Deadfall

by Stephen Wallenfels

  Stellah was standing outside the car, under the canopy, talking on her phone and smoking a cigarette. Cory didn’t know she smoked. As they approached she said into the phone, “Okay, then. I guess it is what it is. Thanks for trying. I’ll see you in a few.” She slipped the phone in her purse, dropped her unfinished cigarette, and stomped it out. Cory could tell by the grim set of her lips as she ground the butt into a pulp that something had changed. And in Cory’s experience, changes were rarely good.

  “I’m sorry about the cigarette,” she said. “I only smoke when I’m mad.”

  “Your soon-to-be ex?” Cory asked.

  She shook her head. “You guys look really good,” she said, and offered a fleeting smile.

  “Hey, I tucked in my shirt,” Ty said. “I never tuck in my shirt.”

  “I noticed.”

  He said, “The puppies are ready to see their new home.”

  Stellah made no move to get in the car. Instead she lit another cigarette.

  “Is something wrong?” Cory asked.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “What is it?” Ty said.

  Stellah exhaled a gray stream. “The situation has changed.”

  “Changed how?”

  “Do you remember I said that the Wainwrights were watching their sister’s son, Avery?”

  “The special-needs kid,” Cory said.

  “Right. Well, apparently Avery’s mother is having personal issues of her own. She asked her sister this morning to watch Avery for longer than initially thought.”

  “How much longer?” Cory asked, pretty sure where this was headed.

  “Four to six months.”

  “We can handle that,” Ty said.

  “I know. Unfortunately it’s not that simple. Avery requires a lot of their time and resources. They’re still adjusting. So anyway, Dylan said as much as the Wainwrights would like to help, and they really do, this new development means they just can’t handle two placements at this time.”

  The Bic brothers were silent for a few moments. Stellah took a long drag, blew smoke up at the gray sky. Then Ty went where Cory hoped he wouldn’t. “You said two placements?”

  “That’s right.”

  “As in they have room for one puppy?”

  Stellah nodded.

  “Did they say which one?”

  “They did. But before I tell you—” A white Ford Focus turned in to the lot. Stellah watched as it drove slowly past them and parked facing the store. The driver’s door remained closed. Stellah continued, “Before I tell you, I want you to know that we’re working on a plan B. I’m expecting a call any minute.”

  “Fuck plan B,” Ty said.

  The edge in his voice was a tangible thing. He’s headed for Benny mode, Cory thought. “Let’s go,” he said, not knowing where they’d go to. He just wanted to get in the car, pull off this five-dollar sweater that choked his neck and made it hard to breathe.

  Ty said, “We’re not going anywhere.” He took a step toward Stellah. “They want my brother, right?”

  “It’s not a matter of wanting. It’s what they can handle right now.”

  “Why Cory?”

  “They…they think he’s a better fit with Avery. But when Avery leaves, Dylan said they’d be willing to revisit fostering both of you.” Her eyes, for the first time, flicked down and away. As if what she said and what she believed were different animals.

  “Here’s what I think,” Ty said. “I think you knew they planned on taking Cory from the start. That you made up this bullshit story about this great home and these great people just to get us both in the car.” He took another step. There was only one left. “You knew they’d split us up all along.”

  Cory pleaded, “Let it go, Ty.” He felt tears rimming his eyes.

  “Believe what you want,” Stellah said, her voice calm and even. She stomped out her cigarette. “But I’m telling you the truth. Sometimes these things fall apart.”

  A car door opened and closed. Cory looked. It was the Focus. A young guy, tall, beard, jeans, plaid shirt untucked, walked toward them. He had a paper bag in one hand. Stellah held out a hand for him to stop.

  Ty said, “That’s Dylan, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s here to take Cory.”

  “He’s here to help.”

  “But he’s here to take Cory.”

  “If that’s what you two decide, yes.”

