“A bigger light. You scared me, heading off on your own. I was about to come find you. ”

Bayless nodded. “Why you breathing so hard?”

“Why do you have a gun?”

“I asked first.”

“I was worried. I’ve been rummaging around the boat for ten minutes — a missing client in the middle of the night can get your pulse up.”

“I’m fine. No need to worry anymore. ”

“Why the gun?”

“I heard some rustling. Thought it might be a bear.” Bayless stepped closer to Niko.

“Didn’t know you even brought a pistol out here. You’ll need something a little bigger than that for a bear.”

“I’m a pretty good shot.”

Niko thought back to Baptiste falling in the doorway as he continued his blind search within the boat. His eyes on Bayless and his hand reaching for anything he could use to defend himself.

“Well, no bears around here, so you can put it away.”

Bayless stepped a few feet closed to Niko and the boat. “I’ll hold onto it, just in case. Kind of spooky out here in the wild at night. Don’t you think?”

“The only spooky things things out here are the ones people bring with them.”

“There you are again with that soft-ass therapist talk.” Bayless pointed the pistol at Niko’s right arm, which was still searching the bottom of the hull for anything of use. “What you looking for?”

“The big light. This damn boat is a mess, gives me fits.”

“You have your headlamp.” Bayless was now pointing the gun at light on Niko’s forehead.

“I needed the big one to find you in the woods. Can you point that thing somewhere else?” Niko pulled his hand out of the boat.

Bayless smiled and lowered the weapon. “Sure. I guess.”

“What were you doing out there?”

Bayless stepped even closer. “I just wanted some privacy to spread the ashes.” He lifted the bag.

“Bag still seems full. ”

“I grabbed a few stones from the spot where I left him. For memories.”

“Thought you weren’t sentimental?”

“You’re wearing on my nerves with all these questions.”

Niko didn’t know what to do. He was frozen at Bayless’s nonchalance — just standing there as if he were taking the first sip of his second cocktail after lazy day. Like he was taking a break between book chapters rather than between murders.

Stall, point at something else and wait until a solution appears.

“I guess you’ll want to fish some tomorrow then?” Niko asked.

“I came here to dump the damn ashes. Nothing else. We can head back tomorrow. ”

“Guess we should get some sleep then.”

Bayless walked over the faint embers of the fire and put the bag down. He kept the pistol in hand as he sat.

“I think I’ll say up for a while. How long to get back?”

“Day or two. ”

“Let’s get an early start so we’re back tomorrow. ”

“Sure. ” Niko walked to his tent, trying to move with the fluidity of a relaxed guide eager to catch some sleep before a big day. He zipped the door and lay, eyes open into the darkness, listening for movement. He heard none.

Niko stared at the canvas for hours, and his mind scrambled for a way out of this. He now had less than a day to figure how to avoid bringing this menace right back to all that he loved.

He thought and inhaled the mingled smell of his abused tent, a gift he had received as a boy. It was heavy and had accumulated some mold along the way, but he loved it. He had carted it around North America, pitching in marshes just feet from big salt water, next to high Alpine lakes with views of snow-capped peaks in July, in crowded campgrounds that looked like parking lots. The old, moldy, green and yellow, square was his home in a way.

People would ask when he planned on decommissioning the thing. He would just say, “we’ll retire together, and I know I have a few more decades in me. ” He owned another tent, lighter and cleaner, but it just gathered dust in his shed.

Niko lay there, knowing Bayless was sitting outside, alert with weapon in hand. Niko could think of no way to win this match. He rolled onto his side, and as his hand passed over the hole in the bottom of the tent, he smiled — just for a moment.

Years before, the tent began to leak in heavy rains, but the bottom was still water tight, so anything that came into the tent would pool up and soak anyone or anything inside. One night, during a stalled storm, in exhausted frustration, Niko sliced a gash in the bottom corner of the tent. The pooled water drained out, and he fell asleep. When he woke in the morning, mostly dry and well-rested, he thought back to camping trips with his father. The man’s overprotective insistence that nothing sharp be brought into the tent for fear of damaging the floor and allowing ground water into a comfortable sleeping arrangement.

“Care for your tent’s floor like it’s your front door,” he would say. “A Chamonix only lies where it’s dry.”

Cutting a hole in the floor of the tent violated every rule of the outdoors that he had ever learned, but sometimes the established protocol must be abandoned. Sometimes the right solution seems the most illogical.

As the eastern sky lightened, Niko realized he must do something than defined any logic or sanity that he may have. He knew the extension of his own life was simply because Bayless didn’t want to run the boat himself. His existence was as transactional and Baptiste’s demise.

Niko knew that he must make himself useful to Bayless, play along, even move him closer Ladawambuck, in order to wait for his own opportunity to strike.

Niko could see Bayless’ outline through the pale green canvas. An abstract of a man sitting on a boulder looking to where a fire had burned, a phantom who glided into the woods and had so coldly taken a life, as if it were a leaf on a path that could be brushed to the side and forgotten with the certainty and disregard of full ignorance.

Pulling the danger closer was the only way.

Niko unzipped the tent’s door, and peered out. Bayless was staring at the ground, pistol still in hand, and Niko swore the saw a faint smile on his face, the look of reserved relief.

“You want breakfast?” he asked as he climbed from the tent.

“Let’s eat on the move. I want to be back before nightfall,” Bayless lifted his eyes from the ground and looked at Niko.

“You stay up all night?”

“What does it look like?”

Niko began packing the boat slowly. Every task completed, every piece of equipment loaded into the boat, was a step closer to giving this man what he needed to kill Tracey, but it was also an opportunity for Niko, and he didn’t want to miss it.

“If you’re in such a rush, maybe you could put the gun down and help?”

Bayless leaned back and laughed. “I didn’t pay all that money to load my own boat.”

Niko shook his head. You can’t make someone put a gun down. That’s the nature of a gun.

“Suit yourself.”

“Always have.”

As Niko loaded the boat, he did his best to watch Bayless while also concealing his own shaking hands. He wasn’t sure if the shaking was a response to anger or uncertainty, and he considered for the first time in his life how closely those two were related.

Niko had spent his life going deeper and deeper into the wild, searching for adventure and challenge and even danger into the back country. It took him a long time to understand why. For most of his life he felt that he was compelled to find these untouched landscapes in order to escape the noise of society.

It now occurred to him that he was protecting those he loved from himself. He had so much noise in his mind and soul that he wanted to take it away and hide it somewhere beautiful. He wanted to return to them with a peaceful soul. He tried mountain-tops, lonely marshes, corners of remote forests, and some the most magnificent spots you can imagine, but it never worked for long. He always felt the need to go back again and drop some of his soul’s clatter along a trout stream somewhere, and he always seemed to bring some of it back with him.

