Lookout by Christine Byl

Author:Christine Byl
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Deep Vellum Publishing

SUMMER HAD STARTED slow and the crew stayed in-state working projects and managing small lightning fires. Then there was a hot, quick start in the Kootenai and they fell on it with the pent-up macho verve of a lazy wet June, and money in the budget to burn. One afternoon Cody and Jess were left behind at a helicopter pad while the driver took the short green school bus to pick up the rest of the crew at the base of the ridge, an hour away by a rutted Forest Service road. The crew had dug line downhill while Cody and Jess had drawn the job at the top of the ridge, awaiting a drop of a second saw to replace one that blew a cylinder. It was overkill, an expense that would never fly later in the season, but a new pilot needed a training run, so—. Except for a stationed lookout, they always tagged a job in pairs. Cody and Jess had not yet been placed together. Usually the rest of the crew padded them with an easy vibe in which to hip-check and piggyback or grab and swing, the easy physical camaraderie of a gang.

Alone, their job was to wait, which, in lieu of urgency or mission, turned into lie on your back on the ridgetop and watch the clouds pass overhead. The ground was dusty and bare, plants and duff cleared away to make a safe zone devoid of flammables for a landing pad. The gravelly soil rolled rough and warm under their bodies. Cody lay spread eagle on her back like a gingerbread cutout and windmilled her arms and legs.

“Did you ever make snow angels?” Jess asked. He lay back and mimicked her, a few feet away. They swept at the dirt with flat jumping jacks. Lazy game.

“Yep. And snowmen. Louisa called them snow friends because she didn’t know why they had to be men. She liked to make them with boobs.” It was out before she could think of how embarrassed she’d feel, Louisa and boobs out of her mouth in front of Jess, who’d groped her sister’s chest, she knew. But he didn’t note it. They both quit waving on the ground after a while and lay still, the hot wind gusting in the afternoon. Their hands spread toward each other and when they stopped moving their fingers touched.

The chopper approached from the north. They could hear thwacking from far off, giving them time to stand up and brush off each other’s backs. Cody put her hands on Jess’s shoulders from behind and ran her palms down the back of his yellow shirt to wipe off the grit and then she stopped at his belt, holding on to it, brave fingers tucked in between the leather and the waistband—bare skin, fine hair. They stood like that. In front of them the dirt remained swept into their touching shapes, like evidence.

“Cookie cutters,” Jess pointed.

“Dirt angels,” said Cody.

The heli came in hot and the prop

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