Falcon Wild

by Terry Lynn Johnson

  “Come on, let’s get down there.” I step off the ledge, trying to focus on where to put my feet. Loose rock and gravel shift and slide away under my shoes. I’m barely able to control my descent.

  My head spins. Cooper would have been better off trying to get to the highway on his own. He says nothing as we descend. He just follows me and sometimes even helps steady my elbow as I stagger. I’m so grateful that Cooper is here to help.

  “I guess I didn’t hold up my end of the deal,” I say, defeated.

  “Yeah, well, we’re not done yet. We can renegotiate the money later.” Cooper smiles. It’s a friendship smile, and this new feeling of belonging keeps me moving.

  We’re almost at the tree line, about halfway down the mountain. Stark is perched in a lodgepole pine, preening her feathers. When the rocks roll under my feet, she lifts her head and blinks down at me but makes no move to come. The sky behind her is filled with slate clouds.

  The only thing I care about is getting back to the van. What are they doing right now? Are they even still there? I wonder if they think I’ve died or gotten lost. Maybe Gavin decided to go get help. Or maybe someone came along. My heart speeds up at this thought. Yes, maybe they’re both safe. Dad could be recovering in a hospital right now. How wonderful would that be?

  As I picture this, I become aware of the awful tension this responsibility has created in me. It’s almost too heavy to bear any longer. Imagining Dad and Gavin safe floods me with sweet relief. But then wicked thoughts convince me that this is probably not what happened.

  What am I going to do when I get to the van? I’ll have to follow the road this time. Back to the highway in the direction we came from. About forty miles away. What was the last town we passed? I’d have to get to that gas station. Or maybe Free Hold is the closest place.

  Cooper stops ahead of me, and I focus back to my surroundings. He’s peering down, scratching his head. When I get closer, I see what he’s looking at, and my heart shudders a little. It’s another crevice in the rock. But this time it continues forever, stretching out on either side of us, separating us from where we need to go.

  “Can you jump?” asks Cooper, turning to look at me.

  I study the deep chasm across our path, craning my neck to see the bottom. It is much, much deeper than the one I fell in. The rock has split here, creating a fault line. There must have been an incredible noise when this happened—when years of freezing and thawing forced the rock to rip in two.

  The span of it is wider in some places, but in this spot it looks as if I could lie across it and reach the other side—if I were a human bridge. The bottom is about six stories down. If Dead Skeleton Crevice had been half this deep, I would be dead along with Mr. Bones. Mr. Bones, who had a pocketful of money, but in the end, it didn’t matter. He didn’t have any friends to help him out.

  Cooper is scanning behind us, and I know he’s searching for another broken tree, but there isn’t anything to use. As we look at each other, a stronger gust of cold wind hits me in the back, freezing my ears.

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to jump,” I say.

  “I’ll go first,” Cooper says as he cinches the straps on my pack he’s carrying. “And then I can catch you.”

  Without any more warning or discussion, Cooper backs up a few steps before he charges. Throwing himself into the air, he hurtles across the chasm. I stop breathing, watching him sail over his certain death. He lands lightly on his feet. Turning to me, he grins, brushing his hands together as if that wasn’t even a challenge.

  “Easy,” he says. “Now you.”

  I glance again at Stark, who is still perched on her branch. She stares straight ahead at nothing. I’ve watched her soar so many times. If only I could fly like her. I would have flown right out of here on that first day. Found the highway right off. When she flies, I follow her in my mind. But now I wish that she could really take me with her.

  The wind picks up behind me and screams down the mountain like a charging rhino. It hits me in the back with icy fury. My body is alternating between sweating and freezing. With numb fingers, I pull my hoodie on and cinch the drawstrings.

  “Come on! Hurry,” Cooper calls to me.

  I sneak closer to the rim and look across, trying to judge the distance. It’s not too far.

  “I can catch you,” Cooper says, as if he can read my thoughts. “Trust me. I won’t let you fall.”