And this was the worst of that — he was bringing this sociopathic assassin back this time. All because he wanted to prove to himself that the Nagadan and his past on that river had no power over him. He wanted his wounds to heal and leave no scars. As always, he had overlooked the fact that the rivers only flow one way.

His knew that his only option was to play the happy guide. To put a smile on his face, grab the oars, follow the river, point to the horizon, and wait for a solution to present itself. When that fails, that’s when the anger can take over again. A last fight to save what is important. If needed, he would wreck the boat in a bad spot and let the river swallow both of them.

I’ll end up dead here on the Nagadan, just a little later than it seemed it was supposed to have happened.

He thought of Tracey. All that he had already put her through. He wondered how long she would look for him. Would she ever stop without a body? Would she ever forgive him or understand why he had lied to her and come out here?

He pictured her hiking the woods alone, searching for him yet again, and that dropped a profound sadness into his chest.

“You gonna get this damn thing going or just stare at the horizon all day?” Bayless was standing now, eyes glaring with impatience.

Niko hurried along and when the boat was packed they pushed off. Niko looked back to the woods, and he knew Baptiste was laying unceremoniously forgotten, eyes open staring into nothingness. Niko wondered if he was destined for a similar fate.

…

Check in next week for a new episode!

Bayless, duffle in hand, moved from the moonlit landing into the darkness of the trees.

What the hell is he doing?

Niko slipped his crocs on and kept eyes on the spot where Bayless entered the woods. He followed, moving light and quiet over the difficult ground. He was well acquainted with night travel on river banks. He considered calling to Bayless, but something about this was secretive, and Niko wanted to know more before announcing himself.

Niko entered the woods in the exact spot where Bayless disappeared. He stopped and listened. Faint footsteps in the distance of the still night. He followed the sound to a well-worn path, increasing his speed, keenly listening. Bayless moved quietly ahead in the unknown darkness, but not silently, and Niko was relieved that he could track from a distance, close enough to hear, but far enough not to be detected. He crept along for what seemed like hours, but was not more than a mile. 

His pulse quickened as he recognized the surroundings — the trail to Baptiste’s cabin. Niko recalled the last time he saw Baptiste — the buzz of aircraft in the distance, the gun raised, fear in the voice commanding him to leave, sorrow in the eyes.

We are getting too close. Baptiste may shoot first and then figure who is lurking. It is almost as if Bayless is heading for him on purpose … that can’t be.

After a few more minutes of tracking and creeping in the dark, listening for the soft footfalls, Niko saw a twinkle of light between the trees — a small diamond of orange in the dark woods. He saw Bayless’s silhouette floating towards it, taking an intentional and direct path.

Shit. How could you be this stupid?

Niko increased his speed. As he saw Bayless step into the radius of the cabin’s light. He heard the door open, a French voice shouted into the night. The soft arc of light reached out into the darkness. There was an mumbled exchange and then sudden movement on the porch.

Niko was running now, he opened his mouth to yell, not sure what to say, but nothing came out anyway. He was close enough to hear the compressed sound of a silenced pistol. He saw Baptiste’s outline fall in the doorway. Niko froze and covered his mouth with his hands.

Why? Why did I bring him here? Why did he kill him?

Bayless stooped over the body and fired another shot, and then dragged the lifeless form into the cabin. Niko had to hold his mouth shut to keep from screaming.

The door closed, taking much of the light with it, leaving only the square of the orange window. Niko wanted to run into the cabin and strangle Bayless. He wanted to hit himself with a boat’s oar for being so blind to this man’s intentions, for ignoring Tracey, for always trusting too much.

Niko was still, unsure of what to do, fighting back tears, simultaneously wanting to run away and dig a hole to crawl into.

I can’t leave this. 

Niko gathered himself, hands shaking, sweat smelling of rancid fear, and he approached the cabin and quietly as he could. He waited under the window, which was cracked a hand’s width open. Niko pressed tight to the timber wall of the cabin and then carefully rose to peer through the window.

Baptiste lay on the ground next to his cot. His right leg was folded awkwardly under itself, and blood emptied from the holes in his inert body. Niko fought hard to to remain silent at the sight. He saw Bayless scanning the single-room cabin, holding a pistol with a silencer on it. He wore gloves and a black winter hat.

As he stared through the window at Baptiste’s face, bearded, dead, empty, Niko’s hands shook, and he felt his chest heaving as he looked at spreading pool of blood, seeping into the spaces between the pine-board floor. He wanted to run into the cabin, to break the door down and bludgeon Bayless in an effort to ease the torrent of shame he felt at the realization that he had brought death to Baptiste — the man who saved him.

Niko nearly attempted this foolish ambush, but the sobering coldness of the scene stopped him. Niko watched Bayless’s cool movements, the steadiness of his hands. It all pointed to this being routine for him. The silencer, the easy lies, the gloves and hat in the summer. Niko had seen more than his fair share of violence along his travels. Men brutalizing each other, and he had always seen either emotion or frantic necessity with it. But there was none of that here — the armor of an assassin.

Niko’s trance was broken as Bayless walked past the window.

Shit.

Niko ducked down as Bayless peered at his own reflection in the window. Niko looked up, just barely seeing him, hoping that the cabin’s interior light, emitting from candles and lanterns would keep Bayless from seeing through the window. They were no more than two feet from each other, separated by a log and pane of glass. Niko waited.

Bayless walked from the window, and Niko rose again. Inching his eyes over the sill. He saw Bayless bend over the duffle bag and remove a satellite phone. He dialed and began speaking. Niko could only hear Bayless’s side of the conversation.

“Yea. It’s done.”

Bayless listened and looked annoyed.

“Am I sure?” He nudged Baptiste’s limp body with his foot. “Jesus. Yes, I’m sure.”

There was a pause.

“Yes. It’s him.”

Another pause.

“How do I know? I worked with the damn guy for three years. I’ll get a picture if that’s what you need.”

Bayless scratched his face with the side of the pistol as he listed.

“Not yet. I just started looking. You said to let you know the second he was dead, so I called.”

Bayless scanned the room.

“Yea. It’s a mess in here, but I’ll find it.”

Bayless listened.

“I said I’ll find it. It’s more important to me than it is to you.”

Bayless was pacing the room now. Stepping over Baptiste’s body as he traversed the small area. He was becoming more and more agitated as he listened.

“I know, just a few loose ends to clean up — a rube fishing guide and his wife.”

