Bones

by John Wilson

  The bike’s front wheel hits a rock, the wheel shoots out to the side, and I make painful contact with the ground. I’m only wearing shorts, so I scrape a huge amount of skin off my right leg. I must have cried out when I fell, because a voice comes at me from the darkness farther up the hillside somewhere. “Sam?”

  “Annabel,” I shout back as I struggle painfully to my feet. “Is that you? Where are you?” They are both dumb questions, but what do you say in a situation like this?

  “Yes, it’s me,” Annabel replies. “I fell off my bike. I’ve hurt my ankle.”

  “Okay,” I say. “I’m coming. Keep talking.”

  “I don’t feel too good. My ankle hurts, and I bumped my head.”

  “Recite Pi for me,” I say.

  I’m relieved to hear the familiar numbers in the darkness—“3.14159265359…”

  I head toward them.

  A mixture of emotions churns through me as I pick my way toward the voice—relief that I’ve found Annabel, worry about her ankle, joy that I get to play the knight in shining armor and that Greg is nowhere in sight. I’m not proud of the last emotion, but I can’t control the way I feel.

  Annabel is a surprisingly long way off the track. “How did you wind up way over here?” I ask as I get closer.

  “The track splits back there. I guess I took the wrong one, because it petered out. I tried to turn and fell off my bike.”

  “You hit your head?”

  Annabel raises a hand to her temple. “It’s okay. Bit of a lump, and I guess I’ll have a nice bruise. It’s my ankle that really hurts.” Annabel is sitting on a mound of earth, her right leg stretched out in front of her. “It’s not too bad if I don’t move it,” she adds.

  “Where’s your bike?” I’m thinking she can sit on the bike while I push it back down to the river.

  “Over behind me, but it’s in rough shape.”

  I move to where Annabel points. She’s right—the bike’s front wheel looks as if it’s permanently going around a corner. “You really did a number on it,” I say, coming back to Annabel. “We’ll get you down to my bike and then to the river. Let’s have a look at your ankle.”

  It’s hard to see in the darkness, but it’s obvious that Annabel’s ankle is seriously swollen. I run my hand gently over it and hear a sharp intake of breath. “I think it might be broken,” she says softly.

  “It might just be a bad sprain,” I say as positively as possible. “We need to get you where someone can look at it. I’ll carry you to the bike.”

  The flash of lightning and the peal of thunder are much closer together than before. I don’t want to get caught out here in the storm. I freeze when I see headlights coming up the rough track.

  “Who’s that?” I wonder out loud. Help may be on the way, but I have an uneasy feeling.

  “Probably kids coming up to party,” Annabel says, “but who cares? Go and flag them down.”

  Heading into a badlands coulee at night in a thunderstorm? That makes them really dumb, even for partying kids. That’s what I think. What I say is, “Okay. Wait here. I’ll get them to help carry you down.” I set off to where I think I’ll meet up with the headlights.

  The first raindrop hits me square in the middle of the forehead. It feels about the size of a quarter. With terrifying suddenness, the heavens open. It’s like standing under a waterfall. I’m soaked through in seconds. The lightning is almost continuous and the thunder feels as if it’s coming from the ground below me. Then my feet slide out from under me, and I’m sitting on the slope.

  I should run, crawl, slide, do whatever it takes to get to the vehicle that can take Annabel to help, but I don’t. I sit on the slope, staring at the track. As I fell, the lightning lit everything up like the noonday sun—the Red Deer River valley to my left, the opening to the coulee to my right and, straight ahead, Darren’s truck with the crushed remains of my bike beneath its back wheels.

  What I see are isolated scenes lit by the lightning flashes, and they are all out of focus through the curtain of torrential rain. Two people get out of the truck, Darren and the squat figure of Beetlebrow. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they move around and look at what’s left of my bike. Darren hauls it out and tosses it to one side. Both of them are waving their arms, pointing up the track and at the sky. It looks as if they’re arguing about whether to go on.

