The Boy Must Die (26 page)

Now the air around him gave him inspiration.

Why not simply run away?

He could take the Greyhound bus into Lethbridge at the end of the dig. Patsy Hanson, he believed, would let him down. He could try her one more time, but she wouldn’t have the money. She would make him pull double duty — sexually and emotionally — and then refuse to give him the cash. At home, he could pack a suitcase, borrow his mother’s
VISA
card, and tell her he needed a weekend away. She wouldn’t mind. Once he reached Vancouver, he could get a job, then pay back his mother. He could wait on tables, lie low for a year. Yianni would have to write off his debt as a lost cause. Not even Yianni could track him to the coast.

And Karen? Why not persuade her to run away, too?
There were lots of abortion clinics there. Maybe the two of them might keep the baby. No, Justin thought, don’t go there. After all, Karen said she loved him. Would she try to trap him into marriage if they decided to keep the baby?
Oh, God.
He shook his head.

Justin grabbed the handle of his shovel and started digging in earnest once again. He was surprised at how easy his new plan seemed, even if the Karen part was still not resolved. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He looked down. He had reached the level of soil where Randy and Sam Heavy Hand had said most of the ancient material probably lay buried. Here was the important part. Justin lay down his shovel, reached for his steel-meshed sifting screen. Around his square digging plot, there were four stakes joined by pieces of white binder twine. Each crew member worked in a similar square plot. Every day, once the digging and sifting had been thoroughly completed, the squares would be
moved in a set pattern until the entire site had been examined. As a plot was completed, the soil was replaced, the shale covering like an outer skin of stone spread back over the ground. The Blackfoot frequently buried the skulls of elders in circles facing the mountain. Justin hoped to find one wrapped with a beaded cloth or a necklace.

Cloud was forming in the west as the sun began to move downwards into early evening. Justin had worked hard all afternoon. He slowed down his sifting. His hands were coated in grey rock dust.

“Have you found anything at all?” asked David. These were his first words to Justin since lunch.

“Dust and more dust.”

“Don’t lose hope, boys.” Cara’s voice was falsely cheery. At least she’s been working as hard as the rest of us, thought Justin. Her clothes were dust-covered. Her hands were encased in the thick cloth gloves she had brought along.

Randy had spent the afternoon pacing from plot to plot; Sam Heavy Hand had gone back to his half-ton and taken off for about an hour. He had returned to the site with a grey-haired woman in a long beaded dress. Sam and the woman had talked to Randy for a while, standing at the foot of the slope by the tree line. The woman was in her early sixties, Justin thought, her strict posture adding dignity to a face weathered by the sun. On her left arm, she wore a large silver bracelet. Later, she and Sam left, and Randy sat alone near the trees, talking on his cell phone.

“Come on, everyone.”

Randy was standing now on the edge of the plateau. “Put your tarps over your plots and gather up your shovels.”

“He sounds like an army sergeant,” said Cara.

The crew unfolded the tarps and spread them over the areas they had been sifting. They secured the corners with large stones taken from the surrounding scree. Climbing back down the slope towards the parked van, Cara sidled up to Justin.

“What’s got into Randy?” asked Cara.

“How do you mean?”

“Where have you been, Justin? Randy almost went ballistic when that old Indian woman appeared with Sam. Didn’t you notice?”

“Hurry, you two!” Randy’s voice rang out from the trees beyond.

“I thought Randy was here to help us with the dig,” Cara went on. “But half the time he was down in the trees with Sam.”

“So what?”

“Justin, you’re not very observant. I was surprised you are such a good worker.”

“Thanks.”

There was a blast from the van’s horn. David Home was running ahead, towards the open door of the van, and Randy was in the driver’s seat. Sam Heavy Hand was climbing into the cab of his half-ton as Justin and Cara broke out of the trees.

“You two planning on spending the night up there?”

Justin felt Randy was angry, not joking. “Sorry,” Justin answered.

He and Cara placed their tools on top of David’s in the back of the van.

“Careful,” Randy ordered, looking back over the seats at them. “Put the tools by the side. I don’t want a long hassle at the border unloading this van. Let’s make it easy on ourselves.”

As they buckled up, Justin noticed Randy raising his hand to Sam Heavy Hand, who signalled back from the cab of his half-ton.

