The bright glow from the first blue moon in three years broke over Prairie Mountain and painted crisp shadows across the valley surrounding Darrington. In the tight-knit logging community, another uneventful Saturday night was dragging to a close.
Propping his feet on the scuffed dash of the black Ford Bronco, Chad reclined his wiry build into the torn vinyl of the passenger seat. Reaching up, he adjusted the rear-view mirror to glance into the back seat at his girlfriend. Lina was looking out the side window, frowning. Damn she’s pretty. From this angle, you can’t even tell she’s got that nasty scar. He grinned. Doesn’t really matter when the lights go out.
Chad turned back toward Luke, who was driving, and noticed his best friend’s handsome silhouette captured a hint of his predatory nature. If I had been a wrestling champion for the Loggers the way Luke was, maybe Lina would look at me the way she looks at him. I suppose I got lucky he doesn’t want her no more.
“Just take me to the bridge so I can jump in the Sauk,” Chad said. “Let the townsfolk fish my cold dead body off a logjam this spring. That’ll liven up this town.”
“Quit being so mellow-matic,” Luke said.
“Its mel-o-dra-ma-tic, champ.” Chad punched Luke’s shoulder.
“Whatever.” Luke frowned, settling his impressive frame deeper into the driver’s seat. “Moon’s up. Plenty a light for boondocking now.”
The black Bronco halted at the four-way stop in the middle of what passed for downtown Darrington. Chad glanced out the passenger window at the struggling town that clung quietly to the west bank of the Sauk River, deep in the North Cascade Mountains. Now that logging’s dead, this timber-town can’t even afford a stoplight. Guess there’s not enough traffic here to need one anyway.
The friends sat in the sole vehicle in sight; on the far corner, even the parking lot was empty at JV’s Deli-Mart, a 24-hour gas station, convenience, and camp-supply store.
Luke reached into the pocket of his black NASCAR racing jacket and retrieved a small Cherry Mountain candy bar. Unwrapping it, he threw the sticky red-and-white packaging out the window as he turned north onto Sauk Valley Road. When he took a large bite out of the candy, Kolt’s stomach grumbled loud enough to be heard in front.
“Besides telling us you’re hungry again,” Chad said, twisting to look at the hefty 15-year-old wedged in the seat behind Luke, “know any high school parties going down tonight?”
The boy shifted to relieve his cramped legs while stooping to avoid catching his unkempt coppery hair on the roof-liner’s static. “How ‘bout the campsite on Wa-Wilkin Road, out near our place?” Kolt suggested. “Hey Sis, remember when me and Papa pulled out near there when we was drifting the Suiattle?”
Chad turned to Lina and gave her a warm smile as she tucked a strand of pale auburn hair behind her left ear. Instead of answering her brother, she popped a small blue-and-white pill into her mouth and took a long sip of beer. When she silently turned her glazed eyes to stare again out the side window, Chad’s smile wavered. Maybe I shouldn’t give her anymore weed.
“Shut up,” Luke said. “You never took no drift boat down no river. Your old man’s just a desk jockey at the mill. Neither of you’s had a hard day in your life. Not like me and my father. We both bucked logs and even skidded timber down the valleys. Besides, your fat ass’d sink a boat ‘fore you drifted ten feet.” Luke reached down and shifted his seat back as far as it would go, forcing Kolt to pull his legs further to the side with a grunt.
“Worth a check, less you got someplace better in mind,” Chad said.
Ignoring his friend and retrieving a 16-ounce can of Schmidt beer from the front floorboards, Luke’s gaze fixed on Kolt’s reflection in the rear-view mirror.
“You really think you a man? Let’s see ya pound this pounder,” Luke challenged, tossing the beer over his shoulder. The teenager fumbled to catch the can before propping it on his knee.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Chad asked. “His stepmom don’t want him drinking.”
“What are you, his babysitter?” Luke snapped back.
Staring at the picture of a grizzly bear stamped on the side of the cheap red-and-gold can, Kolt hesitantly popped the top. Jutting his chin forward, he lifted the can to his thick lips and engulfed half of the top. Eyes closed, he tilted his head back and began draining the liquid with noisy glugs. Nearly finishing the can in a single draw, he choked, then spluttered, and spewed pale yellow beer all over the back of Luke’s head and down the vinyl seat back.
“Damn you!” Luke yelled, wiping the glistening wet spray off the buzzed black hairs at the nape of his neck. He lashed his arm over the seat back in an attempt to thump the boy’s leg with his knuckles. Missing, he glared in the rearview mirror.
