I sit down beside him, and he immediately moves farther away.
“What is that?” I ask.
He holds something in his hands. As he shuffles, trying to hide whatever it is he’s got, loose papers flutter onto the ground between us. Cooper scoops them up, but not before I recognize what it is.
“Where did you get that money?”
Cooper narrows his eyes at me and then shoves the bills into his pocket, tossing a decaying wallet on the ground. “I found it. It’s mine.”
“You stole it.”
Cooper stands. “That pile of bones wasn’t using it anymore. Think of it as payment for risking my life for you.”
When I study him, he squirms under my gaze.
“What?” The dangerously low way Cooper says this sends a cold prickle across my neck. I wonder how safe I really am with him. Maybe I’d be better off by myself.
“I don’t care about your money, all right? I just need to get help for my family. We should keep going.”
Cooper gestures for me to lead the way. I take up Stark again, ignoring the pain, and we plod along the edge of the forest without looking at each other. I keep peering ahead uneasily. There’s still no sign of a highway or road, or even a trail. We should’ve been there by now.
As we walk, I can’t handle the silence. “How much money is that?” I ask.
“I knew it. Money is all anyone cares about, including you. You’re looking for a bribe, aren’t you? Fine. How much to keep you quiet about it?”
I keep walking calmly. “I wasn’t thinking that at all. Just, I wonder how no one found him. When did he fall into the crevice? Why didn’t anyone look for him? It’s a mystery, don’t you think?”
“What do I care?” Cooper trips on a root while trying to keep pace with me and curses.
“And I wonder why the wallet and money didn’t decompose but the body did,” I say.
“In open air, the body would only take, like, a year,” Cooper says. “But the money was protected in the wallet. It’s really not that big a mystery.”
With an uneasy feeling, I study him out of the corner of my eye. Why does he know how long a body takes to decompose?
The pines here block out the sun. When we get closer to the edge of the forest I see where the sun is, and it’s much lower than I thought. We’ve been walking ever since Cooper got me out of the crevice.
As we hike, a subtle sound breaks through my thoughts.
“Stop!” I hold out a hand. “Do you hear that?” We look at each other, straining to listen over the wind through the trees.
“Water!” We both turn and race toward the sound. I think it’s coming from our right, but Cooper runs to the left. I crash through a large clump of willows. When I emerge on the other side, I’m beside a nearly dried-up stream. The water gurgles over rocks and collects in a little pool.
“Cooper, over here!” I hope Stark will have a bath, but she ignores the water after hopping off my fist.
We both plunge our cupped hands in and pull up handfuls of delicious, cool water. It is sweet and glorious. I’m a sponge, with all my nooks and crannies filling out. If I drink enough, maybe it will fill the emptiness in my belly. But the water only makes me hungrier.
“Doesn’t the bird drink?” Cooper asks.
“They get water from meat. But they usually love to bathe if they feel like they’re in a safe environment.” I sit back and wipe my mouth. Water soaks the top of my hoodie and the bottoms of my sleeves. The filthy bandage on my arm is soaked too and is sticking to my skin, but I’m afraid to mess with it. I don’t want to look at it just now. We sit for a moment, absorbing the water. My mouth finally feels normal.
Reaching into my waistband at the small of my back, I pull out the empty water bottle and fill it. “I wish we had another bottle to carry the water in. I don’t know when we’re going to find more.”
Then I remember the Ziploc bag the gummies were in. I pull it out and dip the bag into the water. When I zip it closed, it’s like a square water balloon. I carefully hold it up to inspect for any holes. No leaks.
“This will work until we get to—” I’m interrupted by a scream behind me.
I whirl around in time to see Cooper do a little dance. His knees come up in rapid succession while he looks down in horror.
“What?”
“Snake! Yeah. It’s just a snake. Snuck up on me.” Cooper sniffs and flicks his hair out of his eyes. Once he has his cool again, he puts on an expression of indifference like a cloak. He picks up a stick and spreads the grasses with it, peering at the snake.
