“Tyko, if you're dead, how the fuck will you care of us?!” Came the guttural roar of Kiite. It was a voice no one had heard the young man use before; raw emotional turmoil of fear, anger, and love. His bright green eyes shone through the wet veil of tears that leaked down his cheeks, sandy brown hair still messy from his slumber. He was seated in the old chair their father used to sit in, a plain, burgundy fabric recliner. He was hunched forward, his his hands clenching and unclenching between his knees, kneading the air in frustration. He was pleading, begging his brother to get out of town for a while upon the revelation that Tyko was now bonded with a Raccoon.
Ellisif stood beside Kiite, still in her house coat, “We will be okay Tyko. We can take care of mutsi for a few days, you know we can.” Her housecoat just clearing her toes, cloaking her slender build. Her face steeled against the emotions she wanted to scream and cry, fore she knew they would do no good for anyone, except make the reality harder.
Seated on the couch, Tyko sat with the raccoon in his lap, his expression a mixture of terror, worry, rage and sadness, slowly being offset by admiration and pride. He glanced to Mianna at his sister's mention of mutsi, and a wrenching pain gripped his heart as his fingers kneaded the soft fur of the Raccoon; his mother's expression was the most composed he had seen of her in years, yet still tears rolled down the slight crevasses of her thin, angular face. She gave a soft moan that came across as morose, but stern. He could only swallow, and nod. A deep breath with his mouth closed, he released it and brought his hands to his face as he sighed. There was no use fighting this, they were right. His brother and sister had spent the past hour showing him video from news agencies and youtube of the violence that was being meted out against those who were paired, or bonded to wild animals. From Miami to Calgary, it seemed as though the vast majority of those who lacked the bond, turned their fear to violence. There were claims of magic, of miracles. Some were calling it witchcraft, a televangelist was calling it an affront to God. “Then let us prepare.”
Calls were made to the highschool, excusing his brother and sister for the day under the pretext of a family emergency. The same was done for Tyko's work and class, but for an extended period. He set it for one week. Hopefully enough until this first wave of terror-borne violence would fade. If this lasted longer, he would have to find a way to extend it, or accept that he may lose his jobs and be forced to sacrifice the money left over from the insurance and settlement that was intended for his brother and sister to go to college or university if they chose. For what was university, if you had no home? The home care nurse for Mianna was canceled for the day, to try and keep the knowledge of Tyko and his raccoon to a minimum.
Dawn arrived, Tyko and Kiite left the house, leaving Ellisif to tend to Mianna's needs until they returned. Their first stop, was the bank, leaving the Raccoon in the truck, Tyko withdrew twelve hundred in cash, and made sure that Kiite's debit card was clear for up to a thousand dollars per day, up from the old limit of three hundred.
Their second stop was the insurance company, where Tyko got coverage on the Isuzu, with his brother as the primary. At the end of the week, Kiite would be able to go in, and get his Probationary license, but for this coming week however, things would be tough for Kiite and Ellisif. The third and final trip ended with the grocery store, in light of the fact that the house would be without a licensed driver for a week. They gathered supplies for Tyko as well, filling the cart substantially before returning home.
The sun was setting as Tyko sat out on the rear porch of the house, lists of things he wanted to get done kept scrolling through his mind as he watched the little raccoon eating a fresh egg he had just given her but a minute ago, still warm from the coop. Worries of not being able to keep the house, of the tasks he wanted to get done come spring and summer, of Kiite and Ellisif's homework, their health, their social lives. This was far from what he wanted or desired. It felt as though this thing, this connection between him and this little scavenger was a sledgehammer, trying to knock him back from all the progress he had made. As if some unseen entity was furious that him, and his, siblings had overcome the tragedy that robbed them of their mother and father, that they had prospered rather than failed. His hands tightened around the cover of the old book, a copy of the Kalevala. Now he had a new worry, this raccoon. She was currently holding the eggshell between her paws, licking out the last remains of its contents, slowly spreading the egg with her pointed muzzle to get into the ends. “Louhi.” It was a soft whisper, but the little Raccoon looked up, blinked at him, and then went back to eating the egg. Her happiness and contentment did somewhat soothe his frayed nerves. The name suited her to a degree, he had the feeling she would demand a Sampo from him, a thing of endless food or wealth.
