by David Boyle
The river burbled off the bow, the moon shimmering on the surface past the stern. A call spirited from the forest, like someone playing an oboe. He powered ahead, listening, and feathered his paddle when the call sounded again, the strangely melodic notes raising goose bumps along his arms.
He changed course slightly. “So show yourself, kid. What the hell are you?”
*****
In daylight it took all of fifteen minutes to hike to the end of the island. Dragging the Discovery in near total darkness had consumed going on two hours. And now that the time for putting his plan into action had arrived, the very first part of it was losing its appeal. “I’m thinking we need a Plan B. Even with as little movement as there is, the way the air is swirling, there’s a chance she could pick up your scent.”
“Really? I thought this was a stupid idea when you first brought it up. Now I’m wondering how I ever agreed to it.” Mark was on his toes, scanning the forest. “And Plan B is what exactly?”
“Give me a second okay? I’m working on it.” Through the gap Mark could see moonlight glimmering on the bay. “So where around here is a place that wouldn’t have any wind?”
Hayden was working the kinks from his shoulder. “How about in the corner?”
“What are you talking about, corner? There’s no corner in the woods.”
“Take the blinders off, would you? Sure there’s a corner. Over by where the channel meets the bay. Don’t you remember? Where Ron and Tony poked their nose in that first day.”
“First Charlie. Now you. I knew you guys were on these trips for a reason.” Mark got a bearing. “Yep, that way’s south. How far from here to the junction?”
“I’ve only been here twice, and both times with Wheajo. Best I remember, maybe half a block.”
They scouted for routes with enough spacing for the canoe, then hurried back through the trees. “This’ll be perfect,” Mark said, taking hold of the Discovery. “Yep, having a side door is gonna solve a lot of problems.”
The Discovery was in the channel within twenty minutes, and intending simply to check it for obstructions, Mark and Hayden continued into the bay and across to the river. The fainter stars were no longer visible, the moon slipping toward one horizon while a glow was starting on the other. They checked upriver to the bend, knowing that in hours they’d be on their long overdue journey home.
“Except for having to be careful not to get torn to shreds every day, it really is beautiful here.” Parts of the bay were mirror smooth, the breeze raising ruffles here and there, the river hissing around a recently deposited pair of logs before tumbling over the rocks of Pussy Cat rapid. There were birds singing, a brave few flitting about the shores of the bay.
Mark got to his feet. “I’ll be darn…. See the ripples at like two o’clock?”
Hayden peered off, the seconds passing. “Okay, I see them now.”
“That’s a fish. And not a little one either.” Mark slumped onto his seat. “All this time, and I never once gave thought to coming here with my pole.”
Hayden swept the stern around. “Next time we’re back this way.”
“Yeah. Next time.”
Shirts were spread across the table, Charlie busy carving flat spots into matched sets of branches that would later be threaded through the arms and welded together with the yaltok. Whether bloodied or ripped, or just too filthy to use anymore, one or more would hopefully grab Sabrefang’s attention. Close to finishing, Charlie was wondering whether to raid the other tents for more when he caught Mike padding about the campsite.
“Confusing, ain’t it? Everybody up an’ workin’ all night.” Mike pranced over, sniffing. “They’ll be back soon, you’ll see.” The dinosaur stared back with its shiny puppy eyes. “And maybe not right away, but I’m gonna buy us a place along the Mississippi where you’re gonna feel right at home. The river slippin’ by, a big ole yard out back with lotsa critters for you to hunt.” Mike looked to the far end of the clearing, then stepped forward, bobbing his head.
Charlie welded the latest hanger, waited, and let loose of the tongs when Hayden and Mark strolled clear of the forest. Hayden held out a hand, blocking the glare of the fire. “How’re they coming?”
“Two more and I’m done. Unless you think I should make more.”
Mark did a count. “I wouldn’t bother. What you have is fine.” He glanced along the clearing. “Any thoughts on how to hang them?”