  Ty nodded. It was slow, barely a movement at all. His eyes narrowed on Stellah. Cory’s intestines shifted in his gut. He knew this look, the same coiled-snake moment Benny had just before he struck. Cory wiped a tear from his face, wondered if he could stop Ty if it came to that. But Ty turned to him instead. “I think you should do it, Cor.”

  “No you don’t.”

  “They want you. That’s all that matters.”

  “What about not splitting us up? You said—”

  “I’m damaged goods, bro. Can’t you see that? I have a history. I’m the fucked-up puppy. The one that’ll bite the baby and eat the family cat.” Then he said to Stellah, “Tell your friend we’re good to go.”

  “What about plan B?” Cory said, certain that he was sliding into a bottomless pit.

  “The text said if I hadn’t heard by noon, then it won’t happen.” She looked at her phone. “It’s twelve thirty-five now. The important thing is that you have a good place to live. This home is a really good fit for you.” She studied him a moment longer, then waved to Dylan.

  Cory fought back the tears, wiped his nose with a sleeve. He said to Ty, “Please don’t be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like…you know.”

  “Go ahead. Say it.”

  Dylan walked up to them. Stellah did the introductions.

  Dylan said to Ty, “The Wainwrights are sorry about how this scenario played out. They want you to know that.”

  “That’s all right. I expected it.”

  Dylan handed Stellah the paper bag.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Mrs. Wainwright made some turkey-and-stuffing sandwiches. For the road.”

  “Tell them thanks.” Stellah took the bag.

  Dylan turned to Cory. “Well, get your stuff. We need to head. The Wainwrights have some kind of barbecue thing that couldn’t be changed. They want to get you settled before the gang shows up.”

  So this is it? Cory thought. This is really happening? He wanted to grab Ty and shake him. Shake the Benny out of him. “I can’t do it,” he said.

  Ty said, “Dude, if the situation were reversed and you were the ugly puppy, you’d be telling me to take the deal, right?”

  Cory knew that question was coming. There was really only one answer. “Yes.”

  “So there you go. Take the deal. End of story.”

  Cory said to Stellah, “What about Ty?”

  “Returning to Portland is out. There’s a new teen sheltering center in Hood River. I checked and they have a room. He’ll go there until something more permanent comes along.”

  A teen sheltering center? “How long will that be?”

  “Days. Weeks. Sometimes months. It’s hard to tell, especially this close to the holidays.”

  Ty said, “We’ll get back together, bro. Till then, make it work.” They embraced. In the middle of it he whispered in Cory’s ear, “No pussies on the bridge.”

  Cory whispered it back, grabbed his duffel from the Fit. He walked in heavy silence with Dylan to the Honda. Dylan swept fast food wrappers off the passenger seat. “Sorry. I’m a slob. You’ll learn that pretty quick.” Cory wedged himself inside, stretched the seat belt across his stomach. Struggled to fasten the clip because his hand was shaking too much.

  Dylan started the car, backed out of his space. Cory looked over his shoulder at the Honda. No Ty. Figured he must be in the car. Stellah was outside leaning back against the door, reading her phone. Dylan waved to her, drove toward the exit. A car was ahead of them, waiting to
pull out. When it was Dylan’s turn, he rolled forward. Then he looked in the rearview, muttered, “What the hell?” and hit the brakes.

  Stellah ran up to the driver’s door, phone in hand. Dylan lowered the window.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Plan B came through!”

  “Both?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sweet.”

  Dylan grinned at Cory. “I’ll tell the Wainwrights you got a better offer.” Cory stared at him, stunned. “Adios, dude. It’s your lucky day!”

  Cory had no trouble unclipping his seat belt this time. He walked with Stellah to the Fit, climbed into the backseat. Ty smiled at him like he knew this would happen.

  As Stellah exited the Circle K and headed for I-82, Ty said, “So where’s this plan B?”

  “Luster, Oregon. Ever heard of it?”

  “No,” they both said.

  “Neither have I.” She swung the Fit into traffic and stomped on the gas, headed for the entrance to I-82 East. “But with a name like Luster, it has to be good.”

