“Jeff, go faster.”
“No, there’s a cop up ahead.”
Amber looked through the drizzly scene and could indeed see the telltale flashing lights of a police car, parked on the side of the highway and waiting for that one speeder to fly past. As Jeff, Amber’s brother, drove by, he slowed down slightly to be on the safe side. He looked to his right for only a moment at the car before turning his eyes back to the road.
It was a cool October day, and cloudy; it had been raining earlier, but was now only a sprinkle, though another downpour threatened to occur at any moment. Jeff kept the windshield wipers going to ward off the droplets as he and Amber drove by the rolling hills and line of trees. Up over the bridge they went, at the southernmost part of the city of Napa; as they went past the grape-crusher statue, a single ray of sun shone through a break in the clouds. Everything between the ground below and the cloudy sky above was bathed in the cool glow of a rainy afternoon.
The flashing lights of the police car faded behind them as they drove further and further away, disappearing entirely as Jeff’s truck rounded a bend in the highway. Jeff and Amber were on their way to a flea market a couple towns over, in the city of Vallejo. When they had read about it in the local paper, they made plans to take a day off homework to make the journey. Granted, Jeff and Amber (both of whom were in their junior year of high school) did have a school project they were supposed to be working on, but they figured it could wait until later.
The drive to the flea market took the two directly through American Canyon, a budding city just at the southern end of the county. Jeff drove past the occasional building, which dotted each side of the highway and, as he approached an intersection, stepped on the brakes so as to avoid running a red light. The rain was coming down with a greater tempo now, beating the outside of the vehicle and sounding like radio static. The light became green and Jeff stepped off the brake and directed his truck to the left.
As he and Amber entered the outskirts of Vallejo, they could see the roller coasters of an amusement park in the distance. The fairgrounds where the flea market was being held were quite close by, so that by the time Jeff and Amber reached the parking lot, they could see the rides and attractions clearly.
The parking lot itself was made of dirt and gravel. The rain had turned much of the lot into mud with the result that, as Jeff parked his truck and got out, he and Amber were forced to take care as they made their way to the fairgrounds entrance. They maneuvered their way around large puddles and were splashed with a cascade of muddy water when an SUV drove quickly past.
“Thanks for that!” Jeff shouted sarcastically.
Amber let out a groan. “Jeff, don’t,” she said.
Luckily, the car’s occupants did not hear Jeff. He watched as it sped out of the parking lot and grinned with smug satisfaction when a police car appeared, lights flashing, tailing the SUV until it pulled over.
“Ah, justice!”
Amber rolled her eyes. “Come on.” She indicated the fairground entrance, not ten feet beyond them. Through gated opening could be seen many tents and booths and, despite the weather, a crowd of people milling around, going from one display to the other, gazing at what the flea market had to offer.
“Shall we?” said Jeff, gesturing toward the entrance.
They passed through the opening into the grounds. At once Jeff and Amber found themselves in the midst of the throng, chattering voices loud and clear. After battling the crowd, they decided to part for the time being; Amber had seen something she wanted to take a closer look at while Jeff wanted to walk around and see what there was to see. They agreed to meet again in an hour, by the outhouses next to the entrance.
“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Amber advised.
“Why would I do anything stupid?” Jeff asked.
Amber sighed. “I know how you can be sometimes,” she said. “Remember when you decided it would be fun to smear peanut putter all over Megan’s car, then put bread on it like a sandwich?”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Jeff dismissively. He privately grinned at the memory. “Nothing stupid. Got it.”
“See you in an hour,” said Amber.
“See you,” Jeff replied.
With that, they each went their separate ways. Jeff watched Amber’s retreating back and as she stopped to examine a piece of jewelry, then headed in a different direction. He gazed through his rain-speckled glasses and ran his fingers through his hair, sending droplets of water sprinkling to the ground. For a rainy afternoon, the flea market was surprisingly bustling. A group of high school girls were giggling over the latest pop star, while a woman nearby pushed a stroller and talked on the phone.
As Jeff navigated his way through the crowd, he listened to snippets of conversation as he strolled by; he heard one person talking about the history of the area and how much of the land used to be owned by a wealthy man and his family. Jeff stopped to listen and found the discussion to be mildly interesting.
“Apparently, he owned quite a large amount of property just north of here,” a man was saying.
