Grandpa's Hidden Caches

The plastic blades of the desk fan clicked every time they swung left. Click, swish. Click, swish. It pushed hot, heavy August air across the kitchen. Mandy sat on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest. She picked at a curled edge of the yellow linoleum.

Her mother, Lorna, stood by the sink. The phone was pressed hard against her ear. Lorna's knuckles were white. The skin around her mouth was tight.

"You cannot be serious," Lorna said. Her voice was flat. It was the voice she used when a bill arrived that she could not pay.

David paced the length of the short hallway. He was Lorna's brother. He had only been in the house for two days. Before that, Mandy had not seen him since she was eight. He wore a faded gray t-shirt. His arms were covered in goosebumps even though the house was boiling hot. He kept rubbing his hands up and down his jeans.

"It has been three days," Lorna said into the phone. "He is seventy-eight years old. He has dementia. You do not just stop looking."

Mandy stopped picking at the floor. A heavy block of ice formed in her stomach. Grandpa Arthur was out there.

"Budget cuts," Lorna spat the words out. "Resources. You mean to tell me you have no resources for an elder. If he was a tourist, you would have helicopters."

Lorna slammed the phone down onto the counter. It rattled against a dirty coffee mug. She gripped the edge of the sink and dropped her head.

"They called it off?" David asked. He stopped pacing. His right leg shook up and down.

"They called it off," Lorna said. She did not look at him.

"They can't just stop. It's the bush. He's out in the bush."

"They did, David. The officer said they searched a five-mile radius from where his truck was found. They said it's too thick. They said they don't have the funding to keep the dogs out."

"I'll go back to the station," David said. He took a step toward the door. "I'll make them."

Lorna spun around. "You will make them? You? You just got here. You haven't been here for five years. Don't act like you are the one holding this together."

David flinched. The skin around his eyes was dark and bruised-looking. "I'm here now, Lorna."

"Yeah. Now. When it's too late."

Mandy hated the loud voices. The kitchen felt too small. The walls were pressing in on her. She stood up quietly and slipped out of the room. Neither adult noticed her leave.

She walked down the narrow hallway to Arthur's bedroom. The door was open. The room held the trapped heat of the afternoon. The afternoon sun baked the dust into the braided rug on the floor. It was hot and still.

Mandy walked over to Arthur's bed. It was perfectly made. He always made it with military tight corners. She sat on the edge. Her hand brushed against the quilt. She missed his voice. She missed the way he called her Little Bear.

She leaned over to look under the bed. There was a cardboard box of old boots. She shoved the box aside. Her hand bumped against the bottom of the mattress. There was a rip in the fabric lining.

Mandy felt a hard rectangle wedged inside the tear. She pulled it out.

It was a notebook. The cover was dark green leather. It was warped and stained with old water damage. She opened it. The pages were stiff. They crackled as they turned.

The pages were full of drawings. Not words, but lines. Thick black lines, squiggles, and dots. She recognized a shape. It was a jagged peak.

"Black Bear Ridge," she whispered.

She turned the page. There were more drawings. Trees with an 'X' marked next to them. Arrows pointing north. And strange little boxes drawn under the ground. Next to one box, Arthur had written in shaky, spidery handwriting: Smoked whitefish. Winter coming. Feed the kids.

Mandy's heart hammered against her ribs. She ran back down the hall.

"Mom!" Mandy yelled. She burst into the kitchen.

Lorna and David stopped arguing. They turned to look at her.

"I found this in his bed," Mandy said. She slapped the notebook onto the kitchen table.

Lorna wiped a hand across her sweaty forehead. "Mandy, not right now."

"Look at it," Mandy demanded.

David walked over and leaned down. He squinted at the pages. "This is... this is a map."

"He wasn't wandering," Mandy said. "He told me last week the snow was going to be bad this year. He said we needed to get ready. Mom, he was making a trail."

Lorna looked at the open book. She traced a finger over the shaky writing. "He's recreating his old trapline. The one from when he was a boy."

"We need to pack the truck," David said. He turned to Lorna. His hands stopped shaking. "We know where he's going now. The police don't have this. We do."

Lorna looked at her brother. Then she looked at the notebook. She nodded once. "Get your boots, Mandy."

The Marked Tree

The drive out of town was loud. The truck tires crunched over the gravel road, kicking up thick clouds of gray dust. The air conditioning was broken. The windows were rolled down, letting in the heavy heat of the pine forest.

Mandy sat in the back seat. She held the green notebook flat on her lap. She kept her finger on the first drawing. It was a jagged line representing a creek, and next to it, a tree with a long, oval scar on the trunk.

David drove. He gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles looked like white marbles. Lorna sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window.

They parked the truck at the end of a logging road. The forest stood in front of them like a solid green wall. The heat out here was different than in the kitchen. It was wet. It clung to Mandy's skin. Mosquitoes immediately swarmed her face. She swatted them away, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulders.

"Which way?" David asked.

Lorna pointed toward a thick cluster of spruce. "Up through the draw. We follow the creek bed until it forks."