“Yeah, actually. These pegs? All ya need is to open a gash with the hatchet, then hammer the buggers in. Shouldn’t take more than a coupla seconds, and we can put up hangers wherever we want.”
“I love simple solutions. Put a hole in back so the shirts don’t slip. Should do everything we need them to.” Hayden nodded. “Nice, Charlie.”
“Boat in a good place?”
Mark spun the cap off a jug. “Yeah, and even you are going to like this one,” he said, and slugged down a gulp.
“She’s in the channel just off the bay. Down in that little gulley? You have to be standing almost on the edge to see it.”
“So we’re launched even before she makes it here?”
Mark wiped his mouth. “Hadn’t thought about it like that, but yeah, we are.”
Charlie clamped the hanger, then fired up the yaltok for the very last time. “I sure hope this works, Bennett.”
The sky was brightening. “We about ready?” Hayden asked, glancing at the trees. “It’s getting late, and we still have at least two trips to do.”
“You okay with your dump bag?”
“That? Hell yeah. I’ll kick the thing there if I have to.”
Mark slipped the canteen onto his belt, then grabbed the dry bag with his clothes. “I can lead, or you. We just need to watch that nothing sharp gets near the raft.” Hayden took an end and they started for the forest.
Charlie patted his thigh. “Stay close okay…? Yeah, yeah, I can see you’re excited. Me too,” he said, ruffling the feathers on his twitchy dinosaur’s head. “A little while longer, and you and me are gonna be off to a brand new home!”
The trip down was faster than when dragging the Discovery, though between keeping eyes on the raft and helping Charlie negotiate the deadfalls, the sun was spearing through the trees long before they got to the channel.
“You can head on down, or wait until we get back.”
“I’ll figure it out. You guys get goin’. And I’m sorry I couldn’t do more of the carryin’.”
“For a guy with one leg, you did fine,” Mark said. “And if you forgot anything, tell me now. We pick it up this time, or you’re out of luck.”
“I got the brizva, my wetsuit, stuff to munch on, and my buddy,” Charlie said, scratching Mike’s neck. “After that, all I need is you guys.”
Hayden and Mark reached out, the three stacking hands, one over the other. “Almost there, guys,” said Hayden. “Hang on to Mike so he doesn’t go anywhere. We should be back in under an hour.”
Hayden hammered a peg into a tree. “Might sound stupid,” he said, staring about the campsite. “But in a way, I’m really going to miss this place.”
Mark flopped another frond on the pile. “I don’t find that stupid at all. However the hell long we’ve been here, it’s hard to walk away from a place you’ve put so much time and effort into.” He looked to the tents, shook his head. “Let’s get moving,” he sighed. “Sun’s already way higher than I was hoping.”
Hayden eyed the forest on his way from the landing.
“She’s over there,” Mark said, adding just enough wood to refresh the coals. “Look left about a hundred yards, behind that cluster of palms.”
After so often seeing her in his dreams, Hayden didn’t need much of a look. “Okay, now I got her.” He thought about what they were about to do. “We’re not committed. We could hold off a day.”
“And if I thought it’d make a difference, I would. But what’s to say she won’t be here tomorrow? Or the day after? We’re as ready as we can b
e, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re a go with Plan B.”
Hayden hoisted the last of the dump bags onto his shoulder, then took hold of their newly constructed frame. “Just so you know,” he said, starting off. “Getting her angry enough to cross the river doesn’t have my socks rolling up and down.”
“Don’t feel pregnant. I’m not that crazy about it either.”
“You said to pack light Bennett, and I did.”
They were back at the channel, and Mark was going through his to do list, which at the moment included slipping a camouflaged shirt under his belt. “So where’d you leave them? Unless you buried them somewhere.”
“Fuck no. The other one should be layin’ by the door. And if there’s anything else in there you need, consider it yours.”
“I doubt it, Bull, but thanks anyway.” Mark looked to the channel. “You okay getting that put together?”