There was a pause.

“It’s not sloppy. There was a no other way to get up here. A plane tips him off, there are no roads, and I can’t get up this maze of rivers on my own.”

Bayless pulled the phone a few inches from his ear as the voice on the other end of the line raised loud enough for Niko to hear it through the cracked window. “All this shit is your fault. Not my problem. Find the goddamn thing and kill anyone who saw you up there. If you don’t, I’ll kill you myself. Am I clear?”

Bayless stopped his pacing. “Clear.”

He lowered the phone dropped it back into the duffle. He looked at Baptiste, laying lifeless on the floor.

“Where the hell did you hide the damn thing? You always were sneaky as hell.” He laughed.

Bayless placed the pistol on a small table as he began to search the cabin.

Niko, enraged by Bayless’s casual discussion of Tracey’s demise, moved towards the porch. In his anger, he was not as quiet as he should have been on the aged steps, and a plank creaked under his foot.

There was movement inside — a metallic object sliding over wood. Niko stepped back down from the porch and hustled behind a tree just as Bayless opened the door, a distinct silhouette against the faint light from inside the cabin. He was holding the gun in front of his chest, steady and intentional in his movements. He scanned the woods and listened — the primal search for that sound in the dark. Niko’s heart thudded against his chest.

After a prolonged silence, there was a rustle in the bush on the other side of the porch as a very large racoon waddled into the light. Bayless shot it and returned to the cabin, closing the door once again.

What do I do now?

Niko’s breath was frantic and his hands shook. He scrambled back to the window and watched again as Bayless tore into the little home. He kept the gun in hand now as he stepped over Baptiste like he was a pile of dirt. He flipped the cot, and the table, and even Baptiste’s body, systematically searching every element of the room in a circular pattern. About half way around the room, he turned over a cabinet and examined its underside. He pulled at a corner of the wood and removed a false bottom and pulled a cloth bag from it. He opened the bag and reached in, manipulating and examining the contents. He smiled and then placed it into his own duffle before zipping it all shut.

Niko, still in shock, had not considered the real peril of his current location.

I can’t hide. He’s heading back to camp.

At that moment he remembered the flare pistol he kept on the drift boat. He had put it in there when he bought the thing, but hadn’t even looked at it since.

No use fighting him here unarmed.

Niko pushed his emotions down, sealing his mind from the fear and grief and shame enough to gather himself. He stood up and sprinted away from the cabin, back down the path in the moon’s faint light under the pines and out onto the flat. His anger grew with each step. Anger with himself for being fooled, for bringing this danger to Baptiste, for not seeing Bayless for what he was. Tracey was right. He was blind to clever maliciousness, to the assholes of the world. He always was, and it seemed that he is doomed to continue the pattern. All of his experience still had not prepared him to understand someone like Bayless.

He ran to the boat and leaned over the gunwale, heaving hard from the sprint. He dug into the dry box, rummaging around, throwing unused and forgotten pieces of equipment onto the deck — rain coats, old life vests, blankets, ancient fishing tackle, an air horn. As the minutes passed, he cursed his disorganization.

“What the hell good is a damn flare gun if I can’t find it?” he whispered.

Then he heard the clicks of the boulders behind him.

“You shoving off without me?” Bayless called out.

Niko turned and peered into the moonlit night. Bayless was about twenty feet away, holding the duffle in one hand and the pistol in the other. His gloves and hat had been removed, and he was smiling.

…

Check back next week to see who makes the next move!

By the time Bayless emerged the next morning, Niko had cooked breakfast, cleaned camp, packed the boat, and had caught three brook trout swinging a parachute Adams from the bank.

“You feeling alright?” Niko asked, pulling his line in.

“I’m fine. You got any coffee?”

“Coffee, eggs, and toast are over by the fire.” Niko pointed at the smoldering coals.

Bayless walked over and poked at the food. “It’s all cold.” Bayless took a bite of the toast.

“Should’ve been up two hours ago.”

“Figured after I got divorced I wouldn’t have anyone telling me when to wake up.”

Niko extended the rod towards Bayless. “Didn’t you know that fishing guides are the worst for wake up times. You wanna cast a few?”

“I’m fine.” Bayless wiped his eyes, farted, and spat a thick glob onto the rocks before he chugged water from the jug next to the coffee.

“Thought you might want to fish some while we were out here,” Niko said.

“Why the hell would I want that?” Bayless looked puzzled.

“You said you were supposed to fish up here with your dad. Thought maybe you would want to fish some with his ashes or something. A symbolic gesture.”

Bayless looked like he just remembered something. “You sound like a teenage girl. I just need to get to that spot and spread those ashes.” His eyes drifted towards the duffle bag sitting in the opening of his tent.

Niko thought the duffle seemed big and heavy for a trip like this.

“Are the ashes in that bag?” He pointed to the tent.

“You’re a little nosey for hired help.”

“I’m nosey about things that go on my boat.”

Bayless walked to the tent, lifted the duffle bag, and then walked it back to the boat, setting it on the seat. “Well then, maybe you can help me with the map. I’ll dig it out. It was my father’s. He labeled the spot I need to find.”

“You have a map? Why didn’t you show me yesterday? I’ve been trying to navigate on your vague description.”

Bayless opened the duffle, but he had positioned the bag so that Niko couldn’t see its contents.

“I’m getting it out now. Don’t be bitchy.”

“You’re kind of a jerk when you’re hungover.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

Bayless moved through the bag’s contents, and Niko could hear the thud of hard objects clanking on the boat’s hull through the fabric.

As he watched Bayless, Niko’s mind flashed back to the sight of Bernard swinging the oar at his face. An unexpected strike that he should have seen coming. The feeling of astonishment at his own oversight.

Am I oblivious once again? What can I do now?

Niko remembered the instant he felt the oar touch his face. The realization of the hit, the ring in the ear, the metallic smell in his nose — it all flashed in that short instant before the nerves fired and he blacked out. The fear he felt when he woke alone, in a spot much like the current one, came back to his consciousness.

He watched Bayless, and his palms began to sweat. His mouth felt dry. He curled a tuft hair behind his right ear with fast and tight snaps of his fingers — a habit of his since childhood. Then he passed his fingers over the raised line of the scar on his scalp. He waited to see what Bayless would pull from the bag.

Bayless turned holding a map. The sight of the mundane object eased Niko’s frantic pulse. His breathing slowed, and he hid his relief well. Bayless walked next to Niko and opened the map of Maine. Its folds were crisp, the paper thick and stiff, and clean on the edges.

Niko saw the small red dot on the map. There were no other notations.

