Killdeer Dance

by Ronn Fryer

  Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. Very few wear bright, tight-fitting costumes and most have no superpowers whatsoever. Sometimes they’re deceptively small with blurry vision and just enough strength to move about on their own.

  For the last two hours Felicity had been lying motionless, little more than a furry lump in the folds of the towel. Any evidence of breathing was not perceptible. Even with no physician available, the prognosis was grim. Only the next weak heartbeat determined the thin line between life and death; her frail little body desperately needed nutrition.

  Arvy had been staring at the top edge of the clothes basket when something distracted his visual exploration – a sound. His sister had whimpered quietly, blindly begging for a biological mother that would never answer. Archduke Reginald Von Fox (his royal moniker shortened to Arvy), turned his head toward the faint cry, focusing on the sight of his twin.

  Something was not right.

  Their human mother had left two tiny bowls in the basket, one with water and the other filled with milky goodness. They’d both been spilled, of course, but nourishment was still available by simply suckling the wet spots. His sister, however, didn’t seem to understand. This vision thing was quite helpful, she really should open her eyes.

  Without hesitation, or even a theme song, the tiniest hero in the universe stumbled over the mountain range folds in the towel toward his sister. He might not have a flowing cape, but he had a mission and he had determination. He also had a tongue. Only the wildest guess might explain the workings of such a tiny brain. Whether intuition, instinct or actual intellect, it was nevertheless, compassion guiding his licking impulse.

  Although the Archduke started by massaging her ears, he diligently stuck to his task until every inch of Felicity, front to rear, had been attended. It was not easy work, but heroes are not quitters; and, in the end, his reward came in the form of a gaseous cloud of gratitude.

  With that problem solved, it was time – and precious little remained – to guide his sister to the closest wet spot. If only she would open her eyelids. Foxes, however, have a highly sensitive pinkish-gray appendage on the end of their face. With a series of licks on her snout, Arvy instructed his sibling to simply follow her nose.

  Nudged forward by her brother, the little female began her slow, desperate trek. A swift snail’s pace would have been a blessing. The tangy aroma of formula, however, offered allure far too compelling to ignore. In spite of odds no gambler would ever lay chips on, they persevered onward. Despite emerging complaint from tiny muscles, Felicity’s champion managed (or more correctly – fox-aged), to push his sister within six inches of salvation. Resting would be a blissful treat only after thick formula trickled down into her empty belly.

  Although logic and physics suggested abject pessimism, even dire situations eventually submit to diligence. Against hell and high water (or in this case, inches of moist rumpled towel), Felicity finally arrived at the dark, soggy spot. With a final nudge from the Archduke, her muzzle pushed deep into the fabric.

  Opening her toothless jaw, she began to suck.

  The heavens did not part, nor did a single trumpet sound. Nothing in the entire known world registered the slightest change – with one small exception. Cradled in a messy towel, inside a plastic clothes basket, placed on the floor of a rustic, knotty pine cabin, deep in the Northern reaches of a little Michigan village – a seven-ounce female fox lifted her head and burped. And, even though a ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds at that very moment, only those who believed in miracles would insist that it was an undeniable manifestation of God, sending down a well-deserved token of gratitude to her smallest hero.

  Chapter 18 – Insufficient Adjectives

  Tina recognized them the moment they walked in. She’d heard people talk about the hair on the back of their neck standing up, but assumed it was just an expression. Evidently, it wasn't. Now, even the air in the store seemed to turn foul.

  You couldn’t miss Bobby, already over six foot and easily going two-twenty. The only thing bigger than his stance was his mouth. The cashier thought she knew every adjective to describe an arrogant ass, but after the look he gave her on his way to the cooler, she knew none were sufficient.

  His sidekick was just as disgusting, although in an entirely different way. Nearly a head shorter than Bobby, Slacker gave you the creeps without uttering a word. The way his eyes slid over you made you want to shower.

