Quarantale,
Goldie and the Three Wisconsin Bears.
Once upon a time…
A golden beauty on the run
found a cabin in the woods
The perfect refuge.
But little did she know,
the cabin belonged to
Three
Very
Hungry
Bears
GINA
My Chevy Spark sputters about forty miles outside of Duluth. Then it jerks to a stop with a sickening metallic gurgle.
I curse when I climb out of the car. There’s gray smoke spilling from the hood, and it smells like old rust and burned oil. I’m no mechanic, but I’m sensing it’s going to take more than a walk for gas to get me off this two-lane highway.
This extremely remote two-lane highway.
With nothing but dark woods on either side of it.
An icy wind blows as I look into the carless distance and think about the worldwide coronavirus pandemic that has so many people scared. And I’m alone out here. More alone than I’ve ever been.
Panic descends, threatening to overwhelm me. I knew I couldn’t do this. Knew I couldn’t escape on my own. Tommy was right about me. I’m too stupid and weak to do anything—
My old beauty queen inner voice cuts off my inner spiral. Yes, you can! The voice is soft now, barely a whisper. But it’s firm and insistent as it tells me, Tommy wasn’t right about you. You’re strong and smart, and you can do this. You have to do this.
Yes, I have to do this.
I shake off all that fear and force myself to be grateful I made it this far. I’d only been able to withdraw five hundred dollars from my bank account before I left Georgia. That was enough to get me all the way to Wisconsin. So, mission almost accomplished.
I used my bank card to buy gas in Madison, which was risky for sure. Tommy was probably monitoring our shared bank account to track me, or he would have closed it as soon as I disappeared. But I figured I was close enough to my final destination for it to be safe. If everything had gone as planned, I would have been across the Canadian border before the charges even registered on my bank account.
However, now my only means of transportation is spitting smoke. Dammit.
But this time, I place a hand on top of my stomach and stay calm.
“I’m going to get us out of this,” I promise the baby growing inside of me. I whisper the same words now as I did a month ago when I peed on a stick in a grocery store bathroom and saw the two thin blue lines.
Zipping up the hoodie I bought at that Madison gas station over my turquoise blue ribbed bodycon dress, I start forward with a determined stride. Walking a mile or two to find a mechanic is a small price to pay for our freedom.
Only it isn’t a mile or two. At least I don’t think it is. I left my phone along with most of everything else I owned back at the house in Jonesboro for fear of Tommy using it to track me. But I’m pretty sure after what feels like an hour of walking that I’ve gone more than a couple of miles.
It was technically a good idea to stick to back roads whenever possible, so there would be less chance of a surveillance camera picking me up. But this one might be a little too backcountry. In the time I’ve been walking, not one car has passed by. Also, it’s getting dark….
I eye the setting sun with a fearful heart.
Something rustles in the woods.
I snap my head toward it. What was that?
Okay, time to turn back, I decide, reversing direction. Better to wait in the car where wolves and bears and back road murderers can’t get me than out in the open.
I pick up my step, but by the time what feels like another hour has passed, I’m trudging. My yellow espadrille wedges match nearly everything in my wardrobe and make my calves look spectacular. But they are not ideal for hours of walking. My whole body aches and my legs have gone wobbly, like they’re just looking for a reason to give out.
Despite that, I keep trudging along, determined to get back to my car. Only to jerk to a sudden stop when I see the sign nailed to a tree, bright and red:
PRIVATE ROAD. PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO ONE ALLOWED PAST THIS POINT.
A lump of horror rises in my throat. That sign wasn’t there before. I would have remembered it.
Oh, God… Someone must have taken my car. I’m stranded.