Читать книгу Hawk - Jennifer Dance - Страница 11

The fish hawk flies across the barren landscape until it gives way to forest once more. She alights on the top of the tallest tree. She’s missing a talon on her right foot, but the remaining three claws curve around the branch, holding her securely as she shakes her plumage into position. She preens her feathers to ensure that each one is airworthy. Then, with her job complete, Three Talons looks around and calls for a mate.

Once we get past the turnoffs to the big oil companies, the traffic on Highway 63 thins.

“We’re nearly there,” Frank says, taking the exit and driving along a road lined with spruce trees that are all the same height, width, and colour. They remind me of soldiers on parade. He pulls onto the shoulder next to a colossal sign: “Energyse” painted in orange on a blue-green background. It’s dazzling compared with the rest of the landscape, which is washed-out and muddy grey. Water trickles over slabs of rock, collecting in a pond next to the sign. Lily pads float there. They must be plastic because it’s too early for real ones, but it’s impossible to tell for sure because they’re covered in the same mud-coloured dust that’s everywhere.

My grandfather stares at the water and then turns to me.

“Remember the moose wading into the shallows by the cabin? You’d stuff your knuckles into your mouth, trying to keep quiet, but it never worked for long. You’d explode, and they’d bound away.”

I can’t remember this, but I don’t want to spoil his pleasant memory, so I nod.

But Frank ruins the moment. “Do you want to go back up there, old man? Do you want to be all alone again, with no family, with just the damn moose to keep you company?”

“Frank! Take it easy,” Angela says.

“I boarded up the windows the day I left,” my grandfather continues, obviously knowing how to tune my father out, “to keep animals from moving in.”

Frank chuckles in that mean way of his. “Even the animals wouldn’t want to live there. It’s such a dump.”

“You’re such an ass,” I mumble.

Frank glances over his shoulder. “What’s that, Adam?”

I set my face in a stony stare.

Frank steps on the gas and pulls away from the Energyse sign. But suddenly, my grandfather is unbuckling his seat belt and opening the back door.

“What the hell!” Frank yells, slamming on the brakes. “Get back in!”

But my grandfather is out of the truck, even before it comes to a full stop. I wonder if he’s had enough of his own son and if he’s planning to walk all the way back up to Fort Chipewyan. In one of those crazy split-second decisions, I figure I’ll go with him, and I’m out the door too. But he’s not going to Chip. He’s going back to the pond by the Energyse sign. And so am I.

He starts climbing the rocks, and I’m right after him. A glance over my shoulder shows that Angela and Frank are on our tail.

My grandfather’s face soon falls.

“There’s no stream,” he says. “Where does the water come from?”

Frank laughs. “Nowhere! They just pump it around in a loop.”

“Cool!” I exclaim.

Cars slow down and people stare at us. “Get back in the truck,” Frank orders. “Everyone’s looking.”

The entrance to the mine reminds me of border crossings I’ve seen on TV — flashing red stoplights and guards. Frank puts his card in the machine, and the bar rises. The guard waves us through. Road signs and instructions point off in all directions, as well as orders such as do not enter. Frank doesn’t need to read the signs. He knows where he’s going.

“It’s not this quiet as a rule,” he says. “They’ve timed this tree-planting with a shutdown for maintenance.”

“That’s convenient,” my grandfather mutters. “Visitors won’t get to see what goes on around here.”

Frank snaps. “Look, Dad, this company pays my wages, remember that. It pays for the roof over our heads and the food that goes in our bellies — yours too.”

“There was a time nobody had to pay for our food!” my grandfather counters. “We ate real fish and real game, not these hot dogs and hamburgers you call food. We drank water from the lake too, not from plastic bottles.”

I don’t get my grandfather’s point. I really like hotdogs and hamburgers. And pop beats water any day. I stick my earbuds in, trying to drown them out with my music.

Frank drives across the moonscape to a place where massive machinery is parked. I perk up.

“Those are the 797s,” Frank says.

“You drive one of those?” I shriek.

He nods. “I told you they were big.”

“Big? You’re kidding. They’re colossal.”

“As tall as a two-storey house,” he says.

“Are they hard to drive?”

“Not really. They have power steering, so they’re light and responsive. The hardest part is getting into them. You get a workout climbing up and down that ladder.”

“Can you take me for a ride?” I ask.

“I wish I could….”

He pulls away from the monster trucks, and we go up a slope to a place where a crowd is gathering. Frank tells me to leave my iPhone in the car. I don’t; I stuff it deep in my pocket. We sit on the tailgate, taking off our shoes and waiting for Frank to hand us each a pair of black rubber boots that he bought from Canadian Tire just for today. I’m not happy about Frank choosing my footwear, but I go along with it since I really don’t want to wreck my new kicks.

“Perfect for tree-planting,” he says, talking about the boots, “and perfect weather too. Early spring, like this … soil still damp from the melt. It’s perfect.”

“Just perfect,” I say under my breath.

Frank covers his face and neck with bug spray and then hands the aerosol can down the line for us to do the same. You can barely smell the DEET because there’s something stronger in the air, like when you drive past a road crew filling potholes, only much more powerful. Then I realize it’s the smell of the oil industry: summer road works.

Frank gives us matching red baseball caps too, but there’s no way I’m wearing one. They look like freebies from Canadian Tire! I yank my Oilers cap firmly onto my head and stare at him coldly until he looks away. We walk toward the group. The perfect family. Frank tosses an arm over my grandfather’s shoulder, pulling him close. If you didn’t know him, you’d think they actually liked each other, but Frank’s quiet voice is tinged with threat. “Watch what you say today, Dad. I know you have strong opinions about the mining, but keep them to yourself … for my sake.”

My grandfather looks Frank in the eye and says nothing.