Concealed Intentions: Day 14

Word Count: 84,267

Summary of Events:

Nadia called Vitaly and discussed the idea of her resistance to their parents making their parents relent, which Vitaly doubted would happen as long as their father was alive. Borden made his way across the Coast Mountains without getting altitude sickness, although he had his concerns how Honour would fare on the way back. Nadia was concerned to see Horea not waiting at the place he always waited at, only to discover that, because of the rain, he'd driven his car, in which he offered her a ride; the car's power and fanciness astonished Nadia . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“You seem nervous,” Horea said.

“The engine sounds very powerful for a car,” Nadia replied.

“Oh,” Horea said. “Have you never been in a luxury car before?”

“No,” Nadia replied. “What work do you do that gets you a luxury car when even Father doesn’t have one and he works in finance?”

“I didn’t buy it new,” Horea replied, moving smoothly away from the curb. “I actually got it willed to me by my uncle. He lived and worked in Germany until he died.”

“Oh,” Nadia said.

“This is what twenty times the money can get you,” Horea said stroking the frame along the arch of the window.

“Why did your uncle give it to you?” Nadia asked. “Didn’t he have sons?”

“No,” Horea replied. “He was a lifelong bachelor. He took on providing for my family after my father was killed. My sister and I were the children he never had.”

“Oh,” Nadia said. “But then why does your sister have to work abroad? Did your uncle not make enough money to leave you well off?”

“She chose to work abroad to add to her inheritance,” Horea replied. “She and I were both willed something valuable,” he indicated the car, “and the rest of the money was put away in a trust for us in Germany from which we get a yearly allowance of one hundred thousand lei until we turn thirty, then we’ll get the remaining lump sum allotted for us to use as we will. Our mother was given a portion of money when our uncle died that has kept her well, plus she gets about fifty thousand lei a year from my sister, so she’s well taken care of.”

“My,” Nadia said. “How much money will you get when you’re thirty?”

“I don’t actually know,” Horea replied. “I know my uncle was a multi-millionaire in Germany, which would mean he had at least forty million lei, but possibly more.”

“And you’re going to go to Italy and make more?” Nadia asked.

“Why not?” Horea asked. “It would be nice to have millions that my own hard work earned me.”

“Do you think I could become a millionaire?” Nadia asked.

“All you need to do is go somewhere and make fifty thousand Euros,” Horea replied.

“Wouldn’t I need to make a million Euros?” Nadia asked.

“Not to make a million lei,” Horea replied. “A million lei is fifty thousand Euros.”

“Do you think I could become a millionaire in Euros?” Nadia asked.

“With your stellar looks it’s not so much an if as a when,” Horea replied, gunning the car through a red light.

“Horea!” Nadia exclaimed.

“What?” Horea asked. “You are beautiful.”

“Not that!” Nadia exclaimed. “You ran a red light!”

“No one was coming,” Horea said offhand.

“You’re worse than Vitaly,” Nadia said.

“Oh, he stops at red lights?” Horea asked.

“When I’m with him, anyways,” Nadia replied. “And I don’t even have to remind him anymore.”

“Oh,” Horea said. “I’ll try to remember next time I notice one.”

Concealed Intentions: Day 13

Word Count: 78,028

Summary of Events:

Nadia talked things over with Horea, who urged her to leave Moldova for Western Europe in spite of her parents' objections, telling her he was sure that if she joined Vitaly in resisting her parents' expectations her parents would relent and let her live the life she wanted to. Borden trudged unhappily through rain, castigating himself for having forgotten a raincoat and worrying about how tall the approaching mountains were for his sake as much as Honour's; he ended up crossing a gravel road just as some provincial government officials — probably in the forestry department — were driving by; they chased him, since he wasn't in an area popular with vacationers, which wore Borden down, but he managed to keep ahead of them . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Borden dared to check his compass app again and decided he was heading a little too far due north, so he shifted to be more west and kept on walking, his main focus being to put one foot in front of the other.

