Lost Canyon

by Nina Revoyr

  When they were done, there was no way he could get his arms loose. They stepped back and examined their handiwork. Gwen felt queasy looking at him—he could die like this, and they would have done it; she knew Tracy was right. But there was still a difference, she told herself, between leaving him to luck and actually killing him.

  “Where’s the dog?” she asked now.

  “I don’t see her,” Oscar said.

  “Me neither.”

  Todd walked over to where Timber had been tied up and lifted a frayed rope end. “I guess she had better places to be.”

  “Should we worry?” Oscar asked.

  “No. We’re not going to be able to find her anyway.”

  Gwen felt mildly disappointed about the dog being gone. But it was probably better not to have to worry about her.

  “I still think we should do something else with A.J.,” Tracy said. “Make it impossible for him to follow us.”

  “Yeah, I think so too,” said Oscar. “He’s not really incapacitated. Hopefully his teeth aren’t as good as his dog’s.”

  “I could shoot him in the leg,” Tracy offered.

  Gwen thought, Are you crazy? You must truly be crazy. Tracy seemed almost cheerful about this turn of events, as if it were part of a grand adventure they’d all laugh about later at the bar. But Todd had a more practical response: “Someone could hear the gunshot, though. Not a good thing if other people are coming.”

  “You’re right,” Tracy conceded. “Then what? Break his leg? Cut him?”

  “How about we just break his glasses?” Gwen suggested. They all looked at her blankly. “The way he squinted when they fell off, I don’t think his vision is too good. He probably couldn’t make his way through the woods without them.”

  “Even if he could,” Todd added, “he wouldn’t be able to see well enough to shoot us.”

  “Good idea, Gwen,” Oscar said, and so it was decided.

  Tracy went over to the spot where they’d first knocked him out and picked up his fallen glasses. She brought them back to where the others stood and crunched the lenses under her shoe.

  “That’s for my compass,” she said, with one twist of her heel. “That’s for Oscar’s GPS.” Then: “Let’s go get our stuff,” and for a moment Gwen didn’t know what she was talking about. And then she remembered their packs, farther back in the clearing where they’d first encountered José, left there what seemed like a lifetime ago. Tracy was right about one thing: everything had changed.

  “We should figure out what we really need to take,” Todd said. “We should probably travel light.”

  “Good point,” said Tracy. “We’ll only take essentials.” She walked over and picked up A.J.’s rifle.

  Just before they turned to walk back toward their packs, Gwen swung the flashlight back toward A.J. He was still passed out, chin on his chest, a growing lump on his cheek. There was a trickle of blood running down the side of his face and a strip of duct tape over his mouth. He looked peaceful, almost harmless. He was bound securely to the tree, and seeing all this, Gwen felt a complicated mix of emotions. Anger and hatred and fear all bubbled together with a strange wish that he wouldn’t die, that they wouldn’t be responsible. I hope I never see your face again, she thought. Then she swung the light away and left him in darkness.

  Chapter Eleven

  Oscar

  They hiked without speaking, but their passage seemed terribly loud. The sound of their boots kicking rocks and breaking twigs reverberated through the woods. There was just enough light from the first-quarter moon that they could see where they were going; still, Tracy switched on her headlamp several times, light muffled by her fingers, to make sure they were staying on track. In these moments, all their faces looked haunted and ghostly, deep dark shadows where eyes should have been. And the trees. They looked weirdly alive in the short bursts of light, or maybe undead, malevolent creatures looming in the dark.

  They were headed up the same trail they’d come down the previous afternoon, a lifetime ago. Their loads were less than half of what they’d been the day before, but everything else seemed heavier. Originally they’d planned to spend two more days in the mountains, but now, instead of hiking eight miles each day, they’d push to do all sixteen at once. And so there were things they could leave behind—sleeping bags and tents, and some of the food, the heavy bear canisters. Since it was probably as cold right then as it would get, they left most of their extra clothes. They carried water, some food, and Tracy brought her bear spray. They worried that whoever found their things might blame them for José’s death, but they worried more about getting out of the mountains alive. They debated about leaving a couple of the big packs behind, but no one wanted to feel like they were taking less than their share, so they all still carried their packs. The only new things they added were guns. Tracy took José’s handgun, and Todd carried A.J.’s rifle.