  Tina didn’t need Olivia to ID these scumbags, she instantly knew who they were and what they were capable of. She reeled from the image of her friend’s battered face. It was nearly impossible to fathom something like that happening in a place she assumed to be so peaceful. Foote Site wasn’t Highland Park. It was hardly a hot-bed of crime; the chipmunks and squirrels here didn’t pack any heat. Unfortunately, neither did Ruthie.

  As the boys took turns perusing the beer selection and ogling Tina, she struggled with severe ambivalence. A twelve-gauge tucked behind the counter might help alieve her animosity; but even if her purse was pretty anemic at the end of the month, she really didn’t relish the idea of free room and board for the next twenty-to-life.

  Bobby pulled a six-pack of Bud from the cooler and headed toward the counter with Slacker, ever the faithful puppy, at his side. Damn, Tina thought resentfully, any other time the stupid bell hanging over the front door would be ringing like the last defense in an exorcism. She’d have gladly given away half the store for one new customer. Still, even with her pulse running double-time, she’d be damned if she’d let them intimidate her. She may not have been any bigger than Olivia, but her nails were every bit as sharp as her tongue.

  With his perpetual smirk, Bobby plopped the beer down on the worn Formica countertop and scanned the cigarettes on the shelf behind her. “Marlboro Lights, soft pack,” he ordered, as if cockiness was a virtue.

  “ID?” Tina asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

  The darling of the local Friday Night Lights held her stare and all but spat out, “Don’t give me any shit!”

  Beyond fear, Tina fought an overwhelming surge of anger. Still, there was no way she’d give them the satisfaction.

  “Sor-ry,” she said, sarcastically sweet, “but you have to be twenty-one.”

  Unsure how to react, Slacker, turned to his quarterback as if back in a huddle. There really wasn’t much the girl could do besides call the cops; and, after all, it was just her word against theirs. Even so, he didn’t care to push it. Bobby, however, harbored no such reservations.

  “How about I drop my pants?” he asked, “I got plenty to convince you of my – age!”

  Tina feigned a look of sadness. “Oh, darn,” she said, “I’m afraid I don’t have a magnifying glass.”

  Bobby gave her a look capable of cutting stone.

  Despite the girl’s defiant stance, his stare sent a flash of panic through her. She desperately wished that someone, anyone; maybe a super hero like Wolverine, would suddenly appear. Unfortunately, providence can be rather hard of hearing. Even tough guys called for backup, but silent pleas only seemed to get answered on the Lifetime Network. Unfortunately, her present dilemma was hardly a made-for-television movie. Besides, the majority of big-screen comic book warriors were probably all lazing poolside in Malibu anyway.

  Said providence, however, deaf as it may appear, evidently despises predictability. At that very moment, Ruthie’s son, Cal, emerged from the back room. And, although the exotic metal in his body held his postwar legs together rather than propelling from the back of his hands, Tina could not have been more relieved had Hugh Jackman charged in with glistening claws extended.

  “Hey Bobby,” Cal said, nonchalantly. “How’s coach?”

  Bobby yanked his glare from Tina, acknowledging the veteran’s surprise appearance. Preferring to stay on the good side of Cal, who just happened to be coach’s brother, Bobby nodded amiably. Beyond shattering the bones in his leg, the Humvee explosion took a significant portion of Calvin’s
eyesight. Since it was hard to tell just how much the war vet actually saw, Bobby waited until Cal came closer before answering.

  “He’s good,” Bobby finally answered.

  “Gonna work you hard this year?” Cal asked.

  Bobby again smirked, reassuring him, “I can handle anything he dishes out.”

  Cal hobbled over to Tina, standing protectively beside her at the counter. Although Tina had never previously had the pleasure of Bobby’s company, Cal knew him all too well. And, although the draftee had never once flinched during battle, he was still a firm believer in charming a venomous snake whenever possible.

  Far less than pleased with the haughty little cashier, Bobby decided to avoid throwing a pic. With a nod to Slacker, he turned toward the door, bitterly leaving the six-pack stranded on the counter. He did not, however, leave empty handed. Outside, he surveyed the parking lot, clutching the souvenir he’d just slipped in his pocket.

