by Mary Feliz
The kitchen clock’s audible tick set my teeth on edge. Munchkin sighed and dropped to the floor, his head sinking to rest on his front paws. Until Max punched the air with his hands.
“Arastradero Preserve! It’s accessible from here, dogs are allowed, and it’s outside the most likely paths of the fire, even if the wind changes.”
Stephen was already punching numbers on his phone. “I’ll let Jason know so he can alert the appropriate authorities.”
I ached to run out the door and drive, walk, or fly toward the kids. Munchkin was equally antsy. Normally reserved and stately in his behavior, he bounced from one front paw to the next, whining and snuffling the bottom of the back door.
“What can we do?” I asked Stephen when he finished the call. “Stay here? Stay by the phone? Go?”
I was talking too fast to be intelligible, but Stephen got the message anyway. “One of you should stay here, definitely,” he said. “They could be on their way back and arrive just after the rest of us leave. But if the reason we can’t reach them is that they’re in trouble or hurt, one of you might as well go to the trailhead, so you’re close by when we find them. And we will find them. All the fire teams are searching, including the helicopter that’s tracking hot spots. Kon Sokolov, the ranger, is following the PG&E trail in that direction—”
“They won’t have gone that way,” Max interrupted. “Kon warned them off yesterday, and so did Maggie and I.”
Stephen held up his hand. “Stay with me. Kon wants to rule that trail out. It’s the fastest way to Arastradero. He’ll talk to anyone he runs into...firefighters, law enforcement, errant hikers, and ask about the boys. But he’s also got two guys on ATVs who’ll set out from here. We’ll find them, Maggie. I want to drive to the Arastradero trailhead and work backward from there with Munchkin. He’s not a tracking dog, but he’s friends with Belle, Mozart, and your boys. That connection means the dogs will detect each other long before we do.”
I could read Max’s thoughts as well as I could my own. We both wanted to be where the boys were. We wanted to be together. We wanted to be the first to find them. I cursed physics, which dictated each of us could be in only one place at a time. My shoulders drooped.
“Go with Stephen, Maggie,” Max said. “I’ll stay here by the phone and get everything set up for dinner. Those boys will be hungry when we get them home.” Already texting, he added, “I’ll cancel tonight’s dinner too. We don’t need to be entertaining right now. Our friends will understand.”
I gave him a quick hug and grabbed a sweatshirt, water, energy bars, and a flashlight, in case our search went beyond sunset. I glanced at my watch, trying not to think of the dangers lurking beyond the fire—mountain lions, rattlers, members of the drug cartels, assault weapons.
Stephen made an effort to distract me. “Take Munchkin’s leash,” he said. “We’ll go in my car. My radio is tied to Jason’s phone, and I’ve got rescue equipment in the trunk.”
My eyes grew wide in fear. Stephen elaborated in a slow, quiet, and calm voice. “Rescue equipment—like blankets, water, more flashlights. We’re fine. They are too. Let’s go get them.”
He’d almost convinced me that I was overreacting when I heard what sounded like a series of gunshots echo through the canyons on the far side of the ridge.
Chapter 25
There’s not much humans can do to prepare for an encounter with rattlesnakes, except to know their enemy. Snakes are shy and will not attack unless threatened or startled. Most bites occur when a combination of testosterone, alcohol, and drugs are present in large quantities. Fifty years ago, snake bite first aid included ice, elevation, cutting the wound site, and sucking out the poison. Today, experts recommend against all of those procedures and advise seeking medical attention immediately. Phone ahead when you’re en route to the hospital.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald
Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Wednesday, August 9, Late afternoon
I jumped into Stephen’s SUV.
I reminded myself that every public protection agency in the county was doing all they could to find the boys. Every member of those many teams was more experienced than I was. And the boys were sensible. I knew they’d stick together and look after one another. Those were the thoughts my rational brain repeated over and over like a mantra. My lizard brain, my mama bear instinct, and every other part of me fought panic and terror.
Long purple shadows on the golden hills proved an unwelcome reminder that the clock was ticking.