“We can eat that,” he says.
“Yikes. Watch it—that’s a prairie rattlesnake,” I say. “It’s late in the season for them to be out.”
“So we can’t eat it?”
“They’re venomous, not poisonous. We can eat it, as long as we don’t let it bite us.”
Cooper picks up a rock and hurls it at the snake. It coils up, rattles, and slithers into a hole between some rocks. The speed it can move makes me want to lift both feet at the same time. I watch from a distance.
“What’s wrong?” Cooper asks. “You afraid of snakes?”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just…well. Yeah, I may be afraid of snakes.”
“This sucks,” Cooper says, peering into the place the snake disappeared. “Feels like forever since I ate anything.”
With the water packed in my bag, I notice how much heavier it is. And how much weaker I feel. We need to find something to eat. But even more than that, we need to find the highway.
As we continue through the trees a squirrel scolds us from above.
“Hey. We could eat squirrels,” Cooper says, looking up. “You don’t have a trap in that pack, do you?”
“We could make a trap with the willows over there,” I say. “In Outdoor Classroom we once made willow chairs by weaving the bendy twigs together. I wasn’t that impressed with them, but Gavin was so proud of his that he painted his name on it. It’s still on our porch.” The memory tugs at my heart. I glance at the sky. “Except we don’t have time.”
Cooper pulls out something that had been clipped along the inside of his front pocket. I hear a snick as he uses his thumb to flick out a thick, pointy blade. He slices at the willows and then stops when he catches me staring at him. He grins wickedly and flips the knife in the air, catching it by the black handle.
“What?” he asks innocently.
“What are you doing?” I try not to sound concerned about the fact that he’s had a knife on him this whole time.
“I’m making a spear. I’m going to stab us some dinner. Someone has to think around here.”
While Cooper sharpens a long willow, I transfer Stark to my shoulder on top of the padding of my pack strap. I can’t keep carrying her with my injured arm. I have to improvise. She’s not sure what I’m doing at first, but then she shuffles on. I smile at the novelty of having a bird on my shoulder. I feel her grip tighten, but her talons don’t poke through. It’s way easier to carry her this way. She leans in and plucks at my hair as a bittersweet wave of emotion hits me.
“What a good girl. That’s it, Stark. Are you finally telling me you love me too?”
Cooper stalks past us, brandishing his new spear. “You enjoying yourself, Crazy?”
“What?”
He hurtles the spear at the squirrel above us, but it scampers away easily. Cooper screams at it and then stomps his foot. I’m suddenly afraid of his mood swing.
“Freaking idiot! This whole thing is so lame. What do you think—that we’re just tiptoeing through the tulips out here? I can’t believe I’m out here starving to death…with you.” Cooper grabs the spear where it fell, and savagely throws it again into the trees. “I never should’ve followed that stupid bird.”
“I’m not an idiot! How could you forget that this is your fault? If you didn’t steal our phone—”
“I’ve finally got enough money for bus fare.” Cooper continues ranting as
if he doesn’t hear me. “But I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with some moron who gets us lost and talks to birds!”
His words crash into me and make me face the fear I’ve been avoiding all day. Did I get us lost?
“You don’t have any idea where we are, do you?” Cooper sees my expression and jabs a finger at me. “You think I need you to survive out here?” His chest heaves as if he’s been running. I see the tension across his shoulders. The look in his eyes is once again familiar. Like a fearful hawk.
I am calm. I am safety. I keep my voice even. “You can leave and go wherever you want, you know. Anytime.” I raise my chin and meet his gaze.
He stares at me for a long moment. “I guess we should stay together for now.” He rubs his face. “You say you don’t care about the money, but I don’t believe you. You want some of it, don’t you?”
I’m about to argue when I get a better idea and change tactics. “Okay, you’re right. I think I should have half.”
Cooper snorts and then studies me. He kneels and dumps the money out of his pockets. He shuffles through it and pulls out a few bills. “I’ll give you this if you get me out of here.”
