Deadfall Page 3

  Ty says, “What the hell?”

  I say to her, “I’m going to pull the tape off your mouth.”

  She nods, urgently.

  “On three. One…two…three!” I rip the tape off her mouth.

  Vomit sprays out, coating my face and jacket. She gasps for breath in short, rasping spasms. Then she starts shaking.

  I say, “You’re all right. It’s over now.”

  I lower her out of the trunk. Pass her through the window to Ty, making sure we support her spine. He carries her away while I crawl like a crazy man.

  Out of this fucking car.

  TANUM CREEK

  SIXTEEN MONTHS AGO

  5

  Fifteen minutes after leaving the creek they crested the slope and the terrain eased considerably. From there Benny zigzagged twice, once at a bent tree with an X carved in the bark, and once using another landmark, this time a bare spot in the forest on the east side of Gooseneck Mountain. Then Benny finally stopped. Cory, a good fifty yards behind Ty, was thankful because he wasn’t sure if he could take another step. Benny dropped his pack next to a big, burned-out stump at the bottom of a small rise. He said, “Here we are. This is your birthday present. What d’ya think?”

  Cory and Ty looked around. There were some rocks, a couple rotting blowdowns, lots of pine needles and dirt. There was nothing that Cory could see to make this place remarkable enough to drive twelve hours round-trip and hike another five. It looked and felt to him like the middle of nowhere.

  Ty said, “Is this where the elk died?”

  “Nah. Here’s where I stopped to have a smoke and ponder my options. By this time I was thinking I’d gone too far and didn’t want to carry out the meat. It would’ve spoiled by the time I got to the truck. But I was still gonna track him, because it was getting personal.”

  “So why are we here?” Cory asked.

  “Take one more look around,” Benny said. Cory noted a shift in his tone. He seemed happy, almost giddy. Like there was a joke being told here and they didn’t get it. Ty must have noticed it as well. He shot Cory a wary glance. “Now, be thorough,” Benny said. “Treat it like a crime scene and you’re the detectives. Take your time.” He pulled the .45 out of his pack, sighted on a rock twenty yards away, and pretended to fire. Cory and Ty spent the next minute doing 360s, looking up and down. They saw nothing but trees and rocks and dirt. A squirrel chattered somewhere high; otherwise silence reigned.

  Benny, with the .45 still in his hand, said, “Give up?”

  The boys said, “Yes.” Ty, for once, sounded unsure of himself. Cory felt his heart pound just a little harder against his ribs.

  “Well, that’s what I figured,” Benny said. “Now I get to show you. Take a walk down to that forked tree and stop, count to ten Mississippi, then turn around.”

  Cory and Ty hesitated.

  “Go on,” Benny said. “You’re not gettin’ your present till you do this one last thing.”

  Ty said to Cory, “Let’s get it over with,” and started walking. Cory’s feet didn’t want to move. But he didn’t want Ty to do this alone. He caught up to his brother and they walked together toward the tree.

  Halfway there Ty whispered to Cory, “You think we should run for it?”

  “Run where?”

  “I don’t know. Anywhere.”

  Cory didn’t see himself getting ten feet. “We won’t get very far,” he said.

  “Maybe. But all I have to do is run faster than you.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Anyway, I was just kidding.”

  “No you weren’t.”

  They reached the tree.

  “Want me to count?” Ty said.

  “Sure.” Cory closed his eyes. He heard a soft click behind them. His breath caught in his throat.

  Ty counted, “One Mississippi…two Mississippi…three Mississippi…”

  At ten they slowly turned around. Benny was gone.