  Then a second vehicle arrives on the scene, the black Hummer. This time they don’t go and talk to the driver through the window—the driver gets out and walks toward them. He gestures angrily.

  I get a good, lightning-illuminated look at the Hummer driver. He’s a short, plump, well-dressed guy wearing thick round glasses. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. A black dog sticks its muzzle out the Hummer’s partly open window. The dog can only be Percy, and the guy is Humphrey Battleford.

  Darren and Beetlebrow climb back into the truck and, tires spinning, head into the coulee, followed by the Hummer. They’ve disappeared before I think, I should have kept going. I should have attracted their attention. They could have given Annabel a ride. But would they have?

  My guess is, the three of them are only up here for one reason—to steal the fossil.

  Chapter Nine

  Sliding and slipping, I fight my way back to Annabel. “What happened?” she asked. “I saw the lights stop and then move off again, and there was another vehicle. Have they gone to get help?”

  “It was Darren and Beetlebrow in the truck,” I say. I have to shout to make myself heard over the noise of the storm.

  “That’s weird,” Annabel says, “but you didn’t answer my question. Have they gone for help?”

  “No,” I say. “The other vehicle was the black Hummer we saw in town.”

  “That would have been great for getting around in this weather,” Annabel says.

  “No, it wouldn’t,” I say. “The Hummer was driven by Humphrey Battleford.”

  Annabel is silent for a long time. “Are you sure?” she asks finally.

  “I got a good look at him in the lightning, and Percy was with him.”

  “They’re after the fossil,” Annabel says excitedly. “We have to stop them.”

  “How?” I’m amazed that Annabel has gone from needing to be rescued to being determined and in charge.

  “The rain has eased off.”

  I look up. She’s right. It’s not the torrent it was a few minutes ago, and there are gaps between the lightning flashes and the thunder. Not that this makes an immediate difference. I’m still soaked through and shivering, and the ground is still as slippery as ice. “Leave me here and go tell someone what’s happening.”

  I look at Annabel. She’s shivering as well. “No. We’ll both go.”

  “Don’t be silly. You can’t carry me all that way, and the bumping wouldn’t do my ankle any good.”

  “I know,” I say, “but you’re soaked through, cold and probably in shock. Leaving you here while I walk all the way back isn’t an option.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’m going to steal Battleford’s Hummer.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  I probably am, but I explain my plan anyway. “I can carry you down as far as the track. You wait there while I go into the coulee. I’ll get the Hummer and come back and pick you up.”

  “You can’t drive.”

  “I’ve watched Dad lots of times. How tough can it be? It’s not like I’ll be driving in heavy traffic.” I try to sound confident, but inside, I’m terrified. What if the Hummer’s locked? What if it’s a stick shift? What if they catch me? I go on before Annabel has a chance to object again. “It’ll work, but we have to get you down to the track. You ready?”

  “I guess so.” Annabel doesn’t look sure, but then neither am I.

  I help Annabel stand on her good leg. As carefully as I can, I take her piggyback, trying to keep her injured leg as still as possible. I keep to the flattest ground, walking in an awkward shuffle and testing every step b
efore I put weight on it. We make slow progress, and Annabel gasps every time I stumble, but we make it to the track.

  I sit Annabel on a mound of dirt. She’s breathing heavily and shaking with cold. “Wait here,” I order. “I won’t be long. See how much of Pi you can recite before I get back.”

  Annabel nods weakly, and I set off. I’m exhausted, but I force myself to move in a half run. Luckily, the track is much less slippery than the surrounding slopes, and the exercise warms me. I think of Annabel getting colder beside the road. I force myself to go faster.

  Darren’s truck is turned sideways at the end of the track, headlights shining up the slope at the dig, and the Hummer is parked behind it. I’m hugely relieved to see two things—there are three figures on the slope, and the Hummer’s engine is running. I wait for my lungs to stop hurting and my breathing to slow before slipping around the Hummer to the driver’s door. I open it and a black mass explodes out, sending me flying to the ground.