Hayden fished the frame’s center support through an oarlock. “Yeah, I’m good. And if I run into trouble, Charlie can help me out.” He stepped to the bank. “I’m still willing if you need me.”
“Thanks, but this is one job that needs to be done alone. Just be ready. Things go as planned, being anywhere on the island is about to get unhealthy.”
“Mark?” Charlie pointed. “Your fanny pack?”
“Oops.” Mark undid the clip, then handed Hayden his fanny pack. “Might as well take this too,” he said, and tossed his hat. “Drop it this time and I’d end up looking like you guys in all the pictures the newspaper schmucks will be taking.”
“Mark Bennett without his hat?” Hayden smiled. “We can’t let that happen.”
Mark snapped the cylinder closed and holstered the revolver. “Give me fifteen minutes to get to camp, and maybe ten more after that. She gets moving, things are going to get hairy. Charlie, you cannot let Mike give you away. Not a peep, got me?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s not good enough. Not this time.” Mark glanced at the knife on his hip. “We need him back; he doesn’t need to be alive.”
Charlie was all too painfully aware of what would happen if Sabrefang was alerted to their presence. “Don’t worry, Bennett. It comes to that, I’m ready.”
Mark looked to Hayden. “Things go south, you get your ass out of here.”
“We’re not leaving without you.”
“It’s Sabrefang we’re talking about, and if I’m not back before she makes it to camp, I’m not coming back. And it would really piss me off to think folks back home didn’t get to hear about all the great and wonderful things I did.” Mark could see the anguish in his friend’s face. “Don’t go wrinkling my hat. All those pictures? I want to look my best.”
Hayden forced a smile. “I’ll remind you to pull the brim down.”
Mark checked his watch. “Twenty minutes guys, twenty five at the outside and things should start happening. Once she gets moving, keep your heads down,” he said, then turned and trotted into the forest.
Charlie stood stroking Mike’s neck. “Good luck….”
Mark followed the channel into ever more familiar territory, the deadfalls across the channel still carrying the strings he’d tied to signal animal intrusions. While a longer and more encumbered route, Mark wanted to reacquaint himself with the forest and check to make sure the recent storms hadn’t added any new obstructions. Having to backtrack next time could be fatal.
There was nothing new of consequence, and reaching camp was uneventful. The tents stood nestled beneath the big oaks, their fishing poles and spears still on the rack. He rummaged through the woodpile, the memories flowing as he tossed logs onto the fire. The thing with Ron and Wheajo, and how they died. The card games, and Charlie’s intricately carved scoreboard that he hoped either Hayden or Charlie had remembered to pack. He saw Sabrefang as well, raging about the pieces of their lives. His tent and Charlie’s would be replaced. Yet he couldn’t bear the thought of letting Sabrefang destroy the place where they’d spent so many hours together. Ron wasn’t coming home, but to let her destroy his tent was tantamount to allowing her to defile his existence. “To hell with that,” he said, then walking the periphery and pulling the poles from the loops at the corners, the tent gradually collapsing in on itself. “Sorry I couldn’t stop the fucker, Ron. I won’t forget you. Not ever.”
A lingering look. Mark sucked in a breath. Snorted. “Showtime.”
The pieces he’d added were beginning to catch, and to the fire he added the branches and fronds he’d cut especially for the occasion. In the days prior they’d tried to keep smoke to a minimum, today he was using it as an inducement. He watched to ensure that the fire hadn’t been smothered, a thick column of smoke soon billowing through the trees. “Yeah, that should get her attention.”
He went finally to Charlie’s tent and grabbed a couple of shirts, and, after paying his farewells to the campsite, hurried into the forest.
For once Mark had the edge, and he brandished the T-shirts as he followed the bank just inside the trees. “I know you’re over there,” he said in a loud voice, weaving through the forest and watching the far shore. “Don’t be bashful. I’ve got a game I’d like you to play. Make it interesting, and I’ll maybe let you taste some lead.”