  TANUM CREEK

  NOW

  6

  Ty says use Benny’s knife, it’s in his front pocket. I cut the zip ties while she shivers and cries softly in his arms. He says to hurry, she’s not getting any lighter, but I can’t get a good grip on the knife. I sliced my palm on something while crawling out of the car, slicking my fingers with a steady stream of blood. Her arms are pinned behind her back, plus the dark and the fog all make the cutting that much harder. I finally get through the second piece of plastic around her wrist. It sticks to the flesh as I pull it away. She moans in pain as her arms separate. That’s when I notice a definite bump below the skin midway up her left forearm. The flesh is purpling around it. I help Ty lay her down on an almost-level spot near the boulder, telling him to watch out for her left arm, it’s probably broken. We’re about twenty feet from a car that could explode any second. The distance doesn’t feel far enough.

  Ty says, “What do you need?”

  “My pack.”

  While he fetches my pack, I turn my attention to the girl. She’s about our age, maybe a little older, wearing a green sweater covered with blood and puke, and gas-soaked jeans. The jeans have a fitted, designer look. Probably expensive. Shoulder-length hair with waves and pink streaks. Her breathing has settled some and she stopped crying. But her eyes, which are tracking me, are open wide and jittery. Other than the arm, and the gash on her head that’s still leaking, I don’t see any serious injuries. That’s amazing considering what she went through in that trunk. It could be a different story internally. I crouch next to her and say, “I’m Cory. That’s Ty, my brother. What’s your name?”

  She blinks, opens her mouth—but no sound comes out.

  “That’s all right,” I say. “You can tell me later.” She closes her eyes, opens them again. And in that moment I get a flash of something familiar. Her eyes, her face, maybe her hair. I’m not sure what it is and the context is all wrong, but the thought startles me. I shake it off a second later when Ty returns with my pack.

  He says, “You get her name?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Yo, trunk girl. What’s your name?”

  She starts to shake her head. I say, “You should probably keep your head movements to a minimum, okay?” Then to Ty, “She’s not ready to talk. Don’t push her.” I open the top of my pack, start pulling out what I need—the first aid kit, an extra pair of sweatpants, the sleeping bag. The blood from my hand gets on everything.

  Ty says, “What’re you doing?”

  My knowledge of first aid is limited to a mandatory two-hour course at work. Lucky I didn’t bail on it like Ty did. I sort through the chaos in my head and come up with a plan. “I need to treat her for shock, give her some water, splint her arm, put a bandage on that cut, and figure out a way to get her gas-soaked jeans away from those cuts on her ankles.” I start to pull my sleeping bag out of its sack.

  Ty grabs my arm, pulls me away from the girl. Says to me in a hot whisper, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I can guess. And my guess is you’ve gotten us into some seriously twisted shit.”

  “Me? I didn’t—”

  “Yeah, you did. I wasn’t the one that wanted to come down here. Remember? But here we are, so let’s deal with it. If the driver’s still alive, he’s gonna come looking for her. Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So I say don’t worry about her injuries.”

  “We’re not leaving her here.”

  “I didn’t say that. What I’m saying is either she walks up to the car with us, or we carry her, or—” Ty smacks his forehead with his hand. “Shit! I forgot about the car. The lights are on. And I’m not sure if I locked it.”

  “Well, she’s not ready yet.”

  “How much time do you need?”

  “Five minutes.”

  He takes a beat. “All right. I’ll hike up to the car, turn off the lights, and lock it. When I get back, we’re outta here no matter what.”

  “I’d rather not split up.”

  “Do you wan
t a dead battery?”

  “No.”

  “Then do what you have to do. Just do it fast.” He turns to leave.

  I say, “Wait. Take this,” and toss him Benny’s knife.

  Ty smiles. “This’ll be perfect. If the driver is a squirrel.”

  He turns and disappears in the fog.

  TANUM CREEK

  SIXTEEN MONTHS AGO

  7

  “He left us,” Ty said. “Just like Mom.”

  “This isn’t just like Mom,” Cory said.

  “You’re right. She left us in a house with a broccoli casserole. He left us in the middle of the wilderness with a bag of nuts. We don’t even have a map.”

  “Why’d he leave his pack?”

