–Niko returns to some familiar territory and Bayless becomes more and more secretive–
By the time Bayless emerged the next morning, Niko had cooked breakfast, cleaned camp, packed the boat, and had caught three brook trout swinging a parachute Adams from the bank.
“You feeling alright?” Niko asked, pulling his line in.
“I’m fine. You got any coffee?”
“Coffee, eggs, and toast are over by the fire.” Niko pointed at the smoldering coals.
Bayless walked over and poked at the food. “It’s all cold.” Bayless took a bite of the toast.
“Should’ve been up two hours ago.”
“Figured after I got divorced I wouldn’t have anyone telling me when to wake up.”
Niko extended the rod towards Bayless. “Didn’t you know that fishing guides are the worst for wake up times. You wanna cast a few?”
“I’m fine.” Bayless wiped his eyes, farted, and spat a thick glob onto the rocks before he chugged water from the jug next to the coffee.
“Thought you might want to fish some while we were out here,” Niko said.
“Why the hell would I want that?” Bayless looked puzzled.
“You said you were supposed to fish up here with your dad. Thought maybe you would want to fish some with his ashes or something. A symbolic gesture.”
Bayless looked like he just remembered something. “You sound like a teenage girl. I just need to get to that spot and spread those ashes.” His eyes drifted towards the duffle bag sitting in the opening of his tent.
Niko thought the duffle seemed big and heavy for a trip like this.
“Are the ashes in that bag?” He pointed to the tent.
“You’re a little nosey for hired help.”
“I’m nosey about things that go on my boat.”
Bayless walked to the tent, lifted the duffle bag, and then walked it back to the boat, setting it on the seat. “Well then, maybe you can help me with the map. I’ll dig it out. It was my father’s. He labeled the spot I need to find.”
“You have a map? Why didn’t you show me yesterday? I’ve been trying to navigate on your vague description.”
Bayless opened the duffle, but he had positioned the bag so that Niko couldn’t see its contents.
“I’m getting it out now. Don’t be bitchy.”
“You’re kind of a jerk when you’re hungover.”
“Isn’t everyone?”
Bayless moved through the bag’s contents, and Niko could hear the thud of hard objects clanking on the boat’s hull through the fabric.
As he watched Bayless, Niko’s mind flashed back to the sight of Bernard swinging the oar at his face. An unexpected strike that he should have seen coming. The feeling of astonishment at his own oversight.
Am I oblivious once again? What can I do now?
Niko remembered the instant he felt the oar touch his face. The realization of the hit, the ring in the ear, the metallic smell in his nose — it all flashed in that short instant before the nerves fired and he blacked out. The fear he felt when he woke alone, in a spot much like the current one, came back to his consciousness.
He watched Bayless, and his palms began to sweat. His mouth felt dry. He curled a tuft hair behind his right ear with fast and tight snaps of his fingers — a habit of his since childhood. Then he passed his fingers over the raised line of the scar on his scalp. He waited to see what Bayless would pull from the bag.
Bayless turned holding a map. The sight of the mundane object eased Niko’s frantic pulse. His breathing slowed, and he hid his relief well. Bayless walked next to Niko and opened the map of Maine. Its folds were crisp, the paper thick and stiff, and clean on the edges.
Niko saw the small red dot on the map. There were no other notations.
“Pretty fresh map.”
“Yea.”
“This was your dad’s? What did he use it for?”
“What the hell do you care? He marked this spot for me before he died so I could come up here and spread his ashes.”
Am I being paranoid? Niko felt bad at his suspicion. “Just expected some old torn thing with a bunch of secret spots marked up or something like that. I’ve been known to romanticize things like this.”
“Well, join the club. He disappointed me a lot too.”
Niko looked closely to be sure he saw things correctly. The map’s scale was better suited to following state roads to hotels than wild rivers to remote fishing spots, but he thought the dot was remarkably close to the location of Baptiste’s cabin.
“You have a more detailed map or some coordinates?” Niko asked.
“This is it. You gonna tell me now that you don’t know where to go? Or that you you don’t have a better map.” Bayless looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“Not at all,” Niko said.
Against established protocol and the urgings of his loved ones, Niko didn’t care for maps. He liked to build an intuitive understanding of an area through exploration.
“The best way to get to know an area is to get lost in it,” he would say to Tracey as she was shaking her head at him after another late return from a infamous Chamonix “detour.”
Niko handed the map back to Bayless. “The map sucks, but I know the general area you want to go.”
“I damn hope so. That’s what I am paying you for. How long till we’re there?”
“If you spent a little less time drinking, we’d be there a bit faster.”
“I don’t need lectures.”
“Morning after next to be safe.”
“Wonderful.” Bayless smiled.
Bayless put the map back into his duffle bag, again making sure to place himself in a position to break Niko’s sight line.
“What else you got in the bag?” Niko asked.
Bayless peered over his shoulder without turning fully around.
“The ashes, booze, a jacket, two rattlesnakes, and a couple of live grenades. You want to inspect?”
Niko shook his head. “Let’s go.”
