Parkway

we find bodies all the time. Lots of folks come up here to die or kill, or get killed. My first one came in the summer. We were up Back Branch, near the Virginia border, where the treeline thickens above the bald. It was me and Coralis, who trained me when I started with the Park Service. Coralis taught me pretty much my whole job, and the only part I’ve ever questioned is whether he taught me how to deal with the living and the dead the right way around.

That first time, Coralis and me were heading from Back Branch to Sugar Knob. This was back in ’83, my first month on the job, before I got my own vehicle. I was one of the only woman rangers in the whole state then. We were heading north, coming out of an early morning fog, and we saw a flash off to the right, like a gleam off somebody’s smile in those old toothpaste commercials. We thought that was strange with it so gray and misty, so we checked it out.

Coralis pulled over in the grass near a mile marker—the old stones, white and square, the ones you see all along the whole length of the parkway. When tourists first see them, they pull over to take pictures, touch the hand-carved numbers, but after a while they stop caring and ignore them. Those markers look to me like little headstones, so I think people get creeped out after too many.

We hopped out of the truck, looked down the bank, and Coralis pointed into the woods.

“I see a wheel,” he said.

We went down a few more feet, and we found this little old red Gremlin tucked down into the trees, like somebody hid it on purpose. She was in there.

Through the rear windshield, we saw her long hair lying across the back seat, her head tilted at an unnatural angle. Her face was so white, I thought maybe she was sleeping. I kept inching toward the car; I guess part of me wanted to wake her up, whisper to her or stroke her hair to raise her.

Coralis gripped my shoulder to hold me back and said, “Call it in, Priscilla.”

That might be the only time he ever touched me or used my real name. His voice had a cold rattle in it, and the words shook in his throat. My voice shook too when I radioed the ranger station.

I came back and stood next to Coralis, who clenched his teeth for a long time. Finally he said, “We should stay with her. Don’t let’s leave her alone, Pea. Not til they get here.”

So we sat on the bank looking at her hair through that back windshield. State police arrived a while later, and homicide detectives and all that. I stood out of the way when Coralis told me to let him handle it. Me being a woman and a rookie, I think he was worried I’d faint. I kept staring at the Gremlin while the cops took pictures, taped off a line, and the morning warmed itself.

A few hours later, as the coroner packed her away, Coralis said I’d have to get used to finding corpses now and then.

“Once a year,” he said, “maybe twice. Mostly cliff jumpers and accidents, mostly intact, but sometimes only parts.” He nodded at the body bag. “Sometimes frightful whole ones like her.”

I crossed my arms and stifled a sob. I was real young then, young minded I mean, and I had never thought I’d have to do this kind of work. I just wanted to be in the woods.

“Now comes the paperwork,” Coralis said. His face wasn’t stern like usual, and the deep lines around his eyes held less shadow. He didn’t smile exactly, but I could tell he was glad to have found her. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

On the way back to the ranger station, Coralis told me a bunch...