There was movement in the trees. Mark ducked under a limb and poked his head over the bank. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He waited, then continued along the bank to where the island jutted out, the river there reduced by nearly a third. Sabrefang was down on her haunches, her eyes showing through the leaves.
“Cut the crap already.” Mark snapped off part of a branch, and, after opening a gap in the foliage, threw it in her direction. “I’m talking to you! Now get your ass out here where—” The tigress charged from the trees and into the shallows. He stumbled back. “See there,” he said with a swallow. “That wasn’t hard.”
The predator stood snarling, resplendent as always, then looked at the water and pulled back.
“Still hate getting your feet wet, huh?” Another branch went sailing, and she was out snapping when it hit the water.
Mark popped the clasp on the revolver, then hesitated. “Hold that pose.” He got out his handkerchief and ripped it in half, and in half again, then stuffed the pieces in his ears. The revolver was really loud, and as long as she was being so cooperative, why not take advantage? He stuffed the remaining half in his pocket and pulled the handgun. “Thanks for waiting,” he said grimly, and cranked back the hammer….
Pow! The boom echoed as Sabrefang snapped at her shoulder, the enraged predator at length storming into the river. She didn’t go far.
“Hurts, don’t it?” he said, relishing the pain he’d inflicted. Mark wanted to shoot her again, to unload on her actually, but knew that even if he’d been closer the shots wouldn’t have been fatal. As potent as the ‘world’s most powerful handgun’ was, the Ruger simply didn’t have enough punch. Then too, they had miles to paddle and other animals to possibly deal with. He started through the trees, sweeping his arms and making enough of a commotion to keep the predator interested. The willows became ever more entangled, the combination of tendrils and fallen limbs soon so intertwined that he couldn’t make headway and see her and the river at the same time.
The river was higher than her first time on the island—Pussy Cat definitely wasn’t pussy cattish—and with how nervous she was around water, the noise, the motion… chances were she could balk at crossing. “Yep, there’s a piece you forgot about.” Lure her to the rapids, maybe. But get her to cross? “Damn.”
He forced his way to the edge of the bank, clearing away the branches. “You got any idea what a pain in the ass you are?” he shouted, flinging a branch in frustration, the dinosaur out again, snapping when it hit the water. Like Pavlov’s dog almost. “Huh. So how far does that go?” He found a nearby gap in the overhangs, and tossed another piece, this time to a spot upstream of where she was standing. Eyes tracking, the big predator charged out, snapping at
the splash. “No shit, eager. Programmable too.” Mark pulled the handgun and replaced the spent cartridge.
“Okay, so how about a little catch the bullet?” Hammer back…. Pow!
The bomb going off in the forest didn’t faze her in the least, the predator’s fury focused solely on the splash. Sabrefang trotted over and snapped at the water. Another shot— Pow!—and two more thereafter, and in no time at all he had her snarling not thirty yards from the rapid. Mark checked his back trail, then took aim at a point slightly upstream of the drop. The revolver boomed, the better part of a second passing before the bullet hit the water. Sabrefang padded onto the rocks, and Mark could see clearly that the rapid was making her nervous. He reached out over the bank, waving the T-shirts. “Don’t forget me!” The big head turned, and she dropped to one paw. “Yeah, dumbass. I’m still here.” She stepped forward, a gurgle in her throat, then looked to the island and started across.
Revolver holstered—Time to boogie!—Mark slipped on the camouflage and hurried into the forest. He snagged the first T-shirt on a branch halfway across, and the other ten yards closer to camp before racing toward the far side of the island. Snarls began sounding off to his right, then the crunch of branches and rustling in the canopy.
He took cover behind a cluster of ferns and pulled the revolver, his heart ready to explode when he cleared the chambers. A shaky hand fumbled cartridges from the gun belt—the whole forest was starting to shake—each round then guided carefully into the chambers. He closed the cylinder, staring, the beast that had so long ago tried to kill him charging through the forest, the long arms ripping at whatever dared impede her.