  Pointing to the only vehicle besides his El Camino, he directed Slacker toward Tina’s faded blue Le Sabre. The sidewall of the first tire was pierced without much effort. The rear passenger black-wall, however, was not so easily dispatched.

  “Damn piece of shit!” Bobby cursed.

  “Yeah,” Slacker agreed, “I’d be embarrassed to drive a freakin’ Buick!”

  The look that the quarterback gave his friend bordered on sympathy. “Not the car, ass-wipe.” Displaying the broken blade of his freshly pilfered utensil, Bobby muttered, “This worthless piece of Chink technology!”

  Chapter 19 – Pieces of the Sky

  Tina greeted Olivia with a prolonged embrace and a verbal barrage.

  “You’re not going to believe...”

  As eager as she was to start the little tour they’d planned, this just couldn’t wait. Besides, they couldn’t possibly leave until she touched up Olivia’s face. Not that she minded in the least. She just wondered how the poor thing had ever managed without her. In all fairness, though, concealing the remnants of a sucker punch was challenging.

  Livvy listened patiently as her friend sat her down and began working on her face. As Tina continued her emotional tirade, however, Olivia said little. Sparing no detail about the slime-bags’ visit, the incensed cashier finally concluded with Cal’s surprise appearance and the insidious reason why they needed to take the truck today. With precious little room in her budget for a new tire, the Sabre would be sitting forlornly at Ruthie’s for the foreseeable future. Fortunately, Tina’s sister had agreed to exchange occasional taxi service for babysitting duties and the cabin wasn’t very far out of her way.

  As Tina rambled on, Livvy remained quiet, sitting obediently still, while trying her best to smile sympathetically without disturbing her eyelids.

  Naturally expecting commiseration, Tina found her friend’s silence confusing at first. Halfway through the eyeshadow salvage, however, she chastised her own insensitivity. Although the confrontation with those bullies was a scary adventure for her, it had been nothing less than traumatic for Olivia. Even if the dark areas about the girl’s eyes were starting to fade, there was no telling how long internal bruises would linger. It was probably the mere mention of those horrible names, and not the pressure of her brush, that made her subject wince.

  As if offering contrition, Tina focused even more meticulously on Olivia’s face, working her magic until the girl could’ve passed for a Seventeen cover model; assuming the feature story was on how to disguise abuse.

  The actual secret to Tina’s artistry emanated from her optimistic outlook. With a few understandable exceptions, she searched for everyone’s best attributes. That paradigm carried over into her approach to cosmetics. Rather than focus on the negative, she directed her efforts enhancing her subject’s natural assets, and Olivia was blessed with more than a few.

  Despite the girl’s career choice, she had a baby-soft complexion, strong cheek bones, and thick brows that arched gracefully over hazel-green eyes. The bruises obviously couldn’t be ignored, but plastering them with excessive concealer would only draw unwanted attention. Accentuating her attributes, however, subtly pulled the eye away from the remaining carnage.

  Utilizing only mascara, eyeliner, and her smoky-eye pallet, Tina employed her unique talents to frame Livvy’s verdant eyes, creating an alluring deception. Brushing just enough highlight over her upper check for subtle contrast, she finished by applying a shade of lip gloss somewhere between peach and bubblegum.

  Despite her vast arsenal, Tina strived to be a minimalist. Like a haiku poet, she worked to coax the perfect image from the least amount of cosmetic syllables. The ultimate goal was to showcase the final effect with no awareness of any makeup at all. Drag queens might be intriguing, but only a rank beginner tried to emulate their look.

  Due to the cabin’s pathetic lighting, Tina assessed her completed canvas from a number of different angles. After she was completely satisfied, she smiled and began gathering her brushes. Handing Livvy a mirror for approval, the beautician subtly abandoned the previous topic. One subject was always safe. “What about your children?”

  Marveling at the amazing improvement, Olivia, responded absently, “They’ll be okay.” Then, catching herself shamelessly engrossed once again, she set the mirror down quickly. The kits – yes. She’d neglected to give Tina a recent update on the kits.

  “Arvy’s opened his eyes.”

  “Ohhh,” Tina cooed.