When we reached the trailhead, Stephen led the way at a steady pace that I sensed was slower than he’d travel if he was alone. I was tempted to let him go ahead without me, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to go faster, but my lungs were already straining on the steep uphill climb. Stephen must have anticipated my thoughts, or else I’d said the words aloud without realizing it. “It’s okay, Maggie. This isn’t a race. We’ll find them. Chances are, they’ve forgotten the time. Or their phones are out of charge. It’s not like them. I know that. But we’ve had a rough couple of days. None of us are acting normally—whatever that is.”
I knew that Stephen was trying to distract me. And if we’d been searching for just one kid, I would have had an easier time believing him. But could all three of them have forgotten to charge their phones? Unlikely. Something else was wrong. Something serious. Something, I was sure, that stemmed from the terrors Kon had outlined for Max. My eyes scanned the edges of the trail for rattlers, the hillsides for smoke, and the trees for mountain lions, though any cat that heard us or spotted us was likely to freeze as it lay in wait—or slink off quietly after deciding we weren’t worth the trouble. Mountain lion sightings in Orchard View were relatively rare. There were no more than four or five a year in the area. Attacks were far less frequent. But anything could happen.
The same went for rattlesnakes. They were shy and tended to avoid people, attacking only when surprised or threatened. Most deadly bites occurred when a mixture of elements was present: immature men, alcohol or drugs, and young snakes who expelled all their venom in one bite. Older snakes were wise enough to conserve their energy and their weaponry. They’d strike in warning without injecting venom when a target was too big to eat. With smaller prey, they’d inject just enough poison to subdue. My knees quivered in fear, and I turned my ankle on a rut. After a few quick, hopping steps, my ankle recovered, thank goodness. Could something like that have happened to the boys? Their young ankles were more pliable than mine, but their workouts were faster paced.
I scanned the hillside. Dark-leafed oaks disappeared into darker clefts in the undulating hills. Arastradero was much more open than the county land closer to our house, but hills and gullies made it impossible to see very far ahead.
Munchkin barked and strained at the leash—unusual behavior for the well-trained dog. Stephen paused to unhook his leash. I heard what could have been Belle’s answering bark, and Munchkin surged ahead. Stephen turned toward me. “I don’t think it’s far now. He’s acting like he’s found a friend.”
I must have looked skeptical. Stephen added, “If he were responding to a threat, he’d have a ridge of hair standing up on his back like a Mohawk. He’s a scaredy-cat too. No Mohawk means friendlies.”
Stephen sped after Munchkin, but waited for me to catch up when Munchkin left the trail to bound uphill toward a wooded area, with only his tail visible above the long grass.
I followed at a breathless run, hoping that any rattlers had slunk away, terrified by the pounding footsteps of the large man and his dog.
Belle exploded from a concealing clump of trees and other vegetation and, like a sheepdog, circled behind me, bumped at the backs of my legs, and barked, urging me forward. Once inside the shady copse of trees, I stopped to catch my breath. All three boys huddled against the trunk of a tree. Brian’s cheeks were tear-streaked. David’s revealed
pain. Teddy clutched Mozart’s head to his chest. They stared across the clearing as Stephen raced to the side of a man pinned down by Munchkin. The man’s hand gripped a gun. He dropped it and raised his hands above his head, wincing.
I sank to my knees and gathered all three boys in a giant hug. They were alive. A more careful examination could wait a moment or two. I followed the direction of their wide-eyed stares to take in the man Munchkin held down with one paw. In a moment, my brain took in enough details to alter my initial assessment of the situation. The stranger wasn’t fending off Munchkin’s attentions, but reveling in them as he laughed. He wasn’t scrambling for the dropped firearm, but pushing it away to protect Munchkin.
Stephen picked up the scary-looking black assault weapon and examined it. In one smooth motion, he ejected a curved block slightly larger than a cell phone and planted it deep in the thigh pocket of his cargo pants. He flicked a few latches, ran his hands over the spotting scope and tripod-type legs, grimaced, and slung it onto his back as nonchalantly as if he’d been picking up a grocery bag.
“Did you disarm it?” I asked.
“It wasn’t loaded.”