Eight at night, with a stomach full of kalakeitto, or fish soup, made in as traditional way as Ellisif could; fish stock they had made last year, frozen in mason jars in the old chest freezer, carrots, onions, potatoes and rutabaga, leek and dill, and a couple of thawed trout and mountain white fish. It was one of Tyko's favorite foods, reminding him of his childhood back in Finland, a meal his grandmother made whenever they visited. He had even set aside a small bowl for Louhi after letting it cool down so she could try some as well, she seemed to like it, but eggs and noodles remained on her mind.
Tyko and Kiite were in the shop, the younger brother having been introduced to his future truck, and shown what yet needed to be finished for it to be road worthy. The elder of the pair was sitting, contemplating something that had struck him while using the rafter mounted hoist to lift the bed cap he had built for the Jeep, on to the back of the M677. The bed was already filled with the wooden benches and platforms that sufficed for him to sleep, and the full length drawers waiting to be loaded with gear and supplies. The water tank and heater re-installed and filled, the rest that was needed was food, a rifle, toiletries, and some form of entertainment. The thought that puzzled him though, was where he should go. There were a number of places he'd been and would like to see again, but at the same point....opportunity being opportunity, if it were potentially his last trip, seeing something he hadn't seen before, would be preferable.
Thus he turned to his phone, and the number of a man he'd met last year, who had drafted him and his truck into a rescue operation up in the remote regions of the mountains. They had become loose acquaintances since, but if there was someone who would know a remote place to get out to, it would be Danny Bannan. Quickly he sent the man a text message, “Hey Danny, I know this is short notice, but if you could get back to me, I need to find somewhere to be for a week. I will be solo, suggestions?”
Danny glanced down when his phone vibrated, but didn't pick it up to see who had texted him. His focus was all on getting Brian to take it down a few notches.
"Come on. It won't be that bad." He put his hand on the table, palms up. "He's stayed with me before, and the alternatives..." He let the words hang, knowing his brother was picturing the crazy cow who'd birthed the boy then vanished - and had shown up last summer while Jack was away. She'd been calling and texting Brian for months now, trying to set up a meeting with 'her boy'. Crazy bitch.
From some things she had said Brian had gotten a picture perfect idea of her stance on current events, but it hadn't really bugged him until the day before. Danny sighed, loudly. He knew his brother saw him as flakey and undependable, but this was a bit much. He had dropped everything to drive almost four hours to Lethbridge, left his partner Augusta to watch their territory...and now his brother simply would not listen to reason.
Refocusing his eyes on Brian, Danny began again. "Look. Jack will be safe with me. He can bring his text books - if you can lend me some supplies and the 4x4 you can load him down with whatever else you want." He could feel he was loosing his older brother's focus again as he saw the green eyes that so closely resembled his own sweep to the top of the staircase. "Brian. It isn't safe here, or if it is now it won't be very long. I know where we can go. Augusta is already setting up camp, we have a plan."
Danny knew the boy was sitting just out of sight, listening to every word. He also knew it wasn't Jack he'd have to convince, that kid would jump for a chance to ditch out on the last few months of school and head into the woods with his uncle.
"Hell, you can come. I'd like it better if you stayed here, for a bit though. We can set up an internet connection in good weather, I've got a satellite phone. We wouldn't be completely out of reach. But we've got to go.Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow morning for sure. I'll make a stop at that camping shop in town, another at the grocery store, then straight out to the Park." He could see Brain was coming around, his lips were tense as he considered sending his only child away for who knew how long.
Danny could tell the moment his brother made his decision, but he kept his cool and waited. Allowing Brian a moment to come to terms with it.
