The Falls (23 page)

It was eerie. Here was this man. Long dead. Somebody I didn't know anything about, even though he was related
to me. And here I stood, in the middle of a display— a display
I
was making—that honoured his life. And at the centre of that life was an achievement that only a select few had ever accomplished. Deliberately, bravely, my great-grandfather had denied death and the awesome power of the Falls. He had become something really important in a town where practically nobody became anything. And he was my great-grandfather.

“This is going to be real popular with the tourists,” Boomer said.

“We could use the business,” I pointed out.

“We've been doing okay.”

I snorted. “You could do better.” There were some shifts when there wasn't enough business to even pay for Timmy and me to be there.

“Where's Timmy today?” Boomer asked.

“I'm not sure,” I said, turning away so that I didn't have to look him in the eye. Timmy hadn't shown up for his shift. He'd asked me to go out the night before and I'd turned him down. I'd been feeling tired. Sleep hadn't been coming easily these days and I knew I had to be up early—we
both
had to be up early—for work.

“This is twice he's missed a shift. In baseball he'd get one more chance and he'd be out.”

“He probably has a good excuse.”

“He didn't the last time. He's not much of a liar.”

“That's because he hasn't had much practice. His father isn't well. Sometimes Timmy has to take care of him.” That wasn't a complete lie.

Boomer nodded his head. “His old man's a drunk, right?”

“He's got a problem with alcohol.”

“That's what I said, he's a drunk.”

“He needs to get into AA, he needs to work through the Twelve Step program,” I said.

Boomer snorted. “That's eleven more steps than he needs. You only need one step: Stop putting the bottle in your mouth.”

“It isn't that easy. Some people need more help.”

Boomer laughed. “Aren't you the guy I always hear putting down that group you and Timmy go to?”

“I don't agree with all of it. It's just that some of the things they say make sense.”

The front door opened and two cops walked in. Why were they here and what did they want? My first thought was that it had to have something to do with my mother— was she okay, had something happened to her or—

“You here why I think you're here?” Boomer asked and they nodded.

I didn't know what that meant, but thank goodness it wasn't about my mother—of course it wasn't about her. But what was it about?

“Let me get my coat and boots,” Boomer said. He got up and started to walk away, leaving me standing there with my mouth open and my mind empty. He stopped and spun around. “You coming?”

“Me?”

“You see anybody else here?” Boomer asked.

“Where are we going?”

“Down to the river,” Boomer said.

“The river . . . you mean . . .”

Boomer nodded.

That could only mean one thing. “And you want me to come?”

“Why not?” he said, gesturing to the display that surrounded me. “This stuff just might be in your blood.”

 

I'
D BEEN IN THE BACK
of a police car once before, but this was different. I was with Boomer instead of Timmy, and we were their guests, not their prisoners. Timmy and I hadn't really done anything wrong, other than being out too late, and maybe being a bit too drunk, and with no good reason to be where we were. They'd asked us questions and we'd basically not answered. We weren't about to tell them we'd been out at a bush party, trespassing on private property, or admit that we'd been drinking. But when we didn't give them the answers they wanted, they threatened to rough us up. It didn't help that Timmy started to give them attitude—how stupid was that? Two big guys with guns and nightsticks and handcuffs and he starts mouthing off to them. I was pretty sure we were going to get a beating. But we got lucky. Instead of pounding us out they decided to make us pound the pavement. They dropped us off on the edge of town, a long way from home. It was a long, cold walk, but it was sure better than the alternative.

The police car slowed down and then bumped up onto the sidewalk, along a path, and to the edge of the gorge, where it came to a stop alongside a half-dozen other emergency vehicles including a fire truck and two ambulances. All of them had their lights flashing. It almost looked pretty . . . festive . . . like Christmas decorations.

The two officers got out and opened our doors—the back doors didn't have inside handles, they only opened from the outside.

“Thanks, son,” Boomer said as he climbed out.

“No problem, Boomer.”

“Who's in charge here?” Boomer asked.

“Over there, the Captain.”

I trailed behind Boomer as he walked over to a group of men—police, ambulance guys, and firemen, standing at the edge of the gorge. They all greeted Boomer warmly. Everybody seemed friendly, but when Boomer introduced me, I got the feeling that they all wanted to know:
Who is this kid, and what's he doing here?
Nobody said a thing.

“What have we got here?” Boomer asked.

“Male. Went over the Falls about . . .” the officer looked at his watch, “almost four hours ago, but the body hasn't come to the surface yet.”

“Horseshoe or American Falls?” Boomer asked.

“Horseshoe.”

“Where'd he go in?”

“He jumped in from Goat Island.”

Boomer shook his head slowly. “Lots of rocks to get caught behind. The body could be cycling around in the water back there, going round and round like a sock in a washing machine. Could come out in two minutes or two days. Not gonna be pretty when it does.” Boomer turned to me. “You don't have to come any farther if you don't want to.”

“I'm okay.”

He nodded and turned back to the officer. “I'll show you the most likely place for it to pop up.”

Boomer limped over to the low stone wall that separated the path from the gorge. There was a sign on the wall that read “Authorized Personnel Only! Danger!” He climbed carefully over the wall and started down the steep, uneven path that led to the river. I hesitated for a split second and then hopped over after him. I almost expected somebody to try to stop me, but instead the two officers just trailed after me.

The rocks were wet and slick and my feet skidded out from under me. I grabbed the metal railing to regain my balance.

“Better watch your step,” an officer said. “We're here to pull out one body, not two.”

“I'll try to keep that in mind.”