  I shuffle my feet and look down again. A wave of dizziness sweeps over me, and I sway a little. I wipe the sweat that’s trickling into my eyes. I’ve never felt so bone tired, so ill. A shiver clutches my muscles and holds tight.

  Cooper makes an impatient sound. “Come on! I said I won’t let you fall. You don’t trust me? I came back for you, didn’t I?” He throws his arms in the air. “Just believe in me, Karma.”

  My head snaps up. “What do you mean, came back for me?”

  Cooper sucks in a breath and freezes. He closes his eyes and then nods as if he’s decided something.

  “I should have just told you. After I left you guys on the highway, I was good to go. I got another ride into town, found a bike. I was golden. But I…I couldn’t stop thinking about your crappy van. I pictured you stuck on the side of that road with a flat tire and no one around to help.”

  A coldness creeps down my back that has nothing to do with the wind.

  Cooper kicks a rock over the edge. It clips the side of the gorge with a little tick. I watch as it plummets. “I figured I’d just go check so I could stop wondering about it already. You weren’t on the side of the road anywhere, and I was thinking good, that’s it then.

  “But then I saw your freaking bird. She’s so white and hard to miss. It had to be yours. And then the stupid bike ran out of gas as I got to the end of the road. But you guys hadn’t passed me. So I followed your bird, and when I found you, it was worse than I’d thought. I never saw your van in the ditch. I don’t know why. I swear, Karma, I didn’t know the tire would blow up!”

  My voice comes out calmly, but inside I’m feeling like that exploding tire. “How did you know we’d have a flat tire, Cooper?”

  He pauses.

  “You were right when you said this is all my fault. It’s always my fault. I screw up everything I touch.” Cooper rubs a hand over his face. His shoulders are back to their usual slump.

  I ask him again. “How did you know, Cooper?”

  “I hated your perfect family. And then you dumped me on the side of the road just like everyone else in my life…so I slashed the tire.”

  The whole world fades away, and I feel as if I’m tilting off it. I picture him again on that day, his hair blowing through the window. He was at the back of the van near the tire. I picture his sharp knife we’ve been using this whole time.

  Finally I point a shaking finger at him. “Why?”

  I’m unable to find any more words. I can hardly see with the film of rage that has settled over me. All this time I’ve been traveling with Cooper, not knowing he’s the one that caused our accident. I thought he was my friend. How could I have been so stupid? My hands clench, which brings a shooting pain that sears my left arm. My whole body feels hot and damp and sick. I collapse to my knees, holding myself up with one arm. I know I can’t give up, but this betrayal has crushed the last bits of energy I have.

  “Just leave me alone,” I croak out. “Go away.”

  “Karma! Get up. You have to let me fix this. I have to put your family back together!” Cooper howls. His whole face turns red. Then he stops and takes a breath. “I’ll do whatever you want,” he says. “I’ll leave you alone once we get help. But right now, you have to get up and cross this before the snow comes.”

  I stare at him as something sharp and savage builds inside me. “You are not my friend.”

  Stark leaps then, and I glance up. She’s flying above the trees, wheeling in slow, lazy circles. There’s a cold front almost upon us, and my family is on the other side of those trees, waiting for me
. What am I doing still on this mountain, crouching on the ground?

  I climb to my feet and look around. The wind hits my face. I have to do this. Later I will hate Cooper. But right now I’m going to get to my family. I won’t look at the traitor traveling with me.

  I back up as Cooper did and then sprint to the edge. Just as I’m about to launch myself across the crevice, a hot wave of nausea grips me. I stumble at the last second. My leap is not enough to propel me to the other side. I reach for the edge.

  And miss.

  I feel myself falling, but then Cooper’s hand snakes out and snatches my wrist. It’s my bad arm, and the pain of it nearly makes me pass out. I hang freely over the chasm. My vision is jerky and narrow, like looking through a camera lens. I see the rough rock in front of me, the open sky, and Cooper’s wild eyes, which are green with flecks of light gold. There is impossible darkness below me. And Cooper’s fingers dig into the red marks on my arm. He’s on his stomach with his arms stretched out, clutching me. His face is strained.

