The Snow Falcon (14 page)

Far below her, the terrain rose and fell in sharp rocky valleys high above the tree line. The glacial slopes shimmered with the first touch of sun, the frozen snow throwing back light from ice crystals. The falcon roused herself, shaking her plumage from head to tail, then stretched each leg and wing in turn, awakening and warming her muscles. She clenched her talons against the rock beneath her feet, and bent to nip at shreds of matter that clung to their polished points. Watching, feeling the slight changes occurring in the air as it was fractionally warmed by the rising sun, she observed the world as it came awake. Stars faded until their light became a glimmer, then vanished one by one, and the pale orb of the moon faded out against the winter-blue sky. A streak of high cirrus smudged the horizon

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above the mountains to the west, but otherwise the day dawned cloudless. A breeze came up out of nowhere, its cold caress rippling across the falcon’s feathers and sliding away like the kiss of a fine rain mist. Feeling its call, she stood on the edge of her ledge and extended both wings, feeling the lift from the movement of air as she harnessed it with her flight feathers. Her feet gripped tightly as she savored the sensations she experienced each waking morning. Breast thrust forward, the deep curve telling of the powerful muscles beneath feather and skin, she cocked her head sideways and peered with intent curiosity skyward and back again across the mountain cliffs. Her eye missed nothing. Her blue-gray beak, curved to a fine point, possessed a soft polished hue. In the far distance, a speck rose into the sky and circled slowly, an eagle she watched for a moment with interest. Then with a flick of her wings she was airborne, rising quickly on the currents that came up from the valley floor below.

Her wingbeats were fast and powerful, carrying her farther out toward open space where she found a thermal and hung on outstretched wings, allowing herself to be borne aloft, effortlessly banking and coming around as she quickly rose. The sun was above the horizon now, the air warming quickly, and below her the mountains peaked and glistened white in the fresh light. She soared higher, swiveling her head and ranging her eyes across the land below. Feeling her thermal peter out, she banked sharply and rode down on a roller-coaster ride toward the valley slightly to the southwest where the spruce and cedar pushed high and dark. Rising air from the valley floor bore her aloft again, and she repeated this procedure several times, ranging back and forth, catching thermals to bear her up and then banking and sliding down, air rushing across her body, the patterns of thermals invisibly mirroring the terrain below. All the while she took in and registered the movements of animals and birds in the forest; she watched a squirrel sit up high on an exposed limb and nibble at a nut held in its paws, saw it freeze suddenly, its nervous eyes looking left and right as it sensed danger, then it quickly dashed for cover. She saw it all, but she was not hungry yet and had not positioned herself to hunt. She merely soared, the sun glancing off her pale back as she swooped and turned, and occasionally her call echoed across the valley, a sharp kek kek kek.

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ELLIS HAD PARKED his truck down off Falls Pass Road on a logging track when it was still dark and made his way up through the trees with his rifle over his shoulder and a thermos of hot coffee laced with whiskey in his pocket. His plan was to find a place to conceal himself in the general area that he thought was the falcon’s territory and just to wait and hope it would show. He’d come to believe this was a battle of wits, and it was him pitted against the falcon and a whole bunch of other forces ranged against him. He knew he was being fanciful, but it was like that damn bird represented the way his whole life had been. Every time he got close to making a little headway, it all came down around his ears and was snatched away from him. Ellis felt that if there was a God, He didn’t have time for people like himself. Instead Ellis was just a plaything for minor devils to taunt for their amusement. How else was he to explain what had happened the other day when that guy had appeared out of nowhere? He still didn’t know who the hell it could have been.