A fallen tree prompted Borden to halt, he turned around and sat down on it heavily, desperate to catch his breath so that he would have the energy for the remaining distance that — no matter how far along the Nadina River he’d crossed — had to be less than five kilometres to Tagetochlain* Lake.

Once he’d restored his energy — sucking back several good gulps of water from the bottle he carried with him, full of cooled water he’d boiled last night — and become confident that the provincial officials who’d chased him down had given up and gone back, Borden swung his legs over the tree and continued on his walk.

It was only once the trees naturally thinned and revealed a rather large open space that Borden realised that it had completely stopped raining. He might be able to have dry clothes for the next day, but probably not dry firewood for the night.

Borden crossed another road that was relatively straight and devoid of traffic and headed for where the trees looked to get the thickest. He then followed those trees to thicker trees and across another road, skirting along the edge of a large open area until the trees ended abruptly, revealing before him an open expanse of water.

Tagetochlain Lake. Finally.

Checking the time on his cellphone, Borden found that it was half past eight, almost fifteen hours since he’d set out in the morning. He lowered himself to the ground and leaned against a tree, basking in the sight of the open water.

It was only after gazing at the water for a few minutes that he realised that the water not only extended northwest of him — where it met with the horizon as it was a long, narrow lake, like most in British Columbia were, as they needed to fit between all the mountains — and also a ways to the northeast where he could see a shoreline, but also southwest of him.

According to his map there were no peninsulas into Tagetochlain Lake, but there was one that pointed west into Nadina Lake.

Borden felt concerned. Was he at the wrong lake?

Taking out his cellphone, he checked the compass app. He was facing northwest, not west or southwest. Either there was a too-small-for-the-map peninsula that jutted into the southeastern end of Tagetochlain Lake, or he was at some other lake entirely.

At the moment Borden was just too weary from the long day of trudging in the rain to care. He was by a body of water he could — hopefully — get what he needed to make his supper from, and along whose southwestern shore he would walk tomorrow with the hope of reaching Atna Lake within the Coast Mountains the following day.

*pronunciation unknown.

Concealed Intentions: Day 12

Word Count: 72,007

Summary of Events:

Nadia asked her father what types of jobs he would like her to have, and was dismayed to learn he wanted her to be in politics or finance; texting Vitaly, she hoped he'd have suggestions of what to do to avoid an office job but not be alone, but he had no suggestions. Borden woke stiff and sore, but after eating a granola bar, set off westward, thinking about how, in some respects, he was like the explorers who'd opened Canada up to the rest of the world hundreds of years before . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

A sound interrupted Borden’s thoughts. He froze. The sound had been enough to get his attention, but not enough to break through his thoughts and thoroughly identify itself.

Listening intently, Borden didn’t move. He waited for the sound to repeat itself.

His muscles tensed when he heard it again. It was a human sound, a whoop.

He’d just crossed a road and had seen a sign to the south advertising the entrance to the Finger Lake Wilderness Resort, but he’d seen the facility before he’d stopped last night, so he was beyond that too much for the whoop to have come from there.

Another sound then reached his ears; a motor.

Not just any motor either, but a boat motor. He was close to water deep enough for a motorboat?

Quickly he fetched his map from his backpack’s side pocket and looked. There was nothing west of Finger Lake until Knewstubb Lake, which was a good thirty kilometres away if he was eyeballing the gauge right.

Borden stowed the map and cautiously made his way north, which was the way the sounds seemed to be coming from.

Soon the trees thinned and Borden found himself standing at the edge of a lake, on which a motorboat was speeding.

Fetching his cellphone, Borden checked the time. It was quarter after five in the morning and already people were tearing around lakes on their motorboats? Apparently sleeping in on Sundays wasn’t a thing anymore.

Borden stepped back into the trees and resumed his westward track. He was grateful to know that the people weren’t likely going to find him, but still, it had been a little alarming to hear human sounds at this point in his journey.

He’d been away from people for almost three days — counting the day he’d spent prepping in Prince George — and although there was the potential for human encounters the whole length of his trek, Borden had thought that in his efforts to avoid people he wouldn’t hear them, but he had just had it proved to him that such wouldn’t be the case.