We kneel in the pine needles to count the money, but then I notice how dark it’s getting. With growing horror, I realize that the sun is setting. We aren’t going to find the highway in the dark. I’m going to have to spend another night out here. But this time with Cooper.
I think I prefer the skeleton.
Darkness falls quickly in the forest. I can’t believe Dad is stuck in the van for another night. When I left I’d never have thought it would take me two days to get help.
We continue west. Cooper trips and crashes into some brush. A string of curses erupts out of him.
“We have to wait until morning,” he says. “I can’t see a thing.”
I glance around at the natural clearing we’re in. A thick stand of pines and Douglas firs shelter us from the north wind. “We can camp here.”
I place Stark on a flat-topped rock nearly as tall as my shoulders. She rouses and begins to preen. At least she’s happy, if hungry.
“I thought birds perch in trees,” Cooper says.
“At the center, we use blocks for falcons because their toes need to spread out. Here, though, she’s free to go anywhere she wants, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Cooper shrugs.
With the sun down, the cold creeps in. I teach Cooper how to make a fire with the matches I have. He acts as if he’s done this before, but I can see from the way he collects green branches that he has no idea.
“You have to find dry, dead wood for the fire. If you pull living branches off the trees, they’ll be too wet to burn.”
“I know that. These are for making myself a tent. If you think I’m sleeping out in the open with you, you’re crazier than I thought.”
He’s right. We should build a lean-to for shelter. I glance at the dark sky. It’s still warmer than normal for this time of year, but weather can change so quickly in Montana. If only I had brought my winter jacket. I keep warm gathering wood for the night, but it’s exhausting. I can’t imagine trying to make a lean-to. And I can’t do it all one-armed.
I slump next to the fire. The flames flick away the shadows around us. The snapping of sparks popping into the air sounds friendly and somehow calms my anger at Cooper.
Longing for something to bring me closer to my family, I pull out the paper from my pocket. When I unfold the whole game, I read Gavin’s little fortunes under each number.
You will suffer an unfortunate accident involving a turnip truck. I smile and have to close my eyes against the wave of homesickness. It feels like so long ago when Gavin read this to me. A different me.
You will fall, openmouthed, into a vat of wet scabs. I almost giggle at Gavin’s sick sense of humor. Though falling into that crevice yesterday was no joke, and I shudder to remember it. I fold the paper again before slipping it back into my pocket.
Cooper and I both huddle around the flames. They’re mesmerizing. People have been staring at fires for as long as they’ve been hunting with falcons. The fire makes me feel connected to the past and to the wilderness. I glance at Cooper and see he’s staring at the flames as if he feels the wilderness too. It seems to soothe him. We sit in silence, studying the colors and shapes as if they could tell us how far we are from the highway or where to find food. It’s just as cold as it was last night in Dead Skeleton Crevice. But at least we have fire.
“I wonder what my dad and brother are doing,” I say. “I’m hungry. They must be hungry.”
“We’re all hungry,” Cooper says softly.
“Yeah, but I feel like it’s making me weak, like it’s messing up my brain. I could laugh or cry right now. I can’t decide which.”
“Whatever you do, don’t cry.”
I glance at Stark, starving on her rock. “Stark is too light. She’ll be too weak to eat, just like when I first got her.”
“How much does a bird eat?” Cooper asks.
“She needs a half pound of food a day.” I pause. “What am I doing, trying to be a falconer? I can’t take care of such a regal bird. I can’t even take care of my family.”
“You have to take care of yourself first. That’s my plan.”
Stark shakes her head, and I copy her. We don’t want to listen to Cooper’s strategy. Tomorrow, I save my family.
“Where were you last night?” I ask.
“A good long way from here.” The night has tamed the anger that Cooper flings around. His expression is softer now, as if he’s sorry for calling me an idiot. I’m reminded again of Chaos, with her prickly attitude. Aunt Amy’s apprentice Bret is still learning how to handle her. But I know how to calm the hawk. You have to let her bate. Let her flap her wings and shriek for a moment, then she’ll come around.
