Fly by Night

by Andrea Thalasinos

  The engine noise was getting closer, men were laughing, making hooting noises that echoed through the trees.

  TJ wondered if these were the same men Roy had mentioned. They certainly weren’t sneaking up by any stretch of the imagination yet the area was so remote out in this part of the reservation.

  Just then there was a hush as the three snowmobiles reached the snare. TJ held his breath. They parked and turned off their engines.

  “What the fuck?” One of them picked up the chain that had been cut and showed it to the other two. Another picked up the snare and looked at it.

  “I thought you said they couldn’t get out.”

  “They can’t,” the other said and looked around. “Someone sprang it. Fuck.”

  They started up their snowmobiles and drove over to the other snare, the one with the buried wolf.

  “Looks like we got something here,” he said, pulling on the chain and feeling the frozen fur beneath. “Looks like someone’s been here.” He shined his flashlight on the dozens of footprints.

  “Probably raccoons,” the other one said. “They ain’t bear tracks, that for sure.” He laughed.

  “Uhh—I don’t think so, Chuck.” The man’s voice quivered. “This looks like people tracks.”

  Just then all of the headlights from the enforcement officers turned on at once, light flooding the area.

  The third man ran to his snowmobile and jumped on. Revving the engine, he took off, chased by a number of enforcement officers.

  The other two were handcuffed by the tribal police.

  “You have the right to remain silent,” they began and were summarily shoved up the trail toward the road where the tribal police cars were waiting.

  “Don’t say nothing, Chuck,” the one yelled to the other.

  “Good advice,” TJ said. “Too bad we already got you on tape. Wanna see?” He held up an iPad. “Freshly downloaded. Thanks for making it easy.” He hit the play button and the men’s voices came streaming out.

  Then TJ turned away, mounting his snowmobile as he powered off to aid in the chase for the third man.

  40

  Smiley’s jaw had been surgically wired together by the wildlife veterinarian, removing a few bone fragments that might cause trouble for B-33 in the future. Luckily, it had been a clean break and not shattered. Given that the wolf had survived the plane ride despite dehydration and shock, the vet was confident of her recovery. But as to whether or not the jawbone would heal to the point of being strong enough for wild release to join her mate was unknown at that point. It would be Charlotte and TJ’s call in the next month or two as they supervised her recovery to assess how well she’d be able to tear meat from a carcass in order to survive.

  Charlotte and Amelia drove down to Minneapolis and stayed the first week of the wolf’s surgery with Jen in the apartment. Bryce stayed behind with the pups and had picked up a part-time job with the Tribal Fish Hatchery helping to upgrade their filtration system. During the day the two women had practically camped out with Smiley, taking her on brief walks when the anesthesia had worn off. The wolf didn’t seem to fight them as Charlotte was skilled with handling wild animals.

  * * *

  Jen was ecstatic to see them, though she and Amelia talked several times a day. She’d transformed the apartment into what she called her little “Love Nest” with Doby, the only impediment being Bryce’s mammoth aquarium. Amelia gave Charlotte a tour of the varieties of corals, and showed her the sea horses. The woman was transfixed, watching the little microcosm of marine world that had been an extension of their lives.

  “I’m moving with Doby to Duluth this April,” Jen said. “I already gave Sea Life my notice.”

  “What are you going to do there?”

  “Don’t know. Be with him,” she said and smiled. “Work in his new club.”

  “What about that UM-Duluth job we both saw in the Marine Biology Quarterly?”

  Jen looked at Amelia for a long time. “I was thinking more for you or Bryce. Met the chair of the biology department through Doby while in Duluth a few weekends ago. I gave her your names and numbers, she was interested.”

  “Thanks, but why won’t you apply?”

  Jen smiled and hesitated for a moment.

  Charlotte bent and whispered in Amelia’s ear.

  She then turned to Jen, almost in a whisper. “Are you pregnant?”

  Jen nodded. Her eyes teared as Amelia grabbed her and the two hugged.