And it was probably a good thing too, as how was he going to avoid people if he didn’t hear them coming? 

Sure he could see buildings and whatnot and skirt wide of them or keep his view of them as obscured as possible in an effort to go unseen, but if he was trying to make himself difficult to be seen by others then he would find those others difficult to see, meaning that hearing them would keep him from being seen by them.

Concealed Intentions: Day 11

Word Count: 66,021

Summary of Events:

Nadia set off for home alone because she hadn't wanted to wait for Horea and got her wallet snatched, but the thief ended up running into Horea, who beat him up and gave Nadia her wallet back before escorting her the rest of the way home. Borden, although tired and sore, kept walking, determined to rescue Honour for the sake of her and her foster family. Horea was ready for Nadia the next time she left the restaurant and they walked together from the start . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“I, um, I also feel badly for lying to you yesterday,” Horea replied.

“Lying?” Nadia asked, feeling concerned and scandalised. “How?”

“Well, you see, I, um, I do have a sister,” Horea replied.

“Oh,” Nadia said. “Why didn’t you mention her?”

“Well, because she’s not living in Moldova right now,” Horea replied.

“Where is she living?” Nadia asked.

“Italy,” Horea replied.

“And I’d presume she’s working there,” Nadia said.

“Yes,” Horea replied.

“Bringing in extra money for you and your mother?” Nadia asked.

“I have my own work, I make enough money to survive,” Horea replied. “I don’t make a fortune, by any means, but I do make pretty good money. She mostly sends money home to our mother.”

Nadia nodded.

“She, um, works as a model there, and she’s paid thousands of Euros for each thing she does,” Horea said. “The length determines the exact number, but she never makes less than one thousand Euros, some times just for one day.”

“Oh my,” Nadia said. “How many lei is that?”

“Multiply it by twenty,” Horea replied.

Nadia gasped. “Twenty thousand lei?”

“Yes,” Horea replied. “Never less.”

“That’s so much money,” Nadia whispered. It made the lei Vitaly had given her for her birthday seem pathetic. 

“It is, indeed,” Horea replied. “And my sister has told me that they’re always in need of models in Italy; no surprise, seeing how many fashion designers have establishments there.”

Nadia nodded.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have that much money?” Horea asked.

“But I don’t know Italian,” Nadia replied.

“It’s quite similar to Moldovan, actually,” Horea said. “It would be a lot easier than trying to learn English. Besides, I’ve also heard that people who know more than one language find it easier to learn more. Since you know Russian and Moldovan then it should be quite easy for you.”

“It would be so far away from home, though,” Nadia said. “That’s the whole reason I don’t want to go to Moscow.”

“Moscow?” Horea asked.

“Yes,” Nadia replied. “Because Vitaly refused to get the prestigious education Father wanted him to have I am the one expected to take it, but I don’t want to work an office job any more than Vitaly does, but I wouldn’t mind pursing a measure of secondary education to make a respectable income.”

“So you mean to please your father partially, but not wholly?” Horea asked.

“I guess,” Nadia replied.

“Wouldn’t this be a way of doing it?” Horea asked. “You go to Italy and make up to twenty thousand lei a day doing something that isn’t office work, he’d have to be pleased.”

“I don’t know,” Nadia replied.

“You don’t necessarily have to be a model,” Horea said. “Although I do think you would be well suited to the position, but even a job like you’re working now would net you twenty times as much as you’re making were you to do it in Italy.”

Concealed Intentions: Day 10

Word Count: 60,128

Summary of Events:

Borden set out under the cover of predawn darkness on his trek to rescue Honour, following the banks of the Fraser River out of Prince George. Nadia found Horea waiting for her again after work and, still with a measure of hesitation, allowed him to accompany her home, although she was disappointed that Vitaly was still too busy. Borden sat watching the small fire he'd built, having finished his supper and his day's hiking, and thought about all of his past wilderness experience —which he had a lot of . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Yet, for all his wilderness time, Borden hadn’t encountered a lot of wildlife, or, at least, a lot of wildlife that might like to have him for lunch.