Niko had the boat packed and ready. Bayless stepped into the craft and repositioned his bag next to the seat. Niko heard the bag thud against the hull once again.
Must be the bottle.
Niko pushed the boat from its mooring. Once the bottom released from the half-submerged stones and he felt the hull lose its weight, yielding to the control of the water, he hopped over the gunwale right into his seat. He rowed beyond the shallows, dropped the motor, pointed into the current, and twisted the throttle.
Niko tried to stop for lunch, but Bayless said he didn’t want to, so they went on. Bayless didn’t drink, and his eyes were focused on the river ahead, especially after Niko turned at the confluence and said, “we’re on the Nagadan now.”
They didn’t speak or stop the entire afternoon. Towards evening Niko started to recognize the terrain. They were not far from where he had spent weeks with Baptiste.
Niko thought of that first night in the cabin when he woke not knowing how he had got there, shocked to be laying on a cot under a roof. He remembered the pain in his entire body, feeling the presence of his organs in his torso. He remembered Baptiste spoon feeding him mushroom broth and not saying a word.
Niko broke from his daydream when he heard distant thunder. He saw tall, dark clouds on the western horizon.
Seems like it will pass south, but you never know.
He slowed the motor to idle in order to speak with Bayless.
“We’re close. I know a point that would be a good place to camp. You good with that? Be there in about a half hour.”
Bayless was scanning the horizon. It seemed as if he were listening for something. His reckless and care-free demeanor had vanished.
“I want to get off the river in case of any weather.” Niko pointed at the clouds.
“That’s fine. This seem familiar to you?”
“It does. Spent some unpleasant time here.”
“Nothing like unpleasant time to sear a place into your memory. What happened?” The authoritative tone in Bayless’s voice had been replaced with a striking curiosity that unsettled Niko.
“I’m sure you read all about it.” Niko slapped a mosquito that was buzzing his ear.
“I did.”
“The articles got most of it. No need to drag it all up.”
“Newspapers leave the important details out. The things that people don’t want anyone to know.”
“Perhaps.” Niko reached back to the throttle. “You ready?”
“Run us on up there,” Bayless said.
It didn’t take long to sight the landing. The sun had just dipped below the trees, but the world was still light, a perfect moment to arrive after a day on the water. It didn’t matter where — sprawling lake systems, tidal flats that hurt your eyes to look at, deep canyon rivers, big and choppy brackish water — pulling the boat in right before dusk was always Niko’s goal. The tiredness quieted his mind, and the close of the day imparted a sense of completion that often eluded him.Drained and full at the same time, finally home, fish to clean, a fire to cook on, a plate of food, someone to hug, a cold beer waiting on a dock or a porch or the tailgate of a truck.
The Nagadan was still wide at that point and offered an expansive view of the sky which had blossomed into a blend of orange, purple, and pink. The clouds wisped across the colors, like the result of a stiff brush dragging over half-dried oil paints.
The trees, thick fir and spruce were already dark. Shadowy woods on the edge of dusk always seemed to hold something Niko wanted but that he could never quite verbalize — a question-mark etched in pleasant handwriting upon his mind.
They made their way to the expansive point that jutted out at the confluence of the two waters. Niko didn’t know the name of the smaller side stream, but he knew the spot well — they were not far at all from Baptiste. The cabin was still a little ways through the woods, but privacy is relative.
Is he is still there? I wonder if he sees us?
The point was still bright, a field of white rocks. Niko knew they would stay warm even after dark. He zig-zagged the boat in between boulders and twisted currents and he found a spot to lift the hull onto the rocks and drop the anchor dry in case of rising water.
“Wait here.” Niko, now barefooted, walked across the warm boulders and found a patch of sand, flat and dry and crisp. He found a smooth log and picked it up. Light and dry on the underside. He looked back to the boat.
“We’re good here.”
Bayless had his head down, looking into what Niko assumed was his open bag. Then he looked up and peered into the woods and up to the horizon.
“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“Just thinking about how my dad described this place.”
“We’re you all close?”
“Not really.”
“That’s always hard.”
“I didn’t pay you for therapy,” Bayless said without taking his eyes from the woods.
“Fine. Grab your bag, and I’ll get camp set up.”
Bayless nodded absently. He was quiet while Niko unloaded the boat, set camp, and cooked dinner. They ate in silence.
“No drinks tonight?” Niko asked as he rose to clean the dishes.
“No, not tonight.”
“Well, your tent is good to go. I’ll be up with the sun, just let me know where you want to go tomorrow.”
Bayless didn’t respond. Niko retired to his tent and listened to the river and the loons and the coyotes and he fell asleep thinking about Baptiste.
Niko was dreaming about that mushroom broth, when he woke in the dark to the clicks of dry boulders rocking onto each other — a unmistakable sound.
He rubbed his face and groaned. Not the trip for a curious critter.
He unzipped his tent, the sound nearly imperceptible over the music of the river. He peered out into the night. The moon was high and full, and he didn’t need a light to take in the scene.
No critters, just Bayless in the distance, lugging his duffle-bag towards the trees.
…
Check in next week to see what Bayless is up to…