  “I’m going to have a baby, Ammy. I wanna be a mom like you.”

  “You’re going to be the best mom ever, Jen,” she said into her hair.

  “Hope so,” she said.

  “I know so,” Amelia said, wiping her eyes.

  They both turned to Charlotte.

  “How’d you know?” Amelia asked.

  “Eh, let’s just say a little birdie told me.” Charlotte smiled.

  “You’re scary,” Amelia teased her.

  “TJ says that a lot.”

  Jen turned to Amelia. “They also run that Lake Superior water initiative, which you’re a natural for. Seriously, Am, they’re interested in both of you, give them a call.”

  “Thanks, I will,” she said. “As long as it’s not something funky like working out of a shopping mall,” Amelia said as they both chuckled.

  “Hey—don’t knock it—I met Doby.” She raised her eyebrows, smiling as broadly as Amelia had ever seen.

  “True.” Amelia nodded, looking at Charlotte. “It was all worth it then.”

  “And how’s Bryce, the jerk who never returns my calls?” Jen asked.

  Amelia smiled.

  “Enough said.” Jen laughed and pushed her away as if not wanting to hear any more details. “What about this monster?” She pointed to the aquarium.

  Amelia sighed and shrugged. “Oh, one way or another we’ll come get it before you guys move.”

  * * *

  She and Charlotte spent most of the week with Smiley in the vet school’s critical care unit. They slipped her small bits of dried fish and venison broken up into tiny pieces that Smiley could chew, and Charlotte made a special healing porridge into which the hospital staff crushed and mixed the wolf’s meds. As soon as Charlotte placed the bowl in the area, Smiley’s eyes lit up, her ears would lay back as she’d slurp it down. The following week the wolf was to be released into Charlotte and TJ’s care for the rest of her rehabilitation, which was estimated to be a four to six weeks, maybe longer depending on her progress.

  At one point Smiley managed to stand up, though the enclosure was too low for her to fully stretch.

  “What a good girl,” Amelia said, hand feeding her more bits of dried whitefish that she gobbled down. She loved the feel of the wolf’s soft lips and tongue as Smiley picked up each piece.

  * * *

  It was Amelia’s idea to take the used cloth bedding, very thin blankets, from the vet hospital on which Smiley had curled up and slept. She’d bagged up the bedding and brought it back to Red Cliff the week after Smiley’s release as they transported the wolf back to Charlotte’s for six weeks of rehab.

  The evening of their return there was still light enough out to see. It was pinkish. Amelia had driven out to the field where Smiley had been trapped.

  It hadn’t snowed since then and the ridges of tire treads from where people had parked the previous week were still visible in the last bits of sunlight before darkness began to fill the sky. It was mid-February and felt different from even December. Everyone kept saying it was going to be an early spring.

  Amelia pulled over and parked, gathering her thoughts for a few moments before climbing out of the Jeep. She thought of Smiley and of B-34, the black wolf, and how so many things in her life had changed since Rhode Island. How odd it was that rather than feeling strange, it felt commonplace, like she’d always known these woods.

  Amelia pushed open the Jeep’s door with her foot and stepped down, carrying the clear plastic bag as she looked around for
the path into the woods. It was immediately obvious and Amelia began hiking through the birch and white pines, across to the clearing, to where the snow was still marked by many footprints and poles seeking out traps.

  TJ and his coworkers had dug a large hole to remove the deceased wolf’s body. The area was scattered with flecks of brown material. Amelia walked closer and leaned over. Touching the flakes, she lifted a few to smell. Tobacco. Looking up in the dim light she spotted tiny blue and yellow pouches and ribbons tied throughout the trees to the east where the wolf had died.

  She then walked toward the area where Smiley had been snared. The reddish pallor of residual blood from the black wolf’s offerings of meat glowed scarlet with the setting sun.

  Amelia set down the bedding from the vet hospital, spreading it on the very spot. She then crumpled up the plastic bag and tucked it under her arm, slipping her hands into her pockets as the evening chill set in.