A woman, who Jeff took to be the man’s girlfriend, asked, “Is it still in the family?”
“Not that I know of,” the man replied. “He sold it off. Made some kind of bad business deal, or something. I’m not sure. I think the family line has died out too.”
“Shame,” said the woman, shaking her head.
Jeff thought it was a shame, too, but he didn’t interrupt their conversation to say so. Instead, he made his way toward an interesting looking booth. This one held primarily both old and foreign coins. He stopped to gaze at them for a moment and picked up a few to look more closely at.
“Five for a dollar,” said a squeaky voice.
Jeff glanced up to see an old woman staring at him through a pair of thick glasses. Her hair was gray and she wore several scarves, making her appear quite larger than she actually was.
“You can get five coins for a dollar,” the woman repeated.
“I’m just looking,” Jeff replied.
The woman shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Jeff examined a few more of the coins before going on his way. He stopped briefly at a booth belonging to a photographer. He gazed at the pictures, artfully displayed in black frames on large pieces of foam board, and moved on to the booth next door, which held a display of vintage jewelry. Jeff moved on down the row, glancing side to side at the booths as he passed by them, not seeing much of anything that was of interest. He was about to turn around to go in a different direction when something at last caught his eye.
In a booth containing mainly hunting paraphernalia was a stuffed deer with dark, dirt-covered, beaten-up hooves and eyes that sparkled even under the cloud-covered sky. Jeff approached and examined it more closely. In addition to the hooves and eyes, the hair of the deer looked dusty, giving it the overall appearance of having been stored in someone’s attic for a very long time. Despite that, whoever had killed and stuffed this deer had done a phenomenal job of it, he thought.
Jeff ran his fingers over on of the deer’s teeth and jumped when he heard a voice speaking behind him.
“You like it?”
Jeff turned to see an old man with wiry grey hair and wrinkled face, wearing a thick tan jacket. He was sitting in a fold-up lounge chair and had put a book he had been reading on one knee.
Recovering, Jeff replied, “Did you hunt this?”
The old man shook his head. “Nope, I don’t know who did that deer in. It’s been in the family for ages, though.”
“Your family?”
The old man nodded. “I never really liked it. Plus, it’s too big for my place, so I decided to come down here to see if someone else wanted it. One person’s trash is another person’s treasure, as the saying goes.”
Jeff agreed, and told him so. “Have you had anyone come by to ask about it?”
The old man shrugged. “Not too many,” he said. “Do you like it?”
Jeff nodded. “I do. It’s definitely cool.”
“Well, you can take it, if you want,” said the old man. “I just want to get rid of it.”
“How much?”
“Hundred dollars.”
“That’s a good deal,” Jeff commented.
“Like I said, I’m trying to get rid of it,” said the old man. “Do you want it?”
Jeff replied that he did. He pulled out his wallet and sifted through it, looking for the cash he needed. He had gone to the bank a few days before and taken some money out of his account, for the sole purpose of using it at the flea market. He pulled out five twenties and placed them in the old man’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you,” the man said. He held the twenties up to the light, checking for watermarks to see if they were real. They were; he proceeded to stuff them in a small money case under his chair then stood up.
“Can I take it?”
The old man nodded. “She’s all yours. Well, he,” the man amended quickly, for the deer had antlers.
“Great, thanks!”
“No problem,” said the man. “You need someone to help you get that to your vehicle?”
“I shouldn’t,” said Jeff. He attempted, and failed, to lift the deer. “Maybe a little bit of help.”
The old man nodded, as if expecting this. He put his index and ring fingers to his mouth and blew, producing a loud, shrill whistle. A few people stopped and stared for a moment, wondering where the sound had come from, before going on their way. From behind a bear rug hanging in the booth directly across from them, shuffled out a middle-aged man with graying hair. As he came to where Jeff and the old man stood, he took one look at Jeff and the deer before nodding in realization.
“Lou, would you help this kid, here?”
“With the deer, I assume?” Lou replied.
The old man nodded.
“Sure thing,” said Lou. He turned to Jeff. “Where do you want this?”
“The back of my truck,” said Jeff. “I’m parked a little ways from the entrance.”
“No problem.” Lou strolled over to the deer and, even though he did not look very strong, picked it up with ease.