  Percy is delighted to see me again and frolics wildly, barking and trying to lick me. I’m struggling to fight off the dog and stand up when I hear a shout from the dig. “Percy! How did you get out? What’s going on?”

  Percy hesitates, torn between responding to his master’s voice and showing me how much he loves me. I take the opportunity to lunge for the Hummer, pull myself into the driver’s seat and slam the door. It’s an automatic. I haul the lever back to R for Reverse and press the accelerator. The Hummer shoots backward. It tilts wildly as one of the rear wheels tries to climb the slope of the coulee. In the headlights, I see the three figures waving and sliding down the slope. Percy gambols around them, getting in the way and thinking this new game is wonderful. An annoying beep tells me I don’t have my seatbelt on.

  I struggle to look over my shoulder as I steer frantically, trying to keep the Hummer on the track. Fortunately, it has a powerful backup light, but I still swing crazily from side to side and feel more than once as if the whole thing is going to tip over. Then I see Annabel, slumped on the ground where I left her. I brake and push the stick into Park. I pray that I can keep control and not kill the person I’ve come to rescue.

  As soon as the Hummer stops, I leap out and haul the back door open. Annabel is barely conscious. Her teeth are chattering and she’s mumbling.

  “Come on,” I say. I put my arm around her and lift her onto her good leg. She cries out in pain, but it makes her more aware of her surroundings. “Hello,” she says.

  “Hello,” I reply. “We have to get into the Hummer.”

  “Okay,” she agrees, “but I have a problem.”

  “What?” I glance up the coulee, where I can see headlights bouncing toward us.

  “I can’t remember the next number. I promised Sam I’d keep reciting Pi, but I can’t think of the next number. We can’t go until I remember it.”

  “Seven!” I say frantically.

  Annabel’s brow furrows. “No, I don’t think that’s it,” she says slowly.

  “Four! Two! Nine! Five!” I shout numbers at random, panicking as the headlights get closer.

  “Five?” Annabel says dreamily. “I think that’s it.”

  “Great,” I say, easing her toward the open door. “Now, let’s go.”

  “Five, two, one, three, eight, four…” Annabel is speaking slowly, but she’s helping me. “One, four, six, nine, five…” Now I’ve got her sitting on the edge of the back seat. “One, nine, four, one, five…” As gently as possible, I lift her legs into the Hummer. Even so, she cries out in pain.

  “Sorry,” I say as I close the door and jump into the driver’s seat. The headlights are close now. I find Reverse and we head off on our erratic course down the track. From the back seat I hear, “One, one, six, zero, nine…”

  Chapter Ten

  The rain has stopped by the time I reach the bonfire that the barbecuers have started on the riverbank. I find space to turn the Hummer around and manage to skid to a halt outside the circle of firelight. Dr. Bob is sitting on a packing case, and the familiar chords of “Stairway to Heaven” reach me as I fling the door open.

  “He didn’t wait for us,” Annabel says from the backseat.

  The music dies and everyone turns to look as I scramble toward them. “Annabel’s broken her ankle,” I shout. “We need to get her to the hospital.” I see Greg in the shadows. “And someone’s trying to steal the fossil in the coulee.”

  For a long moment everyone just stares at me, and then people are running in all directions. Dr. Bob is beside me. “What happened?” he asks. “And where did you get the Hummer?”

  “It’s Battleford’s,” I say. “I’ll explain on the way to the hospital.”

  Dr. Bob nods. “We’d better take my truck.”

  Together we carry Annabel over to the Tyrrell Museum truck. “Take the ATVs and go and see what’s happening in the coulee,” Dr. Bob orders Greg.

  On the way to town, I explain what happened. Dr. Bob listens intently. At the hospital, two orderlies wheel Annabel in, and a young doctor examines her. He declares that she has mild hypothermia and orders her wet clothing removed. The nurses wrap her in blankets and tell me to give her sips of warm tea. In minutes, she has improved dramatically.

  “Just as well you stopped reciting Pi when we got here,” I say. “The doctor would have thought you were much worse.”

