The Lynx

William Falo

 

The scattered houses spread across the valley like the bones of a long dead animal. Time left this place behind and Tucker couldn’t see a reason why it shouldn’t be demolished. He started to turn away until some movement in the distance caught his eye. A child wearing colorful clothes jumped around in front of a house while a fluffy dog yelped. It was loud enough to make him stop and watch the scene unfold. A lady came out and picked up the child then lifted her up in the air like a trophy. They went into the house followed by the dog. His fists clenched. It reminded him of what he always thought a perfect family should be like. He went back to the truck and pulled out the clipboard filled with the names scheduled to leave. Only his report could stop the town from destruction. He put it down and knew what he would do already since he never stopped it before. That’s why they always wanted him for these environmental impact studies. He never stopped the destruction.

Piper Falls was just another place designated to be developed and made into some kind of resort. The scattered families that lived here would be compensated a minimal amount for having to move. Tucker looked at the papers they sent him while he sipped a coffee he purchased from the corner store. The process was almost the same every time. He would offer the holdouts more money and if they didn’t take it he would say the nearby waterway or land was toxic and the people would have to move and the developer bought the land cheap. Only once did he try to stop the developers from taking over an area. A woman cried when he signed the final papers to state the land was toxic which wasn’t completely honest since it was the poison the developers gave him that the test results showed. He went against them and said it was safe. The lady hugged him and he thought it would be the beginning of a relationship. She turned down his date request and later heard they all sold to a gas company for more money. “Never again,” he reminded himself. The steam from the coffee covered the car window in a mist.

He wiped off the window and saw a few people walking down the street. It could pass as a scene from twenty years ago. The town was dying and depressed. It needed to be done away with and he just needed to find the right reason to put the final words on its tombstone. Almost everyone here took the money offered to leave right away, but there were a few holdouts. He wiped his brow and the coffee cup shook in his hand so much that he couldn’t drink it. The thought of confronting these people made him anxious. He wanted to be alone.

He loved it when he was in the wilderness. This job was punishment for not taking
people on tours in Yellowstone. He didn’t want to deal with their questions. The ranger service fired him and he had to find this job.

The dark thoughts made him grit his teeth before he took deep breaths to calm down. They promised him a choice of assignments if he succeeded in Piper Falls. He pictured remote Alaska surrounded by snow and sitting by a campfire listening to wolves howl in the night. He only needed books and a shortwave radio for company.

He stepped outside to survey the area. He had two stops and then he could return home and dream of a remote location. The sun remained hidden by the clouds and the street he walked down looked devoid of any color. The whole place felt bland and washed out. He looked at his clipboard and saw that his first stop was a man who used to work as a teacher in the local school which had since closed down. Any children here were either home schooled or bused to the closest city. Mr. George Roberts was the man’s name. The house looked well-kept and very small. Tucker imagined it could only contain one bedroom. The man lived alone.

He smiled. One person was a lot easier and cheaper to buy out than a family. The man answered on the first knock and invited him in before he even could tell him why he was here.

The man sat down in a recliner, sending clouds of dust into the air around him.

“Sit down,” he said.

“No, thank you,” Tucker said. “I’ve been sitting too long already. I won’t take much of your time.”

“Well then.” The man reclined in the chair. “Why are you here?”

“Right to the point.” Tucker stepped forward. “I’m here to offer you more money for your house than the previous offer.”

“So you’re with that damn developer.”

“Yes. I—” He stopped when the man raised his hand.

“It better be double or get out.”

“As a matter of fact, it is.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out some folded papers. “Under one condition.”

“What is it?”

“That you don’t tell anyone what you are getting. We don’t want to upset those who
already sold their properties.”

“Those fools. Why would I tell them? They don’t give one lick about me.” He stood up and grabbed a cane.

“They never came over to see how I’m doing or ask if I needed anything.” He coughed. “They sent me messages about not selling. It seems they don’t get paid until everyone is out. Is this true?”

Tucker shifted. “Yes.”

“They threaten me with their looks and behind-my-back comments.”

“I’m sorry about that. People are jerks.”

“Companies, too.”

“I’ve had enough of it all.” The man waved his hand toward the window.

“You just have to sign these contracts.”

The man paused and stared at a picture. It showed him with a woman and a small boy in front of this house.

The man rubbed his eyes. “The place has memories, but too much sadness also. It will be good to be around other people.”

Tucker nodded, but remained silent. He knew nothing about needing other people.

“My son lives in Europe. Germany to be exact. He wanted me to move to a senior community years ago. He will feel better once I do. He’s already been contacting them along
with movers. Maybe he’s right. Besides the meals on wheels, I don’t see people for days,
especially during the winter.”