“Told you,” Chad said with a grin. “Least now we’re having some fun.”
Tilting his head, Kolt swallowed the remaining beer and the last drips of foam fell onto his tongue. A trickle of liquid ran down his chubby chin.
“Good stuff,” Kolt grunted, smacking his lips.
“Nicely done,” Chad said, stretching over to slap palms with the boy.
“Just proves you ain’t a man,” Luke said. “And don’t puke in my truck.” Gunning the Bronco, he drove out of town and headed north toward Rockport.
Within minutes, Chad watched the sign announcing the Sauk-Suiattle Reservation pass on the right. What would my life have been like if my parents didn’t give me up? I might be living there on the rez…
The Bronco sped past the small reservation and they entered a quiet stretch of sparse family farms and meager homes where they began to sporadically eject empty beer cans through the homemade sunroof. The red-and-gold cylinders bounced behind the truck with a clank before darting off into the tall weeds lining the pavement.
Seven miles out of town, the road curved and they drove onto a narrow steel bridge crossing the Sauk River. Chad avoided looking down as the truck rumbled onto the open grating that provided a clear view of the glacial-fed waters churning below. Cool air blew off the river and invaded the truck’s interior through the open sunroof.
Forced to huddle deeper within her threadbare pink and white coat, Lina attempted to collect her flyaway hair from the draft. Grasping at the strands, she gave up in frustration and glared up at the opening.
When the road turned north again to continue on to Rockport, Luke steered straight, driving them farther into the boondocks. The truck rattled over the primitive gravel surface of Suiattle River Road until they came to a lone stop sign marking the intersection with Upland Road and Wa-Wilkin Road. Through the rear-view mirror, Luke watched with a slight smile as Lina raised her beer to her lips. He slammed on the brakes.
“Shit!” Chad yelled, tensing his legs on the dash to avoid hurtling forward.
The Bronco shuddered up the gravel, slid through the intersection, and swung sideways toward the corner of an irrigation ditch. Their forward momentum jarred to an abrupt halt with a wrenching sound of metal on metal. While they sat surrounded by fields of an outpost farm, the night seemed to pause and the air’s cool freshness gave way to a choking cloud of dust with the stench of burning disk brakes.
To hide his fear, Chad grinned and checked his camouflage jacket for spilt beer. Then, wrestling to sit upright, he winced and put his hand over his crotch. “I think you charlied my horse.”
“Now we havin’ fun?” Luke asked, taking his hand off the small cooler beside him that contained his private stash of bottled beer.
In back and looking green, Kolt reseated himself while Lina wiped beer off her chest.
“Papa’s gonna be ticked you squirreled our road sign again,” Lina said before drifting back into her high.
With a grind of gears, Luke rolled the truck off the sign wreckage and continued their search to relieve their boredom. Gunning the truck onto Wa-Wilkin Road, Luke headed deeper into the Suiattle River valley.
Dropping down a steep slope, the narrow gravel road veered to the right and the Bronco entered a dense stand of aging timber. Finishing his beer, Luke flung the amber bottle out the window into the black void between trees. Pulling out another bottle, he twisted off the top and snapped the lid into the back seat where it clinked against the window near Lina’s head.
Reclining, Chad recalled his high school days when he, Luke, and their buddy John Braun—now the local deputy—had snuck girls out to the Suiattle River to get smashed, stoned, or laid—usually all at once. Good thing my foster parents never knew. Then again, they never cared. He sighed with a familiar longing. Wish I was a Tollman.
“Do they still have beer bashes down here?” Chad asked, looking at Kolt.
“How would that pecker-head know?” Luke asked.
Chad rolled his eyes so Kolt could see and the boy smiled but remained silent. The truck continued under the evergreen canopy, approaching a small day campsite tucked in the trees.
“Figures it’s empty,” Luke said. “Just Kolt’s kind a party.”
To everyone’s surprise, Luke punched the gas and drove past the primitive camp. His eyes narrowed on seeing the old hemlock whose upper branches snared the harsh moonlight. Hanging from a lower branch, a frayed rope marked the site of his old tire swing.
“I didn’t think you came down here anymore,” Chad said, feeling nervous. At least not since the fire….
Just beyond the dangling rope, through a thin stand of vine maple, an orange light flickered at ground level beneath a shoulder-high square patch of blue illumination. The Bronco slowed to a crawl and Luke cut the headlights.
“Who the hell’s on my property?” Luke leaned forward while the other three glanced out the windows.
“Don’t your papa tell you nothin’?” Lina asked. When Luke turned to glare at her, she raised her eyebrows in feigned innocence.
