Fly by Night

by Andrea Thalasinos

  “Come here.” He reached out his arm toward her and lowered her down onto the floor.

  She curled up and rested her head on his chest.

  “God, I missed you,” he said, pulling her closer. Her lips brushed the side of his neck and she smiled, the skin smelled good. Junior then began licking her lips.

  “Uch.” She pulled away, rolling onto her side as she wiped her mouth. “Junior!?”

  Bryce then rolled onto his side and looked into Amelia’s eyes. She had to look away. It was daylight with no place in which to recede. So far they’d made love at night. She’d never looked into him with all the nuances of a lover in this way.

  He took her chin and turned her face toward him.

  “Place looks nice.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “You didn’t see it before.”

  “Didn’t have to.”

  A tear escaped from her eyes without even crying, then another.

  His arm surrounded her and he pulled her close.

  Just then Lacey nosed Amelia in the butt.

  “Jeeze.” She jerked back.

  “‘Everybody’s trying to get into the act,’” he quoted the comedian Jimmy Durante.

  Just then the pup jumped over the two of them and started jabbing Bryce in the rear too.

  Junior then wedged his face between the two of them, alternating between licking Amelia’s nostrils then Bryce’s before Amelia moved him.

  “Yuk, enough,” she said, just as Lacey poked Bryce again, making him jump.

  Amelia started laughing and couldn’t stop to the degree that tears wetted her face. She rolled away still laughing.

  “So you think that’s funny, do you?” he said and rolled her onto her back. On his knees he crouched over her, supporting his weight on his elbows as he lowered himself down.

  He kissed her once softly and then they searched out each other’s mouths like familiar objects that they’d lost somewhere along the way but had just now found.

  He circled his arms around her as he stood and lifted her.

  “Bedroom’s back there,” she said.

  “I’ll find it.” He winked.

  38

  A few weeks after Bryce’s arrival Charlotte invited them over for brunch on Saturday, the first week in February.

  As they pulled up to the house Amelia noticed that TJ’s truck was gone.

  “Bet ya a beer at the Rumline he’s drummed up some lame excuse not to be around.”

  Bryce shot her a look.

  As they parked and walked toward the house, Amelia noticed that a few cars and trucks sped by on the reservation road. Small, portable flashing lights had been placed on their roofs as if deputized.

  “Hi.” Charlotte met them at the front door, hurrying as she slipped into her coat, seemingly on her way out. “Got an emergency right now. Just left you a message.”

  “What’s going on?” Amelia asked.

  “Poachers on rez lands.” She lowered her head. “Viola says there’s a wolf caught in a snare not far from here.”

  “Still alive?” Amelia asked.

  Charlotte looked at her and sighed as if not wanting to know the answer either way. “I’m on my way.” She rushed toward the side door to TJ’s office.

  “Can we help?” Amelia asked.

  “Just have to grab IV bags of fluids, blood,” she said. “You can help carry stuff to my truck.”

  Bryce opened the side door as Charlotte walked down the shoveled path to the office.

  “Maybe you two can join the volunteers and help locate the other traps and snares,” she said. “TJ will show you how to search out traps under the deep snow.”

  “Where is this?” Amelia asked.

  “Oh, down around the point, not far,” Charlotte said as she unlocked TJ’s office door. “Near Sand Bay. There’s a wide surface area—some open fields, other dense woods,” she said and began pulling open cabinets and drawers, opening refrigerators and pulling bags of blood as she piled them into two carrying cases.

  “Can I help find something?”

  She turned and smiled at Amelia.

  “Thanks but I know what I’m looking for,” Charlotte said. “Maybe later.”

  Bryce crossed his arms and sighed.

  “Very deep snow in the woods,” Charlotte said as she gathered the vet supplies. “Very remote area too. Who knows how many traps they set or when they were set.”

  Charlotte piled the carriers in Bryce’s arms. She locked the door and then headed to her van.

  “Follow me,” the woman said over her shoulder. “Now you get to see what your brother does.”