“Pretty fresh map.”

“Yea.”

“This was your dad’s? What did he use it for?”

“What the hell do you care? He marked this spot for me before he died so I could come up here and spread his ashes.”

Am I being paranoid? Niko felt bad at his suspicion. “Just expected some old torn thing with a bunch of secret spots marked up or something like that. I’ve been known to romanticize things like this.”

“Well, join the club. He disappointed me a lot too.”

Niko looked closely to be sure he saw things correctly. The map’s scale was better suited to following state roads to hotels than wild rivers to remote fishing spots, but he thought the dot was remarkably close to the location of Baptiste’s cabin.

“You have a more detailed map or some coordinates?” Niko asked.

“This is it. You gonna tell me now that you don’t know where to go? Or that you you don’t have a better map.” Bayless looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Not at all,” Niko said.

Against established protocol and the urgings of his loved ones, Niko didn’t care for maps. He liked to build an intuitive understanding of an area through exploration.

“The best way to get to know an area is to get lost in it,” he would say to Tracey as she was shaking her head at him after another late return from a infamous Chamonix “detour.”

Niko handed the map back to Bayless. “The map sucks, but I know the general area you want to go.”

“I damn hope so. That’s what I am paying you for. How long till we’re there?”

“If you spent a little less time drinking, we’d be there a bit faster.”

“I don’t need lectures.”

“Morning after next to be safe.”

“Wonderful.” Bayless smiled.

Bayless put the map back into his duffle bag, again making sure to place himself in a position to break Niko’s sight line.

“What else you got in the bag?” Niko asked.

Bayless peered over his shoulder without turning fully around.

“The ashes, booze, a jacket, two rattlesnakes, and a couple of live grenades. You want to inspect?”

Niko shook his head. “Let’s go.”

Niko had the boat packed and ready. Bayless stepped into the craft and repositioned his bag next to the seat. Niko heard the bag thud against the hull once again.

Must be the bottle.

Niko pushed the boat from its mooring. Once the bottom released from the half-submerged stones and he felt the hull lose its weight, yielding to the control of the water, he hopped over the gunwale right into his seat. He rowed beyond the shallows, dropped the motor, pointed into the current, and twisted the throttle.

Niko tried to stop for lunch, but Bayless said he didn’t want to, so they went on. Bayless didn’t drink, and his eyes were focused on the river ahead, especially after Niko turned at the confluence and said, “we’re on the Nagadan now.”

They didn’t speak or stop the entire afternoon. Towards evening Niko started to recognize the terrain. They were not far from where he had spent weeks with Baptiste.

Niko thought of that first night in the cabin when he woke not knowing how he had got there, shocked to be laying on a cot under a roof. He remembered the pain in his entire body, feeling the presence of his organs in his torso. He remembered Baptiste spoon feeding him mushroom broth and not saying a word.

Niko broke from his daydream when he heard distant thunder. He saw tall, dark clouds on the western horizon.

Seems like it will pass south, but you never know.

He slowed the motor to idle in order to speak with Bayless.

“We’re close. I know a point that would be a good place to camp. You good with that? Be there in about a half hour.”

Bayless was scanning the horizon. It seemed as if he were listening for something. His reckless and care-free demeanor had vanished.

“I want to get off the river in case of any weather.” Niko pointed at the clouds.

“That’s fine. This seem familiar to you?”

“It does. Spent some unpleasant time here.”

“Nothing like unpleasant time to sear a place into your memory. What happened?” The authoritative tone in Bayless’s voice had been replaced with a striking curiosity that unsettled Niko.

“I’m sure you read all about it.” Niko slapped a mosquito that was buzzing his ear.

“I did.”

“The articles got most of it. No need to drag it all up.”

“Newspapers leave the important details out. The things that people don’t want anyone to know.”

“Perhaps.” Niko reached back to the throttle. “You ready?”

“Run us on up there,” Bayless said.

It didn’t take long to sight the landing. The sun had just dipped below the trees, but the world was still light, a perfect moment to arrive after a day on the water. It didn’t matter where — sprawling lake systems, tidal flats that hurt your eyes to look at, deep canyon rivers, big and choppy brackish water — pulling the boat in right before dusk was always Niko’s goal. The tiredness quieted his mind, and the close of the day imparted a sense of completion that often eluded him.Drained and full at the same time, finally home, fish to clean, a fire to cook on, a plate of food, someone to hug, a cold beer waiting on a dock or a porch or the tailgate of a truck.

The Nagadan was still wide at that point and offered an expansive view of the sky which had blossomed into a blend of orange, purple, and pink. The clouds wisped across the colors, like the result of a stiff brush dragging over half-dried oil paints.

The trees, thick fir and spruce were already dark. Shadowy woods on the edge of dusk always seemed to hold something Niko wanted but that he could never quite verbalize — a question-mark etched in pleasant handwriting upon his mind.

They made their way to the expansive point that jutted out at the confluence of the two waters. Niko didn’t know the name of the smaller side stream, but he knew the spot well — they were not far at all from Baptiste. The cabin was still a little ways through the woods, but privacy is relative.

Is he is still there? I wonder if he sees us?

The point was still bright, a field of white rocks. Niko knew they would stay warm even after dark. He zig-zagged the boat in between boulders and twisted currents and he found a spot to lift the hull onto the rocks and drop the anchor dry in case of rising water.

“Wait here.” Niko, now barefooted, walked across the warm boulders and found a patch of sand, flat and dry and crisp. He found a smooth log and picked it up. Light and dry on the underside. He looked back to the boat.

“We’re good here.”

Bayless had his head down, looking into what Niko assumed was his open bag. Then he looked up and peered into the woods and up to the horizon.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Just thinking about how my dad described this place.”

“We’re you all close?”

“Not really.”

“That’s always hard.”

“I didn’t pay you for therapy,” Bayless said without taking his eyes from the woods.

“Fine. Grab your bag, and I’ll get camp set up.”

Bayless nodded absently. He was quiet while Niko unloaded the boat, set camp, and cooked dinner. They ate in silence.

“No drinks tonight?” Niko asked as he rose to clean the dishes.

“No, not tonight.”

“Well, your tent is good to go. I’ll be up with the sun, just let me know where you want to go tomorrow.”

Bayless didn’t respond. Niko retired to his tent and listened to the river and the loons and the coyotes and he fell asleep thinking about Baptiste.

Niko was dreaming about that mushroom broth, when he woke in the dark to the clicks of dry boulders rocking onto each other — a unmistakable sound.

He rubbed his face and groaned. Not the trip for a curious critter.

