5
ORSON
Y elling at people was the hardest part of Orson’s act. It wasn’t so bad keeping the jokes to a running commentary in his head—he had swallowed so many that’s what she said replies that he was surprised that they weren’t falling out of his ears. He would have liked to mock himself for pronouncing Valdez wrong.
But trying to be pushy in public and roaring with ire instead of laughter was a huge challenge. It didn’t seem natural to Orson to point out errors and order people around. He kept wanting to apologize or make people laugh so they didn’t feel bad.
His bear wasn’t helping, either. He just wanted to wrestle Alexandra down and roll in wildflowers or rotting fish or something. Our mate, he said joyfully, every time Orson saw her. He kept suggesting sex positions and food to feed her.
I don’t need your help, Orson told him the next morning, when the two of them had gotten through the airport security and were boarding the plane.
You should be making cubs right now, his bear protested.
I don’t think Alexandra is interested in joining the mile high club.
She was just as simpering and chatty as she’d been the day before, but to Orson’s relief, she was mostly talking with the stewardess, so he didn’t have to do much but grunt and accept snacks. Sandra had booked him a first class window seat, and Alexandra was on the aisle next to him. She was wearing more practical clothing—ass-hugging jeans and a company T-shirt, with sturdy hiking boots. Her luggage was small and simple.
To Orson’s surprise, the flight was only forty-five minutes—no time for more than a takeoff, a quick soda and a bag of pretzel twists, and then they were landing. His phone had helpfully informed him that it was a five and a half hour drive, so he had anticipated more time in the air. He brought his laptop and a copy of a road guide called the Milepost to familiarize himself with the trip, but didn’t have time to crack either of them open.
The view was astounding. Once they were above the clouds, it was all jagged mountains, some of them snow-capped. Then they were descending sharply to a river delta between ridges.
“Here we are!” Alexandra sang, as they disembarked. The terminal was tiny and they got off the airplane on a set of rickety stairs. It was windy and little stabbing drops of rain blew against Orson’s bare skin. A T-shirt had been the wrong thing to wear, but it had been warm and sunny in Anchorage. Alexandra produced a windbreaker from her bag and looked prepared. Orson wasn’t going to shiver or complain, so he just scowled and stomped down the stairs after her.
A car was waiting to drive them to Valdez; the airport was several miles from the town.
Alexandra pointed out the sights as they drove, talking about the pipeline terminal and the fishing and the mountains and the glaciers. “The port here never freezes!” she said cheerfully. “So three to five tankers leave every week all year! Tee hee hee!” She slithered expertly out of each attempt Orson made to ask her questions about herself .
Well, they had a few days to get to know each other. Alone. Orson hoped she would open up on their long drive.
There were birds on the Valdez docks. Not just ravens, staring at him with one eye in a clear request for food, but also bald eagles—a dozen of them! They were perched all around the parking lots like vultures and no one seemed the slightest bit awed by their presence. Orson pretended to ignore them like everyone else.
The security office in Valdez was one wild-eyed guy at a computer monitor in a tiny rented room. He was wearing a T-shirt that said “May the (m*a) be with you” and Orson desperately wanted to laugh at it with him, but remembered at the last moment that he wasn’t supposed to have a sense of humor and only grunted and shook his hand.
The geek kept looking curiously at Alexandra, and Orson intercepted a discreet shake of her head in warning. When she saw Orson glance at her, her smile got even wider and she gave an airheaded, “Tee hee hee! We don’t have a lot of time to stay, Craig. We want to stop at the terminal here and then head up to Tok.”
Oh.
Orson had been pronouncing the name like Tik Tok, the social media app, and apparently it was “Toke.” The danger of being gruff and blustery was that no one corrected him, so he sounded stupider and stupider as the day progressed.
A company pickup waited for them in the parking lot, with the new Grizzly Protection Services vinyl logo stuck on a space on the door with slightly less mud than the rest. It was a crew cab in deep blue, and Orson glanced into the back to find a plastic bin lashed into place, with not one but two spare tires, a full-sized shovel, and a marked emergency kit. How far away from civilization were they going? Were they going to bury bodies? Sandra had assured him that he didn’t need any camping equipment and that she had arranged housing all along the way.
Alexandra went to the driver’s side and opened the back door.
“I’ll drive,” Orson insisted. That was the boss thing to do, right?
“Of course!” she said. “Tee hee hee.” She left the door ajar and went around to the other side of the truck, storing her luggage in the back seat.
Orson was beginning to suspect that there was something sinister behind her fake-sounding giggle. He slung his suitcase into the back of the cab and settled into the driver’s seat.
He thought he did all right through the brief tour of the Valdez (Valdeeeeez) terminal, but he was eager to get on the road, alone with the woman making his bear do emotional somersaults.
“Buckle up!” he said cheerfully, before he could remember that he wasn’t Old Orson . He followed it with a grunt that sounded super forced.
Alexandra didn’t comment, though Orson caught a confused sideways glance.
He vowed to be tough and silent for the rest of the trip but blew it almost at once as they drove north into a gorgeous canyon just as the clouds cleared and the sky opened up overhead. The road was twisty and narrow, and Orson nearly drove off it twice staring at the waterfalls cascading down the cliffs opposite of the road across a frothy river. Between the light and the water and the sheer rock walls, it was a view straight out of a postcard, and he had to force himself not to gape. Fortunately, traffic was light, because he crossed the centerline several times.
“Pull over here,” Alexandra said firmly, following it with a clear afterthought of a giggle. “Tee hee hee.”
Here proved to be a viewing point of a particularly stunning waterfall. The light streaming into the canyon lit it up like a filmy, foamy spill of silver. Rainbows danced everywhere.
“Bridal Veil Falls,” Alexandra said briefly, as they got out. “It’s more impressive earlier in the spring, but we’ve had a lot of rain lately. I’ll take the wheel now.” She put her hand out imperiously, then winced. “So you can enjoy the view. Tee hee hee.”
Orson obediently dropped the keys into her hand, then wondered if he should have insisted on continuing to drive. He settled for scowling at her and stomping to the other side of the truck without speaking.