Pop opened his eyes and regarded me through a smoky haze.
“Actually, I don’t care much,” he said. “But because of that dead man, the eagle has become slightly more interesting.”
“Why?” I asked, still furious. “Just because he had a feather in his pocket? That doesn’t mean anything. He might have found it.”
Pop’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t think so. He and the eagle have both been dead less than a day. So the coincidental timing, plus the feather in his pocket, suggests a connection. Either he killed the eagle, and then had an unfortunate accident . . . ”
He fixed his gaze on the Cutthroat again.
“ . . . or whoever did kill the eagle, or helped him kill it, may have then killed him as well.”
The Cutthroat ground out his cigarette butt. “I told you guys before. It wasn’t me.”
“And I still believe you,” Pop said. “I’m just wondering if you might have any idea who it may have been.”
“Nope,” the Cutthroat said. There was no hesitation.
Pop leaned back against the wall again and looked up at the holes in the roof.
“I don’t have any idea either,” Pop said. “But I think you were right about one thing.”
“Huh?” the Cutthroat said. “What’s that?”
“Whoever it was, he’s a fucking son of a bitch.”
The wind seemed to scream louder in response.
The williwaw finally slacked off a little after noon, leaving only blustery gusts. The three of us stirred ourselves on stiff joints and muscles and rose from our places in the main room of the ulax.
Pop and the Cutthroat had both dozed after finishing their cigarettes, but I had stayed wide awake. I knew who the dead man was. But I hadn’t told Pop yet for fear that the Cutthroat would hear me.
That was because, while I didn’t recognize this particular Cutthroat, I knew who he was, too. On Attu, the Alaska Scouts had saved my life and the lives of dozens of my buddies, but they hadn’t done it by being kind and gentle souls. They had done it by being cruel and ruthless to our enemies.
And I knew that a man couldn’t just turn that off once it wasn’t needed anymore. I knew that for a cold fact.
I boosted Pop up through the hole in the roof where we’d dropped in, and then I followed by jumping from the raised earthen shelf at the side of the room, grabbing a whalebone roof support, and pulling myself through.
I joined Pop on the hillock just beside the ulax, blinking against the wind, and then looked back and saw the Cutthroat already standing behind me. It was as if he had levitated.
“So this thing here is not our fucking problem,” the Cutthroat said, speaking over the wind. “We all agree on that.”
Pop nodded. “That’s the body of a Navy man. So the private and I will tell the boys at the Navy checkpoint to come have a look. And if they ask our names, or if they know who I am, I’ll be able to handle them. They’re twenty-year-olds who’ve pulled checkpoint duty at the base of an extinct volcano. So they aren’t going to be the brightest minds in our war effort.”
I didn’t like what Pop was saying. But for the time being, I kept my mouth shut.
The Cutthroat nodded. “All right, then.” He turned away and started down the slope.
“We have a jeep,” Pop called after him.
The Cutthroat didn’t even glance back. So Pop looked at me and shrugged, and he and I started back the way we had come. A few seconds later, when I looked down the slope again, the Cutthroat had vanished.
When we reached the spot where the dead eagle had been staked, I thought for a moment that we had headed in the wrong direction. But then I saw the rocks I’d used as markers, so I knew we were where I thought we were. The eagle was simply gone. So were the nails. So was my canteen.
“The Scout was right,” Pop said. “The wind took it.”
If I tried, I could make out some darkish spots on the bare patch of ground where the bird had been staked, and when I looked up the slope I thought I could see a few distant, scattered feathers. But the eagle itself was somewhere far away now. Maybe the ocean. Maybe even Attu.
“This is a good thing,” Pop said, continuing on toward the jeep. “Now when you tell the lieutenant colonel that the eagle was gone, you can do so in good conscience. Or good enough. It’s certainly gone now. That fact should get me back to my newspaper until he thinks of some other way to torment me.”
He looked at me and smiled with those horrible false teeth, as if I should feel happy about the way things had turned out. But I wasn’t feeling too happy about much of anything.
“What about the man in the lodge?” I asked.
Pop frowned. “We’re going to report him to the Navy.”
“I know that,” I said. “But what should I tell the colonel?”
Pop stopped walking and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Listen, son,” he said. His eyes were steady and serious. “I’m not joking about this. Are you listening?”
I gave a short nod.
“All right.” Pop sucked in a deep breath through his mouth and let it out through his nose. “When you see the lieutenant colonel, don’t mention the dead man. You brought me up here to show me the eagle, as ordered, and it was gone. That’s all. Do you understand?”
I understood. But I didn’t like it.
“It’s not right,” I said.
Pop dropped his hand and gave me a look as if I’d slapped him. “Not right? How much more ‘right’ would the whole truth be? For one thing, there’s no way of knowing how the eagle got into the state it was in. So there’s no way to give the lieutenant colonel that information. But now it’s gone, which means that problem is gone as well.”
“You know I don’t mean the eagle,” I said.
Now Pop’s eyes became more than serious. They became grim.
“Yes, we discovered a dead man,” he said. “And the gutted eagle nearby, plus the feather in the dead man’s pocket, raise some questions. But they’re questions we can’t answer. The simplest explanation? The sailor’s death was an accident. He came up here, either alone or with comrades, got drunk, and hit his head when he passed out. But even if it was manslaughter or murder, he was Navy, and the guilty party is probably Navy as well. So we’re telling the Navy. After that, it’s out of our hands. Besides, Private, what do you suppose the lieutenant colonel would do if you did tell him about it?”
I didn’t answer. I just stared back at Pop’s grim eyes.
“I’ll tell you what he’d do,” Pop said. “He’d question us repeatedly. He’d make us trek back up here with M.P.’s. He’d order us to fill out reports in triplicate. He’d force me to run a speculative and sensational story in The Adakian, even though it’s a Navy matter and affects our boys not at all. And then he’d question us again and make us fill out more reports. And all for what? What would the upshot be?”
I knew the answer. “The upshot,” I said, “would be that the man would still be dead. And it would still be a Navy matter.”
Pop pointed a finger at me. “Correct. And telling the lieutenant colonel wouldn’t have made any difference at all.”
I glanced back toward the ulax.
“It’s still not right,” I said.
The cold grimness in Pop’s eyes softened. “There’s nothing about a young man’s death that’s right. Especially when it was for nothing. But a lot of young men have died in this war, and some of those died for nothing, too. So the only thing to do is simply what you know must be done, and nothing more. Because trying to do more would be adding meaninglessness to meaninglessness.” He stuck his hands into his jacket pockets. “And in this case, what we must do is tell the Navy. Period.”