Jeff, Lou, and the deer trudged back to the flea market entrance, where a crowd still milled about. They found Jeff’s truck easily. Jeff climbed into the truck bed, then waited while Lou hoisted the deer up. Jeff caught the deer, then dragged it the rest of the way into the truck and secured it with rope.
“Thanks,” said Jeff, gratefully.
“No problem,” said Lou. He shook hands with Jeff and, upon claiming he needed to get back to his booth, turned back toward the gated entrance.
Jeff watched him go and followed not long after. Rain was coming down in a faster tempo now and people were bringing out their umbrellas in an effort to shield themselves. As he made his way through, Jeff put his hood over his head to keep the rain from getting in his eyes and on his glasses. He found Amber, wandering around a section of booths with items from the east coast, including some Amish-made furniture and quilts.
“See anything interesting?” Jeff asked, sneaking up behind her.
Amber started. “Jeff! Don’t do that!”
Chuckling, Jeff apologized. “Well, do you see anything?”
“Nothing I’d like to buy just yet,” said Amber. “I’m going to see if I can get any of this online.” She gestured toward a quilt with a pattern of black and white carnations, black swirls, and grey leaves.
“Nice quilt,” said Jeff.
Amber agreed that it was.
“Looks like something you’d find at a funeral,” Jeff continued. Amber smacked him. “Ow!”
“It’s actually a modern design,” said Amber.
“Funerals are modern?”
“Designs like this are popular these days,” Amber continued, ignoring him. “They’re plain and simple, yet elegant.”
“Whatever floats your boat,” said Jeff. “Or coffin.”
Amber gave him a withering look. “You ready to go?”
“Yes,” Jeff answered. “I was just looking for you.”
“Good. You found me,” said Amber. “I’d give you a prize, but all I have is an old, stale stick of gum.”
“I’ll pass, thanks,” said Jeff. “I prefer stale cookies.”
Amber rolled her eyes. She and Jeff continued their banter as they walked back they way they had come. They gave a passing glance at the booths they went by, occasionally stopping to give one a closer look. One of the booths they examined contained prank items, such as joke candles that always sputtered out, never staying lit, and pens that squirted fake ink at you if you tried to write with them.
As Amber was busy gazing at a string of lights shaped like ears, Jeff found a fake severed hand. The entire hand appeared bloody and gory, and one of its fingers was cut off, exposing the fake bone and muscle within. He snuck up being Amber and quietly placed the hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, sis, you ready to go?”
Amber turned her head to answer and, upon seeing the hand, screamed. She whacked the hand off her shoulder and Jeff let out a loud, hearty laugh as he watched it fly through the air. He caught it before it could hit the muddy ground, however, and put it back on the table. Amber glared at him.
“That wasn’t funny!” Amber exclaimed. She added threateningly, “Just you wait… if you ever hear the floorboards creak outside your room late at night, run or you’ll be sorry.”
Jeff only laughed in response.
Amber eventually calmed and Jeff settled down to the point where he wasn’t chuckling every few moments. They went back to the truck in near silence, where a still grinning Jeff showed Amber his purchase. At first sight of the deer, Amber shook her head disbelievingly.
“What on earth are you going to use it for?”
Jeff shrugged, causing Amber to roll her eyes.
Once they arrived home, Jeff pulled up the driveway and parked by the side of the house. Amber stepped out and tried to avoid getting wet as she went to the front door. As she let herself inside, Jeff went around to the back of the truck. He struggled to lift the deer; in the end, he grabbed hold of its neck and hauled it, hooves dragging in the muddy soil, around to the back. There was an old tool shed, hardly touched, that Jeff liked using for storage. He brought the deer and placed it inside, beside an old battered chair he had once found at a garage sale.
Jeff looked around the shed for a bit and took out a rusted old brush. With this, he brushed some dust from the deer, including its hair and hooves. The eyes he put a slight amount of spit on, then rubbed clean with the sleeve of his shirt. Once he was finished, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Unlike before, when the deer had appeared musty and old, it now appeared to be bright and fresh. It shone in the light that seeped inside the tool shed, through the clouds and rain-spattered window.
Jeff did not know what use he would put the deer to, but he decided that he would not worry about it. For the time being, he would keep it here in the tool shed until the right moment came along. He knew that Christmas would be arriving in a couple of months; perhaps he would give it to his father, a hunter, as a present.
