THE DAY DAWNED bright and clear. The sky was one big blanket of blue over the treetops, and the whole forest seemed to have come alive in celebration. Squirrels raced along the tree branches, chittering at one another.
“You can eat a squirrel,” Dad told me. “But there’s not much to them and they taste terrible. You gotta kill a few of them to make more than a morsel for yourself. I catch ’em for Bo sometimes,” he said, nodding toward the dog, who ambled along beside us. “But mostly he catches them for himself.”
Dad fed Bo whatever we were eating, but it wasn’t enough to fill him up. Bo didn’t seem to mind. He wandered off for hours at a time and came back sometimes with a bloody muzzle. But if my dad whistled, putting his fingers between his lips and letting it peal out over the lake and the woods, Bo always came running. Sometimes it took him a while, but Dad never had to whistle more than once. He just waited, and eventually Bo loped out of the woods.
I took my bow and my arrows, just like before. Dad took one of the rifles and a handful of extra ammunition he put in the pocket of his big coat.
We moved along slow and quiet. Sometimes Dad stopped stock-still and listened, but Bo didn’t do anything other than move along with us until midmorning. Then the dog froze, nose testing the air, trained on a patch of bushes.
Dad aimed his rifle down that way. “Shh,” he said to me. We crept forward. Bo slunk alongside us. He moved like a cat, quiet and low to the ground, tensed to charge.
A deer bounded out of the bush. She was delicate and graceful, flowing like water over the ground. She raced past and into the woods, too fast for me to bring the bow up and try a shot. Dad didn’t move.
Secretly, I was relieved. I started to ask him why he’d let her go, and then I realized that he was listening. I strained my ears to catch what he heard. An engine. A plane engine. They flew over every few days. None of them had stopped yet. But this one sounded different. Closer. Lower.
“Is that Griff?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not Griff,” he said. He lowered his rifle. We could see the plane now through the trees, angling for the lake. “Could still go by.” But the plane was descending, coming toward us.
“Is that them?” I asked. “Those friends of yours?”
“They shouldn’t be here yet. They’re not supposed to be here until . . .” He scrubbed at his chin with his palm. “Listen, Jess. I need you to stay here, okay? Stay here with Bo and stay real quiet, and I’ll come back and get you when it’s safe.”
“When it’s safe?” I asked, alarmed. “Why isn’t it safe now?”
“Just stay out of sight,” he said. “Whatever you do, don’t come down to the cabin until I come get you. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said. He looked—not scared, exactly, but anxious. He gave Bo the command to stay and headed out.
If they were here now, did that mean we could leave soon, before next summer? Or did it mean that something was wrong?
Bo stared anxiously after Dad. I didn’t like my dad keeping secrets from me, and I was worried about him. There was no way I could sit out here for—what, an hour? Five hours? A day? I knew I couldn’t find my way back in the dark, and I had no shelter if I had to spend the night out here.
Dad said stay out of sight, so I’d stay out of sight. But I was going to go see who these people were, and what it was they’d left with Dad.
“Come on, Bo,” I said, and snapped my fingers. Bo gave me a considering look. Probably trying to decide if my come on could override Dad’s stay. But I think he was just as anxious to get back to the cabin as I was.
We moved along at a painfully slow pace. I’d pushed myself hard the last couple of days. My leg was sore. It dragged a lot more than usual, and eventually I grabbed a big fallen branch to use as a walking stick. Back in foster care I didn’t like to use my cane too often, because I was worried that my body would get used to it and heal to match my cane-assisted walking. Right now I didn’t care about any of that. I just cared about making good time.
By the time we got in sight of the tree line Dad was down by the lake. I could hear him talking; there aren’t many secrets out here, with the way sound carries.
“—another month,” Dad was saying.
Another voice, a man’s voice I didn’t know, answered him. “We were getting some unwanted attention. Couldn’t risk waiting. You don’t mind, though, right? It’s not like it’s extra work for you. One box is the same as another. You just keep doing whatever you do out here, and we’ll be back when we’re ready to pick it up.”
My dad’s voice dropped, and he said something quick and angry that I couldn’t make out. The man answered in the same low tone. I crept closer. I couldn’t see them yet, and it was hard to stay quiet. I was terrified that my foot would drag or I’d snap a branch and give myself away.
I crouched down behind a tree near the edge of the woods and peered around it. Bo hunkered down beside me, completely silent. It was eerie how he seemed to know that we had to hide.
Dad was talking to a white man with black hair; a sharp face; and long, thin limbs who stood with perfect calm. Even with Dad holding a rifle so tight it was like he was trying to crack it in two. Another man waited down by the water, next to a raft with an olive green crate on it. Their float plane, a big red one, was behind them on the water and in it I thought I could make out a third man. Pilot. His head was bowed like he was sleeping.
“Tell you what,” the lanky man said. “Let’s go inside, and we can talk it through.”