He unzipped his tent, the sound nearly imperceptible over the music of the river. He peered out into the night. The moon was high and full, and he didn’t need a light to take in the scene.

No critters, just Bayless in the distance, lugging his duffle-bag towards the trees.

…

Check in next week to see what Bayless is up to…

Niko spent the next day at the shop prepping his supplies for the run up the river with Bayless. He even waited to see Tracey leave the house before he snuck back in to make a quick sandwich for lunch. He wanted to tell her where he was going the next day, but he knew that would shatter his plans. He knew as well as Tracey that he shouldn’t go out there. He was going anyway, and he felt that there were no words to describe exactly why.

There was no avoiding dinner though. He made minimal conversation while they ate, conducting himself as if he just had a normal single day trip the next morning — which is what he told Tracey. She sensed something was off.

“How did that guy react when you texted?”

“About how you would expect,” Niko said. Chamonix’s never lie, but they are skilled at looping around the truth.

“Everything okay?”

“Yea. Just tired.”

Tracey eyed him for a moment and then turned away.

Niko slept in short stretches broken by anxious rumination. He rose from bed at 3:30 in the morning, the sky still black, the night critters shuffling around in the bushes. He ate breakfast while Tracey slept.

After the rinsed his dish, he wiped his hands on his guide pants and looked around the room, and then up the stairs. He walked two steps towards them, now looking through the ceiling, as if he could see Tracey sleeping above him. He paused there for a moment. His face contorting, miming an argument. He shook his head and turned back to the kitchen table. He wrote a brief note and left the confession on the table before he walked out.

Big Berry Dumpling was sniffing around the fish table. He heard Niko and raised his nose in the direction of the house. Niko walked by the creature.

“You’d never be such a coward, would you?”

Big Berry Dumpling grunted and continued his inspection of the table.

Bayless was right on time, and they drove to the boat launch together.

“I don’t care how much money you just threw at me, when we are out there, you listen to what I say. My boat, my rules.” Niko was looking over his shoulder, backing his truck down the ragged ramp of the boat launch.

“Fine,” Bayless replied. “I’ll listen to whatever you say … as long as I agree.”

“I’m serious. When we are out there and you want to do something, I might say no, and you have to listen, even if it doesn’t make sense to you right then.”

“Good god Niko,” Bayless said and laughed. “Shit man, what is it about this place that gets you all worked up?”

“Just seen how easy things go wrong out there. That’s why you wanted me right?”

“It is. What did Tracey say about all this?”

Niko hesitated, trying to remember if ever told Bayless that Tracey was his wife’s name. 

Bayless, accustomed to giving the impression of transparency while withholding information, realized his mistake.

“Yes. I looked into your life quite a bit before coming up here, and I know your wife’s name. My line of business has taught me to investigate all angles of a situation. I guess I was being a little overzealous.”

“You think?” This guy is weirder than I thought.

“Well, you caught me detective.” Bayless opened a beer.

Niko looked at him. “I enjoy a beer as much as anyone, but it’s 5:40.”

“Is this a fishing trip or colonoscopy?”

Niko shook his head and muttered. This was not the start he needed to put his mind at ease. Niko looked at the clock and thought of Tracey, who would be up in twenty minutes. She would read the note soon and would know his actual plan — that was if she didn’t know it deep down already.

“Well, what did she say?”

“I didn’t tell Tracey.”

“That seems dumb as shit.”

“Why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself?”

“Why the hell would I do that? You said I had to listen to you on the boat, not that I couldn’t talk.”

The trailer and drift boat were in the water now, and Niko put the truck in park. “Don’t touch anything.”

“You got it boss.” Bayless laughed.

Niko hopped out of the truck, and walked in his crocs into the water and started the routine that he guessed he might have done more than a thousand times before.

Straps unbuckled, cords secured, check the plug, check the depth, get the line in hand, check the engine is up, check the plug again, lower the boat in, walk it around, tie it off, check the plug isn’t leaking, back to the truck, park, tell a joke, safety talk, tell a joke, explain the fishing and the trip, tell a joke, check the plug, load them up, shove off.

That’s when his world synched up with the current, his mind finally turned off, and the focus became seams and pockets, rocks to avoid, snags above, eddies with the big fish, lines to float, and the best place anchor up with a fish on. His mind focused on the river and the easy pleasure of the natural world.

Except today was different. He felt less like a fishing guide and more like a chauffeur — unfortunately similar to the last time on the Nagadan with Bernard.

Niko fired the motor and smiled at the puff of diesel fumes. Not many things smell as perfect as diesel mingling with the cleanness of a good river at dawn and the waft of pine groves. Niko ran the boat the entire day while Bayless drank and periodically pissed over the side. Every time Niko tried to stop at a good fishing spot, Bayless just pointed upstream. “Onward,” he would yell, and they spent the entire day in that manner.

Bayless was fall-down drunk by the time they stopped for dinner. He barely touched the food that Niko made, and he slurred his words into an incoherent mixture that seemed to be both offensive towards Niko and appreciative of the natural beauty of the river. 

Niko grew weary of the act. “Time to get some sleep.”

Bayless murmured and nodded. Niko held his arm and led him into the tent where he promptly passed out with one foot sticking through the door.

Niko considered leaving the foot where it was and keeping the tent door open. Bayless deserved any and all bug bites after his performance. Then he figured the hangover would be bad enough, and he lifted the man’s leg into the tent and zipped the screen fully

After clean up, Niko sat by the river and watched the moon climb as he listened to the loons and the coyotes and the frogs and bugs. He shrugged and leaned over and lifted one of Bayless’s beers from the cooler.

I don’t drink when I’m guiding, but this one is different.

“Thanks man, you’re very generous.” He held the can up as if toasting Bayless’s ability to sleep so quickly in such an uncomfortable position.

“You’re missing the best part of the day.” Niko sipped the beer slow as he thought about the next day’s route. Maybe another mile up, they would split onto the Nagadan. 

He read from a tattered and wilted paperback copy of Death, Taxes, and Leaky Waders by John Gierach while he finished the beer. Not long after dark he climbed into this own tent. He dreamt of Richard and Tracey, and of floating a unfamiliar river alone at dawn, looking back to a distant town and seeing nothing but rugged wilderness in front of him.

…

Check back next week to see what Niko discovers on his return to the Nagadan.

Still about three years ago …

“I thought a Chamonix never lied?” Tracey’s chin dipped, and her right eyebrow rose a half inch above the other. She sipped whisky from a juice glass. Hard alcohol was a rarity for her, and the fact that she didn’t even take the time to find a tumbler made Niko gird up for this conversation more than he did before talking to the sheriff.