"Alright. Alright. You should take him." Brian closed his eyes and a look filled with such pain and terror flickered across his face, then he met Danny's eyes and whispered, "Look after my boy, Danny. I trust you."
Both men took a deep breath, then Brian forced the anxiety from his features and called out, "Jack. Come down here...and bring the little fellow with you."
It took the next few hours for them to sort out the details, but in the end Brian insisted they take not only the 4x4, but also he canoe, and a myriad of food and camping supplies. Some good gardening tools and seeds left over from the small garden he'd planted last year. Good things, useful and easy to move into the back woods camp Danny had in mind.
Finally, Danny had time to check his phone after Jack had been sent up to bed. His brow creased as he replied, hoping the hard working kid he remembered from last summer hadn't gone to bed in the last hour or so.
"What's up? I might be able to set you up somewhere, but I'll be out of town. Don't know when I'll be back, but I'm leaving tomorrow morning, so if you want to get settled I'll need to know by early tomorrow morning."
A novel, as far as texting went, but Danny had never gotten used to the short form everyone used for texting. He just couldn't wrap his brain around a method of communication that didn't include proper punctuation. How did anyone understand inflection without punctuation?!
The bed of the M677 was packed tightly with what was, most likely, more supplies than were needed; large ziplock bags sealed in dry oats, rice, a mixture of thirteen dried beans, bison jerky and venison, all tightly packed into the kitchen section of the right hand drawer. At the front of it, was his old, Coleman 4M white gas stove. He had found it last year at a eclectic pawn/antiques shop for a paltry ten dollars. A bit work with the sandblaster, some sand paper, and a couple of licks of high-temp paint had it looking respectable again, and protected it from rust, while some solvent in the tank cleared out the varnish and residue of long evaporated gas. A quick bit of leather work, cutting seals and washers got the pump working. What was left was a beautiful old camping stove, set apart from its modern contemporaries by it's smoothly rounded stamped steel box, and the cast iron manifold that compared to the lighter, stamped and welded models that came later. The tank was the old bronze-like coloured cylinder, known to be reliable, and extremely resistant to corrosion, which his refurbishing of the pressure vessel proved to be true. Behind it were a pair of 1 gallon white gas tanks, and a small manual siphon pump, each strapped into the plywood drawer with a pair of bungie cords.
Clothing and woods tools packed the left hand drawer; a felling axe and a maul, wedges, and a 5' crosscut bucking saw he had salvaged from a neighbor's abandoned farmhouse that he preferred when heading into woods vs a chainsaw because it didn't make noise, and it was light, needing no gas, or tools to make it run. There was an empty space though, and Tyko was working with what occupied it inside the house, with a pair of rifles in pieces at his cross-legged feet. The smell of Hoppes #9 hanging in the air, as he rand a cleaning patch through the bore of the SKS. A thick pit of uncomfortable fear rested in his belly as he cleaned the rifle, a sensation he had never known before when cleaning his arms; It was the prospect that if things didn't get better, that he may be forced to defend Louhi's life, and his very own, and this was likely the rifle he would use for such a task.
The motion of Louhi's ears perking up alerted him before the phone itself started buzzing against the floor, he looked at her curiously, trying to figure out how she responded to it before he even heard it, but decided not to question something that might leave him awake at night. He pulled the cleaning rod from the barrel, and inspected the cotton patch for debris, but found only the fainted hint of contamination. He settled the rifle down, and the cleaning rod as well, he picked up his phone, unlocked it and read the message.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he thought about how to reply. Thoughts raced through his mind, bouncing from whether to trust Danny, or to keep Louhi and his bond secret. If he kept it secret, whatever he wrote might make Danny question him more, to which he would have no answers, leading to possible legal conflicts of interest. But if he told Danny, what if Danny was one of them? The fearful and prejudiced? From what Tyko knew of Danny, it was extremely unlikely, after all, Bannan was a Park Ranger after all. He loved nature. Yet whispering doubts hissed their advice to trust no one in his ears. "Does he know where we live?" He looked up to the soft voice of his sister, she stood, leaning against the back of their late-father's chair in the comfortable living room. She had her lips rolled in, her brows knitted together in her pensive look. The wood in the fireplace let out a harsh crack, followed by a hissing roar as a pocket of gas escaped as a jet of flame.