  Charlotte then turned to face them. She took a deep breath, waiting before speaking. “It may not be pretty.”

  “We’re used to not pretty,” Bryce said. Amelia stood by his side.

  * * *

  They heard wolf howls just as they parked behind a line of vehicles pulled up alongside the road. Sounds of howling, yelping, and panic grew louder as they approached on a path tromped down by many boots. Charlotte led the way.

  Amelia spotted TJ giving quick instructions to a group as to how to search for traps and snares under the deep snow using a pole. He demonstrated and then cautioned.

  “Triggering one can shatter your foot,” he warned. “So go slowly, step gingerly, first poling down into small areas at a time.”

  “What about the people who did this?” one of the men yelled.

  TJ looked at the man for a few seconds. His eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry about them.”

  Everyone was quiet for a few moments.

  “The goal is to get to the wolf quickly and without injury,” he said and paused once he spotted Amelia. “And clear out the traps.”

  He motioned for the volunteers to begin their search.

  People turned.

  TJ walked toward Amelia after the group dispersed and asked in a quiet voice, “What are you doing here?”

  “Charlotte told us,” Amelia said.

  TJ looked at her. “We’ve got this covered.”

  “But I want to help,” Amelia said, turning toward the sounds of howling.

  “Stay out of this, Amelia,” he said. “This is not your area. It’s dangerous work. You’re leaving soon anyway so back off.”

  He hurried off, carrying tools as his staff walked alongside him.

  She looked at him. You’re leaving soon? What a thing to say. Her face burned with humiliation. A few staffers turned away, some pretended to check their phones, one demonstrated the pole technique of locating traps to those just arriving, others sauntered away to avoid listening.

  Amelia rushed up to him. “What’s with you?”

  “All these people live here, it’s our struggle, our home. We’ve been here hundreds of years. You’re just taken in by some liberal bullshit thing.”

  “What the fuck is your problem?” She shoved him.

  Bryce stepped up.

  “I came up here to find you, get to know you,” she said. “I’m not trying to be some pain in the ass little sister and you’re really pissing me off.”

  “Well, good.” He turned his back and walked away.

  “You’re a fucking asshole,” she yelled. She reached down, made a snowball, and threw it, hitting him square in the back. He didn’t flinch.

  “No wonder my father left,” she hollered. “You’re a jerk and you got what you deserve, asshole.”

  At that TJ turned around and came walking at her.

  Charlotte quickly separated the two, striding toward her husband and pulling him aside. He pushed away her arm.

  “I don’t have time for this shit,” TJ said. “That wolf is sitting in a minefield, every second counts.”

  Just then there was a yelp of pain and a long mournful howl.

  Amelia turned and took off running toward the cry. She lifted her knees and hopped through the snow, her heart pounding as the cry drew her as if it had been Alex calling for her.

  “Amelia,” TJ yelled. “Stop.
We don’t know where the traps are.”

  “Amelia,” Bryce yelled.

  But she ran like a shot across the field, her legs aching with fatigue as she kept lifting them forward, undaunted by the threat of anything as she ran toward the woods and the sound of the cries.

  “What the hell is she doing?” TJ yelled to Bryce as they both followed in her steps, using the pole to poke through the snow on all sides to spring traps.

  “She’s doing what she always does,” Bryce said with an air of resignation, out of breath as they charged in her footsteps, their pace slowing in the deep snow the farther they went.

  “That’s fucking crazy.”

  “That’s your sister.”

  * * *

  She didn’t know what she’d do when she found the wolf, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that she had to witness, had to comfort, had to sit with, had to offer whatever humble assistance she could.

  Through the trees she heard the clank of a heavy chain. As she approached, the gray wolf was caught by the face around the neck. It was lying down on its side, its body emaciated and Amelia could see the outline of its pelvis through the dense fur. Its tail moved so she knew it was alive.

  Amelia squatted and went down on her knees. Her chest was heaving from running in the deep snow.