  “Don’t let me go!”

  “Climb,” he grunts.

  “Cooper, don’t drop me. Don’t.”

  He tries to pull me up, but he slips farther toward the edge. My right arm finally connects with the rock, and I grip it like a tree frog. The unbearable pressure on my injured arm lessens as my weight is transferred.

  Our eyes meet. “Climb,” Cooper says.

  With Cooper pulling on my wrist, I claw with my other hand, kicking my feet. The sharp edge of the rock rips the knees of my jeans as I teeter on the edge. The next moment, I’m scrambling over the rim.

  Cooper and I lie on our backs, panting. We both take a moment to just breathe. But we have to keep moving or we’re going to die up here.

  When I try to stand, the ground spins around me. I stumble forward.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “You can hardly walk. Let me help you.”

  The last thing I want is to accept help from him, but we have to get off this mountain. I lean on Cooper’s shoulder as he puts an arm around me.

  “God, you’re burning up,” he says softly.

  I know the direction I have to take. The image of the road and our van lying on its side is burned into my mind now. We lurch toward the forest. The only sounds I hear are the shuffling footsteps we make and my own heartbeat. Even the wind has stilled.

  I search for Stark in the sky, knowing she’ll love the coming snow. The first snow was always so exciting at home. It was a time for hunting. You can see tracks more easily. What I wouldn’t give to be home now, getting ready for a hunt with Tank and Aunt Amy and Gavin. The fever is muddling my thinking. I can almost imagine that all of this was a dream and I’m going to wake up in my tree house and go clean the mews.

  I stumble and come back to my actual circumstances. I’m not hunting with Tank, I’m racing a clock. I’m racing toward our van that I left three days ago thinking I would be back in a few hours. With my head up, I keep marching, weaving in and out of balance. I need to stay upright. It’s the only reason I allow Cooper to touch me.

  “Karma, listen. These last few days—”

  “Don’t talk to me,” I interrupt. My muscles ache with cold and stiffness.

  Cooper remains quiet during the rest of our trek and keeps shooting me worried looks. His lips press together with fear. All his squawking and feather ruffling are absent now. There’s no mask of indifference. I can read him plainly, but I don’t care.

  Finally I see things I recognize. The trees, those shrub bushes, and the shape of the boulders as we pass. We’re on the road next, and I break from Cooper and wobble past the spot where I collapsed and called out for help a thousand years ago. Was it really just a few days ago? I feel as if I’ve aged a lifetime since then.

  I fall down the steep embankment, sliding on my butt, holding my arm against me. “Gavin! Dad!”

  And then I see him. Gavin in a woolen hat, his little white face shining like a moon peeking out of the van. The sight of him sends a jolt through me that travels straight to my heart.

  I watch his expression shift from relief to dismay as he takes in my condition and the fact that there are no police cars or ambulances or doctors or firefighters behind me. There is only Cooper.

  I give Gavin the short version of the last few days as we climb through the back doors of the van. Dad is under a blanket and still in the same place I left him.

  “Dad, I’m here,” I say. But he doesn’t respond. He’s so white, I can see little veins under his skin. I can’t stand to see him helpless like this. This can’t be Dad, my dad who always walks tall, always has a ready smile, and always crinkles up the corners of his eyes. Now he’s small and pale and his beard is all messy and growing in. I don’t know how Gavin has dealt with it all these days. “Dad, can you hear me?”

  “He’s been like that all day,” Gavin says beside me. “He won’t even drink anymore.”

  Gavin’s face shows all the worry and fear he’s had to live with by himself. It makes me want to scream and pound something. He’s been stuck in this van, dealing with something no kid his age should have to deal with. The love I feel for my family overpowers me. I finally made it back to them. It almost doesn’t feel real that Gavin is sitting in front of me alive and whole. Relieved, tears spill over and down my face. Gavin hugs me, then pats my shoulder as if I’m the younger one. I pull out the fortune game, dried hard and brittle.

  Gavin takes it and stares at the paper glumly. “I didn’t mean to give you a bad fortune. I don’t want you to die.”