"No....but it wouldn't be hard to find us, would it?" He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left thumb, index and middle fingers as he thought. "But if I trust no one.."
Ellisif smiled slightly, rocking back and forth on her crossed forearms against the back of the seat, waiting to see the result as Tyko began writing the message, "I'm going to put faith that you" He stopped, and erased it. The line in his head didn't work how he wanted it, he tried again, "Daniel, I fear for the sake of my brother, my sister, and my mother. I've been...bonded. The violence terrifies me, this is why I ask for somewhere remote. Jeep is loaded. I leave tomorrow after taking my bro and sis to school." He swallowed, a cold, gummy saliva that seemed to ooze its way down his throat as he pushed send. He was either doing the right thing, or a very wrong thing. And he wouldn't know either way until it erupted in his face, if it ever did.
It was less than five minutes before his phone buzzed at him again, it seemed the kid was still up. He checked the message and shook his head slowly. Jeezus. More and more of them then. His brother looked up at Danny's hard exhale and their eyes met across the table.
"I've got another one. Looks like we'll have a bit more company at camp." Danny's tone was wry, but not anxious. He knew he could trust Tyko, the kid had worked harder than any two of the other men he'd hired. "A kid I worked with last summer, about nineteen or twenty. He's in the same spot as your boy."
Brian raised his an eyebrow, but he'd decided to trust Danny and couldn't very well change his mind at the first obstacle. "He's ok? No trouble then?"
"Yeah, he's been the breadwinner for his family." Danny replied, "They lost his dad a few years back, and his mom was hurt really bad. Car accident."
Brian winced, then nodded. That sort of pressure when you're young either wrecked you, or strengthened you. It seemed the boy had stepped up. "Alright." There was a long pause as Danny thumbed out a reply "Alright. That's why I'm booking it too. My nephew. You're welcome to come, and I'm sure you've got everything you'll need. It's really far out, so plan for a long stay and a trek out to the camp. If you've got a bike, or 4x4, canoe, fishing poles...we could always use some extras. Give me a call when you've dropped the kids off. I'll probably be at the grocery store by then."
With that Danny stood up and pocketed the phone. It wouldn't be much use out in the bush, that's what the sat. phone was for, so it would stay with his truck when he had to leave it. "Alright. lets get packing."
They spent the next few hours sorting through Brian's supplies and organizing the box of the truck. It'd be a tight fit tomorrow and Danny found himself begin grateful the boy had only bonded a squirrel. Anything bigger would have been a real pain in the ass. He chuckled and shared the though with his brother as they tied a tarp down over the box. Brian mustered a lop sided grin and a half-hearted chuckle, but Danny could tell his heart wasn't in it.
Both men were quiet as they headed to bed, Danny getting as comfortable as possible on the couch. It would be a long day, and he'd need all the rest he could get.
~~~
The next morning goodbyes went quick. Brian snapped a few quick pics of Jack and the squirrel with his phone, hugged his boy, then waved from the driveway as Danny backed out. They'd hardly said two words that weren't necessary. Danny's last words to his brother were the expected "Don't worry. I'll keep him safe." as they each wrapped one arm around the other. Jack, still young enough to need a hug sometimes, was wrapped in his dad's embrace longer than he'd have tolerated on an average day. Danny was glad, he knew his brother had needed that reassurance as much as Jack had.
And now they were filling the last cracks of space in the truck cab and the box with a few last minute supplies. Neither Brian or Danny were strangers to packing up a truck, they'd gone camping together most weekends and almost all summer from the time Brian was old enough to drive alone. They had left a few easy to get to spots where perishables and canned goods could sit nicely, and Jack would have to settle his feet on a big bag of rice, but they'd make it work.