  Scanning through the leafless woods she longed to see B-34 and the rest of the shadowy figures and for the feel of being watched. But the woods were silent, no one was watching.

  * * *

  The next morning Amelia came back and parked where she had the previous evening. The sun was blinding as it cracked the horizon. The bare hardwood branches were frosted in that kind of way that happens as winter loosens its grip and the night’s dew gets caught in such transitions. It was like white fur, left over before having caught the sun.

  Amelia hopped down from the Jeep and pulled up her scarf to cover her nose and mouth as she hiked through the woods along the path to the open field. It was a damp cold as she zipped up her coat.

  She thought of Smiley, thought of Bryce as she hiked toward the spot. Wondering if any of the grants they’d sent out so far would pan out—thinking to check out the UM-Duluth biology positions, wondering if she’d ever get to work in marine biology in some capacity again and if it even mattered anymore.

  The reddish snow where Smiley had been caught looked dark in the morning sun.

  Amelia stopped. The blankets were gone.

  “Huh,” she gasped in surprise, her hand covering her mouth. She hadn’t known what to expect, figuring it was an experiment.

  Walking around, she looked for evidence that maybe the cloth blankets had gotten blown somewhere by the strong winds of the previous night. The little mustard house had shuddered in the wind.

  The bedding was so light that perhaps the wind had lifted and deposited it into the surrounding branches. Amelia hiked looking for evidence but saw nothing.

  Then she spotted a narrow wolf trail. It was off to the side, leading into the woods—a narrow track, a single track, as TJ had explained the gait of a wolf vs. dog.

  There were other marks alongside the tracks, like something had been dragged through, creating a smooth indented imprint of a piece of fabric, perhaps being carried by a creature in his mouth.

  She was tempted to follow the trail, see where it went but something held her back.

  Then she looked through the lower branches, and saw two eyes watching. Standing in the trail was the black wolf that she presumed was Smiley’s mate.

  Amelia smiled.

  “Hi again.” She squatted in the trail and held out both hands as she’d done to Jethro, palms up. She made a few kissing sounds. “Are you B-34?” she asked, knowing it was a scientific name and not one the animal would respond to, but she was certain it was the same wolf. She felt more recognition from him than an introduction.

  The animal’s ears moved up to form a point and he looked from side to side as if embarrassed.

  “Well, hi,” she called in a soft voice. “Did you take the blanket with Smiley’s scent? We named her that. I hope it was you,” she said. The wolf’s head turned from side to side in such a way that she took it as affection. She’d seen Junior do the same thing after eating.

  “Are you all okay?” she asked. He backed up a few steps and then turned around. She watched the top of his head as he trotted down the path, presumably back to the den.

  Amelia smiled, imagining the black wolf dragging the flannel cloth back to the den where the pack lived to assure them all.

  And at that moment there was nothing that Amelia had ever hoped for more.

  41

  It was the end of February and Smiley had been in Charlotte and TJ’s care for almost two weeks. The wolf had begun to show an interest in chewing venison carcasses, bones, ripping meat, chewing on branches—everything that a healthy wolf’s jaw should sustain.

  Both agreed the wolf was making good progress and if it continued, she could be released as soon as a month to six weeks after her last vet check and jaw X-ray.

  TJ was up having coffee as he stood looking out the bay window in the kitchen, surveying the perimeter of the fenced-in wildlife rehab area. He looked closer. B-34 was standing outside the fence, touching noses with Smiley through the open squares in the fencing.

  “Hey Charlotte?” he called before hearing water from the shower.

  “I’m in the shower,” she called back, sounding annoyed at being disturbed.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” he murmured and then crept out onto the deck through the kitchen door. Both animals looked up at him. He stepped back inside and then hurried downstairs to the first floor, opening the back sliding glass door as he stepped out in his socks on the packed snow into the rehab pen.

  “Hey guy.” He stepped up to the fence and held out his hand, setting down his coffee cup.

  B-34 took a step back but as Smiley rubbed against TJ’s thigh the black wolf stepped closer and dabbed his cold nose against TJ’s open hand through the fence.