  It was three thirty in the morning, and Oscar couldn’t believe where he was or what he was doing. He thought of his daughter, asleep in his mother’s house; he thought of his mother and Claudia. What would he say if he could talk with them now? He had never imagined himself in a situation like this.

  Now he wished that they had killed the skinhead creep, or at least maimed him in some serious way. They had him secured pretty tightly, but who was to say they hadn’t made some error that left room for him to wiggle out of the bindings? And what if his brother showed up? Even though Oscar believed what the people at the Franklin Cash Store had said about the bad element in the area, and what Gwen had said about white supremacists, he’d never imagined that he’d meet such guys himself. He never thought he’d see racial hatred so naked and frank—so much more in-your-face than the subtle prejudice he was used to. Oscar’s emotions had been jerked around so much that he felt an emotional whiplash. The terror he’d experienced when the gun first touched his head had settled into a fear so steady and deep he forgot what it was like not to feel it. Then the confusion and relief of their first captor being shot, followed by an even deeper fear.

  He’d always associated pot gardens with aging hippies, pleasantly stoned older folks who ate pot brownies and strummed ’60s-era guitars. And he smoked out himself at parties sometimes—who didn’t? But it had somehow not really occurred to him that there were higher stakes, and dangerous people, or that he could ever run into trouble. He’d known, of course, about the Mexican drug cartels, and he sometimes saw slick, intimidating men driving tricked-out BMWs and Mercedes through Glassell Park. There was a direct line between those arrogant guys and members of the Avenues, who actually distributed the drugs on the street. But even with his awareness of the Mexican mafia, of the gangs, Oscar hadn’t made the next step in his mind—connecting the everyday worry about the Avenues and the suppliers in fancy cars to the actual place where the pot was grown, the actual people. And wrapped up now in his surprise and fear there was also growing anger: anger at the trouble the dealers caused in his neighborhood; anger that he, by virtue of being Latino, could be seen by anyone as somehow connected to them.

  He had worked so hard his whole life to disassociate himself from that element. And now he’d stumbled onto it, in the middle of nowhere. One thing was for sure—if he got out of this, he was never going to smoke again.

  The woods and dark seemed endless and their progress was slow. Several times he was startled by a shape in the woods, a still, hulking presence that might have been a bear. Ever since A.J. had described the dead bears, Oscar had seen them in his mind, imagined the horror of running into the furry carcasses, or even worse, the marble-like bodies of the ones that had been skinned. They were long gone, he knew that logically; they’d been dumped off a cliff. But he still thought of them, and feared them, and was relieved each time when the shape he saw revealed itself to be a boulder or a fallen log. Finally they gained the top of the ridge, the place where the trails intersected. They lowered their packs, sat down, and exhaled. It was windier here so they put on their jacke
ts and zipped them up to their chins. Ahead of them, the silhouette of the eastern mountain range. Above them, the quarter-moon, which seemed to shine more brightly than usual. By its light, Oscar could make out the others’ faces.

  “We can’t go back the way we came,” said Tracy. “A.J.’s brother is coming.”

  “José’s people too,” Gwen added.

  “We don’t know that,” said Todd. “We don’t know which way the Mexicans might be coming.”

  Oscar fought down his annoyance. Were the people coming for A.J. the Americans? The whites? “Should we just take this other trail?” he suggested. “The one we didn’t take yesterday?”

  And as he said this, it occurred to him how different everything would be if they had taken this trail yesterday; how their choice to take the other trail, made in good faith but with limited knowledge, had led to the death of one man and the abandonment of another; to all their confusion and terror.