As Danny tucked in the last bag of trail mix into the glove box his phone buzzed again. Must be Tyko, looking to meet up with them.
As he read the text, his eyes widened fractionally at the news of Daniel's nephew. Finishing the text, he drew in a deep breath as he looked back up to his sister, "Apparently his nephew is bonded, or whatever this is. He's heading out tomorrow as well." Ellisif looked up, processing that before shrugging. "Mind grabbing my pair of fishing poles and gear from my closet? I'd forgotten them." With a solemn nod, the thirteen year old rose from the back of the chair and disappeared into the hallway. Tyko sent an affirmation note back to Daniel, then picked the Lee-Enfield from the carpet and rested it in his lap. Swapping cotton patches from the cleaning rod he dripped Hoppes onto the fabric before guiding it to the muzzle of the firearm and pushing it down the bore, and out the chamber. After a couple of sweeps through the bore, the patch came out with barely a trace of residue, which was exactly how it should be, he meticulously cleaned his rifles after every use.
Ellisif returned with his spinning and fly rods in her right hand, and his small tacklebox in her left. Leaning the rods against a chair, she rested the tacklebox on the seat. She stopped to watch him working on his rifles for a moment, before turning away and heading back down the hall, likely to her room. He couldn't blame her, this day was stressful, sudden, enlightening. He slipped the bold of the Enfield into the rifle, and operated it a few times, feeling the smoothness of the action, checking for unusual hitches in its slide, and found nothing. He pulled the bolt from the rifle again, then twisted and put the bolt into the cutout of the foam case, followed by the Enfield itself. Closing the case, he turned his attention to the SKS, reassembling the rifle, checking its action which this example had a slight hitch in the bolt's operation right after it unlocked. Trigger release was long, and with a mushy break, nothing unusual. He replaced the trigger lock, before stowing the carbine in its own hard case.
Louhi lifted her head, watching him for a moment as he moved, but her belly full of eggs, fish, potatoes and other delicious foods conspired to keep her contently sleeping on the couch.
The alarm sounded four hours after he fell asleep. Rising with the noise, he pushed aside the whispers to stay and sleep like he always did. A conscious act of will he repeated daily. The morning was mostly routine, except for the checklist in his mind he kept double and triple checking. Food, tools, spare axle shaft for the front and rear, U-joints, a spare front hub, replacement injector if one decided to shit itself. Sealant, and replacement fluids in brand new sealed containers stashed under the rear bench seat. Rifles, protected and legally stowed in their transport boxes, hung from the inside of the camper-shell roof. The jerry-rigged bike rack mounted in the rear receiver hitch also carried a pair of 5 gallon fuel cans, and a pair of 5 gallon water jugs, for the just in case. His old, dusty mountain bike was wedged in between a pair of one inch square aluminum tubes, the bottom of the tires resting on spacers, while a pair of aluminum tube uprights lashed to the frame of the bike with old inner tubes. The small pontoon fishing raft's frame and deflated tubes were stashed on the rack of the bedcap's roof. Both bikes for Kiite and Ellisif were oiled, brakes dialed in, and ready to ride again, even though the tires needed replacing, but the pair could get those on their way home from school today. He would need to stop by a bike shop before leaving Okotoks, for new tires of his own, to replace the nearly bald, and cracking rubber that currently supported his bike. Perishables were stored, money was stored, food was ready. Bills were set to be paid, a cheque for the nurse was written, the Isuzu had insurance, Kiite was ready for his test, Mianna...
“Tyko?” Kiite's voice jostled him out of the list, he looked around, blinking, somewhat confused for a moment as he realized they were outside, before the M677.
He looked to his brother and shrugged, “Lists....making sure everything is taken care of in my mind, and I think I forgot something.” He blinked, he couldn't remember saying goodbye to his mother. He looked down to the keys in his hand, before looking back to Kiite, “Get it started, Forgot to say goodbye to mutsi.” His brother, wearing blue jeans and a light weight black jacket, grabbed the keys. Weather was fair this morning.
