David Vann - Legend of a Suicide

And it did grow, quickly. It took over the entire area where Roy was buried, burned all the way to the water’s edge, and moved along the shoreline toward the cabin. Jim hoped it was spreading in other directions, too. The wind was coming this way, though, toward the cabin, so this was its main movement. He thought for a moment that he should have set it on the other side, so that the cabin would have been upwind, but then he didn’t care. Let it all burn, he thought, and then let them come for me. I can’t spend the rest of my life out here like this.

The fire grew over the next hour, through sunset, and reached the cabin just as it started to rain. Jim raged at the skies, threatened to punish the rain, but it kept coming. The fire burned part of the roof and one wall of the cabin, then drowned and smoked and finally only smelled. It was the middle of the night. He went into the bedroom, which had been spared and now smelled of smoke rather than of Roy, and he slept.

He woke to the roof collapsing in the kitchen under the weight of all the rain. The crash was monstrously loud, but he knew what it was and he didn’t get up. He went back to sleep and woke again at midday wet and shivering. Though the section of roof above him was still good, the rain was blowing sideways into the room and drenching him.

You better find me, he said. You better find me now.

He hiked through the charred forest later that day to Roy’s grave. The rain had ceased. He wasn’t completely sure he was in the right place, but the depression was still there and the charred trunks in roughly the right places, so he sat down shivering in the wet black ash and visited for a while.

I don’t know, he answered Roy. Could be they’ll see it, could be they’ll see it and not care. It’s not burning anymore, after all. It’s not a fire now.

He went to the unburned section of the forest and was stripping bark to eat when he heard the helicopter pass overhead and then come back and hover just offshore from the cabin. He walked out as fast as he could to meet it, but he was very slow and had to rest several times. It was still there, however, when he cleared the tree line and waved.

Hey, he yelled. You look beautiful. He kept waving. Come on, he yelled.

They weren’t able to set down anywhere, he assumed, because they only hovered. It was a sheriff’s helicopter, but it didn’t have pontoons. He could see their faces, the two of them with their earphones and caps and glasses. He waved and rubbed his arms to make it clear he was freezing, and they waved in return. Their machine seemed a modern wonder to Jim. They stayed there hovering for probably five minutes before they came on over the loudspeaker.

We’ve radioed for a float plane, they told him. You’ll be picked up in an hour or two. If you are James Edwin Fenn, please raise your right arm to confirm.

Jim raised his right arm. Then they rose and turned and flew off. Jim was excited. He was ready to have a normal life again.

An hour or two later, after he had gone back to the cabin, dug out the stove, and started a fire in it to warm himself, afraid now of hypothermia, a float plane came up the channel, banked, and landed hard in the small chop out from his beach. Jim waved and stood at the edge of his beach waiting. They taxied up until their pontoons hit the gravel and then they cut their engine and two men in uniform came down onto the pontoons while the pilot stayed inside.

Howdy, the lead man shouted.

Jim waved. I’m glad you’re here, he said. I was over on Sukkwan with my son.

We found that, the man said. Been looking for you and your son. Sheriff Coos.

They shook hands.

We’ve been worried about you. Had a missing persons out for both of you for almost two months now.

Well, I’ve been right here. Look, my son died. He killed himself. So I went looking for help and I didn’t find any. I ended up here and I had to survive the winter. I pretty much wrecked these people’s place but I’ll pay for it; I had to do what I did to survive. I buried my son out in the woods.

Whoa, Coos said. Slow down. Your son killed himself?

Yeah.

Okay, Coos said. Let Leroy here take your statement. He has to write all this down.

So Jim waited and then gave a slower, more complete version, though still not the whole story. They said they’d take a more complete statement when they got back to town. But for now, they took the basic story and then wanted to see where he’d buried Roy.

The men were close behind him. Jim tried to walk faster but he couldn’t. And then he got confused and was having trouble finding Roy. Hold on a second, he said. It’s somewhere around here. It’s hard to find now because of the fire. I came out here and talked to him earlier today, but I can’t find it now.

They only stood close and didn’t say anything. He knew this looked bad, that it looked like he was trying not to find Roy, and that panicked him and made it harder still. Every charred bit of forest was starting to look the same. I can’t do this, he said. I’m sorry, but I just can’t find him today.

He turned to face Coos. Jim knew he could be reasonable. I haven’t seen anyone in so long, he said.

I’m sorry for your troubles, Coos said. And we’ll get you home today. But you need to find your son.

So Jim kept looking until he was standing in one spot and looked down to see that he was in a small depression and saw his prints from earlier in the day and realized this was the grave. He started crying without meaning to and told them, This is it.

Jim backed away from the grave and sat down while the men inspected the depression and Leroy took pictures of it and then went back to the plane for a shovel.

I’m sorry, the sheriff said. But we can’t leave the body here. You understand.

Sure, Jim said. He lay down on his side to watch them. The smell of smoke was so strong close to the ground that it was difficult to breathe, but he felt he was safer lying down here and had no intention of getting up. He would watch and then soon he’d see Roy buried decently. And then if they tried to charge him with anything, he’d get a good lawyer and get out of this. He hadn’t done anything wrong. His son had killed himself, and though Jim had broken a lot of laws after that, it had all been necessary for survival. Jim felt an enormous pity for himself and hated the sheriff and Leroy, unreasonably he knew. They were just doing their jobs, and they hadn’t even accused him of anything.

They were careful. And they took pictures. When they came to the sleeping bag finally, they took many pictures of that, from the first glimpse of it to fully uncovered, and then Leroy opened it and threw up.

Coos took over and got the bag open, and they took flash pictures of what was inside but didn’t empty it out. They closed it up again and then Leroy went to the plane for a big clear plastic bag. They put the sleeping bag and Roy in this and duct-taped it shut.

I’m placing you under arrest, Coos told Jim. And then he read Jim his rights.

What? Jim asked, but they didn’t answer. The two of them pulled him to his feet and Leroy held his arm as they walked back over ash and rock and beach to the water’s edge.

They loaded Roy in the back and then put Jim in one of the aft seats. The pilot taxied, then gunned the engines and the plane lifted free. Jim was dizzy during the flight and fell asleep until they landed in water again.

When they got out, Jim was surprised to see that they were in Ketchikan. He had lived here with Elizabeth and Roy, and Tracy had been born here just before everything had fallen apart.

We’ve called the boy’s mother, Coos said. And we’re taking you to the hospital so they can take a look at you.

Thanks, Jim said.