It had become crucial to Ellis that for once in his life he should come out on top. He had an idea this was a test and that if he could pass it, then things might generally improve in his life. He’d begun to consider that the bird wasn’t just a regular falcon, that maybe it was something else, something supernatural. All of this he kept to himself. If anybody had heard him talking that way, they’d have put him in a strait) jacket for sure. He hadn’t told Rachel what he was doing, though she was curious about where he was spending his time. A couple of days ago she’d gone to the yard and he hadn’t been there. That evening they’d had a fight, her yelling that if he didn’t work, how were they going to get by just on what she made working afternoons at the grocery store in town? That had really got to him. He hated the fact that without the money she brought in they would really be in trouble, and she knew it. What did she expect him to do, for chrissakes? There was no work. Sometimes he thought she’d leave him. He saw it in her eyes that she wished she could have her time over again and then she never would have married him. That made him afraid of losing her, and he felt powerless to stop it. At times he came close to hitting her. Jesus, he hoped he never did anything like that; it was just he hardly knew what was happening to him sometimes.

He’d found his spot, hunkered down in some rocks, and he’d sat there waiting. It was damn cold and he was freezing his ass off even

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with the coffee. He’d been thinking about how he could have stayed in bed with Rachel curled up warm beside him. Maybe they could have made up in the best way there was, her soft breasts against his chest as he lay over her, though it had been a hell of a long time since they’d done anything like that. It made him uncomfortable just thinking about it, and he had to shift position and think about something else. If things worked out, he promised himself they’d have a real night out. It would be a new start for them. She’d see how hard he’d tried to do this thing right, just for her. Mostly for her, anyway. Things would get better.

In the meantime he found a spot in among some rocks where he was well hidden but where he would have a good view of the surrounding terrain when it got light. He started to unroll his groundsheet and took his rifle from his shoulder; then he poured some coffee and sat down to watch the dawn arrive.

MICHAEL, TOO, HAD risen early and had crossed the river and climbed to a high rocky promontory, where he sat to look back the way he’d come. He was sweating from the climb, and his chest ached from the cold air. It had taken him an hour and a half, and now he was hungry and was wondering how long it would take him to get back. The return journey would be quicker, downhill all the way to the river he could see far below snaking its course westward, where it would eventually pour into the Pacific.

As the sky lightened, his house was visible from where he sat, and not far away through the woods he saw his neighbor’s house with smoke rising from the chimney. When he’d been young, an old couple had lived there. He remembered them vaguely, assumed that they were long dead by now. A vehicle was parked outside the house, and as he watched, a figure emerged, though it was too far away for him to distinguish even if it was a man or a woman. Whoever it was went back into the house for a moment, pausing on the porch and looking toward the mountains. For a second he had the idea that the woman, which is who he decided he was watching, had felt his distant gaze and was searching for him. He imagined that for a brief moment their looks met, then she turned and went back inside. He knew that in reality he would be invisible to anyone down below unless they

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had glasses and were specifically looking for him, and he put his idle fantasy down to some unexpressed desire.

The day before, when he’d stopped to pick up the boy as he walked along the road, it had been their second encounter within an hour. Earlier he’d been walking toward his car, having parked at the bottom end of town, when he’d seen the boy sitting across the road on a fence by the bus stop, swinging his legs. Two other kids of around the same age had been passing by, one on a bike, the other on skates, being towed behind. He’d watched as they stopped and looked for a while at the boy, who acted as if they weren’t there.

“Hey, stupid,” the bigger of the two kids had said. “How come you’re still here? It’s time to go home, stupid, don’t you know that?”

Michael had paused, then started to move on, thinking they were just kids and it was none of his business anyway. He heard the kid wearing skates tell the other one they should go.

“He’s just dumb, Jerry. You’re wasting your time talking to a dumb kid.”

Michael had heard their laughter, high-pitched, cruel and mocking. He turned around and saw that the boy hadn’t reacted, was just staring at his feet.

“Hey, why don’t you say something, huh? Come on, just say one little thing. Say ‘I’m a dummy,’ ” the big kid had said. “What’s the matter? Haven’t you got a tongue, dummy?”

The smaller kid had suddenly stepped forward and grabbed the silent boy’s bag and tried to yank it out of his hand. “Give me that thing!” he’d yelled.

