Read Online Legend of a Suicide by David Vann - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Vann
Ads: Link
was in there taking his own rifle out of its case, so Roy went for his, too, and stuffed some shells in his pocket and grabbed his hat and jacket.
Better bring your canteen, too, his father said.
When they set off, it was still before noon. They entered the hemlock forest and followed a game trail up and down small hills until they came to spruce and cedar at the base of the mountain. The game trail they were on petered out and they were hiking then on blueberry and other low growth, trying to keep their footing in the scrub. The earth beneath was uneven, spongy and full of holes. They passed hemlocks again and rested to look out over the inlet. They were both winded, already at least five hundred feet above their cabin and the mountain above them sosteep they couldn’t see its top but only the curve of its flank. The cabin below looked very small and difficult to believe.
The other islands, his father said. You can see them much better from here.
Where’s the mainland?
A long ways behind us, past all of Prince of Wales Island and some other islands, too, I think. In the east. That’s one thing we won’t see much of, is the sunrise. We’re in shadow until midmorning.
They stayed there a while longer looking out and then grabbed their rifles and started climbing again. Small wildflowers crumpling beneath their boots and hands, moss and the blueberry that wasn’t yet in season and odd grasses. There were no animals around that Roy could see, and then he saw a chipmunk on a rock.
Hold on, Dad, he said, and his father turned. Roy reached back and flung his stick. It went wide of the chipmunk about ten feet, bounced several times, and stopped about fifty feet down the mountain.
Oh, man, he said, and he left his rifle, retrieved the stick, and returned.
I guess we won’t count on that getting dinner for a while, his father said.
As they rose higher, they started hearing more wind and a few small birds flitted past. They still weren’t on any kind of trail.
Where are we going? Roy asked.
His father kept hiking for a while and finally said, I guess we’re just going up to the top and have a look around.
Farther up, though, they hit the cloud line. They stoppedand looked down. It was overcast everywhere, and no bright light, but the low areas were clear of fog and cloud, at least, and warmer. Here on the edge great fans of cloud reached down and then were blown past. Above only a few faint outlines and then everything was opaque. The wind through here was stronger and the air damp and much colder.
Well, his father said.
I don’t know, Roy said.
But they continued on higher into the clouds and cold and still there was no trail. Roy as they passed tried to make from the dim shapes around them bear and wolf and wolverine. The cloud enclosed him and his father in their own sound so that he could hear his own breath and the blood in his temples as if it were outside of him and this too increased his sense of being watched, even hunted. His father’s footsteps just ahead of him sounded enormous. The fear spread through him until he was holding his breath in tight gasps and couldn’t ask to go back.
His father kept hiking on and never turned. They climbed past the tree line and past the thick low growth to thinner moss and very short hard grasses and occasional small wildflowers showing pale beneath. They hiked over small outbreaks of rock and finally mostly rock and they climbed up steeper cairns holding the ground above with one hand, their rifles in the other, until his father stopped and they were standing at what seemed to be the very top and they could see nothing beyond the pale shapes below them disappearing after twenty feet, as if the world ended in cliff all around and nothing more could be found above. They stood there for a long time, long enough for Roy’s breath to calm and the heat to go out from him so that he felt the cold on hisback and in his legs and long enough for the blood to stop in his
Better bring your canteen, too, his father said.
When they set off, it was still before noon. They entered the hemlock forest and followed a game trail up and down small hills until they came to spruce and cedar at the base of the mountain. The game trail they were on petered out and they were hiking then on blueberry and other low growth, trying to keep their footing in the scrub. The earth beneath was uneven, spongy and full of holes. They passed hemlocks again and rested to look out over the inlet. They were both winded, already at least five hundred feet above their cabin and the mountain above them sosteep they couldn’t see its top but only the curve of its flank. The cabin below looked very small and difficult to believe.
The other islands, his father said. You can see them much better from here.
Where’s the mainland?
A long ways behind us, past all of Prince of Wales Island and some other islands, too, I think. In the east. That’s one thing we won’t see much of, is the sunrise. We’re in shadow until midmorning.
They stayed there a while longer looking out and then grabbed their rifles and started climbing again. Small wildflowers crumpling beneath their boots and hands, moss and the blueberry that wasn’t yet in season and odd grasses. There were no animals around that Roy could see, and then he saw a chipmunk on a rock.
Hold on, Dad, he said, and his father turned. Roy reached back and flung his stick. It went wide of the chipmunk about ten feet, bounced several times, and stopped about fifty feet down the mountain.
Oh, man, he said, and he left his rifle, retrieved the stick, and returned.
I guess we won’t count on that getting dinner for a while, his father said.
As they rose higher, they started hearing more wind and a few small birds flitted past. They still weren’t on any kind of trail.
Where are we going? Roy asked.
His father kept hiking for a while and finally said, I guess we’re just going up to the top and have a look around.
Farther up, though, they hit the cloud line. They stoppedand looked down. It was overcast everywhere, and no bright light, but the low areas were clear of fog and cloud, at least, and warmer. Here on the edge great fans of cloud reached down and then were blown past. Above only a few faint outlines and then everything was opaque. The wind through here was stronger and the air damp and much colder.
Well, his father said.
I don’t know, Roy said.
But they continued on higher into the clouds and cold and still there was no trail. Roy as they passed tried to make from the dim shapes around them bear and wolf and wolverine. The cloud enclosed him and his father in their own sound so that he could hear his own breath and the blood in his temples as if it were outside of him and this too increased his sense of being watched, even hunted. His father’s footsteps just ahead of him sounded enormous. The fear spread through him until he was holding his breath in tight gasps and couldn’t ask to go back.
His father kept hiking on and never turned. They climbed past the tree line and past the thick low growth to thinner moss and very short hard grasses and occasional small wildflowers showing pale beneath. They hiked over small outbreaks of rock and finally mostly rock and they climbed up steeper cairns holding the ground above with one hand, their rifles in the other, until his father stopped and they were standing at what seemed to be the very top and they could see nothing beyond the pale shapes below them disappearing after twenty feet, as if the world ended in cliff all around and nothing more could be found above. They stood there for a long time, long enough for Roy’s breath to calm and the heat to go out from him so that he felt the cold on hisback and in his legs and long enough for the blood to stop in his
Similar Books