  Ty said, “And our new family knows the news about us?”

  “What news is that?”

  “That we’re not housebroken.”

  “Oh, that won’t be a problem.”

  “Why not?”

  Stellah smiled into the rearview.

  “One of them is a judge.”

  TANUM CREEK

  NOW

  22

  There’s a half inch of snow, hardly any under the trees. That’s where I walk as much as possible, thinking the fewer obvious tracks we leave the better. It takes more effort and more time, which increases our exposure to watchful eyeballs from below, but I think it’s worth the risk. If the snow keeps falling at this pace, our tracks will be buried in a couple hours. Or more likely it will warm up, turn to rain, and melt the snow. That would be even better, assuming we find Stumptown. If we don’t find Stumptown? Well, I hate bridges and that’s one bridge I’d rather not cross.

  The top is closer than I thought. We crest the saddle in a couple minutes and the terrain turns to nearly flat. The wind must hit this spot pretty hard because there are a lot of blowdowns. It makes walking more difficult since we have to weave around and even climb over so many trees, but I get a good look at Gooseneck Mountain, the notch, and the frosted peaks beyond. This place feels vaguely familiar, even with the conditions as they are. That’s a huge relief. Astrid sounds winded from the climb and signals with an open palm facing out that she needs to rest. We walk to a bare spot under a tree and I check my phone while she catches her breath.

  I’m hoping that with the elevation gain maybe there’s a signal, but there is not. The time is 5:59. I take a moment to remember that twenty-four hours ago I was waking up in a warm bed. Four hours later the Bic twins were slipping out of town in a stolen Volvo wagon full of camping gear and bags of food. Our future looked pretty damn good. Now I’m standing next to a girl named Astrid who eight hours ago was soaked in gasoline and locked in the trunk of a car. Somewhere between there and here we hit a massive karma bomb and everything blew up. I’m not sure what we did to light that fuse, but here we are. I need to find out Astrid’s story. But before that happens I have to find a stump in the middle of nowhere, and that’s all on me.

  After a few moments, she straightens up, looks at me, and nods. I assume this means she has recovered enough to continue. I pocket the phone and consider telling her what we need to do next. We need to find a pine tree shaped like a bent finger with an arrow carved in the bark. Oh, and by the way, I’ve seen this tree only once and that was like, more than a year ago.

  I say, “You ready?” She raises Ty’s hoodie high enough to reveal the splint. Then touches the foam to show me how it has shifted position and is barely covering the purple bump of displaced bone.

  “It’s loose?” I ask.

  She nods.

  Which means it needs to be retaped. Which means taking off my pack, digging out the first aid kit. I ask, “Can it wait? We’re almost there.”

  Astrid lowers the hoodie, grimaces, nods again.

  I aim for the notch and start making tracks in what I hope is the right direction.

  Five minutes later I know we’re in trouble. The déjà vu feeling I had earlier is gone. Nothing looks familiar. In fact, we’re starting to lose elevation and that feels entirely wrong. On top of all this, I think the weather is changing. The flakes aren’t as big, they’re coming in at an angle, and I’ve felt the occasional wet sting on my face of either sleet or rain. I think Astrid isn’t enthusiastic about our worsening situation either. She yanks on my pack and spins me around, points to our tracks that appear to wander aimlessly through the forest.

  “I know,” I say.

  She carves three huge letters in the snow with an icy sneaker:

  WTF

  I say, “I’ll tell you. But don’t go all crazy on me.”

  She gives me a careful nod. Her teeth are chattering.

  “I’m looking for a tree with a bend like this.” I show her an index finger with a slight bend. “My dad carved an arrow in it that points to the direction we need to go.”

  She shakes her head. Looks at me, her blue eyes blazing. So much for not thinking I’m crazy. “I know that tree’s around here somewhere,” I say. “If we find it, then it’s just a five-minute walk and we’re done.”