He’d seen hordes of bighorn sheep, mountain goats, moose, deer, elk, eagles, hawks, and other wildlife, but even when he’d seen the carnivorous ones, he’d either been safely in a vehicle, or far enough away that the animal wasn’t likely to see him at all.

This included his one and only bear encounter, where he and Dad had seen the bear across about the narrowest part of Williston Lake from the campground they’d been staying at — one of the nearest campgrounds to home and the one they’d visited the most — drinking from the lake before lumbering on.

With the naked eye they’d been able to see the bear pretty well, but Dad had also been carrying his binoculars, which had allowed them to look closer at the bear, which Dad had identified to him as a male grizzly, as he’d been rough-looking and scarred from many battles.

Having been studying the early history of Canada — basically, when Europeans had arrived and started writing stuff down — at the time, Borden had decided it sounded fitting to call the bear Many Battles, as he was sure a native brave would’ve.

By now Borden was likely going to be running into Many Battles’ grandchildren if he was going to run into any bears. Dad had told him Many Battles had looked to be quite an old bear, and Borden had been eight or nine that year.

It was almost twenty years ago that had happened. Borden shook his head and added a couple more branches to his dwindling fire. How fast time could fly with some things, while with others it dragged eternally.

His time in prison had felt like decades without even being one decade, while he still remembered looking through Dad’s binoculars at the rough, scarred Many Battles like it was yesterday.

As cool as it’d been to see a bear, Borden had no such hopes for this trek, after all, he was barred from owning guns, and it wasn’t hunting season. He did have several sturdy knives and a machete with him, as well as bear spray — even if the product sounded ludicrous, he’d heard tell it worked, and if he couldn’t have guns, then silly-sounding bear spray it was — as preventative measures, but he hoped that they were so preventative that they didn’t even have to be considered for use.

In fact, he hoped that if bears smelled him — or any carnivorous wildlife smelled him for that matter — they smelled that he had knives and knew how to use them and wouldn’t dare cross him.

Honestly, Borden hoped his worst enemies on this trek would be men. He didn’t want to have to fend off wildlife, he just wanted to pass through their territory as cover to get to and from territory claimed by men.

Concealed Intentions: Day 9

Word Count: 54,007

Summary of Events:

Nadia was hired at the restaurant she applied for, and in spite of her nervousness did well with her first table of customers. Borden got approval from his probation officer to leave — based on his claim that he was going to help family find a missing cousin — and packed up his supplies. Nadia was finished another day of work at the restaurant and so stepped outside to head home, thinking about how she was actually finding her job enjoyable . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Hello,” Nadia startled at the interruption to her thoughts.

Turning, she saw a young man standing beside her. He had dark hair, dark eyes, a black jacket, battered jeans, an earring glinting in each earlobe — as well as a metal bar stretching across the upper portion of one — and design that climbed up the right side of his neck.

To her surprise, Nadia had to admit that she recognised him, but she had no idea where from.

“Hello,” she replied cautiously. “Who are you?”

“Horea,” he replied. “A friend of your brother, Vitaly.”

“Oh,” Nadia said. “Why are you here?”

“Vitaly heard there was a purse-snatcher about in this area, and he wanted to be sure that you weren’t accosted,” Horea replied.

“Why couldn’t he come himself?” Nadia asked.

“He had other business he needed to attend to that he couldn’t assign to anyone else,” Horea replied. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Nadia looked at Horea warily. He definitely looked like an associate of Vitaly’s, and Nadia was sure she recalled seeing him with Vitaly when she’d come to him asking about what could possibly be done to get her a job.

“You do remember where we met, don’t you?” Horea asked.

“I think so,” Nadia replied, although waiting for him to say it so as to test and see if he was genuine.

“I first saw you in that lovely dress when you came to say hello to Vitaly outside the tattoo shop,” Horea said. “And then again when you came into the club to talk with Vitaly about your need of a job.”

Nadia nodded. She remembered seeing him at the club, but not at the other place; obviously she hadn’t been paying enough attention at that time.

