The army had taught him to do without sleep. In some places, it was impossible. Only until a person was on the ragged edge could they fall asleep in a frozen trench. Otherwise, the cold (and frostbite) usually kept you up. It wasn’t hardship that woke Torsten from his slumber early outside. It was worry. The idea that there was something more than a simple power outage afoot. 

He awoke from around two. He turned his head towards the south in the hammock. His heart began to sink. Years of living at the cabin had taught him exactly what the Portland skyline looked like. On most nights it was a bright white light that did its best to drown out the Milky Way above. Never was it a roiling, amber color. The stars above the imprint of the city were obscured in the clear light. Though Torsten did not need to see what was happening to know, he still dutifully hiked through the wilderness to clamber up the same pine tree as before to turn the telescope towards the city.

“[i]Perkele,[/i]” he muttered the malediction in Finnish. Through the glass lens, the city was starting to burn. The fire had started in the suburbs to the northwest, spreading in tiny fingers towards the city center and around it. A full tenth of the city burned in the night, giving it a nightly glow that was unnatural. A certain amount of dryness pained the Finn’s mouth, as nervous eyes peered back at his cabin. He couldn’t know if her apartment was amongst the flames. Possessions disappearing in crackling smoke and light. Should he worry her over it? 

He would need to tell a half-truth. She did not need heartache on the trip to Portland. When was the last time he had dealt with a crying woman?

There were things to do, however. The cabin was secluded on the dirt road, but the driveway (and Allison’s car) were plain to any passersby. The cabin would be a dream for those who might want to loot or pilfer. Clambering down from the tree, Torsten began the work that needed to be complete before Allison awoke. Lacking any means to deactivate the parking brake, he used a bit of tow rope and a manual winch to tow the car – little by little as its tires ground and resisted in the dirt and grass – until it was nearer to the cabin, out of sight from the main road. Concealing the entrance was easier. He drug two felled, dead trees to the entrance, blocking it from easy access. Dried leaves and maneuvering of dirt made it appear as though it were a natural break in the treeline. One would have to look [i]very[/i] carefully to know that it was a driveway.

He told time by the moon. It was beginning to fade, with the rise of the sun. He figured it was at least a little past four. He knocked gently on the door, trusting the woman to wake. He packed his hammock, waiting outside on the porch for her to open the door for him. There were a few things that he needed to do before he was ready to leave.