“Where is your family?” I ask. “Where are you from?”
“Nowhere. I don’t live anywhere anymore.” Cooper abruptly turns his back to me across the firelight. “Go to sleep.”
I nod to myself. The sooner I sleep, the sooner I can be up and out of here. I lie down between Stark and the fire. I inch as close to the fire as I can get without burning my clothes. It isn’t just for the warmth. Sleeping out in the open without a sleeping bag to snuggle into, not even a tent, makes me feel so exposed. I wish for the comfort of pulling my soft quilt over me. My ball cap will have to do. I pull it from the pack and then snug it on before drawing my hood up.
The front of my jeans and my neck are warmed when I face the fire, but my back is unprotected. I reach down and pull loose pine branches over me like a blanket. It’s impossible to get comfortable on bare ground. I glance at Cooper’s form, curled up in his thin windbreaker. He’s far from the fire. He shivers and wraps his arms tighter around himself.
“You should come closer to the warmth of the fire.” I can’t help worrying about him, no matter how awful he is.
He mumbles something but doesn’t move. I push myself up to see him better, but my concern for Cooper shifts to myself when I notice the pain in my arm. It throbs with an insistent ache that doesn’t feel like normal wound pain.
A falcon’s talons and beak carry all sorts of nasty things. What if my arm is becoming infected right now? Punctures need to be kept clean. I think of my antibiotics in the van. I can almost feel the poison running through my bloodstream.
My dreams are full of monsters with bony fingers making my blood black.
I wake to birds spread out in the branches of the conifers. The symphony they sing for us almost makes me smile. Then I remember why I’m here, and a fire spreads through my chest.
In the dawning light I glance over at Stark, who is staring at me. When our eyes meet, she pips, and her meaning couldn’t be clearer. She needs food. I have no more tidbits hiding in my pack.
Cooper is next to the blackened fire pit. How can he still be sleeping with all this noise?
“Wake up, Cooper, we’re going to g
et to the highway.”
“Flog off,” he mumbles.
I’m not sure what that means, but I don’t think it’s nice.
Cooper stretches and sits up. “Man, I’m starving.” His shaggy hair is matted to one side of his head. Faint stubble dots his upper lip. He rubs his stomach as if it hurts.
My body feels stiff from sleeping on the ground, and my hoodie is damp. At least there’s no frost. I stretch and pull my cap off to run my fingers through my hair. It’s a big, frizzy, and tangled mop. As I pull my hat back on, I realize my mouth tastes like something furry crawled in during the night. I wish I could brush my teeth.
I check my bandage. When I try to pull it off, dried blood makes it stick to my skin. I should have taken it off last night at the pool.
“Come on, let’s go back to get a drink before we take off,” I say.
We aren’t far from the stream. When we find it, I bend over and drink my fill first, then let the water run over my arm with the dirty bandage. I grit my teeth at the harsh sting.
Cooper looks over my shoulder just as I pull the bandage off. “Whoa. What did you do? That doesn’t look good.”
He’s right. The skin is swollen and red around the punctures. Some kind of nasty-looking goo is seeping out. My whole arm feels hot. Since I don’t have any clean bandages to wrap it in, I just pull my sleeve down over it. “Don’t worry about it.”
Gathering my pack, I check to make sure the Ziploc bag has kept the water. We head west, toward where the GPS showed the highway. It has to be there.
The sky is a pale pink, growing brighter by the minute. Stark holds her body tense, and her feathers are slicked down hard as she perches on my shoulder. She’s light and hungry. I’m full of shame that I have nothing for her. My own belly feels turned in on itself. I’ve never in my life gone so long without eating. I didn’t know it could hurt this much.
As we walk, I try to remember exactly how many days you can live without food. Dad said food wasn’t as important as water, but it’s starting to feel like it is. My head pounds with each step.
Falcon Wild Page 6