Dad hesitated. Then he nodded. They turned and walked toward the cabin. I pulled myself in, hiding completely behind the tree trunk as they passed. Then I snuck a quick glance.
The man had a gun tucked into the back of his jeans. A handgun. Did my dad know it was there?
I squinted down at the man by the raft. He had a gun, too, this one in a holster at his hip. He rested his hand on it, his thumb idly snapping and unsnapping the bit of leather that kept it secure.
I shook. It was like I was the leaning tree in a windstorm, shuddering and shivering all over.
Leave, I thought. Just do what you came here for and leave.
It was a long time before my dad and the lanky man came out of the cabin, and when they did my dad was no longer carrying a rifle. The two of them walked down to the beach. Dad nodded to the man there. He didn’t nod back. The two newcomers said something to each other, and then all three walked back up toward the woods, the second man carrying the metal crate.
I moved through the trees, staying low, crabbing along with my hands and hauling my bad leg with me as best as I could. I kept my bow on my back, but my arrows were rattling. I paused long enough to strip off my rain shell and stuff it down between the arrows, keeping them cushioned so they wouldn’t rattle. Then I hurried, because they’d gotten out far ahead. We were deep in the woods now, out of sight of the cabin and the shore.
Bo didn’t bark, didn’t even look to the side when a rabbit burst out, racing through the brush. Soon we heard voices again.
“There was that girl, though,” the lanky man said, and my heart gave a jerk in my chest like it was going to try to squeeze straight through my ribs. “What was her name? Sally?” They weren’t talking about me. I relaxed a fraction.
“Sophia,” the other man answered, voice slightly strained from carrying the heavy load. I still couldn’t see them, but I followed the sound.
“Sophia,” the lanky man confirmed. “She was something. She was—” He paused, and I thought he must be making a gesture. Probably having something to do with the size of some portion of her body. “Whatever happened to her?”
“Dunno. She wasn’t exactly the bring-home-to-mama type,” the other man replied. “Only stuck around for a couple weeks. Asked for gas money. Said she’d pay me back.”
“Seems to me she already paid you back,” the lanky man said, and gave a laugh that made my whole body clench up. “How about you, Carl? Don’t suppose you get much tail around here. Not unless a moose stands still long enough.”
Dad didn’t answer.
“Come on now, Carl. Just being friendly,” the lanky man said. Finally I crept up close enough to see them. There were beads of sweat on Dad’s forehead, and he stared at the ground ahead of him instead of looking at them.
“Hold up,” the lanky man said. “This’ll do.” They halted and set down the crate. They were standing in a little clearing where a big tree had fallen. The lanky man stamped on the ground. “Yep. Here.”
The other man opened the crate and took out a pair of shovels before shutting it again. He tossed one to dad. “Start digging,” he said.
The digging took a long time. The whole time, the lanky guy—Raph, I learned as they spoke—talked and talked. Mostly about women. Talking about women in ways that sex ed and prime time TV did not prepare me for. I hated him more and more with every word. The other man, Daniel, didn’t say nearly as much, but he laughed at all of Raph’s jokes and that was bad enough.
When the hole was really deep and as wide and long as the crate, Dad and Daniel climbed out. Daniel took the shovel from Dad, and Dad stood with his hands hanging by his sides.
“Well. Put the stuff in,” Raph said. Dad looked at him for a long, flat moment. Cold fear snaked through my gut. Something was very wrong.
I took my bow off my back and slowly slid an arrow free. I set it to the string and eased out to where I could get a clear shot. Daniel had his back to me. Raph did, too. I had to shoot just right. I had to kill Raph right away, so he couldn’t draw his gun. And then I had to kill Daniel, too.
Dad looked straight at me. I froze. Raph was looking over at Daniel, grumbling about something, and Dad fixed his gaze on me. It’s okay, he mouthed. And then he shook his head, once. And he turned back to help Daniel. I hesitated. I could still shoot. They still weren’t looking.
And what if I missed?
What if I wasn’t fast enough to get another arrow out before Daniel pulled his gun?
What if I missed Daniel?
What if the pilot heard gunshots and came after us?
Dad said it was okay. So I had to believe that it was. They’d bury that box, whatever the hell it was. And then they’d leave us alone. I eased the arrow and sank back behind the tree.
Dad and Daniel hauled the crate over to the hole and lowered it in. When they were done they stood a moment and panted, wiping sweat from their brows. Dad turned to Raph. “There we go,” he said. “Safe as houses until you need it. I’ll make sure it stays that way.”
“Still leaves us with a problem,” Raph said.
“I told you. The money’ll be here by the time you get back,” Dad said. “I didn’t steal it.”
“Just borrowed it,” Raph said. He smiled, nodded. “I believe you, Carl. I believe you’ll get that money.”
Dad reached out his hand. “I’ll shake on it,” he said. “My guarantee.”
Raph kept smiling. And he took out his gun. And he shot my father in the head.