Tyko jogged back to the house and made his way inside the unlocked door. He went to the livingroom, following the sound of “Days of our Lives”, and found his mother there, tears streaming down from watery eyes had left a dampness in her purple blouse where the dripped free of her chin, she looked up to him, extended a wavering arm and released a soft, haunting moan that was agony for him to hear. He stooped to take her embrace, hugging her tightly. “Mutsi,” he whispered softly in her ear, his chin on her shoulder, he spoke in Finnish, doing his best to console and reassure her. He would be back, everything was going to be alright, Kiite was son she could be proud of and depend on, Ellisif was reliable and strong, even at just thirteen. Her moans turned to deep sobbing, her frail body slowly rocking against his, using him for support. She knew full well what was happening. She knew better than his brother, his sister, or even Tyko himself, how bad the violence was. She had seen more of it on the TV, repeatedly aired. She was aware, regardless of what the doctors thought. She was trapped. It hurt him to know this, to see this, and to be unable to do anything to release her from the crippled flesh that was as much of a prison to her as a wall of bars. “I will be back mother. Regardless of what happens, I will protect this family.”
He felt her right arm tug him closer with as much strength and coordination as she could muster, before he broke from her embrace, he kissed her wet cheek, then her forehead, “I love you mom.” He rose and left. Not once meeting her eyes for fear of breaking his resolve. Listening to her moaning sob grow to a low howl was hard enough. As the door close behind him, he paused in the chill air; regret, anger, frustration, powerlessness, grief, and fear washing over him in an overwhelming tide; If this violence didn't stop? What happens? If some spineless wretch finds out about him, and attacks his family since he is unavailable? What happens? If he is found in the woods? What happens? A deep grunt of hatred escaped him, his fists clenched as he turned to hammer his knuckles into the steel-skinned wood door, but he hesitated, Mianna was in there. She would hear. He might break his hand. Yet the need to vent was there. Two steps, and he drove his fist into the teal blue paint of the Dodge Caravan that sat beside his truck. His fist connected with the steel of the hood. He recoiled and struck again, and again, desperately trying to drown the emotional turmoil in focused rage and pain. Release but a fraction of the seething energy he felt within.
A scream, he looked up, the emotional outburst throttled back into its jar, and swallowed like a thorned pill of toxic waste. Ellisif was starting at him from the rear passenger door of the truck, sounds of a stuggle could be heard from within at Kiite pushed Louhi off of him. He ran to the truck, just as Kiite opened the door, the right arm of his jacket shredded and torn, a few scratches on the skin showing through the opened fabric. He looked startled and scared more than anything, he looked to Tyko, “She...she was shaking, snarling when you got outside. I tried to pet her, calm her down...but a moment later, she just lunged at me.” He hesitated, looking to his arm, and back to his brother, “Are you sure she's safe?”
Tyko blinked, and looked past his brother to the small masked face looking out from the door, she seemed...ashamed, and worried, and scared. “I...I think this bond is more than just....her finding me Kiite. I think, on some level we share emotions, and what I just felt, over flowed into her.” He winced, “Fuck!” He stamped the gravel of the driveway, shaking his head as he reached out to Kiite's arm, “I'm sorry, its my fault Kiite, are you hurt?”
“No...not really, just scratches.” But he still let Tyko look it over. When his elder brother released his arm, he headed back to the house, “I'll just get a different jacket quickly.”
Tyko nodded, solemnly before leaning forward against the Jeep, resting his forehead against the cold metal. “Uhm...” Ellisif made a noise to draw his attention, rolling his head, he looked to his little sister, and noticed her eyes were rather wider than normal, and that she was pointing to the ground near the front of the minivan. He rolled his head the other way, and looked to where she pointed, and paused...dumbstruck by what he saw; a faint, barely single stone high, rough ring shaped around the trenches dug into the frozen gravel of where he stood.
