Killdeer Dance

By Ronn Fryer

Olivia, a shy loner, has just taken a job in a remote Michigan town as a fire spotter high atop a 100’ tower. When she hears a fox being tortured by two local football players, she attempts to save the animal only to become the victim of a traumatic physical assault. Vulnerable and more guarded than ever, she begins her solitary life caring for the vixen’s two kits with only the help of a new friend, Tina, a local cashier bored with small-town life.    When six, freshly-graduated high school girls arrive from the city on a camping trip, Olivia and Tina are invited to join them canoeing down the majestic Au Sable River. What starts as a highly anticipated adventure turns into a life-threatening ordeal, forcing them all to confront their actions. Just what is bravery? Who will risk their life to save another? What is Olivia’s secret? And what is the real definition of friendship? Sometimes it takes a river and one good friend to discover who you really are.  Approximately 270 pages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronn Fryer
• Release date: Apr 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386255208

Ronn Fryer

Writing has always been a way of dealing with the major issues in my life. Growing up in the Detroit suburbs, I’d often spend my time under the protective branches of a massive cherry tree that engulfed our garage roof with pencil and spiral notebook in hand. Characters emerged on those humble pages that exemplified my deepest fears, strongest emotions and most tender memories.    I continued to chart the events in my life in a series of poems, songs, short stories and eventually novels. With a desire to share my love of storytelling, I became an English/Language Arts teacher, guiding budding writers on a search for their personal muse. There is a unique bond between author and reader. One of my greatest pleasures is creating something that resonates within someone’s heart and soul.       

Book preview

Part 1

May - June

Chapter 1 – Ultimate Sacrifice

Olivia heard the boys before she saw them. Actually, she heard the mother fox. It was hard to determine exactly what was going on looking down through any of the fire tower windows, but the vixen’s anguished cry, followed by the boys’ sick laughter, told her enough.

As if possessed, she jumped from behind the Osborne Fire-Finder, ripped open the trap door and all but threw herself down the stairs to the platform below where the vertical ladder to the ground began, or ended, depending on the time of day. Her feet knew the treads intimately – after all, she’d been climbing them at least twice every day. Occasionally, due to an overdue restroom visit, she did take them a bit hastily. But, even if her descent may have been slightly hurried at times, it was never reckless – until now.

Underestimating the danger of slipping off the narrow rungs was beyond foolish. The forest floor below, blanketed with little more than a thin layer of pine needles would hardly cushion a fall from high above the tallest treetops. Compassion, however, overpowered Olivia’s better judgment. 

The boys didn’t notice her at first; the sound of her crashing through the brush didn’t even register until she came within a few yards of their carnage. They were too busy enjoying themselves torturing the fox.

"What the hell are you doing?" she screamed.

Bobby, the bigger of the two, looked over his shoulder, mildly surprised, but hardly intimidated. She was just a girl, and not much of one at that. Her uniform was the only thing that concerned him in the least. Slacker didn’t even look up. He was too intent on clubbing the little canine with his shovel.

Terrified, the animal could have easily escaped, but protecting her kits was more important than her own life. A low growl emitted from the depths of her throat just before the shovel came down flat on her head.

Olivia recoiled in pain as if she’d been the one hit. This was not just a case of boys will be boys – she was witnessing a premeditated murder. Despite such a heinous act, they were actually filled with glee, and totally unrepentant. The danger she faced confronting such wanton behavior should have been obvious. Even so, like the fox, the fire tower girl ignored her own safety; her entire being now completely focused on preventing another life-threatening blow upon one of God’s beautiful creatures.

But what weapon did a one hundred and ten pound girl have against two high school football players? Her eyes searched the ground in desperation. All that lay between her and the shovel-wielding halfback was a freshly fallen branch. Although hardly intimidating, the three foot length of spindly pine was her only option.

With eyes gleaming, Slacker raised his shovel again. Vaguely aware of the girl’s presence, he continued, funneling all his strength into the downward arc of the garden tool’s blade. Olivia couldn’t fathom how anyone could be this sadistic. In spite of the notion that there’s good in everyone, most people who knew Slacker considered him a lost cause. About the only thing they could say was he wasn’t as cruel as Bobby – tragically, it was an observation Olivia was yet to attest to. For the moment, it didn’t seem possible that anyone could be this unconscionable. While his henchman-in-crime egged him on, the absolute pleasure on Slacker’s face was undeniable.

Adrenaline summoning every ounce of her strength, Olivia lunged at him. Without any feasible plan of action, she at least hoped to break his swing.