“Now, everyone,” Randy said, his voice tired and edgy. “When we get to the border, please let me do the talking. We may be searched, and you’ll have to follow orders quickly. As we drive along, fill in these dig forms, describing exactly what you found — if anything — and the extent of your sifting. Just write down how many square feet you estimate you dug up and passed through the screen. I have to file these damned things in duplicate at both the American and Canadian sides.”

Cara looked at Justin. She was about to say something, but Randy started the engine and jerked the van forward. As he did, Sam Heavy Hand flashed his headlights twice and pulled his half-ton in close behind the van.

“Sam is coming over the border with us tonight, just to make sure everything’s in order,” Randy explained. They headed for the highway, the half-ton following closely.

Justin turned and looked back at Sam and noticed he was still wearing his sunglasses.

“Why does he have to come?” whispered Cara. “Who is he, anyway? Can’t Randy do this on his own?” She took hold of Justin’s hand. Her skin was cold and clammy.

The van moved under the low evening sun, the sky a gold suffused with pale blue. To the northeast, thunderheads formed over the plains, billowing pure white clouds with flat dark undersides promising hard rain. Randy drove in silence. Every once in a while, he’d look frantically into the rearview mirror and clear his throat. Justin noticed how Randy gripped the steering wheel. Cara and David filled out their dig forms, but Justin could hardly write on his. The van was speeding towards the border crossing, around the curves of the narrow road, and Justin feared his old bane, car sickness, might force him to ask Randy to slow down. A couple of times, Cara turned and looked out the back window. She nudged Justin.

“Look.”

Sam was flashing his headlights, on and off. Each time he did, Randy accelerated. As the van pulled into the border crossing, the two flags — the American stars-and-stripes and the Canadian red maple leaf — were lifting in the cooling breeze of the coming night. Lights were on in both border shelters. The road was empty of cars and recreational vehicles. Through the firs, the dying sunlight made long and ominous shadows across the two-lane road.

“Quiet, everyone,” Randy ordered, even though no one was speaking. David Home, who had dozed off, sat up suddenly. Randy steered the van to the guard’s window on the American side and waited. The office was lit, but the desk was empty. Randy tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. No one appeared. Randy climbed out of the van. Sam Heavy Hand pulled up, though he did not get out of his half-ton. Randy ignored him, walked into the lit office, and called out. No guard seemed
to be on duty. Cara moved closer to Justin, and they watched Randy leave the office and go around to the back of the building and call out into the darkening woods behind the fence. Randy then came back to the van and began honking the horn with short furious blasts. Justin turned and saw Sam Heavy Hand sitting still, his face like a mask and his sunglasses glinting gold in the failing light.

A woman in a brown uniform began walking towards them from the Canadian side of the border. Randy went out to meet her, and they shook hands. She smiled at Randy, spoke to him for a moment, turned, and walked back to the office on the Canadian side. Randy scampered back, climbed in, and headed slowly over the border and into the parking lot next to the Canadian customs house.

“Hand me your forms, please. Quick,” Randy said. “That’s Margie,” he said. “She’s an old friend.” He sounded relieved and got out of the van as Sam Heavy Hand drew up into a parking space beside the customs house, leapt from the cab, and lit a cigarette. Margie shook hands with Sam, and then Randy handed her the forms the crew had filled out. She put them on a shelf inside the customs house, came out again, and walked with Randy to the back of the van. Justin could hear Randy and the woman talking and laughing. Sam climbed back into his half-ton. Justin thought the way he did this was odd, as if he were trying to be quiet, or as if he did not want people to notice him. All the while, his mask-like face watched Randy’s every move and gesture.

The back door of the van was opened.

“It’s all in order, Margie,” Randy said.

The woman shone a flashlight over the tools and the metal lunch container. She walked around to the side of the van, slid open the door, bent down, and inspected the floor. “Looks good, prof,” she said. “Can you lift up the back for me?”

“Justin, come and lend me a hand.”

Justin opened the door and felt a rush of cool air. He went around beside Randy, and they lifted out the tools, then peeled up the rubber matting that lay over the metal floor of the van. In its centre was the spare
tire. Margie leaned in with her flashlight. The beam illuminated the tire and what appeared to be packets of black plastic garbage bags. Justin couldn’t recall seeing those earlier. He looked at Randy. Randy shoved his hands into his pockets in what seemed to Justin a forced gesture.