  “Reciting Pi is a sign of not being confused,” Annabel says with a weak smile.

  “Okay.” The doctor bustles in. “It’s down to X-ray for you. Let’s see what damage you did to that ankle. You two might as well go get a cup of coffee,” he adds, turning to Dr. Bob and me. “I’ll let you know when the X-rays are done.”

  I squeeze Annabel’s hand as she’s wheeled out, and Dr. Bob and I go find a vending machine. As soon as we have our warm drinks, Dr. Bob takes out his cell phone and moves off to one side. I slump gratefully into a nearby chair and sigh with relief. Annabel is in good hands. I rescued her. That makes me feel good. I push back all the other confusing thoughts and dwell on that.

  Dr. Bob comes back over. “I think we were lucky,” he says. “I just talked to Greg. The fossils are still there. I guess you disturbed the thieves before they could load up.”

  “It’s a shame Greg left the site,” I say, unable to resist a dig at my rival for Annabel’s affection.

  “He shouldn’t have,” Dr. Bob says, “but who could have predicted what happened? Maybe it’s just as well he wasn’t there when the thieves arrived.”

  “I suppose so,” I say.

  “Are you sure it was Battleford you saw?” Dr. Bob asks.

  “I got a good look at him in the lightning, and it was his dog in the Hummer.”

  Dr. Bob nods. “When did you learn to drive?”

  “About two hours ago in the Hummer, coming out of the coulee,” I say.

  Dr. Bob laughs. “Well, good that you did—although, technically, you stole the Hummer.” I hadn’t thought of that. Seeing my worried look, Dr. Bob goes on. “I doubt Battleford will press charges. We may not even see him. The police won’t have any trouble finding Darren and Beetlebrow, but Battleford is a different matter. If I were him, I’d disappear.”

  We are interrupted by the doctor. “Nothing’s broken,” he says as I stand up. “Your friend has a grade two sprain. This means there’s ligament damage that may take some time to heal. But with a few days of rest, ice and anti-inflammatories, she should be well on the way to recovery. I’ve asked the nurse to get a set of crutches and some ice packs. As soon as they’re here, you can be on your way.”

  “Thank you,” Dr. Bob and I say at the same time.

  Annabel is much better now that she’s warm and dry. “You owe me ‘Stairway to Heaven,’” she reminds Dr. Bob as he drives us back to the farm. Despite the late hour, Mom and the others fuss over us and demand to hear about our adventures. At last I drop off to sleep, only slightly worried about Humphrey Battleford.

  Chapter Eleven

  It’s dayligh
t when Mom wakes me from a deep sleep on Sunday morning. “I was going to let you sleep on,” she says, “but there’s someone here to see you.”

  “Who?” I ask groggily.

  “He didn’t give a name. I invited him in for tea, but he said he’d rather wait outside.”

  As the events of the previous night flood back, I struggle into my clothes, stumble downstairs and go outside. At first, all I can see is a taxi. Then I notice a figure by the fence. He has a black dog on a short leash. It’s Humphrey Battleford and Percy.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask as he turns toward me. He is smiling, and Percy is straining against his leash.

  “I heard you were in the neighborhood, so I thought Percy and I should say hello,” he says in his cultured American accent. He’s immaculately dressed in a three-piece suit, even though it’s already warm.

  “I thought you would be long gone by now,” I say, “after your failed attempt to steal the fossil.” It feels good to point out that Battleford has failed.

  “And what gave you the impression that I was trying to steal anything?”

  “I saw you,” I say triumphantly, “and Percy.” I bend to scratch the excited dog’s ear. It’s not his fault his master’s a crook. “Last night in the coulee with Darren and Beetlebrow.”

  “Beetlebrow?” Battleford looks confused.

  “The courier guy with the eyebrows.”

  Battleford chuckles. “Good name for him,” he says.

  “Anyway, I’m going to the police this morning to make a full report.”

  “Commendable of you,” Battleford says with a smile. His calmness is unnerving. “But I fear your trip will be wasted. You see, you are mistaken.”