Slacker’s attention may have been undivided, but his accomplice’s was not. Despite Bobby’s intense focus on cutting off any escape route by the fox, his peripheral vision nevertheless caught the girl’s advance. His response was swift and merciless. Demonstrating all his gridiron prowess, he caught her arm and wrenched the branch from her grasp, nearly snapping her wrist in the process.

Although he would later claim she was trying to hit them with the branch, it was a blatant lie. He just wasn’t about to let the little twit ruin their fun. And, for added insurance, he squarely round-housed her in the face.

The punch broke her nose, splattering scarlet drops upon the fallen leaves like a spring shower as Olivia dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Chapter 2 - Officer Down

Ironically, it was only Olivia’s limp body that stopped the boys. Bobby felt no remorse for his actions, the little bitch had it coming. He simply balked at the thought of impeding trouble. His old man would shit if he got kicked off the team. He was indispensable, everybody knew it, especially the coach; special treatment was a given – still, this was a little more than just getting busted with a pack of smokes or beer on your breath. Even so, he wasn’t about to lose his cool over it.

Slacker wasn’t as good at hiding his fear. Although Olivia was lying face down, you couldn’t miss the blood sprinkled everywhere. It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, except for her damn uniform – forest green, with an official looking patch on her shoulder. He didn’t remember seeing a badge, but girl or not, she could have been a damn DNR officer. The suspicion alone made him drop the shovel as if the handle had suddenly caught fire. Do you think she’s all right? he whined.

"How the fuck do I know? Bobby answered with his classic scowl. Slacker could be such a dumb-shit. Nevertheless you had to use your head. Hesitant to leave any damaging evidence of his handiwork, he leaned forward and visually examined Olivia’s torso. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like she was breathing. She’s probably just knocked out," he concluded, attempting to pacify his accomplice.

Unable to take his eyes off Olivia’s prostrate form, Slacker stepped wide around her inanimate body and walked right into an overhanging branch. The scratch across his cheek didn’t bother him nearly as much as his own clumsiness. As if it were nothing more than a few drops of sweat, he wiped the trickle of blood away with the back of his soiled hand and asked, "Whatty we gonna do?"

Bobby gave him a look reminding him just how much of an idiot he was. "We ain’t gonna do shit!" Without another glance at the unconscious girl or the mutilated animal, he muttered, Grab your fucking shovel, and started trudging back through the trees to their El Camino parked along the sandy two-track, two hundred yards off Bissonette Road.

Chapter 3 – Wilderness Adoption

It was nearly an hour before Olivia came to. She opened her eyes to a blurry world and a splitting headache. When she tried to sit up, everything started to spin. Not daring to stand, she braced herself against the ground, tucked her legs beneath her and slowly twisted upright.

Trying to regain her senses, she simply sat amongst the leaves for a few minutes. The pain in her nose was almost unbearable and she winced at the slightest touch. Even without a mirror she knew it was out of place; more than likely broken, and probably needed to be reset.

Tough guys in the movies simply reset their own nose, but Olivia was hardly a tough guy. The throbbing helped her rationalize that it might be best to leave it alone for now. The blood had already caked, her nose was obviously swollen and breathing was hard enough without further aggravation. Maybe she’d just lie back down for a bit until the cotton in her brain cleared. Faint yelping from the dug-up mound of sand, however, yanked her from her hazy cloud. Startled by this little slice of reality, Olivia forced her eyes to focus.

Two kits, barely indistinguishable from oversized mice, were floundering at the edge of the gouged opening. They were absolutely precious. To her horror, however, her eyes caught the image of their mother laying before them, lifeless on the ground. The boys had been successful; the innocuous creature’s life had been sacrificed for an afternoon’s amusement.

Olivia retched at the sight.

Cradling her nose with one hand, she used the other to pull herself up by grasping a low branch. Steadying her legs best she could, she fought the dizziness and stood. It wasn’t easy.

Unable to face the carnage, she ripped her eyes from the vixen, silently vowing to return as soon as she could. The valiant animal deserved a decent burial, but its babies needed every ounce of her attention now. Adoption in the wild lacks all formality; survival doesn’t have time to waste on permission.

With their eyes yet to open, the kits squirmed and stumbled, searching blindly for their mother. Olivia was hardly a girlie-girl; working up in a fire tower a hundred feet above the ground took fortitude. Even so, when she stepped over the vixen’s tortured body, the damn burst. There was no shame, of course, it was the least she could do. The fox deserved a fitting tribute, even if it was only a face full of tears. Sadly, it was all she could offer – that, and taking over her duties. All good intentions aside, however, time was crucial.