There had been a quick tussle. The bigger kid had joined in as the two of them tried to steal the bag, but the boy wouldn’t let go. All of a sudden the boy had been yanked from his perch on the fence and went sprawling facedown, landing hard on the frozen ground. Michael had shouted out, just as a woman had come out of the house behind. He’d helped the boy to his feet, and then before he could do anything more, the boy had just run off. He’d watched him go, then figuring there was nothing more he could do, he’d headed back to his car, still watched by the woman at her door.

When he’d seen the boy again walking on the side of the road just out of town, he’d been surprised that he was out there and as a natural gesture had stopped to offer a ride.

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“It’s okay, you can get in,” he’d said when the boy didn’t move. “It’s a long walk,” he’d added after a moment. He’d begun to wonder about the boy. Was there something wrong with him? His silence didn’t seem quite right; it went beyond mere shyness, which had been his first assumption. The other kids had been calling him “dumb,” “dummy.” Michael studied the boy, and some old familiar chord was struck by the expression in his eyes. He flashed back to himself at that age, and saw himself as an observer might have, sitting on a rock staring at the mountains, tossing pebbles down the slope to the river, quiet and habitually alone.

“Come on, get in,” he’d said again, and this time the boy had come over and reluctantly climbed in and stared out the window. On the drive back he hadn’t uttered a word, just kept himself squashed up against the door, his face averted. Then, once they’d arrived, the boy had slipped out without a glance and vanished around the back of the house. He’d followed after a minute, and seen him playing with his dog. Then, walking around the house, Michael had concluded that nobody was home. He’d begun to wonder then why the boy had apparently been intent on walking all the way from town, and wondered, too, if his parents knew where he was, a thought that had caused Michael a slight unease.

He’d been on the point of going over to his house to call somebody when the boy’s mother and the cop had arrived, the woman with fear etched deep into her face. Fear of him.

He had slept poorly throughout the night thinking about it. Every time his eyes fluttered closed and he sank into a light slumber, it was as if he’d given leave for images from the past to crowd his mind, jostling for space. Uppermost he kept seeing that day seven years earlier when he’d returned to the apartment. He’d been waving the gun around, wildly, indiscriminately, while he poured out his pain and anger. Louise, frightened and wide-eyed, had stared at him from where she had been huddled against the wall with Holly, who’d been crying inconsolably. He could recall her voice.

“Michael, you’re frightening me. Why don’t you put the gun down? Please don’t hurt us, don’t hurt Holly.”

He closed his eyes, pushing the memory back, shutting out the scene below. The wind swirled around the rocks where he was sitting, the cold seeping into his bones. He could feel his blood grow sluggish, his thoughts slow down as his body temperature dropped. It was

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getting harder to feel his fingers, or even his hands if he didn’t move them, and he knew he was experiencing the first signs of hypothermia. The sweat on his body had dried and cooled, and now he was starting to shiver. He knew that if he didn’t move, lethargy would invade his senses and soon after he’d feel a kind of euphoria. He opened his eyes, and as he did, he heard a high-pitched call and turned his gaze skyward. He saw the falcon circling above him on outstretched wings, with the sun behind her so that he could make out her shape only when he managed to lift his arm and shield his eyes. He was certain it was the same bird he’d seen twice before, and as he watched, he caught a flash of her coloring as she came out of the glare of the sun. She appeared to be almost white across her back, which puzzled him. When he was young, he could remember seeing peregrines in these mountains, but they were smaller than this bird and blue gray in color.

The falcon came around, positioning herself as if intent on something below, and he took his eye away and searched across the slope. As he did, a brown shape rose several hundred yards away and flew toward the trees with a whir of wings; at the same time, the falcon stooped earthward. In that instant a shot rang out, startlingly loud, its source close by, and the falcon began to corkscrew out of control. She dropped like a stone, wings flapping uselessly, and vanished behind some trees while her quarry fled safely in the opposite direction.