“What are you yapping about now?” Luke asked, pulling the truck to a stop.
“Heard your papa sold you out.”
“How the hell would you know what Father did?” Luke darted a look at Chad. “He say anything to you?”
“Nope. Thought he was leaving it to you.”
“He is,” Luke said, and then glanced at Lina. “How would you know what’s happening at my place anyhow? You swore not to come out here again. That was our agreement.”
“Exactly. Ain’t been here since the fire, like I swore. I only know your papa sold cuz we met the new owner when we was fishing.” She nudged Kolt. “Remember?”
When Kolt didn’t answer, she pinched his arm.
“Ow! Yeah,” he said with a grimace. “Now I remember. We chatted that guy up for hours and now we’s his best friends. We all went fishing—I even caught a record humpy that day!”
Lina groaned and Luke gave them both a scowl.
“I’ll take you fishing, if you want to go again,” Chad offered, trying to sound casual.
Crossing her arms, Lina turned away with a snort and Chad’s shoulders dropped. She’s just being cool cause she’s coming off her high.
“Don’t bring her down here, dumb-ass!” Luke said, turning on his best friend.
“Uncock your johnny. I’ll take her over to the Sauk.”
After glaring at Chad for a second, Luke returned his attention to the flickering light outside. Silence filled the cab as everyone waited.
“Let’s make our own party,” Luke said, nodding toward the glow outside.
While Luke eased the Bronco forward, Kolt and Lina exchanged a nervous glance. Chad could smell the musky flush of adrenaline mixed with alcohol from his friend’s excitement.
“Someone’s been clearing the slash and scrub off your place, like they’re getting ready to build or something,” Chad said. “Did your daddy really sell-out and not tell you?”
Two hundred feet into the property, they approached a white Toyota truck parked beside a dense thicket of redcaps and salmonberries that crowded the edge of the clearing.
“Damn foreign trucks,” Luke said.
Knowing how unpredictable his friend was when he became agitated, Chad remained quiet—he knows I drive a Nissan.
The four looked out the front windshield. Hung between a stand of cedar trees bordering the clearing, a motionless blue tarp sheltered a dwindling rock-encircled fire beside which a man in a sleeping bag lay on the hard ground.
“Why didn’t the guy use the campsite across the road?” Chad asked. Better yet, take himself over to Derringer Campground on the south side of the river. But no, the stupid jack had to pick Luke’s place.
“Watch this,” Luke said, groping below his seat. He took hold of a familiar handgrip before climbing onto his seat and standing through the roof’s opening. Placing his finger on the trigger, he aimed at the man resting peacefully below the tarp.
-- : --
As the unfamiliar truck approached, Bella rumbled like thunder, dragging Warner out of a perfect dream. Kendra and I were camping… with two young children—we had a boy and a girl! He reached out to his side for his wife. When his hand fell onto the empty ground, he struggled to break free from the deep sleep. Oh yeah, she’s didn’t come this weekend. Warner rolled off his stiff side to lay flat on the hard ground beneath the blue tarp.
When a noise came from the shadows lurking near his truck, he rose onto his elbow to peer into the dark beyond the dying firelight. Unable to identify the source of the sound, he waited for his drowsy eyes to adjust. His fog-filled mind began to engage and he caught the faint outline of a second truck beside his own. The low light from the embers reflected off two dark headlights, like the eyes of a large predator staring out from a murky backdrop. The hair on Warner’s neck tingled as the moment stretched.
Then the darkness exploded with a million-watt spotlight bursting onto Warner’s unprepared eyes. Bella scrambled to her paws with a startled yelp while he shaded his vision, now dazzled by after-images of burning white globes.
“What’re you doing?” Warner yelled. Is that the sheriff or a local hunter? The light continued to glare in his face and Bella began to bark.
“Shut the light off!” he demanded, becoming nervous.
Warner searched near his bedding for anything to defend himself with but came up empty handed—except for Bella. Although the dog bristled with a deep growl, she began a series of stuttering, barking hops—backward, away from danger. Great! All I need now is to have to hunt down your furry black butt in the dark.
Yanking back the top of his sleeping bag, he rose onto his knees and his heart hammered against his chest. This better be some kind of misunderstanding. Otherwise, Kendra will freak out about living here. He struggled with his own fight-or-flight reflex. Wait. Breathe. No reason to be scared. This is our place now. Just stand your ground.
“Get the hell off my property!” Warner yelled, trying to sound intimidating as he stood up in the harsh spotlight wearing nothing but his smiley-face boxers.