Slowly the chill of the air made him aware of the ache and pain in his right hand. He looked to it and winced; the skin of his knuckles was rolled back and bloody, small flecks of teal paint lined the curled, white skin. Two rivulets of blood were snaking their way down his forearm, following gravity. Grumbling, he shook his hand loose, already feeling the inflammation setting in, with the temporary tensioning of the tendons and ligaments. He flexed each finger individually as he could, and each worked with no searing pain, which was a welcome result, not having to go to a doctors for a broken finger or popped knuckle. He looked back to Ellisif, and merely offered a shrug before he took a deep breath and walked to the driver's side as Kiite returned with a slightly warmer blue hoodie. Once inside, he took Louhi in his lap, and apologized to her as well, she gave him a purr of acceptance, before he started the warmed truck into motion.
He stood outside the truck in the school parking lot, opening the last text he had received from Danny, and replied, “Just dropped of my bro and sis. Weird morning. Will need to pick up bike tires on the way out, leaving from Calgary, right? Where do you want to meet?” He hit send, and then climbed back into the truck. It started quickly and settled its rythmic gargling idle as he pulled on his seat belt. Pulling onto the street, he headed for Brown Sugar Bake Shop for a coffee.
"We're leaving from Lethbridge, my brother's place. We need to go up through Okotoks to get to the Park. I'd rather not go through Calgary, we'll just skirt it. We should be in Okotoks around 11am. Hopefully we'll get to the park by 1 or 2pm. Meet us at the Timmies at 11?" Danny sent the text along, hoping that Tyko would have time to get his errands done before they got there so they could move on after a quick pit stop.
Since they were traveling in the middle of the day, on a week day, traffic would be minimal. They might even make it to Okotoks by 10:30 or so. He wasn't going to push it with the speeding, if he was over the limit by too much the cops would pull him over, even if his truck did say "Parks Canada" on the side in big letters. His boss would really not like getting a ticket sent to the office either. They'd take it carefully and aim for 11.
After a quick stop to gas up the truck and grab a few bags of munchies they were off, the radio blaring some pop stuff Jack had picked. Thankfully they had arranged to switch every hour or so, and to listen to the news every hour. Danny couldn't have handled Jack's pick for more than an hour straight, especially with the obnoxious DJ they had in between sets.
Tyko sent an acknowledgment in reply, then checked the time on his phone. Roughly two hours to kill. One hour before any of the bike shops opened in town. Finishing the coffee, he climbed out of the M677, and then opened the rear passenger door. Flipping a few latches allowed him to pivot the dog house (engine cover), up, and out of the way to inspect the Cummins diesel. A yellow handle came free, drawing with it a thin blade of metal, using the napkin that came with the coffee, he wiped the oil free of the dipstick, before plunging it back into the tube to get a clean, accurate measurement. Oil was fine, a little dirty, as it should be, after only three months since the last change.
With the doghouse closed and latched, he climbed back out of the Jeep and crouched, checking the vent lines from the axles, making sure they were connected to prevent any water getting into the gears and spoiling the oil, brake lines for any sign of wear, skid plates were still there. Nothing caught his attention. Which was both a relief and a mild disappointment. Climbing back into the driver's seat, Louhi looked up at him, from the little ball she had curled herself into on the front passenger seat. Small eyes sparkling, her ears perked and attentive, the faint twitch of her nose before she laid her head back down. He got the sense that it was too bright for her, and that she was still a bit tired from her search for him.
He arrived at the Tim Hortons at quarter to eleven, parking the old Jeep carefully in a narrow space. The cab smelled of the rubber wafting from the new bike tires, quality Continentals and a pair of new tubes, just in case sat on the rear seats. The door closed with a rattle after Tyko climbed out, dressed in heavy denim jeans, a durable worsted wool shirt in navy blue, and a heavy canvas jacket. Crossing the parking lot, he made his way into the Timmies, looking for Daniel's face, if he had arrived early or not.