  “We should,” Todd said. “We should stick to what we know. And without our maps, all we really know is that this trail goes to Lost Canyon and eventually loops around to our car.”

  “But the trail is the first place they’ll look,” Tracy said. “We should leave it and find another way.”

  “You really comfortable doing that without a map and compass?”

  “We know generally where we’re going.”

  “But wait,” Gwen said. “If A.J. followed us, that means he knows where our car is. What if they’ve done something to it? What if someone else is there?” She sounded slightly hysterical.

  They all sat with this possibility for a moment.

  Then Todd lifted the rifle. “Well, we do have these guns, if we need them.”

  “No, she’s right,” Tracy said. “We don’t know what we might find.” She was quiet, they were all quiet, and then she lifted a pole and lightly struck the ground. “I’ll tell you what. I think we should forget the loop altogether. I think we should go cross-country and out the other side of the mountains.” She pointed to the dark silent shapes in front of them. “That way, for sure we keep A.J.’s brother behind us. It shouldn’t be more than a day or two’s walk, and we’d come out into the Owens Valley.”

  “Really?” Oscar responded doubtfully. “That looks like a long way.”

  “We saw those mountains yesterday,” Todd said, “and they look pretty big. How can we get over them?”

  “There are a bunch of passes. I’ve been through a couple of them, coming in from the other side. I know the range looks big, but we can get over it, I promise. And once we do, it’s just a few miles down.”

  “I don’t know,” Todd said, and kicked the dirt. “That’s a lot of ground to cover.”

  “It is,” Tracy replied, voice firmer now. “But it’s doable. I know it.”

  “With as little food as we have? And no real sense of where we’re going? Not all of us may be up for it, Tracy.”

  Gwen looked away; she must have realized that she was the weakest link. Oscar was silent, and Todd’s uncertainty increased his own fear.

  “We can handle it,” Tracy said. “And we’ll make do with the food. Besides, what choice do we have?”

  She was right, and they all knew she was right; they needed to walk out. They had to walk away from A.J. and his brother and whoever might come for José; away from their car at the trailhead; away from who and what they had been.

  “We should stay on the trail for a while yet,” Todd said, “as long as it still follows this ridge.”

  Tracy nodded. “Sounds good. Let’s do it.”

  “Hey, you guys, speaking of food, I need to eat something,” Gwen said, and Oscar realized that he was hungry too. He hadn’t noticed the growling in his stomach, the weakness in his limbs; his hunger had been obscured by exhaustion and fear.

  “Why don’t you eat an energy bar?” Tracy suggested. “All of us should do that. But we should keep going—we don’t want to stay up here on top of this ridge. We’d be too easy of a target.”

  The night was loosening its grip on the sky. Oscar noticed color and definition now, the blue of Todd’s pack, the red of Tracy’s jacket. The sun was still well behind the mountains, but the sky was turning gray. As he watched, the first spots of pink touched the bottom of the clouds. It was almost dawn.

  “She’s right, we should keep moving,” Todd said. “When we get some miles behind us and reach a less exposed spot, we can stop for a proper breakfast.”

  Oscar sensed Gwen’s frustration, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she bent over to unzip the lid of her pack and pulled out an energy bar. He did the same. Then they lifted on their packs and started to walk. They made their way along the level ridge, hiking fast, aware of how visible they’d become in the growing light. The clouds to the east were now a deep salmon. On their right they could see into the narrow canyon where they’d spent the afternoon and evening—not all the way down to the bottom, but far enough to make out a few of the granite ledges and outcroppings. Somewhere down there was José’s body. They’d talked of burying it, or covering it, but decided they didn’t have time, and Oscar, despite his anger at the kid, had felt bad about leaving him there. At least he’d be more easily found, he reasoned.

  The trail bent right, then straightened out again, departing one ridge and following another before angling gently down a slope. Oscar breathed a sigh of relief when they dipped beneath the second ridge—no one could see them unless they were standing directly below. Eventually this trail would lead to Lost Canyon.