They started walking. The ground was spongy with dead moss and rotting logs. Mandy focused on her boots. Left, right, left, right. The branches snapped back and whipped her arms. She ignored the sting.

An hour passed. The ground began to slope upward. The heat began to break, replaced by a strange, creeping chill. The higher they climbed into the foothills, the colder the air became.

David stopped. He leaned his hands on his knees, panting hard. "We're lost. We should have hit the fork by now."

"We are not lost," Lorna said. She did not stop walking. "Keep up."

"You don't know where we are," David argued. He wiped sweat and dirt from his face. "You're just guessing. You haven't been out here since we were kids."

Lorna spun around. Her boots dug deep into the dirt. "I haven't been out here because I was busy raising my daughter and paying Dad's medical bills. Where were you, David? In a bar in Vancouver?"

David stood up straight. His face went completely blank. He swallowed hard.

Mandy stepped between them. She hated the words they used. They were sharp and meant to cut.

"Look," Mandy said. She pointed past her mother's shoulder.

Fifty yards ahead, standing alone in a clearing, was a massive cedar tree. The bark on the trunk was stripped away in a perfect, long oval. The wood underneath was gray and smooth. It was a culturally modified tree. An old marker.

Mandy ran toward it. She opened the notebook. The drawing matched perfectly. Below the drawing of the tree, Arthur had drawn a shovel.

"Under the roots," Mandy said.

David dropped his pack. He fell to his knees in the dirt. He started digging with his bare hands. He tore at the moss and the loose soil. Lorna knelt beside him and used a heavy stick to pry up a rock.

Mandy watched their hands work together. The dirt flew backward.

"I hit something," David grunted.

He pulled away the last layer of soil. Buried between the thick tree roots was a dark blue plastic tote. The lid was sealed with heavy silver tape.

David ripped the tape off. He popped the lid.

Inside, wrapped in layers of thick wax paper, were strips of dark red smoked salmon. Next to the fish were mason jars filled with dried Saskatoon berries. At the very bottom lay a small, hand-carved hunting knife with a bone handle.

David stared at the food. He picked up a strip of the smoked fish. His chest hitched. Then, he put his face in his dirty hands and began to cry. The sound was loud and awful. It sounded like a dog choking.

"He was saving it," David sobbed. "His mind is gone, but he was trying to feed us. He knew he was forgetting, and he came out here to hide food for us."

Lorna sat back on her heels. She stared at the fish. Her eyes filled with tears, but she did not let them fall. She reached out and placed her hand on David's shaking shoulder.

"Eat a piece," Lorna said quietly. "Then we keep moving. The trail goes higher."

The Cold Ashes

The sky above the tree line did not just get dark. It bruised. Ugly purple and black clouds rolled over the mountain peaks, swallowing the late afternoon sun.

The temperature plummeted. It felt like walking into a meat freezer. The wet heat of the lower forest was completely gone.

"Mom, it's freezing," Mandy said. Her teeth clicked together.

"Summer storms up here are bad," Lorna yelled over the rising wind. "Put your jacket on."

Mandy dug into her backpack and pulled out her windbreaker. It was not thick enough. The wind ripped through the nylon.

Then the hail started. Small, hard white pellets bounced off the rocks and stung Mandy's cheeks. Within minutes, the hail turned into a blinding, driving sleet. It was a freak alpine blizzard. The ground turned white.

"The book!" David shouted over the roaring wind. "What's the next marker?"

Mandy huddled under a pine branch. She opened the book, shielding the pages with her body. "A square! A little square with a roof!"

"The old hunting cabin," Lorna said. "It's about a half-mile north, up the ridge. Run!"

They ran. The slush soaked through Mandy's boots instantly. Her toes went numb. The wind pushed against her chest, trying to knock her backward. David grabbed her hand and pulled her up a steep incline of slippery rocks.

The shape of the cabin appeared through the whiteout conditions. It was barely standing. The roof sagged in the middle. The logs were black with rot.

David hit the wooden door with his shoulder. It groaned but stayed shut. He backed up and kicked it right next to the handle. The old wood splintered, and the door flew open.

They stumbled inside. The air in the cabin was stale and smelled like wet dust and old mice, but it blocked the wind. David slammed the broken door shut and shoved a heavy wooden chair against it.

Mandy stood in the center of the single room, shivering violently. Her teeth chattered so hard her jaw hurt.

Lorna walked over to the stone fireplace in the corner. She pulled her glove off and pressed her bare hand against the gray ashes.

"It's warm," Lorna said. Her voice was a tight whisper. "The ashes are still warm."

David looked around the dark room. In the corner, under a broken window, sat another blue plastic tote. It was already open. Empty wax paper wrappers were scattered on the floor.

"He was just here," David said. "He had a fire. Why did he leave?"

"Because he's confused!" Lorna yelled suddenly. The sound bounced off the small walls. "Because his brain is broken, David!"

Lorna turned around. Her face was red. The panic of the storm and the fear for her father finally cracked her open.