“Chamonix’s never lie, but this is different.”

“You didn’t break a law before, but you have now,” Tracey said as they sat on the porch and watched the bears at the fish-table.

“He saved my life. I couldn’t break my word. Look at Bob the Bear — he is chewing on the hose again.” Niko grabbed the air-horn and blasted it. The bears scurried into the bushes.

“So let me get this straight?” Tracey sipped and leaned forward. “You lied to the police to save the privacy of some random bearded man who lives in the woods alone, miles from any person or road?”

“Yes. That is exactly correct.” Niko nodded as if that cleared everything up.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you lie about that?”

“He asked me to.”

“He said that?”

Niko paused. “Well, no. But it was implied. I inferred — “

“You inferred that while he held a rifle to your head and sent you back into the wilderness by yourself with nothing?”

“We had an understanding. And he gave me a few French granola bars.” Niko smiled. “They were delicious. Reminded me of Paris. You remember that night at Sacré-Cœur? Then the hotel after?”

She didn’t smile. “I can’t believe you can even talk like that right now.” Tracey took a deep breath. “I just spent a month searching the wilderness for you when everyone said you were dead. That thought was too painful to even consider. So it is with as much love as I can muster that I ask, how can you can be so stupid?”

“We had an understanding.” Niko threw his hands above his head.

“An understanding?” Tracey’s voice raised up an octave.

“You weren’t there. You can’t understand.”

“Sometimes you say the dumbest things. Lying to a police officer is a crime, and Bernard and Andrea accused you of some serious negligence. You don’t need any question marks about your integrity right now.”

“Everyone knows a Chamonix never lies.”

“Damn it. This is no time for jokes,” Tracey stood up and turned her back on Niko. “This guy you are protecting — do you even know his name?”

“He wouldn’t tell me his real name. He just said to call him Baptiste. He had a French accent.”

“Why didn’t he help you get back home?”

“He did. I was about dead when he found me. It was just like when you found me. He took me back to his cabin and fed me, and he let me rest there.”

She turned back to Niko. The glass was nearly finished. “Then you woke up one day and he had a gun on you and said you had to leave.”

“Yes. Yes, he did that.” Niko nodded and stopped smiling. He could see his attempts to lighten this conversation were out of place. “A plane buzzed overhead, and then he got spooked and sent me on my way. He didn’t have to say it, but he was hiding.”

“Hiding from what?”

“I don’t know. He just got really anxious after he heard the place, and he said he couldn’t do anything else for me. He used the word ‘impossible’ and then muttered some things in French. So I thanked him, and I left. What else could I do? I was a guest.”

“A guest? You didn’t get drunk at a dinner party and overstay your welcome. You almost died out there.”

“I know. But I could tell Baptiste was very serious about privacy — life or death serious, and he trusted me enough to let me leave. He didn’t have to help me. He could have shot me or left me out on the river, and no one would know anything about him or me. But he didn’t, so I’m not going to tell anyone, except you, that I ever met him, ever. I won’t betray that trust.”

“So that’s it?” Tracey’s voice was soft now.

“I didn’t lie to you. I just left that part out to everyone else.”

“Aren’t you curious as to why he is out there or why the sheriff cares about it?”

“All I know for sure is without his help, I would be dead. Beyond that, I figure it is better for me to know as little as possible.”

“Well, you’re good at that.” Tracey’s face softened a little as she looked at Niko. Not a smile, but no longer a frown.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said. “And you better hope no one else finds out about this,” Tracey put the finished glass on the table, and she walked inside.

Despite all that happened, and all the crap there was to figure out, he was happy to be back right there sitting on the porch, watching the bears, breathing, existing, even arguing with Tracey. He thought all of that was over. He was sure that he was going to die on the ATV trail. The only emotion to it that really surprised him was just how much he could miss things that had not yet happened.

And now he had it all back, and that changed things for him, changed the way he moved through the day. Each moment, even the unpleasant ones, were sharper, honed down to a thinner blade that cut with greater ease.

* * *

No longer three years ago, back to the night after Bayless arrived in Ladawambuck …

Niko was awake in bed, staring out of the window as Tracey breathed audibly next to him. He saw his phone flash in the darkness. A text from Bayless.

Any decision?

Niko had just promised Tracey that he wouldn’t return to the Nagadan and that he wouldn’t guide Bayless. Even as he spoke the words — adding the finger crossing his heart for effect — he knew he was going out there.

Chamonix’s never lie … maybe that was never true, he thought. She can’t agree to it, and I can’t avoid it though.

As he lay awake that night he recounted his trip on the Nagadan three years before. He thought of his time struggling in the wild, his time with Baptiste, his rescue, and the investigation. The Sheriff cleared him of any legal wrong-doing. Bernard attempted a civil suit, but his lawyers were wise enough to know that any chance they had on a negligence case was outweighed by the fact that Bernard had tried to kill Niko.

Some urged Niko to press assault charges against Bernard, but Niko said, “I can’t sue a man that has just lost a child.”

So, an odd truce emerged, one in which both sides felt so ashamed of their own actions that they simply remained silent. People in town seemed to either believe Niko’s account or they found further investigation to be too tedious, and the incident was pushed out of the local conversations — a difficult time to be forgotten.

Under it all, Niko knew the wound was still open. He often wished that he had been punished, that he could flip his guilt into anger and direct it at someone, some force that had wronged him. Some external target to focus his gaze on rather than perpetual self-reflection and second guessing. That didn’t happen.

He rose from the bed, careful not to wake Tracey and looked out of the window towards the fly shop across the street, smiling at the little life he had whittled for himself. He knew he had to confront the Nagadan.

Perhaps he was operating on some sub-conscious level of clarity, knowing he must absorb the pain he had endured on that river, knowing he needed to sit with it, and that he could no longer float aimlessly through his life. He needed to put the oars into the water and propel himself somewhere.

Or perhaps he was just looking to pawn that decision off on someone else, and Bayless was the perfect opportunity. He was begging Niko to go out there and offering obscene money to do so. How could Niko turn that down?

As the faint navy-blue light of dawn tinted the eastern sky, Niko picked up his phone and he typed a message.

I’m in. Meet me at the fly shop tomorrow at 4:30 a.m.

Bayless replied in seconds.

I knew you’d come around.

Tracey stirred in the bed and rolled towards Niko.

“What are you doing over there? You woke me up.”

Niko walked back towards her. He bent over and kissed her forehead.

“Just couldn’t sleep.”

Her eyes were already closed again, and she murmured something unintelligible. Niko smiled at her sleepy beauty as he felt a profound sadness over his impending betrayal.