“Do you trust me now?” Horea asked.

“Vitaly always comes, he never sends delegates,” Nadia replied.

“He said that too,” Horea said. “He felt terribly, but it was very important work, and if he wants to be promoted he needs to do it, in spite of the familial obligations he would like to fulfill.”

“Oh,” Nadia said.

“So, may I escort you home?” Horea asked.

“You really think there’s a threat to me?” Nadia asked.

“A young woman walking alone is an attractive target,” Horea replied.

“I don’t have enough money to be worth anything with me,” Nadia replied.

“They don’t know that,” Horea replied.

Nadia couldn’t deny the validity of that point.

“Please, you are a beautiful young woman, if I may say so, and I shouldn’t like to see you get hurt,” Horea said. “Even if you aren’t my sister. Besides, Vitaly charged me to see you safely home. If I fail to do so then I could get hurt.”

Smirking, Nadia had to admit she could believe that.

“You’re only making yourself later by this,” Horea said. “I’m sure that will concern your parents.”

“Well, if Vitaly was that concerned,” Nadia said.

“He was,” Horea replied.

She turned homeward and Horea fell into step beside her. Nadia noticed he was wearing heavy boots, just like Vitaly.

Concealed Intentions: Day 8

Word Count: 48,004

Summary of Events:

Nadia, injured by her father in his upset at her spending time with Vitaly, told Vitaly, who was concerned and urged her to go to the hospital, even offering her a ride, which she accepted. Borden had a bit of a spat with Ty and was so upset by it his supervisor sent him home for the day, where he found another old friend, Dane, whom he asked about things related to Honour's kidnapping and — thanks to Dane's penchant for talking — was able to actually find out where Honour was, leading him to plot how best to get there; ruling out flying because he wasn't licensed himself — meaning other people would see him with Honour — and ruling out driving because his car was unreliable . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

On foot, without question, would be the longest way to go; the question was: how long?

Well, on average a person travelled four and a half kilometres an hour; over three hundred and seventy five kilometres that worked out to eighty three hours, which — saying he walked twelve hours a day — worked out to nearly a week.

Borden couldn’t really say he had a week, nor did he have the almost twelve days it would take if he were to follow the highway’s route.

If that was how he wasn’t going to get noticed, though, that was how he wasn’t going to get noticed.

Now if he was going to do this he needed to act fast. It was possible — considering how loose-lipped Dane was — that Grady and his fellow gangsters were going to find out that Borden knew, and because he wasn’t a gangster, they would assuredly be inclined to take him out so that he didn’t inadvertently share the knowledge uninentionally given to him with the police or something.

He needed to tell his probation officer . . . something. He couldn’t tell his probation officer the truth because then he’d be in serious trouble. He was going to need to come up with something that his probation officer would excuse, allowing him to go away for about three weeks without having to report.

Then he was going to need the scantest amount of supplies possible to survive on, as well as to nourish a little girl for half the distance. A waterproof backpack would be a good idea in case he had to swim one of the lakes or something.

There’d also be the matter of alerting the grocery store that he was going to be away, likely for the same reason that he would tell his probation officer.

Then he would have to set off, following highways and encountering civilisation as little as possible; the last thing he wanted was for people to know the truth of what he was doing, or to suspect him of being Honour’s abductor — nor did he want them to be able to tell the gangsters where he’d gone should the gangsters start asking.

Already Borden feared he would be too late. Even if Honour wasn’t in danger of being killed, but was merely being used as bait to lure her father into a death trap, that didn’t mean that she hadn’t already been victimised by her captors in despicable ways.

Although he couldn’t guarantee what Honour might have already suffered, Borden was resolved to not let her suffer any more. She deserved the loving, caring family she had in Todd and Isabel, not to be used and abused by men who thought with their hormones.

She also deserved to not be exposed to drugs and their devastating effects at such a young age. Sure, she’d probably learn about drugs someday, but the further that day was from the present, the better, even Borden himself hadn’t known about drugs when he was seven.