  “And,” Livvy added quickly, “Felicity is eating!”

  Tina, of course, was delighted by the good news. Beyond compassion for the little female’s welfare, she was extremely relieved for Olivia’s sake. Consoling her friend through one tragedy had been hard enough. Tough as the Livvy seemed, losing one of her babies would have been devastating.

  Hardly an authority on close family ties, Tina nevertheless understood the connection. The kits were adorable, and their needy yelps helped fill the silence of long, lonely days. Besides, there was no denying how much the sight of them, cradled in your hand, pulled on your heartstrings. Admittedly, Teans loved the little shits too, just as long as she didn’t have to put up with the hassle.

  Breaking Tina’s silent revere, Livvy said, “Yeah, she had me really scared.”

  “They’ll be eating you out of house and home pretty soon,” Tina teased.

  “No doubt,” Olivia agreed. “They’ve already outgrown the shoebox. I had to replace it with my clothes basket. Now that Arvy can see, he thinks he’s Marco Polo, exploring the new world.”

  Despite feeling unworthy of Tina’s artwork, Olivia gushed praise at her friend a third time, then got up to heat some formula. As usual, she fed Arvy first, focusing on Felicity only after Marco finished his blissful burping. He was easy.

  His sister, however, still required a great deal of patience. Even though the little female had begun eating, she was hardly out of the woods. If only she had her brother’s appetite. Suspecting that Felicity’s stomach might again be a little gassy, Olivia massaged the sides of her tummy. “C’mon sweetie,” she coaxed.

  While Olivia fussed his sister, Tina picked up Arvy and brought him to her face. His little eyes were definitely open. As his tongue busied itself licking the remnants of lunch from his whiskers, his root-beer orbs stared at her intently, trying to identify this strange new creature. Even though his focus was improving, he still didn’t recognize this flat face. It was somehow different from his other, other mother.

  Even if he was starting to get the hang of this vision thing, he still had to move his head to take everything in. It was a big world. And, eye muscles, like any appendage, required practice to control. It would have helped immensely to have his biological mother there to model such nuisances; her eyes set deep within the furry bridge of her snout like they should be.

  Survival, however, depended on adaptation. He’d do his best to comprehend this new human with the same hairless snout and oddly placed eyes, even if the color of those big saucers was baffling – blue? Hardly an expert on
the cosmic spectrum, he couldn’t even begin to guess how she managed to fill those round marbles with little pieces of the sky.

  Meanwhile, using a variation of her dispensing technique (with fingers simultaneously massaging its tiny throat muscles), Olivia had managed to get a spoonful of formula down the female’s gullet. It was a good start, but sustenance was strength, something she desperately needed. Kissing the top of Felicity’s head, Livvy returned the little vixen to the clothes basket and contradicted her original decision. “Maybe I shouldn’t go, after all.”

  “Yes you can,” Tina reassured her. “She’ll be fine, and.....”

  She’d started to explain the workings of fate to Olivia: no matter how much you sacrificed, some things are simply beyond your control – what will be, destiny and all that – but instantly thought better of it. Kindness, she reminded herself, is an honesty not spoken.

  “...and you need to get out.”

  Struggling with divergent guilt, Olivia finally acquiesced. After everything Tina had done, disappointing her wasn’t really an option. Besides, her friend was a force all her own, she didn’t recognize the word ‘no,’ and despite the short time they’d known each other, she was Olivia’s best, and only, real friend.

  Rarely one to fill the air needlessly, Tina, nevertheless, started to gab as soon as they climbed into the truck. Chatter would be a good way to steer Olivia’s mind away from gloomy possibilities. As if in agreement, the old Chevy’s engine cranked and sputtered, the racket overpowering any ability to contemplate much of anything.

  Passing over the Rea Road Bridge, they scanned the clear water of the Au Sable. Graceful as ever, it still possessed a current strong enough to garner deep respect. Tina had spent countless hours floating down the river, either to whirlpool, or all the way to Oscoda; entire days spent splashing, laughing with friends, getting sunburnt, and often as not, out-drinking the fish gliding below them.