The man on the ground eyed Stephen carefully but seemed unafraid. After the gun was safely stowed, he sat up, pushing Munchkin’s head and tongue away from his face. “Your mother?” he asked in hushed Spanish. It was one of only a few phrases I could understand. The boys nodded without speaking. In urgent tones, the man rattled off a paragraph’s worth of words I couldn’t translate. The vocabulary words required when one’s children are held captive by a gun-wielding member of a drug cartel weren’t covered in any of my high school Spanish classes.
I’d let Stephen and his law-enforcement training sort out the stranger and his motives. I shoved Belle aside so I could examine the boys more closely. I touched Brian’s tear-stained face and hugged him, firmly. “It will be okay,” I assured him. Belle licked his face. “Are you hurt?” He shook his head. “Mozart...and David,” he whispered, forcing out the words. I couldn’t be sure whether his raspy, wheezing voice was the result of fear or an asthma flare, or both, but I handed him his inhaler from my pocket. Normally, he would have carried one with him in the pocket of his shorts. But as Stephen kept reminding me, there was nothing ordinary about today or any of the immediately preceding ones.
He took a few puffs, closed his eyes, and relaxed a little against the tree behind him, waiting, I knew, for the adrenaline-like drug to open the passageways in his lungs and relax muscles that had tightened and made breathing shallow and painful.
I watched for a few moments as his face relaxed and his lips changed color from purple-gray to a dusty mauve. He’d need another dose before he was ready to go anywhere, but the drug appeared to be working. I moved on to David.
“Brian says you’re hurt? Where?”
David made a dismissive tsking sound. “I’m fine.”
“Why does Brian think you’re hurt?”
Teddy leaned in. “It’s his foot. Could be broken.”
I scooted back to examine his ankle. David pulled on my sleeve. “Don’t. Look at Mozart. Rattler.”
I gasped and whipped my head around to stare at Stephen in alarm, then back at Mozart. I wasn’t prepared to leave David and his injury to examine the dog. Nor did I know anything about doggy first aid. Did Stephen? Had he heard David’s words?
Stephen left the side of the disarmed stranger, and sank to his knees on Teddy’s left side. He patted Teddy’s leg in a reassuring gesture, then held Mozart’s head between his enormous hands as the dog whined softly. He tilted the dog’s head as if trying to catch the light. Without turning toward me, or releasing the dog, he said softly, “Still got that flashlight, Maggie? Hand it to Teddy.”
I did as I was told, pulling a small LED flashlight from the pocket of my jeans. “Teddy, shine it where you think he was bitten,” Stephen said. “Did you see the rattler? Was it a big ’un or a little guy?”
Teddy turned on the light and pointed it at the dog’s snout. His hand and his voice wavered. “Pretty big. I saw the snake and went to grab Mozart’s collar, but he was too fast. They were both too fast. Mozart jumped in front of me, snarling, and the snake coiled and struck.”
“Big around as my arm,” added David, holding out his hand to demonstrate.
“That’s good,” Stephen said. Though I wasn’t sure whether he meant the snake or the way that Teddy was holding the flashlight. “There’s not a lot of swelling, and his eyes are clear. He’s hurtin’, no question, but my guess is that he’s more worried about you than he is about himself. Has he had the vaccine?”
Teddy looked to me, confused.
“He has,” I said. “Both he and Belle had it in the spring. Doc Davidson recommends it for dogs who live in the hills or who run with their owners in areas like this one. We haven’t seen a rattler yet in our yard, but I’m sure they’re there. Or nearby, at least.”
“It’s still an emergency,” Stephen explained. “We’ll get help for him quickly. But a rattler as big as David’s arm has been around awhile. He probably didn’t waste much venom on Mozart, since this dog is too big for a rattler to eat. Mr. Grandpa Snake was protecting himself by warning Mozart off. A baby snake would have freaked and poured out all his venom at once.” He ruffled Mozart’s ears and patted Teddy’s leg. “Good job, bud. Let me check out David, and then we’ll make some calls.”
It took Stephen one step to move from Teddy to David. I scooted out of the way, comforting Belle and Brian. Belle licked Stephen’s face and seemed relieved to relinquish David’s care to an expert. Stephen palpated David’s ankle, glancing at him occasionally to assess his pain level. “What happened?” he asked.