  This time the eyes narrow. It’s another look I know. I prepare myself for an explosion of angry hand signals, one of them being a middle finger. Instead, she points to my right leg, then brings her hand to her ear, two fingers extended out like she’s holding a phone.

  “You want my cell?”

  She nods.

  “There’s no signal. Plus, you don’t talk. How’s that going to work?”

  Astrid motions again for the phone, this time with attitude.

  I shrug, give her the iPhone.

  She holds it out with the display facing her, then nods for me to hold it there. I do as asked. While she wipes and taps, I search the trees for slinking shadows. Half a minute later Astrid nods for me to look. She had pulled up the notepad app and written:

  i think I saw it.

  “The tree?” I ask.

  She nods.

  I have my doubts. If she’s wrong that will be more time wasted that isn’t ours to waste. But the alternative is to keep wandering. “Show me,” I say.

  Astrid retraces our steps. I don’t like heading in a direction that could put us in direct contact with the driver. When we’re within eyesight of our resting spot, she stops, scans the area to our left, points to a blowdown leaning against another tree. It has a distinct bend near the top, just like I described. How she remembered a thing like that is a question I’ll save for later. For the moment I’m just thankful she did. I run to the tree. I have to brush away snow to find it, but the arrow is still there, carved deep into the bark, with BB underneath. That’s all good. The bad part is it’s pointing at the ground. Shit. Can’t we get a fucking break? I try to imagine which way it was pointing before it fell. The best I can do is make an educated guess based on the orientation of the other blowdowns and how the ground is ripped up around it. The arrow would point more or less toward a smaller mountain to the east of Gooseneck. I look at Astrid, who is standing beside me now. She’s watching me, her eyes alert and steady. But the color has drained from her face, and her lips are starting to match the blue of her eyes. She’s shivering under Ty’s hoodie. I point to the smaller mountain. “I’m pretty sure it’s that way, through the gap between those two trees.”

  She motions for the phone. I pull it out and hold it for her. She taps:

  what are u looking for now

  “A small rise with a big tree stump at the bottom.”

  Her eyebrows gather. She motions for the phone.

  where are u taking me

  There’s something about the question, the phrasing, where are u taking me, that sets an alarm off in my head. I decide that telling her
the truth, or at least all of it, is not my best option. “Someplace safe and dry. Let’s go.”

  She shakes her head. Motions for the phone. She taps and nods.

  WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME!!!

  I guess that’s her version of shouting.

  I say, “To a hideout my father found when he was elk hunting. That’s where my brother and I were headed before we found you. It has a wood floor, a wood-burning stove. Bookshelves. There’s even some old magazines from the 1950s to read.” I smile, hopefully not like a wolf. She stares at me. The shivering has spread to her entire body, almost to the point of convulsions. I hand her the iPhone. “Here. You keep it. When you have something to say, just show me.” She gives me that unreadable stare for a moment longer, then slips the phone in the pocket of the hoodie. We head off into the uncertain woods, hopefully for the last time today.

  LUSTER, OR.

  ELEVEN MONTHS AGO

  23

  Stellah pulled into a rest stop and parked next to a yapping dog with its small black nose poking out the barely open passenger window of a pickup truck.

  Ty had been sleeping. He peered out his window, rubbed his eyes, said, “Are we in Luster yet?”

  Stellah said, “About twenty minutes away. I need to pee and make some calls. If you guys need to use the restroom, this is a good time. But don’t wander off. Please. I really don’t need that now.”

  Ty rolled down his window, growled at the dog, which stirred it up even more.

  Cory said to Stellah from the backseat, “Go ahead. We’re good.”

  She grabbed her purse, pulled the keys from the ignition, and left.

  They watched her walk into the women’s room, phone to ear. Ty opened the glove box and poked around.

  “Ty? What the hell?” Cory said.

  “Shit. She doesn’t have one.”

  “One what?”

  “A gun, dumbass. This is America. Everyone has a gun in their car.”