  They were just starting to settle into a comfortable pace when there was a flurry of movement behind them. Gwen gasped and Oscar jumped and they all looked back, just in time to see a flash of white fur whip around the bend, a feathery waving tail.

  “Jesus Christ!” Oscar exclaimed. “That scared the hell out of me!”

  The dog jumped up on him—panting, smiling—then ran to greet Gwen, Todd, and Tracy. She play-bowed and gave her strange, muffled bark again, then bolted in a fast circle around them. She sashayed back over to Gwen, offering her backside, and when Gwen didn’t immediately lean over to pet her, she flipped onto her back, twisting and grunting, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

  Tracy glanced back down the trail. “Fuck, I wonder if A.J.’s behind her.”

  But there was no one. This was strange. A.J.’s dog, but no A.J. She’d disappeared by the time they’d finished tying him up. Where had she gone? And what did her presence mean now?

  “I don’t think he’s with her,” Todd said. “I think she just followed us.”

  “Well, that’s a little weird, don’t you think?” Oscar said.

  “Not necessarily.” Todd bent over and called the dog to him. She ran over, tail between her legs with just the very tip wiggling. She pressed the side of her face into his leg and swung herself around so that more of her body was touching him. Todd scratched her ears, ran his hand over her head, patted her on the side. She looked up at him adoringly, tongue hanging out in bliss.

  “She’s not bonded to him. If she were, there’s no way she would have let us handle him like we did. Makes sense—he’s only had her for a few weeks, right? And he wasn’t exactly treating her nicely.”

  He bent over and the dog jumped up to lick him, so quick and hard that she jabbed him in the face. He pulled up, spitting, laughing. She scooted close to him again, then burst away and ran another loop, moving in quick, jerky motions.

  “She’s a little crazy, huh?” Tracy commented.

  “She’s a border collie,” Todd said. “It’s part of the job description. Plus, I think she’s still a pup. She’s probably not more than ten or twelve months old.”

  “Well, what do we do with her?” Oscar asked. Sure, she was cute, but this was no time to be worried about lost dogs. They needed to get moving again, and fast.

  “We don’t need to do anything. We can see if she follows us.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tracy said. “What if she runs back
and leads A.J. to where we are? Or someone else, for that matter. She might not be attached to A.J.—but who’s to say she’s not attached to his brother? She could give away our location just by barking.”

  “Her vocal cords have been cut,” Todd said. “That’s why she doesn’t have a voice.”

  “Why would anyone do that?” Gwen asked, disgusted.

  Todd shrugged. “I guess A.J. didn’t like the barking.” He sighed. “Look, let’s let her come along. If she stays with us, she won’t be able to help anyone else.”

  They were all quiet for a moment, considering this.

  “She’ll have to eat,” Tracy said now, breaking the silence. “And we’re short of food already. I don’t know, Todd. I’d rather just leave her here. Tie her to a tree.”

  “That didn’t work the first time. And if someone finds her, then they’ll really know we were here.”

  The dog was sitting between them now, looking at them earnestly, as if she knew they were discussing her fate. Her ears were standing straight up on her head, tips falling over slightly. Each time someone spoke, one ear swiveled in that person’s direction. Gwen bent to pet her but when she raised her arm, the dog fell to her side and cowered.

  “It’s okay,” Gwen reassured her. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She knelt and petted the dog, who pressed her head against Gwen’s hand and touched her with her paw. “We can’t leave her.” Gwen looked up at all of them, and then back down at the dog, and for the first time in what seemed like days, she smiled.

  Oscar watched this, unsure what to think. There were so many stray dogs running through Glassell Park that he’d hardened his heart against them. A couple of his neighbors were always picking them up and taking them to the animal shelter, but he just tried to avoid them, especially when he had Lily. He’d taught her never to approach a loose dog, and had cursed the irresponsible people who didn’t secure their yards, or who abandoned dogs up in the hills. His vote would have been to leave this dog behind.