He stood up and left the room to start his day. He had a lot to figure out for this trip up the Nagadan.

…

Thanks for reading — check in next week for a new episode!

I used to write in bars, enamored that I could focus midst the sounds.

Words echoed off the walls, bass shook the table, but my mind stayed still;
a quaking voice covered by the quilt of slurred conversations.

Trying to hoard phrases, describe feelings as elusive as smells,
it almost seemed like I was close to something —
then we all went inside for months, and things became very quiet…

The city is alive again and louder than I remember;
chatter in restaurants, cars and the quiet moan of the loud highway.
Some sounds are different though;
chants in the streets, helicopters and the loud buzz of the quiet sky.

Speakers on trucks blasting love and bass across the city,
there are voices echoing off the buildings;
the voices themselves are building.

I used to ignore this symphony, thinking that silence would help me
to make sense of my crackling voice and scattered mind.

I don’t write in bars anymore, but now I try to listen.

Still about three years ago …

Niko and Reynolds sat in silence, weighing the death of a child, the account of Niko’s attacks, and the fact that Bernard and Andrea had relayed a different story altogether. Reynolds stood up. “You want some coffee or something?”

“Sure. I drink it black,” Niko said.

Reynolds was gone for a half hour, and he returned to the office empty-handed.

“Usually if you are pretending to get coffee while you verify a story, you return with some coffee to keep up appearances,” Niko said as Reynolds closed the blinds that he had opened before he left Niko alone in the office.

He laughed, “you caught me Niko.” He poked his head out of the door. “Can someone grab me two coffees?”

Reynolds sat back down. Smiling like he was catching up with an old friend. “Alright, so by my count, we got thirty-four days unaccounted for from the day Richard died to the day Tracey dragged you out of the woods.”

“So my story checked out so far?”

“Still waiting to see,” Reynolds replied and then looked up to the officer delivering two paper cups of coffee into the office. Niko leaned forward and grabbed one from the desk. The smell alone was intoxicating.

“I apologize in advance for the coffee. It sucks,” Reynolds nodded at the cup in Niko’s hand.

“I haven’t had any since the day Richard went in the water,” Niko lied. His last cup of coffee was with the bearded man.

“Long time.”

“Yea.”

“Well, I have two seriously different accounts of how a boy died and how you were left out there alone.” Reynolds sipped his coffee. “Add that to this big ass question mark of what happened to you out there over all the other days. I need to hear the rest.”

“It really isn’t that interesting.” Niko shrugged.

“Thirty-four days out there. Something must have happened. What took so long to get back otherwise?” Reynold’s face was firm now, and his voice had deepened. The smile was gone.

Niko was pulling the cup to his face, and he stopped and looked up. “Jesus man. You want to go traverse that country?”

“I don’t. That’s why I want to hear it from you. The miles and the days don’t match. With all due respect, you weren’t thirty-four days away from here.”

Was it really thirty-four days? I must have lost count somewhere in the early twenties.

“Well, first I waited by the log jam. I was pretty messed up from getting hit with the oar. Did Bernard say anything about that?”

“He didn’t.”

“Well, I think this speaks for itself,” Niko pointed at nearly healed wound on his face.

“Injuries happen in all sorts of ways.” Reynolds, cold and impartial now, didn’t even look at the wound.

“So, I was concussed after getting hit by an oar,” Niko paused for emphasis, “and I just waited. I was throwing up and dizzy and all that, but I could think enough to figure someone might come looking for me, and they would probably start where I was last seen. I guess I didn’t want to think that Bernard would leave me for dead and lie about it.”

“What makes you think that now?”

“Word gets around. It’s not hard to describe where the hell I was. If they had told the truth, someone would have found me.”

“Big search area.”

“Not when you have the location of what you are looking for.” Niko sat up straight, his back rigid now.

“So you waited?”

“I guess I was hoping there was a reasonable explanation for why I was alone. Maybe they got caught up in the current, or couldn’t get me in the boat or something. I didn’t really think Bernard would do the right thing, but I hoped maybe Andrea would. So, I just waited. I drank river water and sat there for three days.”

“Okay, so there is three of thirty-four.”

Damn, he’s counting?

Niko scrambled through his mind, trying to count the days, trying to piece the math together in seconds as Reynolds watched.

“Then what?”

Niko sighed. “I don’t remember every second of it, you know? There was no real adventure. It was monotonous. Just days and days of suffering and boredom with a flashes of terror. Mostly it just sucked.”

“Tell me as much as you can.”

“After the third day, I knew I would have to get myself out of there. I didn’t have anything. I mean nothing. I take a survival pack, even on short hikes from the house, but it was all in the boat. I just had my clothes.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Just my clothes and my river shoes.”

Reynolds nodded, and Niko thought he saw a look of respect for a moment, a brief glimpse of humanity had snuck by the mask of the interrogator.

Niko continued. “So, I grabbed the biggest log I could find and pushed off into the river. It didn’t take long before I started shivering uncontrollably and my legs locked up. I almost smashed my head in some real easy rapids. That was when I knew I was in serious trouble.”

“Not when you got hit with the oar, or no one showed up after three days?”

“That worried me. But that was all other people, things out of my hands. This was the first time I considered I might not be able to cover ground out there like I needed to. I realized that the river had more control over this than I did.”

“Bet that was humbling.”

“It was, so I left the river.”

“And went where?”

“I couldn’t tell you. I just got away from the river. Stupid as hell, I know.”

“I know that you know a river is your best bet in that type of situation. Why did you leave it?”

Niko’s hands activated. He placed the coffee on the desk and began to twirl the wisps of hair that curled out behind his ears.

“You look nervous,” Reynolds said.

“Is this a damn therapy session or an interview?

“I just need to know why you left the river.”

“That was my panic moment. When I considered that I might not be enough to survive out there. I just wanted to get away from that spot. It made no sense. Stupid mistake.”

“Yea?”

“The woods are so thick there, deadfall like I’ve never seen. There was nothing to follow. I walked an entire day, tried to sleep in a godawful bog, got devoured by bugs, and then finally came to my senses and walked back to the river the next day. Wasted two days and returned to the river a little upstream of where I left it.”

“There’s five days.” Reynolds was scratching notes, and the pen was audible as his heavy hand moved over the paper.

“I figured I would take my chances on the river. As uncertain as it seemed, it was better than walking circles in the bogs. So, I floated short stretches when I had to and walked the stretches that were navigable on foot. It made for slow going.”

“Also takes lots of energy. That cold, that much hard walking.”