David flushed. “The snake. I heard it and jumped back. My foot caught on some loose shale at the edge of the path. My balance was off, and I twisted. Landed in a wild rosebush. I’ve been picking thorns out of my butt ever since.” He winced. Stephen patted David’s knee. “You’ll live. But your cross-country season may be over. We’ll get you checked out.”
He reached for his phone, glanced at it, then swapped it for a small radio with a long rubber-covered antenna I hadn’t known he was carrying. Short, unintelligible crackles came from the radio. Stephen listened, then calmly made similar staccato utterances of numbers and jargon that meant nothing to me. He stashed the radio in a pocket and translated.
“They’re sending a helicopter to take David, Brian, and Mozart to Stanford. Jason will meet them and transport Mozart to the emergency vet in Palo Alto.”
A moan escaped my lips, and Brian trembled. Belle growled softly.
“No panicking,” Stephen said, looking stern. “It’s rush hour. The wind is coming up, and so is the fire danger. The helicopter has been looking for the boys and needs to head back to the airport anyway. The hospital is on the way. I don’t think anyone’s injuries here are life-threatening, but I’d feel better with an expert opinion.”
He examined each of us as if measuring our fear. “There’s some bad news too. There won’t be room in the chopper for Teddy, Maggie, or Belle. But we’ll get your mom back to you as quickly as possible.”
A short burst of Spanish came from the man under the tree. This time, Teddy responded. Then he translated, saying about the last words I’d expected to come from a guy who, minutes earlier, had been holding an assault weapon.
Chapter 26
When you live in rattlesnake country, your emergency preparedness efforts need to include the possibility of a snakebite for both humans and dogs. Dogs are prone to bites due to their habit of sniffing to investigate anything strange to them, but there are remedies. A canine vaccine may help battle the effects, but expert opinions vary, and vaccinated dogs bitten by rattlesnakes should still be considered a veterinary emergency. Check with your vet for his or her recommendation. Rattlesnake avoidance training classes using positive reinforcement have been helpful
(but not foolproof) in teaching dogs to steer clear of the deadly creatures. Rattlesnake aversion therapy using shock collars is controversial and generally not recommended.
From the Notebook of Maggie McDonald
Simplicity Itself Organizing Services
Wednesday, August 9, Late afternoon
Teddy translated for the rest of us. “Martín wants to know if he can come too. Says he’ll watch the dogs while the doctors look after us. But he’s hurt too. A gunshot wound to the arm. He needs a doctor.”
Stephen spoke to the stranger in Spanish, then knelt to examine him.
“Okay,” Stephen said. “Martín goes on the chopper too. Again, not life-threatening, but that wound needs a serious clean out and antibiotics.”
“Wait,” I shouted. “What’s his story? Did he fire those shots we heard? Was he firing at my kids? He’s not getting on that chopper or going anywhere with us until I know more. Ask him. Why was he aiming an assault weapon at my kids and their dogs?”
Stephen and the dogs tilted their heads. Shortly, the rest of us heard the helicopter. It was like an episode of M*A*S*H. Spinning blades stirred up dust, and the noise was deafening. We squinted and covered our ears. Brian pulled his T-shirt to cover his nose and mouth and filter out the pollen and dust.
Stephen shouted answers to questions barked by the EMTs. Brian, David, Mozart, and the man with the gunshot wound were scooped up by medics in black jumpsuits with red stripes on the arms and legs.
Stephen clapped me on the shoulder and mouthed the words “Trust me.” I frowned and bit my lip. There was no time for the answers I needed. The stranger was unarmed. I did trust Stephen. The boys and Mozart needed medical attention. The rational part of my brain forced me to nod and smile encouragingly to the kids. I squeezed in a quick wave and thumbs-up to both boys before the chopper was gone.
The silence that followed was deafening, interrupted by chirps from birds and insects getting ready for bed. Would Brian and David be okay, swallowed up by the enormous Stanford University health care system? Would I survive being separated from both of them in an emergency? I had to phone Max. Panicked, I began slapping my pockets, hunting for my phone.