Tucker tried not to say anything. He was afraid of the man changing his mind. It’d happened before.

“That must be lonely.”

“Sometimes. Are you married?”

“No.”

“Are you with anyone?”

Tucker started to pace. “No, I haven’t met the right person.”

“There’s still time. Try to smile more and relax. You look so wound up you might
break.”

“It’s too late for me,” Tucker said and looked toward the door.

The man laughed. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-five.”

The man shook his head, took the papers, and then signed them. It would be official in three days. There was only one person left.

They shook hands.

Tucker walked out, then stopped and turned. “Do you know Vicki Jacobs?’

“Yes. She sells crafts and things on the edge of town. She hasn’t sold?”

“No.”

“Oh, wait.” The man laughed. “You haven’t met her yet?”

“No. Why?”

“She is …” He stopped. “I’ll let you find out for yourself.” He smiled. “You will need more than money to get her to sell.”

“What else will I need?”

“You need to figure that out.”

Tucker grimaced.

“Relax. Remember that kindness and honesty count a lot.”

“Okay.”

“Good luck.” The man smiled, then shut the door.

Tucker headed back toward the town looking for Vicki Jacobs. The last one was always the hardest. He hated the idea of using the containers the company gave him to test for toxicity or forging the papers he kept under the contracts. There was no information on her parents.

She smiled when he got close and that made him pause. Nobody smiled when they saw him coming. He pretended to look at what she was selling. The blankets and clothes looked well-made and many of them contained animal designs. There were stuffed animals that could have been alive at one time. Was she a taxidermist? They were so lifelike it seemed they could pounce on him at any moment. The small wooden figures were very detailed and some of them were painted. He picked up one that looked like a small cat. He turned it over in his hand and held it closer to his eyes. The detail was exquisite. The painted eyes seemed to look right at him. The ear tufts looked like antenna. He seemed to forget why he was here for a minute until she spoke.

“I see you like the lynx.”

“A lynx,” he said.

“Yes. Just like a real one.”

“What zoo did you see one at?”

“No zoo.” She stood up. “Out there.” She pointed at the hills that poked out of the woods.

“Impossible,” he said. He remembered reading that the lynx hadn’t been seen anywhere
near here in decades.

“I know what I saw.”

He decided not to argue with her.

“I’m Tucker.”

“I’m Vicki.”

They shook hands. Her hand felt warm and he wanted to hold it a second longer, but she pulled it away.

“Are you a taxidermist?”

“Sometimes, when there is a need. But people are planning on leaving so there is no need right now,” she said, frowning.

“Where did you learn it?”

“From my grandmother.” She stopped and stared into the sky. “She was the best. She
made a lot of animals I have in storage and should sell, but I haven’t got around to it yet.”

“What about …?”

“My parents?” she said. “They left me when I was younger. I don’t know where they went and I don’t care.” She gritted her teeth. “I can’t leave this place. My grandmother loved it here. She is buried right next to the house in that cemetery.” She pointed behind her. Vicki wiped her eyes then smiled.

“Why are you here?” she asked before he could speak.

“I’m just passing through,” he said, then pointed toward the center of town. “I needed to stop for a rest and something to eat.”

“Good luck.” She laughed. The strands of hair sticking out from under her hat covered an eye. She pulled it away like she it had a mind of its own and she had to tame it.

“Did you make all these things?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said. “I’ll sell you the lynx there for twenty dollars.”

“I guess so since it’s the only one around here for a thousand miles.”

She laughed and handed him the figure.

“They are an endangered species. If there was one around here they couldn’t build that
water park or whatever they are planning to do after everyone sells out.”

He coughed. She didn’t know who he was and why he was here. He stuttered. “You’re right.” He touched a stuffed rabbit. “You can make a fortune selling these online.”

Vicki shrugged. “Did you eat anything here like you said?”

“No,” he said, and put the lynx figure in his pocket.

“Then stay here and I’ll bring back some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for us.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It’s not like I’m busy. You just watch my stuff and I’ll be right back.” She bounded off like a rabbit before he could answer. She already trusted him. Was she that naive? How could he
get her to sign the papers? He knew the lynx story had to be false. If there was one around here,
his plans were worthless.

He thought of coming right out and saying what he was doing, but when she came back, the thought drifted away like fall days turning into winter.

She plunked down two sandwiches with potato chips on paper plates along with two cans of soda. He couldn’t help but smile. It’d been years since someone made him something for lunch without him paying for it. It tasted wonderful.

She wiped her mouth then spoke slowly. “I can never leave.”