“I keep extra bags in there for earth samples and, if need be, extra storage if we get lucky finding larger artifacts. Good place to store the bags, out of the way.”

“Okay, prof,” Margie said and clicked off her flashlight.

Justin and Randy reached into the van and pulled the rubber matting back over the tire and the metal floor. Randy was breathing heavily, as if he’d just climbed up the plateau at Chief Mountain. He flashed a quick nervous smile at Justin. “Thanks, Justin. You get back to your seat. Cara and Dave, Margie and I’ll be a few minutes going over your forms. Then we’ll be on our way.”

Back in his seat, Justin slid down and put his head against the window.

“You tired?” asked Cara.

“Beat.”

When Randy returned to the van, he climbed in and gave a couple of quick honks of the horn as if he were signalling to Sam sitting in his half-ton. Both men started their engines. Margie waved from the porch of the customs house as Randy backed out, honked again, and veered onto the two-lane. Sam Heavy Hand turned his headlights to high beam and followed Randy down the highway, away from the border crossing and towards Waterton Lakes on the Canadian side. “No problems,” Randy announced to the crew. “Margie told me our American friends signed off early because of the lack of traffic.”

“Is that legal?” asked David Home.

“They make their own rules, it seems,” said Randy.

Justin drifted into his own thoughts again, turning his mind away from the day and Randy’s behaviour over the last half hour. Leaning against the window, he rarely took his eyes off the landscape. Traffic was light — only one car drove past on its way to Montana. Justin
nodded off to sleep but awoke a minute later as the van pulled over to the shoulder of the road. He heard wild honking. He sat up. Cara Simonds was pointing to Sam Heavy Hand’s half-ton screeching to a halt only inches away from the back door of the van. The sounds of doors slamming and feet crunching on gravel filled the van, and Justin pressed closer to the window. He was beginning to feel uneasy, a result of hunger and fatigue and a touch of car sickness. He watched Sam run towards Randy on the shoulder of the road. Sam was whooping and waving his arms. In the glare of the half-ton’s high beams, Sam grabbed Randy and danced with him, arms held aloft. It was the first time on the trip that Sam smiled; he flung his reflecting sunglasses into the air. Randy tried to break free. He kept saying “Quiet down, Sam.” After a while, the two men separated. Sam climbed into his half-ton, brought out a two-four of Coors Lights, and carried it in his left hand towards the van, swinging the box as if it were light as a pillow. He yanked the door of the van open.

“You sleepy heads want a beer?”

“Sure,” said David Home meekly.

“No thanks,” said Cara. “Shouldn’t we be on our way? I need a shower, and I’m. . . .”

Sam broke into a laugh. He raised a foaming beer can to his mouth and drank heavily. Justin couldn’t understand why Randy and Sam had changed so suddenly. It was as if the end of the day were a cause for celebration. Sam’s elation, especially, showed the two men had somehow released the tension the crew had seen between them earlier. But Justin decided not to think about it further. He had his own fears and plans. Though he was puzzled by the black garbage bags in the back of the van, around the spare tire, he wanted only dinner and a bed.

When they began moving again, Justin fell into a short sleep. He awoke to find himself sailing past the sparkling waters of Waterton Lakes, the rising moon turning the emerald water a deep, secretive black. The crew unloaded at the cabin around eight o’clock. The cawing of crows filled the air. Busy clouds of gnats flurried over the damp brush of fragrant cow
parsnip. Justin helped Randy put the tools in the small shed. His professor was drinking a Coors, and Sam Heavy Hand was inside the cabin knocking about the kitchen, clattering glasses, and singing. Cara looked upset.

Tired and with a headache coming on, Justin turned away from her and went into the kitchen, past the living room, and into his small bedroom. After he pulled off his dusty clothes, he wrapped himself in a towel and headed to the bathroom. He knew he’d have to be quick and conserve hot water, so he dampened a cloth, rubbed his face and underarms, slapped on aftershave, and went back to his room, all the while thinking about Karen and Cara and Yianni.