I kept one hand on the railing as I hurried to try to catch Boomer. He was moving fast and I struggled to close the gap. As we descended into the gorge the mist got more pronounced until it was so thick it felt like I imagined it must feel being inside a cloud. A chill went up my spine just as that old familiar buzzing started in my head. This was very exciting—being here, being part of all of this. I was excited and anxious and scared all at once. It was like I didn't want to be here, but there was no place else in the entire world I wanted to be more. I knew that feeling. It was the same one I got when I was standing on a high place, or riding my dirt bike too fast, or getting ready to do something that I figured I
could
maybe do, but I probably shouldn't even be trying in the first place. It was a fuzzy, warm sensation in the back of my head. It happened when I was still on the thin edge of being in control, but just teetering there, thinking that I was just about to lose it, but
pulling it back, pulling it back, keeping in control, but just barely.

At the bottom of the path, waiting for us, was a small boat—a motor launch—moored on the rocks. There were two more officers standing beside it.

“Any sign?” Boomer asked them.

“Nothing.”

“Might not be for a long time. Come on and I'll show you the spot to watch.” One of the officers handed Boomer a life jacket and he passed it to me. He was given a second one and he slipped it on. I did the same, tightening the belt and snapping the buckles into place.

“Who's this?” one of the officers asked, pointing at me, finally asking what I figured they all wanted to know.

“My assistant. I'm getting too old to keep doing this forever, you know. Time to start training a replacement.”

My eyes widened in shock. He couldn't be serious, could he?

“Either of you got a rain jacket for the kid?” Boomer asked.

“Sure.” One officer reached into the boat, rummaged around, and pulled out a small blue package. He opened it up. It was a plastic rain jacket. He handed it to me and I pulled it on overtop of my life jacket. Not that it would do much good. The mist had already pretty well soaked me to the bone.

Boomer climbed into the boat. One of them went to offer him a hand and he brushed it away with disdain. I lifted a leg to follow, the boat rocked, and I practically fell in.

“Now
him
you coulda helped,” Boomer said, and the two officers burst into laughter.

The rope mooring the boat was untied from the rocks, the engine roared loudly, and the boat backed away from the shore and into the current. The officer at the controls started it moving forward and it bucked over a big wave.

“Circle around!” Boomer yelled out over the engine. “You gotta come around across the face of the American Falls.”

The officer at the controls nodded his head in agreement. The boat lurched forward as it powered through the waves, and water splashed over the bow and all over my feet.

I shifted around so I was facing Boomer. “How close are we going to get?”

“You ever been on the
Maid of the Mist
?” he yelled.

“Once. A long time ago. It got pretty close.”

Boomer laughed. “It
stops
where we're just gonna
start
.”

That strange, warm, fuzzy buzzing in my head got stronger and louder and hotter.

I spun back around so I was facing the bow again. The boat bounced through the waves. The mist continued to get thicker until we were passing through a dense fog. I couldn't see more than a dozen boat lengths ahead of us. Could the officer see any better than me? I could only hope.

We had to be close now. The sound of the Falls was overwhelming. I could hardly hear the roar of the motor anymore. I turned back around. The one officer was still at the controls, wrestling with the wheel.

Up ahead through the thickening mist I could see—or thought I saw—the outline of the Falls. Then I looked to
the side. There was a wall of water off to the left that disappeared into the mist! Instinctively I bounced across the seat to the far side to try to get a bit farther away.

“Sit still!” Boomer yelled in my ear. “You trying to tip us over?”

I grabbed onto the seat with both hands. The boat continued to bounce forward. I did my best to forget what was beside us and what was up in front. Then, through a clearing in the mist, I suddenly saw. Not only were the American Falls beside us, we were steaming straight toward the Horseshoe Falls. My eyes rose up and up and up until all I could see was water.

“To the right! More to the right!” Boomer yelled.

The boat cut over as he'd commanded. What did it matter? We were still headed straight toward the Falls. The boat bucked even more wildly and there was a roar from the motor. I spun around in time to see that the whole stern of the boat had been bounced out of the water, and the motor was churning away in the air!

“Closer! We have to get closer!” Boomer called out.

I couldn't see how it was possible to get any closer without going right under. The boat pressed forward, fighting hard against the current, bouncing so strongly that I feared I was going to be thrown right out. I dug my fingers in, clasping the bottom of the seat.

“Now cut the motor!” I heard Boomer yell.

I spun around in shock. He couldn't be serious about that.

The faint, high-pitched whine that was the motor stopped. The boat stopped vibrating and started to swing around as it was caught, unable to fight against the
current. I braced my legs against the bottom of the boat and reached out until I had my hands anchored to opposite gunwales. The boat spun around until it was pointed away from the Falls. It was pushed by the current and rocked by the waves, but we were definitely moving away from the Falls. I looked back over my shoulder. The wall of water was lost in the mist that it was throwing up. The sound was still overwhelming but it was less deafening. I felt myself starting to relax a little.

“Rocks to the left!” one of the officers yelled.

We hit against the rocks with a loud crack and we spun sideways and rolled around them. The boat kept slowly spinning as we drifted through the mist . . . drifting away from the Falls.

“What are we doing? Why did you have them cut the motor?” I asked.

“I needed to know how the body's gonna drift when it finally does come out. That's why I let the boat drift.”

“So because the boat drifted here, the body will too?”

“That's the idea, but not necessarily. Different weight and size. Still, this is the best guess I can make.”

“There's the shore, right up ahead!” one of the officers called out.

The boat continued to drift toward the rocky shore. The motor launch ran up against the shore, one of the officers, holding the bowline, jumped out and onto the rocks. He secured the line, and the second officer jumped off and joined him. Together they pulled the boat up onshore, and the bottom scraped noisily against the rocks. Boomer and I climbed over the side and joined them as the two started to walk along the shore, disappearing into the thick mist.

“So we just sit here and wait?” I asked.