Approaching the defenseless creatures as carefully as she could, Olivia reached out her free hand. Their eyes may have been closed but their mouths were wide open. Even if the strange fingers didn’t feel like teats, empty bellies couldn’t be picky.

She cupped the first one and brought it to her chest as its tiny legs paddled the air. Ignoring the throbbing between her own eyes, she released her nose, and did her best to shut out the pain.

As she reached for the remaining kit, it sniffed her hand. The odor was nothing he recognized, but it was warm and soft. Warm and soft was good, but fleeting against hunger.

Olivia slid her hand underneath its little body and raised it gently. Bringing her hands together, she hoped proximity would, at least temporarily, reassure the tiny siblings.

The quarter mile back to her cabin usually took only a few minutes, fifteen at the most, but climbing the old railroad embankment was tricky. Footholds alone weren’t enough. Free hands were needed to grab any available branch, as you literally pulled yourself up – or, braced yourself from tumbling straight down.

Olivia unbuttoned the pockets of her shirt and slipped a kit in each. She was hardly buxom; it wasn’t size, however, that was needed to soothe the bewildered kits. Even if they didn’t understand human gibberish or baffling concepts like surrogate, they were quick to comprehend the reassurance of a warm parental heartbeat. 

Chapter 4 – Raccoon Eyes

As soon as Olivia got back to her cabin she went straight to the bedroom for a shoebox. The only one she had was full of pictures but they were hardly a priority. She dumped them on the bed unceremoniously and began hunting for something soft to line the box with. Since a towel was far too big, she opted for the next best choice. Rummaging through her dirty clothes, she found an old Michigan State T-shirt that had seen better days. It was a small sacrifice. Even though she’d had it since her freshman year, sentimentality surrendered to pragmatism. Time was of the essence and the throbbing in her nose was relentless. Jogging back the last few yards had probably not been the best idea, but the kits started getting fidgety. One kept scratching her and the other had relieved himself. She wasn’t really upset though, motherhood obviously came with certain challenges. The stain would most likely come out and she could barely wait to change her clothes anyway.

Getting them out of her pockets wasn’t a problem. She just peeled the flaps open and plucked them by the scruff of their neck. Hardly a pediatric expert, she nevertheless reasoned that babies were babies. Foxes couldn’t be much different than dogs, or even cats for that matter. Imitating their mode of infant-transport seemed logical. It certainly was worth trying, parenthood basically being on the job training anyway. As gently as she could, she laid them in the box and began unbuttoning her shirt. 

They instantly began to yelp.

Their bellies demanded milk, but in order to address that problem Olivia first had to deal with a more pressing one – her nose. The pain was relentless; she couldn’t concentrate on anything with this incessant throbbing. But, no matter how much she tried to convince herself of her toughness, this was going to take some serious fortitude.

Her first inclination was to crank up the pickup and rush into Oscoda. The nearby town was hardly Detroit; local doctors would most likely take pity on her, see her without an appointment. But there just wasn't time. Even if they squeezed her in, she feared the kits wouldn’t survive until her return. Like it or not, it was time to put on her big girl panties. So, with no other option, Olivia sucked in the deepest breath possible and headed to the bathroom.

She reeled at her image in the mirror. Her nose was caked with dried blood, both eyes were already black, although the area around her right eye was starting to resemble a gothic rainbow. She knew her face would be a mess, but she had no idea it was this hideous. Bobby should certainly be proud of his handiwork.

Despite the fear welling up in her stomach, she chastised further procrastination – do it now, deal later.

Summoning courage born solely out of desperation, Olivia reached up and grasped the midpoint of her nose, then closed her eyes. This wasn’t open-heart surgery, it was just cartilage – it required bravery, not eyesight. She hesitated one last moment.

"Oh what the hell! Here goes nothing!"

She sucked in the deepest breath possible and jerked her hand to the left.

For a microsecond it felt as if she’d shoved her finger in a light socket. To her amazement, however, the pain then all but disappeared. Closely inspecting her reflection, it seemed her nose was once again, straight. The sigh she released was a personal best.

Cautiously optimistic that her efforts had been successful, she carefully sniffed. Except for the swelling, it almost felt normal. Even silently, she had no words to express her relief. Even beyond her relief, she couldn’t help feeling proud. So much so, she all but forgave herself for the wet splotch inside her baggy, green trousers.