  “I know, Gav. I didn’t, and we won’t. We’re all going to be fine. I’m making a new fortune. I’ll be safe with my whole family at home very soon.”

  “I’m only making good fortunes from now on,” he says.

  I hear something and turn my attention to Dad.

  “Dad! Are you awake? Please talk to me.” I smooth his hair off his gaunt face and bend closer. My heart leaps as his head rolls away from me. His eyes open and he mumbles something, but he’s not looking at me. I can see he isn’t focused on anything.

  He needs to get out of here, right now. All of us do.

  Cooper. I can’t believe I forgot about him. Where is he?

  I lurch through the back doors and spy Cooper sitting on the ground next to the tipped-over van. His shoulders are shaking. My fever forgotten, I charge over to him but pull up when I see his face.

  “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me,” he says, over and over. Cooper looks up at me, tears streaming down his face. He points to the perfectly whole right back tire that is in the air. The one that isn’t shredded.

  “That’s the one I sliced.”

  When I first left the van in my desperate state, I hadn’t even noticed which tire had blown out.

  We lock eyes. The only things moving are the wet snowflakes beginning to fall around us.

  “I have a do-over,” Cooper says, his eyes pleading, searching my face for something I’m not quite ready to give.

  I break our gaze and drop beside him, staring at the tires. “I guess we all get new futures. It’s up to us to decide what to do with them.”

  Gavin was busy while I was gone. All the loose equipment that was tossed around in the accident is neatly back in place. He’s swept out the broken glass and arranged everything neatly.

  “Wow, you did a great job in here,” I say, pulling out the first-aid kit. I need to get rid of this pounding in my head so I can think. Not wanting to use the last of our water, I crunch Advil and my antibiotics in my mouth. The bitter taste makes me scrunch up my face.

  Gavin watches me with amusement and then casually points to a row of containers on the hawk box. My eyes widen. They’re full of water.

  “Where did you get this?” I ask.

  “There’s a creek behind the trees. Good thing I found it too; I drank all my water just after you left.” He gives me a Gavin grin. “I had to make it livable in here. After the firs
t night, we weren’t sure where you were or how long it would take. At least we had the sleeping bags and stuff from the camping kit to stay warm.”

  They had water. All this time, that was my worst fear, and Gavin had solved it on his own.

  Gavin’s eyes go to a blackened fire pit just outside the door that I hadn’t seen when I first rushed in. Only now do I notice the empty box by the door. Gavin’s comic-book box. I know it’s only comics, but my heart feels like it’s breaking into a million pieces—with regret, and with pride at how Gavin has dealt with everything.

  “Smart,” Cooper says. He and Gavin appraise each other, and I wish I knew what they were both thinking. I give Gavin’s shoulder a squeeze as I slump on a blanket he’s laid out. I touch the cool water bottle to my forehead and close my eyes.

  Every part of my journey, every bump and strain and scrape, sings on my body. I can’t even think about walking the forty miles out on the road to the highway, but that’s what I’m going to have to do. No messing around this time. Maybe if I had done that to begin with, we’d all be home by now. A desperate ache rolls over me.

  I wish I could tie a message to Stark and have her fly out to wherever the people are. I haven’t seen her since we were up on the mountain. But my worry for Dad trumps worrying about where she is. I’m so tired and worn down. If only someone else would come up with a plan. If only Dad were awake to tell me what to do. I sigh and open my eyes. I can’t rest yet.

  “How did you get here?” Gavin asks Cooper.

  “Aha!” I yell, making Gavin and Cooper startle. “Gavin, you’re a genius!”

  “I am?” Gavin looks at me with confusion.

  “Cooper’s dirt bike.” I’m sure I can learn to drive a dirt bike. It can’t be any harder than anything I’ve done these past few days. I don’t want to leave Dad and Gavin again. I want to bring them both with me, but it’s impossible.

  “It’s out of gas,” Cooper reminds me.

  “We can take the gas out of our van and use it for the bike,” I explain. “We had to do that once with our generator during a storm when our power went out.”