He didn’t respond and before too long he had to use a bathroom and he asked her where
to go. She pointed toward her house and led him there while she waited outside. When he finished, she wasn’t in sight. Where did she go? He saw the cemetery and walked past a few broken headstones. Most of the names were unreadable. One looked clean and a bouquet of fresh flowers sat in front of the headstone. It was her grandmother. It had to be. How could he get her to leave her grandmother’s grave?

He heard a car door shut. He left the cemetery and saw her coming toward him. It seemed like the color drained out of her. She walked slower and said she was done for the day.

“But I can stay a while longer,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I have to go,” she said. Her change was sudden and obvious. What happened?

“Did I do something wrong?”

She opened her mouth and started to speak, then stopped and put her hand over her mouth. “I’ll tell you what. If you meet me here tomorrow morning, I will show you a lynx.”

He laughed. She just turned away and called out, “Nine o’clock.”

“Okay,” he said.

That night, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Vicki kept appearing in his thoughts. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich was the best thing he ever ate. He couldn’t wait until morning.

The next day, he stood by the now empty table, waiting while periodically taking out the lynx figure.

She came toward him wearing fingerless gloves with the same hat and the black hair strands still sticking out of it. She stared at him, then said, “Let’s go.”

“You’re going to show me a lynx.” He laughed, drawing a glare from her. “You don’t have to go through with this. I know there isn’t one around here.”

She took deep breaths that sent vapors out steam into the chilly air. “You can follow me
if you want.”

He knew he would follow her wherever she went. He held out hope for another sandwich. She followed a dirt trail up a steep hill. He felt out of breath in a few minutes and struggled to keep up and not lose sight of her. He was sweating before they reached the peak and she barely looked back. The lynx figure kept poking him in the pocket like a thorn in his side.

When she reached the top, she turned back and signaled for him to stop. She pulled out a pair of binoculars from her backpack. She stared into them for a few minutes then waved him forward. He stumbled to the top and slumped over, gulping air.

“There.” She pointed.

He reached for the binoculars and tried to focus them, but his hand shook too much.

“I can’t,” he said.

“I’ll hold them.” She held one side while he held the other. “Look at the small bushes near the old dying oak tree. I always see it there surveying the land, like it is looking for its lost family. I never see another one. Never.”

He blinked and looked again. He recognized the ear tufts. The cat features. It was a lynx.

“Well,” she said.

“I see it.” He sat down on the ground. “I can’t believe it.”

“I told you.”

“You were right.”

“I guess this changes your plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no fool. Nobody comes here for something to eat. While you were in my house, I checked your car and saw the papers. You want to destroy this place.”

“I …” He couldn’t speak. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his eyes. “It’s just a job.” He stepped in front of her. “Please.” He held his hand out. “Let me explain.”

She shook her head and turned away. “We better get back,” she said. “I think it’s going to snow.” The sky became cloudy as they started down.

When he called the office and told them about the lynx, they said to make sure and get a picture. Don’t come back without proof or the signed papers or he will be fired, they told him.

Despite the newly fallen snow, he climbed the hill toward the oak tree the lynx was
near. It took him over an hour before he reached the top. When he looked ahead, the lynx was still sitting there in the exact same place. How could that be possible?

He took the picture and the lynx remained still. The snow on its fur looked like it was there for days.

“Hey,” he called out. The lynx didn’t move. He threw a rock and it stayed there. He walked toward it making as much noise as possible. It remained frozen. It hit him then.

“Damn it,” he yelled out. It was fake. She had fooled him. He laughed out loud and shook his head.

“Damn her.” He clutched a handful of snow so tight it melted through his fingers, which turned red before he finally opened his fist. Why did she go through all this trouble to stay here? A dead grandmother? A table full of stuff she made that hardly anyone bought?

The answer eluded him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He never fought for himself or anyone else and that led him here. He forgot what it felt like to think about someone else. He kept seeing her strands of hair and the sandwiches she made for him.

He sent the picture to the company. He wrote that the lynx was real and they would have to find another site to build their park.

Vicki answered the door when he knocked. “What do you want?”

“Do you sell peanut butter and jelly sandwiches here? I heard they’re the best ones around.”

She shook her head and pulled on the strands of hair that tried to cover her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I may start selling them, but for now they’re free.” She stepped to the side and held the door open to him.

▱

On the hill, a fierce gust of wind hit the lynx. It wavered back and forth before falling over. The position it fell in made it invisible to anyone looking for it, but its eyes remained open, staring up into the sky until the snow covered them.

 

William Falo’s stories have appeared or are forthcoming in the Cold Creek Review, 34th Parallel, Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, Fictive Dream, The Monarch Review, and others. He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.