  “Wanna come in?” he asked.

  Smiley stood still.

  TJ then grasped Smiley’s temporary collar as he walked over to unlatch the gate, letting the door swing wide open.

  B-34 skulked down low and began to pace, feeling stressed as he looked to Smiley for reassurance.

  “Come on,” TJ encouraged.

  The wolf then tiptoed toward the open gate. B-34 paced a few more times before making a run for it, darting through the opening as if it was too narrow for his rangy body. He then began to nuzzle his mate, sniffing her as he rubbed his head on hers.

  The couple was too busy with their greetings and vocalizations to notice as TJ stepped to close and latch the gate.

  He raked out more hay as bedding and dragged in another half-butchered carcass of deer from the back door of his office/garage that the road crew had dropped off the night before—fresh meat for the mates to share together.

  Walking back upstairs, he peeled off wet socks and poured another cup of coffee since he’d forgotten the other one down in the pen and didn’t want to disturb the couple.

  Standing at the bay window, he watched as B-34 carefully sniffed Smiley’s incision wounds as well as the smell of her mouth.

  “Whew, that felt good,” Charlotte said, laughing with impatience as she appeared in sweatpants and wet hair. “Heard you calling.”

  He looked at her with an impish smile and then turned and pointed.

  “What?”

  TJ crooked his index finger for her to join him and pointed out the bay window.

  She let out a delighted scream.

  He moved to stand behind her, surrounding her with his arms, leaning his chin on her shoulder as they stood watching as the two wolves began playing chase games inside the enclosure.

  “Well I’ll be.” She slipped her arms through his and leaned back against his chest as they began to sway. “I love it how families seem to have a way of finding each other.”

  The swaying stopped. He let go. “Wish that was true, Char.”

  There was such sadness in his voice that Charlotte turned to face him.

  “Oh but it is, TJ,” she said.

  “Not always.”

  “Try harder,” she said. “Life goes on. Stop acting like some thirteen-year-old kid.”

  TJ left the room, walking off as if she’d spoil
ed the moment.

  42

  It was the first week of March by the time Whitedeer’s son-in-law, Peter, had finally called to invite her to help collect fish samples out on Lake Superior. She’d given up hope, figuring he’d forgotten or else had recruited another member of the staff to do the work.

  Bryce had wanted to come along but Peter had only two complete gear sets. His nets had been set out in the ice weeks ago, as far out as Outer Island, which was the farthest point from the shore. Peter had mentioned that this was their last window of opportunity to get out on snowmobiles before the melt to retrieve the nets, which would mean losing the winter samples that were critical for assessing the lake’s health.

  She was set to meet Peter down by the Coast Guard dock later that morning and for the past few weeks she and Bryce had been helping the tribal Fish Hatchery in Red Cliff update their filtration system.

  Both had begun to feel the restlessness that’s ingrained in the DNA of people born with the call of science that needles you early in the morning or late at night when ideas begin to flood you with the burning drive to know. “What ifs” swirl through your dreams in the middle of a deep sleep, awakening and compelling you to get up and try them out. It was a physical, intellectual, and what Amelia had come to believe was a hardwired calling. They’d both applied for the two positions at UM-Duluth in the biological science department and were waiting to hear. The positions seemed promising, as promising as any of the grants they’d submitted and were waiting to hear about.

  Amelia had taken Lacey and Junior out for an early-morning walk up the steep hill to the crooked mailbox on the ridge to retrieve yesterday’s mail. She figured the hike through deep snow would tire them out but she was wrong.

  As she pulled out a few forwarded scuba catalogs, on top was a letter from her mortgage company.

  “Great, what now?” she muttered. She’d been current and had just mailed off a payment that by her calculations should have arrived well in advance of the due date. There was enough money in her checking account to cover it. Ever since leaving Rhode Island, every piece of correspondence from the bank elicited a rush of adrenaline that took hours to wear off. Even their junk mail credit-card promotions threw her into the cycle.