  “Who knows why he does a lot of stuff?”

  They walked back to the burned-out stump where Benny had dropped his pack.

  Cory said, “Maybe he just went to pee.”

  “Like he’d care if we saw him? You know I’m right, Cor. Benny’s gone.”

  “He didn’t leave us!” Cory said, his throat tightening. “Our backs were turned for twenty seconds. How far can he get?”

  “Far enough to leave us.”

  “Stop saying that. He’s…he’s still here.”

  “Then where is he? Huh? Show me where he is!”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s hiding. And this is some kind of test.”

  “Stop defending him.”

  “I’m not defending him. I’m just saying—”

  “What you’re saying is such bullshit! You’re always defending him. And he treats you like crap. All the time. He’s constantly calling you out on your weight, makes fun of your man boobs. He knows you hate bridges. I bet he made up that whole story about jumping just to see you pee your pants.”

  Cory had hoped Ty didn’t notice the wet spot, but knew he would. That he would use it and so many other things as a way to blame Benny for everything bad that led up to their mother leaving, and everything that had gone wrong since. “It isn’t like that,” he said quietly, trying hard to believe his own words.

  Ty kicked the backpack. “All he cares about is his booze.”

  “He…he wouldn’t leave us.” Cory choked back tears. “Not on our birthday.”

  “Yeah he would. That’s exactly what he’d do.”

  Cory heard the anger building in his brother’s voice. Once that fuse was lit, there was no turning back. In that way especially he was just like Benny. Cory turned from Ty, faced the forest. He cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, “Dad! Where are you?” The echoes bounced twice, faded into silence.

  Ty said, “You’re wasting your breath.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “Okay. Then how’s this?” Ty shouted, “Hey, asshole! If this is our birthday present, we don’t want it!”

  More silence. Not even the squirrel chattered.

  Desperate, Cory said, “Maybe he’s hiding behind that rock.”

  “I’ll bet he isn’t.”

  Cory ran over to the rock, then to a fallen tree, then farther up the slope to another tree. His heart sledgehammered in his chest, his breath leaked out in shorter and shorter gasps. The forest shadows were closing in. Everything was closing in. He returned to the stump.

  Ty said, “We might as well see what he really left us for our birthday.” He crouched down, opened Benny’s pack, dumped the contents in the dirt. They stared at four sandwiches wrapped in plastic, four packs of Hostess cupcakes, two cans of Pepsi, two cans of Budweiser, one book of matches, and the old grease-stained blanket Benny used when he was working on the truck. Ty shook the pack, just to make sure there was nothing left.

  He said, “Happy sixteenth, bro.”

  Cory said nothing. He was too busy fighting back tears.

  Ty smiled after a beat, put a friendly hand on Cory’s shoulder. “Hey, you can have the Pepsi. I call dibs on the beer.”

  A voice out of nowhere said, “If you touch those beers, I’ll kill you.”

  Ty spun around. Cory searched the woods. The voice was close, yet far away. Like an echo. Almost like it was coming from his head. Ty looked at Cory, his eyes wide. “Who said that?”

  They heard a scratching sound coming from the stump. Benny’s head appeared, followed by the rest of his body as he crawled out of the stump, stood up, and lit a cigarette. Looking at Cory through the smoke he said, “What I told you on the bridge is all fact. But”—he picked up a Budweiser and popped the top—“your brother may have a point about this asshole an’ the booze.”

