it through at least one winter, he said to come back anytime if something goes wrong. He said this fishing buddy owed him a favor, and it’d be shitty, but I’d be safe and off Einar’s radar. It buys us all time to figure out how to get me out of the country.
When I hit the power lines that’ll take me into town, I let out a sigh of relief. Now this is a much straighter shot back to civilization. Keeping an eye on the rut, I imagine what my life will be like once I’m free. Out of Iceland.
My dream is to go to Australia. I want to see a kangaroo. Hell, I just want to go to a zoo period. Or anywhere, really. Anywhere Einar isn’t.
But it’s supposed to be so nice and warm there. Lots of people talk about the venomous snakes and spiders when it comes to animals there, but I’m not scared. When you’ve dealt with real evil …
Blinking slightly as the ground levels out, I pop out onto a deserted road on the outskirts of Kópavogur. I have to be a little careful and sneaky here since …
That’s strange. The normal traffic I’d expect in this area is nonexistent. Is it a holiday?
I think back to the month … no, definitely not. Swerving off the back alley and onto a road, I slow, looking for any sign of life. Nothing.
It’s eerily quiet as the loud engine of my bike rumbles under me. Creeping along, I check the side roads as I coast through the neighborhood stop signs. This is the only residential section I have to go through right now. It’s not the best neighborhood, bordering the industrial area and fishing docks.
Excited barking comes from my left, and as I glance over, I see a dog inside a house slamming itself against a window, rushing back and forth from side to side. As I pass, I realize it’s not looking at me but behind me, and I glance back to see another dog sprinting up on my tail.
Weird, putting on some speed, I pull away from the dog as I reach the grassy fields that run down to the beach. Enjoying the ocean breeze, I relax, overwhelmed with the scent of seawater I associate as a part of home. Off to the right, back in the fields, I see movement, but it’s so far away, I can’t make out anything except from the size of them in the weeds. It must be kids. What they’re doing, I’ve no idea.
When I pull into the parking lot outside the industrial complex which houses all the boats, I’m surprised to see so many docked. But what’s even weirder is how deserted the entire place is. It must be a holiday …
But it isn’t! Even holidays don’t have the barrier down and the dock entirely closed. This is a twenty-four seven operation. Riding my dirt bike right up the side of the building, I squeeze through the handicap access that hasn’t been properly hinged for years.
Cruising the length of the dock, I don’t see Ragnar’s boat. No one’s around. No one yells at me or tells me to get out of here. I thought I’d at least see Casper. He’s been running everything around here for forever.
Parking on the far end, I don’t know what to do, but my butt needs a break. As the bike’s engine sputters off, I practically fall over the side as I lift my leg to get off. Damn!
I’m not the most skilled rider. I’ve pretty much learned as I’ve gone, taking this from Ragnar’s place when I left. It’s his first dirt bike, purchased for him by his father when he was fourteen, so it fits my smaller stature perfectly. But that doesn’t make it easy for me. Luckily, I knew the basics because when I took off, that was it. I’ll want to get it back to him, but I need a break, and surely, someone must be around here.
Walking along the length of the large building, I’m puzzled that all the large rolling overhead doors are closed. This is where all the fish are weighed and brought in from the boats. Reaching the main door, I knock lightly before wiggling the knob. Cupping my hands around my eyes, I press my face against the glass.
No lights are on except for one in the far back where I know the most disgusting restrooms in existence are. There isn’t much to see,