Unable to contain a smile, she stripped down and stepped out of her uniform. No way could she fault the kit for peeing on her now – after all, it was basically tit for tat. Her trip to the laundromat wasn’t due for days, but the kitchen sink was big enough for a prewash. Thank goodness they’d issued her a spare uniform.

Chapter 5 – Solution in Hand

Even though the worst was over, Olivia felt more than a little shaky. Fearing that she might black out and fall, she made her way to the kitchen, bracing herself against the wall. The idea of studying the mirror, further examining the damage to her face had no appeal whatsoever.

Extremely lightheaded, she plopped down at the table and stared vacantly at her little hippie purse laying open beside the shoebox. She would have gladly traded its contents, all $6.57, for a chance to sneak into bed and pull the covers over her head. Nothing takes the bounce out of your step quite like a sucker punch from a football player. With barely enough strength to keep her head up, she certainly wasn’t about to trek back to the tower. All dedication aside, at that moment she could have let every tree in Michigan go up in smoke.

Ignoring acres of canopy wasn’t the problem though. The fire danger was pretty low today, the biggest wind gusts barely shook the tree branches outside her window. The problem was the commotion inside the box. The kits desperately needed nutrition and they weren’t shy about letting her know.

Reluctantly facing the inevitable, Olivia slowly stood up.

After a cautionary step, she decided that the floor wasn’t actually floating. Hesitating only a moment longer, she ventured across the kitchen floor to the fridge. Even though she only used milk in her coffee and an occasional bowl of cereal, the carton felt dangerously light. Their bellies were small though, hopefully the quarter inch left in the bottom would suffice. Once she heated it up to room temperature, however, the challenge would be to get it down their tiny gullets. 

Her first attempt failed miserably. Trying to pour the thick liquid into the first one’s open mouth simply wasted a precious spoonful. The kit gagged, spitting out a bubbly mess. It quickly became obvious that whatever method she used, the kits had to have control. Instinctively, their throats knew how much, and how fast, they could swallow.

Olivia found herself desperately wishing for an eyedropper. Idle wishes, however, wouldn’t produce a damn thing. Mentally running through a series of possibilities, she tried to think of something she could use to dab milk along their toothless gums. The contents of her little cabin, however, were pathetically sparse. She hadn’t managed to collect much beyond the absolute basics, and her present anxiety hardly fostered any creativity.

Cradling the more insistent of the two kits in her open palm, Olivia was nearly overcome with frustration when she felt a tug on the fold of skin in the crotch between her thumb and index finger. The ravenous kit was suckling it for all he was worth. Ironically, she was just about to rinse her hands, but providence evidently knew better.

Eager to capitalize on opportunity, she tilted her hand slightly downward and poured a little rivulet of milk just above the kit’s mouth. Even without a nipple, it worked like a charm. 

Chapter 6 – Rockabilly Reelin’

Olivia had no idea she’d fallen asleep until tiny cries pulled her back to reality. Seemed she’d just been staring wistfully out the kitchen window. No telling how long the kits had been whining. She vaguely remembered a crying baby in some weird, surrealistic dream. Her curiosity tried to recapture the details, but it was no use. All aspects of the dream had vanished, simply leaving her to deal with a shoebox full of need. This mother thing could get old real fast.

Unable to stifle a second yawn, Olivia rubbed her eyes and quickly flinched. Although it felt a million times better, her whole face was tender and the residual pain from her nose wasn’t about to be ignored any more than the hungry members of her newly extended family.

Resigned to obligation, she lifted her head from the table and attempted to stand. An old Elvis song instantly echoed in her brain, My legs are shaky and my knees are weak. Can’t seem to stand on my own two feet. The dizziness was certainly understandable, resetting your own nose, then falling asleep in a hard wooden chair tends to take a toll. Nevertheless, she’d convinced herself there wasn’t any real cause for concern – concussions only came from the most severe head traumas; car crashes or something even more unthinkable like falling out of a fire tower. No matter how hard she’d been hit, she’d never heard of a punching bag getting a concussion. Besides, a concussion was out of the question, her new responsibilities simply would not allow it.

Holding onto the back of the chair, she steadied herself and waited for her head to clear. Within the better part of a minute she felt confident enough to head to the fridge.

Once there, she opened the door, peeked into the milk carton, and swore. After last night’s feeding there was barely more than a spoonful left coating the bottom. Hopefully, it would be enough to satiate them until she could more. No matter how desperately she needed a shower, the steamy water would have to postpone working its magic