Read Online The Journey Prize Stories 28 by Kate Cayley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Cayley
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Lucky. âCâmon, Fishing Bear!â She waves the fish bonker over her head and whoops like an Indian in a John Wayne Western. Diane and the crew look at their feet.
âWhat a comedian,â Lara says. But Iâm laughing. Iâm not sure if itâs okay to laugh, but shit, Iâm up to my thighs in pissed-off salmon.
âYouâre good at this,â Lucky says when I give her the fish.
âIâll add it to my resumé,â I say.
âWeâll go fishing when I get out,â she says. âCould be five to ten still though, eh?â And again, even though Iâm not quite sure itâs okay, we share a laugh like a cigarette. Me in the river, her on the shore.
Lara gets the next one, a female. Flushed and grinning, she hands it off to Diane. Now some of the Station 2 volunteers are thinking that this fishing by hand is looking very primal and authentic, so they wade in with us. We pull salmon out of the river for hours. On the shore, humans cut eggs out of bellies, and squirt fish sperm into plastic bags, until itâs time for hot drinks and peanut butter sandwiches.
âDonât you find this all a bit weird?â I ask Lucky over a hot chocolate, like weâre chatting at Starbucks or something.
âWhat, the egg take? Like she says, itâs better for the fish.â Lucky nods her head at Lara, who looks vindicated. âItâs still weird though.â
After lunch, some of the volunteers gather around Diane. She dissects a Coho for those who have never seen a fish fromthe inside. Lara and I have both seen a fish from the inside, but we join in anyway. Diane cuts the organs out one by one and piles them in a bloody clump: a purple heart, a liver, a swim bladder. When she cuts into the face, we all cringe a little. She gives Lara an eyeball and Lara balances it on the tip of her finger. Through the lens, Lara and I see the world upside down. River in the sky. Dianeâs bloody knife. The blackberry canes where Luckyâs been hidden, since nobody wants to see the fish meet their end. Sheâs still working away, fish after fish, soft thud against flesh. She says something I canât make out, and laughs. I canât see her, but through the fish eye, I think I see Luckyâs upside-down laughter run down to the ground like honey. Absorb near the tree roots.
CHARLIE FISET
IF I EVER SEE THE SUN
And now tell me how he rapt you away to the realm of darkness and gloom, and by what trick did the strong Host of Many beguile you?
âDemeter to Persephone,
The Homeric Hymn to Demeter
A t the end of her shift, Roxane sits down on a wooden bench under the shack at 1000 level. She waits for the cage with the rest of the men. Air from the heater warms the side of her face against the frigid drafts that pour down from the surface through the shaft. The shack has a wooden floor, ancient and resinous under a layer of grit; thereâs a partition beside her that seems oddly out of place, and behind her head thereâs a round bolt in the wood, just below chest level, with three rusty chain links hanging down from it.
Sixty years ago, the shack housed mules that carted ore through the drifts. They lived beneath the surface; once theyâd been brought down they never saw the light of day. Maybewhen they became obsolete the mules were hauled up in the cage. Maybe they were brought to a farm with misty valleys where they could live out their retirement eating all the lush, green grass they wanted, the sun warming their greying withers. Or maybe, Roxane thinks, their bones lie quiet, scattered in the dark, dust blending with the broken rock.
The cage whispers down on the wheels like a promise. When it slides into sight and stops at the level, Roxane gets up and grabs her steel lunch kit. Her arm jars, jerking her back down to the bench. She yanks the lunch kit again but itâs stuck.
âWhatâs the holdup?â the shift-boss yells from
âWhat a comedian,â Lara says. But Iâm laughing. Iâm not sure if itâs okay to laugh, but shit, Iâm up to my thighs in pissed-off salmon.
âYouâre good at this,â Lucky says when I give her the fish.
âIâll add it to my resumé,â I say.
âWeâll go fishing when I get out,â she says. âCould be five to ten still though, eh?â And again, even though Iâm not quite sure itâs okay, we share a laugh like a cigarette. Me in the river, her on the shore.
Lara gets the next one, a female. Flushed and grinning, she hands it off to Diane. Now some of the Station 2 volunteers are thinking that this fishing by hand is looking very primal and authentic, so they wade in with us. We pull salmon out of the river for hours. On the shore, humans cut eggs out of bellies, and squirt fish sperm into plastic bags, until itâs time for hot drinks and peanut butter sandwiches.
âDonât you find this all a bit weird?â I ask Lucky over a hot chocolate, like weâre chatting at Starbucks or something.
âWhat, the egg take? Like she says, itâs better for the fish.â Lucky nods her head at Lara, who looks vindicated. âItâs still weird though.â
After lunch, some of the volunteers gather around Diane. She dissects a Coho for those who have never seen a fish fromthe inside. Lara and I have both seen a fish from the inside, but we join in anyway. Diane cuts the organs out one by one and piles them in a bloody clump: a purple heart, a liver, a swim bladder. When she cuts into the face, we all cringe a little. She gives Lara an eyeball and Lara balances it on the tip of her finger. Through the lens, Lara and I see the world upside down. River in the sky. Dianeâs bloody knife. The blackberry canes where Luckyâs been hidden, since nobody wants to see the fish meet their end. Sheâs still working away, fish after fish, soft thud against flesh. She says something I canât make out, and laughs. I canât see her, but through the fish eye, I think I see Luckyâs upside-down laughter run down to the ground like honey. Absorb near the tree roots.
CHARLIE FISET
IF I EVER SEE THE SUN
And now tell me how he rapt you away to the realm of darkness and gloom, and by what trick did the strong Host of Many beguile you?
âDemeter to Persephone,
The Homeric Hymn to Demeter
A t the end of her shift, Roxane sits down on a wooden bench under the shack at 1000 level. She waits for the cage with the rest of the men. Air from the heater warms the side of her face against the frigid drafts that pour down from the surface through the shaft. The shack has a wooden floor, ancient and resinous under a layer of grit; thereâs a partition beside her that seems oddly out of place, and behind her head thereâs a round bolt in the wood, just below chest level, with three rusty chain links hanging down from it.
Sixty years ago, the shack housed mules that carted ore through the drifts. They lived beneath the surface; once theyâd been brought down they never saw the light of day. Maybewhen they became obsolete the mules were hauled up in the cage. Maybe they were brought to a farm with misty valleys where they could live out their retirement eating all the lush, green grass they wanted, the sun warming their greying withers. Or maybe, Roxane thinks, their bones lie quiet, scattered in the dark, dust blending with the broken rock.
The cage whispers down on the wheels like a promise. When it slides into sight and stops at the level, Roxane gets up and grabs her steel lunch kit. Her arm jars, jerking her back down to the bench. She yanks the lunch kit again but itâs stuck.
âWhatâs the holdup?â the shift-boss yells from
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