  The wolf barely opened its eyes, two shiny slits.

  “Oh my God, my God,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” She quickly looked at the apparatus, not having a clue as to how to release it.

  She looked up.

  A black wolf stood watching—the long knock-kneed stance, thick coal-black ruff of his winter coat. Amelia hadn’t noticed him until his yellow eyes met hers. They were the color of Junior and Jethro’s.

  The snow had been tamped down. It was soaked with blood and the smell of rotting meat.

  The black wolf then walked back to lie down next to his mate. With his head on her flank, he nuzzled her. She closed her eyes at his touch.

  Amelia turned and called as loud as she could, “TJ,” not thinking they’d just follow her tracks. “I found them. They’re here.”

  “We’re almost there,” he called back.

  “They’re coming,” she said to the wolves. “They’ll help. I promise they will.”

  Alongside his mate were offerings of deer meat, only her face and jaw were clamped shut in the trap. The black wolf didn’t understand but nevertheless kept bringing fresh food, setting it near her face. The only thing he could do was watch her slowly starve. She emitted high-pitched whimpers with her jaws firmly clamped shut by the snare. She lay ready for death to take her.

  TJ, Bryce, and his wildlife staff caught up. The black wolf stood, moving to block access to his mate. His guard hairs rose in a defensive posture until picking up TJ’s scent.

  “It’s okay, buddy,” TJ said and crouched down. “That’s B-34, the alpha male. Looks like B-33, his mate, is snared.” He reached out his hand. The black wolf didn’t move. “It’s okay,” he said in the kindest voice, so kind Amelia didn’t recognize it.

  The wolf paced, and wouldn’t let the men near.

  “Go on.” TJ stepped toward him to chase him away. He clapped his hands and moved menacingly toward him. The wolf darted into the trees and stood watching.

  “Jimmy,” TJ called to his coworker.

  The chain was instantly cut.

  “We know this pair,” TJ said. The biologists gathered around. “If her neck’s broken, releasing the snare will kill her.”

  TJ slid his hands under the wolf’s head to brace her neck.

  One of his assistants cut through the snare and released the steel claw. The animal was free. The wolf lay there as TJ and the other biologists examined her.

  Amelia took off her jacket. She spread it down under the wolf’s head.

  Charlotte caught up to them with the fluids.

  Carefully they lifted the animal’s body, supporting her head and face and lay her down on Amelia’s coat. She’d done that with a coat once before with an orphan baby seal after its mother had gotten eaten by a walrus on the Labrador coast.

  “Jaw’s broken,” TJ said as he examined the animal. “Maybe other bones in her face.”

  He looked at the other biologists.

  “Neck seems okay, though,” TJ said, watching as the gray wolf moved her legs. “Severely dehydrated—that plus the shock of moving her might kill her before we even reach the van.”

  Charlotte began to inject fluids under the skin in the wolf’s hip. “This’ll get her started,” she said to Amelia. “Gotta combat the dehydration, prevent shock if we can.”

  “How long’s she been here?” Bryce asked.

  TJ shrugged. “A few days, maybe a week.” He pulled out his phone and tossed it over to Darrell, his assistant. “Get Evan on the phone. See if his plane’s available.”

  The animal whimpered in high-pitched sounds when they moved her. Her mate stood near and gave off a pitiful cry. Every hair stood up on Amelia’s body. She understood family. She understood love.

  Amelia was overcome with distress.

  TJ looked around. It was a long hike to the road.

  “Here.” Bryce helped lift the wolf by grasping Amelia’s coat to raise the animal to lay it down on a canvas stretcher.

  TJ and his associate then lifted the stretcher by the poles slipped through on each side, hiking with the hundred-pound animal back toward the road.

  “Evan says he’ll be at the airfield in twenty minutes,” Darrell called over.

  “Excellent,” TJ said. “Call the Twin Cities Vet Hospital; let ’em know we’re coming.