"He's out there in the ice, and I can't fix it!" Lorna screamed. "I fix everything! I go to the community center and beg for money from the government so our elders have heat, and they say no. I come home and feed Dad, and he doesn't know my name. I hold it all together, and no one helps me!"

David stood perfectly still. His wet hair plastered to his forehead.

"I know," David said quietly.

"You don't know!" Lorna fired back. "You ran away! You drank until you forgot we existed!"

"I drank because I couldn't handle it!" David yelled back. His voice cracked. "I drank because every time I looked at Dad, I remembered what they did to him at that school! I remembered that he couldn't speak his own language to us without crying! I was ashamed, Lorna. I was weak, and I was ashamed."

The cabin fell silent. The only sound was the howling wind outside.

Mandy sat on the floor next to the empty blue tote. She watched her mother and her uncle. The anger that had filled the room suddenly vanished. The heavy, choking feeling of the fight was gone.

SUDDEN OXYGEN.

Mandy took a deep breath. Her chest felt clear. The truth was out. The ugly, hard truth was spoken out loud, and the walls did not collapse.

Lorna let out a long, shaking breath. She walked across the room and wrapped her arms around her brother. David hugged her back, burying his face in her shoulder.

"We will find him," Lorna whispered. "We will find him together."

Mandy looked down at the floor. Next to the cold ashes, she saw a piece of birch bark. Arthur had drawn a picture on it with a piece of charcoal. It was a drawing of a caribou.

The Red Snow

The storm broke just before sunrise.

Mandy woke up on the floor of the cabin. The silence was loud. She stood up and pushed the broken door open. The world outside was blindingly bright. The freak summer snow coated the rocks and trees in a harsh, glittering white. But the August sun was already working. Drops of water fell from the pine needles as the melt began.

Lorna and David came out behind her. Their faces were pale and exhausted.

"We only have a few hours before this all turns to mud," David said.

Mandy walked forward, studying the ground. The fresh snow covered any tracks Arthur might have left. But as she looked at a jagged pile of rocks leading up the ridge, she saw a color that did not belong.

Red.

It was a tiny circle of bright red on the white snow.

"Here," Mandy said. She pointed.

David ran over. "Blood. It's fresh."

They climbed the ridge. The rocks were slippery and dangerous. Mandy scrambled up on her hands and knees. Every few yards, they found another drop of red.

Near the top of the ridge, the rock face curved inward, forming a shallow overhang. A crude wall of packed snow and pine branches blocked the opening. It was a survival cave.

"Dad!" Lorna screamed.

David tore the pine branches away.

Inside the small, dark cavity, Arthur sat on the frozen ground. He was huddled inside his oversized canvas coat. His head was bare. His hands were tucked under his armpits. His lips were a terrible shade of blue.

"Grandpa!" Mandy yelled. She crawled into the cave and grabbed his arm.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes. They were cloudy and unfocused. He looked at Mandy, but he looked right through her.

"Caribou," Arthur mumbled. His jaw barely moved. "Caribou are late. Mining road scared them off. Got to wait."

"Dad, it's me. It's Lorna," she said, crawling in next to Mandy. Lorna pulled off her dry sweater and wrapped it around Arthur's head.

David grabbed Arthur's boots. "His feet are like ice. We have to get him warm right now."

David pulled the mason jar of dried berries and the strips of smoked fish from his pack. He shoved a piece of the fish into his own mouth, chewed it quickly until it was soft, and then held it to Arthur's lips.

"Eat, Dad. You packed this for us. Now you eat it."

Arthur chewed slowly. The salt and the fat from the fish seemed to wake something up in his eyes. He blinked hard. He looked at David.

"David?" Arthur whispered.

"I'm here, Dad. I'm right here."

"You found the blue boxes," Arthur said. A tiny, weak smile cracked his blue lips. "Good boy."

The trek down the mountain took six hours. They practically carried Arthur. The summer sun blazed overhead, melting the snow into a treacherous, muddy soup. The heat returned, sweltering and thick, but Arthur shivered the entire way.

They reached the logging road just as the sun began to set.

Two days later, Mandy sat in a hard plastic chair in the hospital room. The bright fluorescent lights hummed above her.

Arthur lay in the white hospital bed. His right foot was heavily bandaged from the frostbite. The doctors said he would lose two toes. They also said he could never go back to his house. He needed full-time care.

Lorna and David stood by the window. They were drinking bad hospital coffee.

"I talked to the community council today," Lorna said softly. "I told them about the notebook. I told them about the trail."

"What did they say?" David asked.

"They want to fund a youth program. They want to take the teenagers out before winter. To rebuild the caches. To learn the trail."

David nodded slowly. "I'll lead it. If they let me. I can teach them how to pack the fish."

Lorna smiled. It was the first real smile Mandy had seen on her mother's face all summer. "I think they would like that."

Mandy opened the green notebook on her lap. The pages were still warped. The ink was still smudged. But it was no longer a mystery. It was a map. And she knew exactly where it went.