Page 40

Before

THE DAY DAWNEDbright 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?