“I got better at the cold. I got so I could slow my breathing and keep my body warm for longer stretches in the water. It was never more than a few minutes at a time though. I ate what I could find. I’m a guide — I do know how to survive out there.” Niko was still fidgeting with his hair.

“It seems.” Reynold’s head was still down in his notes. “What did you eat?”

“Bugs, any plants I was sure of. One night I had dead fish. It tasted worse than it smelled, and I found it by its smell. I drank the river water. It was too wet to get fires going, so I couldn’t boil the water, and I spent a good number of days shitting my guts out. You can add a few of those into your count.”

“How many?” Reynolds asked. He would periodically and unexpectedly look up and right into Niko’s eyes.

“Not sure, maybe four or five to the shits.”

“That’s a lot of time to be sick.”

“I know it. Got pretty lean out there.” Niko patted his midsection. “The worst was the rain. That’s where most of the days went. If it rained, I had to stay put and wait for water to go down. Each storm just made it colder and churned up debris to catch on. So, there were a few times where I just sat and waited for days for the river to calm down. When I could travel, it was only short distances at a time. I just kept floating and waiting and floating and waiting.”

“How many days would you say?”

Niko shook his head. “I don’t know how many days to be honest. Shit got real bad. I was just wearing down from the sickness and lack of food. I was close to giving up when I finally got to the landing area where Tracey found me. I guess that’s how it takes thirty-four days to cover what you call such a short distance.” Niko looked at Reynolds.

“I see.”

“Not sure if all the days add up.” Niko pointed at the note pad. “But, that’s how it happened. You know the rest from there.”

“Well, there’s a lot of vague timing. You said you were close to giving up?”

“After leaving the river, I was so delirious that I didn’t really know where I was. Thought it was a hallucination when I heard Tracey calling my name. I stumbled along the ATV track and then fell down. I knew I wouldn’t get myself up. I didn’t think it was over. I knew it to be true. I had lain down to die on that trail.”

Niko’s eyes were down at the floor, and the coffee was finished, and he was spinning the hair behind his ear. “I don’t remember anything after that, but that’s where Tracey found me. So I guess I was actually following her voice. I’d be gone without her.”

“So that’s it?”

Niko looked up and forced a smile. “I’m sorry it isn’t more interesting. No bears, no mountain lions. Just slow hard travel, hypothermia, hunger, diarrhea, and Tracey refusing to give up.”

Reynolds put his pen down and nodded his head. “You’re a lucky man.”

“I’ve run into more dumb luck in this lifetime than anyone deserves.”

“Seems like you found some bad luck along the way too.”

“You don’t realize one without the other.”

Reynolds paused and opened both of hands to Niko. He leaned back in his chair and relaxed his shoulders. “You didn’t come across anyone else out there?”

How the hell does he know?

Niko laughed aloud. “Holy hell. You think if I came across someone out there I would have just kept running the river? I was praying to come across someone, looking all day and night.”

“That makes sense.”

“Good.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you were looking and praying for someone. But you didn’t say if you ran into anyone out there.”

“No. I didn’t run into anyone,” Niko lied. “What are you getting at?”

“Well. There were food wrappers in your pocket, and while you were under at the clinic you kept muttering something about ‘thanking Baptiste.’”

Niko’s pace quickened, but he smiled and relaxed his shoulders, showing no outwards signs of his stress.

“Come on man. I was delirious. Baptiste? Maybe my Catholic roots were surfacing or something.”

“No, you seemed pretty specific. Mentioning a bearded man named Baptiste. You kept thanking him.”

“I was all kinds of messed up. I don’t know what I was saying. You think Rip Van Winkle saved me out there, and I’m hiding it?”

“What about the food wrappers? You didn’t mention those.” Niko saw the trick now. Reynolds maintained an imposing demeanor for the straightforward questions. He probably knew those answers already or could at least glean them. He wasn’t dumb. Then he adopted this relaxed tone for the riddles he was most curious about. As if these last questions were just an afterthought.

“Oh, I found a few things out there. Wrappers that had some crumbs, one day I even found an unopened Lara bar. That might have been the best meal of my life.”

“Best meal of your life. Why didn’t you mention that before?”

“I forgot. A lot of crap happened out there. Cut me some slack.”

“I want to Niko, but some of this stuff doesn’t add up. The food wrappers weren’t Lara bars. They weren’t in English or any brand I knew of. We looked into it, and they don’t sell them in the North America.”

“I guess a foreign person lost some food out there. Maine is a popular place for tourists.” Niko was quick in his reply.

“Don’t get angry with me Niko. And that part of Maine is not popular with tourists. Plus the company on the wrapper went out of business years ago.”

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you. Why does this even matter?” Niko placed his cup on the desk, sat up, and crossed his arms.

“Well, I have a dead child, and conflicting reports of how it happened. There have also always been rumors of some crazy woodsman living out there where you were.”

“Tough place to make a life.”

“There are a lot of stories, but most say it is mountain man type running from some bad people, just hiding out. When I saw the old wrapper and heard you talking about the bearded man, I just thought you might know something about that. I’m prone to be skeptical of coincidences.”

“If I met someone like that out there, I’d tell you. No reason to lie about that.”

Reynolds laughed. “Well, the nature of a lie is usually to hide the reason you’re lying.”

“Very philosophical. But, I’m telling you the truth.”

“Maybe, but I think you know more than you’re saying.”

“Well, that’s a first,” Niko laughed trying to steer the conversation away from Baptiste. “I’ll have to tell Tracey you said that next time she is complaining that I am waxing philosophical.”

“Yea, I’ve heard you can tell a story or two.”

“I’ve been known to exaggerate a fish-tale occasionally, but a Chamonix never lies. I’ve told you everything I can remember.”

Reynolds looked at Niko without acknowledging the last statement.

“Can I go?” Niko asked.

“Sure, sure.” Reynolds stood. “You’re not under arrest or anything like that. You did claim that Bernard hit you with an oar. You want to make an official report?”

“No. I want to forget all of that as soon as possible.”

“Well. I have a lot of digest, but I’ll let you know what comes of all of this. Stay close though. No big trips or anything like that.”

“Is that legally binding?”

“Not yet. Just a suggestion.”

“Okay.”

“You have any questions for me?” Reynolds asked.

“Yea actually. Where’s my boat?”

Reynolds smiled. “Of course. It’s in our garage. I’ll have someone trailer it up to your place tomorrow.”

Niko let out a sigh when he walked from the station into the bright afternoon sun. That was too close.

…

Thanks for reading, and I am sorry for the delay on this episode — I was out in the mountains chasing fish myself. Check in next week for episode 8!