  “With wild animals,” TJ said to Bryce, “unfortunately the transport alone kills so many of them. Die from shock, fear.”

  Amelia looked as blood wetted the lips of the female’s mouth.

  “Okay,” TJ said. “We’re heading toward Charlotte’s van.”

  “What about him?” Amelia asked. The male looked like a relative of Junior. The wolf looked at her through the trees.

  “He’ll keep coming back, looking for her,” TJ said as they hiked.

  TJ slipped one arm out from his coat, then the other, and tossed it at Amelia with his free arm.

  “If this girl makes a full recovery we’ll release her here, in this very spot,” TJ said. “He’ll wait. He’ll find her. If she doesn’t make it, he might come back and keep looking. Or he might stop eating and choose to die on this very spot.”

  The rest of the crew searched the area with sticks, poking the ground every few feet. A few steel claw traps went off, one after the other. This was an area that had a healthy wolf pack that had been chased off the national forest into reservation areas that were remote, loaded with edible wildlife and few humans.

  “Hey, TJ?” one of the volunteers called.

  He briefly turned, carrying the female as they approached the van.

  “Uh—think we’ve got a deceased wolf here. Caught in a snare under the snow.”

  39

  It had been forty-eight hours since B-33, or the wolf they’d nicknamed Smiley, had undergone surgery. The name stuck because of how the wolf endured every poke and prod of the hospital staff with patience and goodwill as if understanding that they were trying to help.

  The wolf had already been flown to the vet hospital in Minneapolis when TJ got a call from Roy, owner of the Rumline Tavern in downtown Bayfield.

  “Got some info for ya, buddy.” He and Roy had gone to high school together, back then Roy’s father had run the place. The two had remained friends ever since, despite rumors of him moving drugs into some of the smaller towns.

  “Some guy came in shootin’ off his mouth about setting traps in Red Cliff, ‘sticking it to the Indians’ and all that shit.”

  “Really.”

  “Thought you’d want to know.”

  “You know the guy?” TJ asked.

  “Unfortunately I do,” he said and proceeded to give TJ all the details of what he’d heard. “From H
urley. Son of a guy I can’t stand. Guy’s a veteran and all but still a piece of shit.”

  “You talking about who I think you’re talking about?”

  “Yeah,” Roy said. “That’s the one.”

  “Says they’re sneaking in tonight to check the snares,” Roy said. “Said they set ’em last week before we got them three feet that fell.”

  “Thanks, Roy,” TJ said. “I owe you big time.”

  “Nah, buddy, you don’t owe me nothing. Hate these wolf hunters, give humans a bad name. Let me know if you need help.”

  “Will do.”

  * * *

  It took two phone calls to mobilize the enforcement arm of Red Cliff’s tribal police, the conservation wardens, plus GLIFWC’s team who were cross-deputized with the state of Wisconsin.

  The entire area had been set up, thirty armed enforcement officers surrounding the entire territory, hidden in the woods. It had been a warm winter despite the abundance of snow. Wearing white windbreakers over their uniforms to blend into the woods, they staked out and waited.

  The information from Roy indicated that the men would be out after dark on the extensive snowmobile trail system, figuring no one would think it unusual if they were to be out at night, tooling around in national forests and on reservation land.

  Three hours had passed as all the men sat in silence, radioing each other on occasion if they heard engine sounds. The sky was staying lighter in the evenings and it was just after eight when they heard a group of snowmobiles heading their way.

  “You hear that?” TJ said.

  Several of the men checked in. “Copy.”

  “Let them come directly to the site, dismount, and then look around,” said Terry, the chief enforcement officer at GLIFWC. “Don’t want to move too soon. Let them look at the snare, handle it, talk. We’ve got the night-vision video camera going there to record their conversations and actions. And let them find their way to the deceased wolf under the snow. We need enough evidence on tape to nail these individuals. Let’s let them go right to the traps—they know where they set ’em.”

  “Copy.” Several of the officers checked in.

  “So no one moves until I give the word,” Terry said.