  Before he officially revealed their birthday present, Benny explained how it came to be. He had followed the elk up from the creek and decided before he walked another step it was a good time to consider his options. The temp was dropping and clouds were gathering. He expected snow within the hour, which would complicate things. Benny was beginning to think that this elk deserved to live more than he deserved to eat it. While he sat and smoked, he noticed a chipmunk running into and out of this stump. At first he just sat and admired what nature had done, grown a big fat tree up between two boulders. He said at some point it must’ve been hit by lightning and burned out just enough of the trunk to create a cavity in the base that grew over the years. Eventually the tree died and snapped in a storm, leaving a ten-foot hollowed-out stump. Then he saw what looked like a pretty big hole in the back of it, and upon closer examination noticed a piece of dark fabric where the chipmunk disappeared. “So I got down on my hands and knees,” Benny said, demonstrating exactly what he did, “and poked my head in to see what’s what. That’s when I discovered this.” Benny crawled in and disappeared. It was like the stump swallowed him whole. Then his hand reappeared and waved. “C’mon in,” he said, “and bring all my stuff with you.”

  Cory couldn’t believe it. He and Ty just stared, jaws limp and hanging like flaps. Benny, flanked by three lit candles on a shelf, smiled at their stunned expressions. Someone had dug a hideout into the slope behind the stump. Cory estimated it to be about twelve feet square, four feet at the front angling up to a height in back that didn’t quite accommodate Benny’s six-foot frame. The boys stood in the middle, Ty hunched over just a bit. The side walls were river rock mortared into place. The roof was sheets of plastic under chicken wire supported by six parallel logs notched and bolted onto vertical posts. The back wall was exposed dirt and roots, with a dug-out floor-to-roof space in the center maybe four feet wide and two feet deep with evenly spaced shelves made of thick wood planks. The shelves were stocked with a dozen or so candles, some barely burned, some melted down to stubs, a rusty handsaw, a hammer, a broken kerosene lamp, four old books, and three unopened cans with faded labels. The left rear corner was dominated by a small cast-iron stove on a brick pad with an exhaust pipe that shot up through the roof and terminated somewhere on the slope outside. The floor was made of the same rough planking as the shelves. Cory noted that whoever did this knew how to build. The planks were nailed tightly into place and looked flat, except near the stove where they had warped loose. The opening through the stump was covered with a weatherworn piece of camouflage tarp with something heavy sewn into the bottom. There were circular openings on both sides of the door near the corners lined with two-inch diameter pipe. Cory figured they served the dual purposes of viewing the outside world and providing air. The only piece of furniture was an old wooden chest with a pillowed top ravaged by critters that left their mark with all manner of droppings. In the center of it all was the only color in the place—a yellow rug. The room was quiet, still, and smelled like dirt and dust and burning candles and Benny’s cigarette.

  After a minute, Benny said, “You like your present?”

  Still stunned, they just nodded.

  “Watch this.” Benny reached up through the chicken wire, slid back a piece of metal, revealed a six-inch hole lined with aluminum. Sunlight streamed in. The smoke from his cigarette spiraled in the beam and sucked up through the hole. “Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Did yo
u do this?” Ty asked.

  “Me? Nah, I’m not that ambitious.”

  “Then who?” Cory asked, finally able to speak.

  “Don’t know for sure. But I can make an educated guess when he did it.” Benny opened the chest, brought out an old copy of Playboy magazine. A blond woman was smiling and waving on the cover. He asked, “Do you know who this is?”

  Both boys shook their head.

  “That’s none other than Marilyn Monroe. Miss December, 1953. She was on the inaugural cover. I could sell this for a chunk of change if it weren’t so banged up.”

  “How did he do this?” Ty asked. “All the wood, that stove—it had to weigh tons.”

  “Probably hauled it in by horse or mule. Do enough loads over enough time and you’ll get it done. Plus, a lot of it looks handcrafted from trees harvested in the area. I figure the rocks came from the creek.” Benny looked around slowly, admiration glowing in his eyes. “The exhaust pipe from the stove is hidden by cement painted to look like a rock. Whoever the builder was, he was a clever sonofabitch.”

  Ty asked, “Why did he do it?”

  “There’s the million-dollar question. I’ve got theories, but that’s all they are. Whatever the reason, it was built with the goal of disappearing for a while.”

  “Aren’t you ever afraid he’ll come back?”