Back to the Garden

by Clara Hume

  Daniel handed Leo a rifle, and Leo nodded and began climbing. The tree shook with Leo's weight, even though he was a fit man. A few pinecones fell.

  Daniel was the one with the capture gun, and Jimmy and I had to back him up. But Jimmy, as tough as he was mentally, still had a limp and couldn't run too fast. We both had rifles just in case. Jimmy went to sit down on a rock. He was already sore from the trek, but would have refused to stay home. He chewed some tobacco while he patiently sat near the huckleberries.

  I stood on the perimeter and was as still as I could be upward of two hours. I found that watching the sky and ignoring the cold as it stung my frostbitten feet offered a strange sense of peace and comfort.

  Daniel was near Jimmy.

  We didn't talk for two hours.

  I let my eyes roam the area. Above were the tops of pines, aspen, and conifers. I memorized the delicate fan-shape of the pines, the translucence white branches of the aspen, the intricate conifer needles—and the way these were outlined individually and in massive shape together against the blue cold sky. I stood in a small grove of silvery snow-covered aspens, with their branches like bones, and could see Daniel's red and black flannel jacket about 40 yards over to my west. To the east I could see the outline of the frozen creek. Frozen like my toes. On the ground were dead leaves and branches, hard-packed snow, and silence.

  We all tensed when we heard our familiar wolves howl, but they were far away. We just didn't want them to scare off our bear. Then we heard branches breaking to the north of us, and we all stood as still as possible. It could've been an elk or mountain lion even, if they were still in existence. I wasn't sure what was around these days. But by and by, our bear emerged from the woods and did not seem as aggressive as she had been a few days prior. Jimmy nodded to Daniel, who pointed the blowgun at the bear, but the bear saw this too and stood broadside.

  "Get her now, Danny," Jimmy whispered. It was a panicky moment for me, as I had my rifle pointed toward the bear—and I could see up above that Leo had his gun aimed from the tree. We weren't going to shoot unless the thing charged, and then only to scare it. I'd had some shooting practice growing up on a ranch, but Leo said he never had. Maybe that's why he was up in the tree.

  Daniel was quick to tranquilize the bear and got her on the first shot. Jimmy had said the drugs would just anger the bear for quite a bit and we should be prepared to stand ground and defend ourselves for a while if needed, but I wasn't ready for the riotous actions of the bear, who became angry and charged our camp.

  I emerged from the perimeter area and shot my gun into the air. This proceeded to scare the bear, but now it was confused and acting in self-defense. She took a swipe at Jimmy and missed; then he stood up undeterred, and though he wasn't taller than the bear, he was more determined, for he waved his arms and hollered at it and said, "You think you're special? I'll show you!"

  He started hopping around like a madman and pulled out his flask in such a quick motion that I could hardly see it myself, and managed to splash the bear's eyes with whiskey. At this point the bear was pretty mad, but also hurt, and began to limp away. "Let it be," Jimmy said. He was sweating and took a shot of whiskey, his hands shaking.

  We waited and waited. The bear crawled out into the forest. We had to follow it. Leo, stunned and silent so far, climbed down from the tree. We formed a steady line of warriors following our objective into the woods. The animal couldn't run faster than we could follow, but out of respect and not wanting it to try to run, we walked slowly and non-aggressively.

  It was a good while before the bear stopped in its tracks, laid down, and groaned.

  "We got it!" Jimmy said excitedly.

  The dose had been strong enough on purpose. Now down to business. The idea was to fix its wound where I'd knifed her the other night and insert a yellow button tag on its ear. But Daniel surprised us by aiming a shotgun at the now sleeping bear. His face, which had been stony since the death of Cameron, showed new life as well as pert anger. His jawbone was so tense it looked contorted.

  "Whoa there, son, you do not want to do that," Jimmy said.

  But Daniel stood there as if we weren't there and he was alone in the world with that bear. The look on Daniel's face was that of a killer. Not all men had such instincts. But I knew that, given certain situations, any man could become a killer. If someone or something threatened your life, I figured. If they'd been somehow responsible for directly or indirectly causing the death of your child, for example.

  I once read how animals killed only to eat or out of fear. Many humans stuck to similar instincts, too. But others of our species went beyond animalistic compulsions, beyond nature, and killed for other reasons—for revenge or perceived differences and misunderstandings. Or because they saw the Other as being inferior due to skin color or religion or gender or sexual orientation or any reason. There were many reasons people killed, and when I looked at Daniel, his face reflected calculated intent. This bear was not threatening us, nor was it trespassing on us. We'd come into its territory. Fran's and Elena's fathers had written down laws for mountain survival. You do not kill another species, they said. You share the land and respect boundaries. The Wild Mountain gives, and the Wild Mountain takes. It is the way of life. Without other species, humans would not survive, they warned.

  Daniel didn't move, despite Jimmy and Leo and me telling him to put the gun down right now. I reached down to my belt and felt for my knife. I knew what Daniel was experiencing, sort of. I had known the fear, but not the hatred. There was a difference. I could tell he wasn't going to give this bear a fair go.

  It seemed like an eternity that we stood there. I had been wondering why I was still with these folks. Outside of Daniel's current and rare behavior, I had started coming to the conclusion that these mountain folks really cared for each other. They weren't out to harm each other. I couldn't say that's the kind of people I'd met in the new world. Everyone was scared and defensive. And many had taken that extra step that animals don't take: they grew neurotic and hateful. I had been running into and away from drifters for a long time. I'd had a knife pulled to my stomach and almost bled to death. Little did these fine folks on Wild Mountain know that the same knife was in my possession now or that the person who pulled it on me was dead. It was the same knife I'd used on this bear.

  During my journey from Florida up to Idaho, I'd had people steal my pack if I slept too close to the road. I'd almost been raped last summer by a wandering sociopath. I'd been stolen from and cheated and used by a number of people throughout the past several years, though in the past few months it'd gotten worse.

  My mind went back to the night I acquired this knife. The more I watched Daniel's face—his expression fighting with himself, whether he should or should not kill this sleeping bear—I could see myself in him, just a few months prior.

  ***

  It was right before sunset north of Denver. I'd been traveling for months and had learned to keep to the back roads and stake out towns before entering them. Good thing about the mountains was that you could get to an elevation and see down into villages to assess the situation. Most towns were empty and quiet. A few were rowdy and gang-infested. I descended into one small town after watching it for two days, hopeful that a store along the main road still had some goods in it. I was hungry and thirsty and had not eaten or drank much during the past several days, rationing what little I had. The town was silent and seemingly devoid of human life, except for an older woman.

  She was like a ghost. I'd seen her float up the town's main road on the first afternoon of the lookout. She was thin and tall with stringy red hair and wore reinforced support hosieries that people with bad circulation wear, only the stockings were so saggy looking, along with her torn dress, that I wondered why she wore them at all. But she was the only one around. I saw no lights at night. Heard no yelling, no anything. Figured the town had been hit hard by disease, and due to its out-of-the-way nature did not get many nomads.

  I
cautiously made my way down the mountain to an alley parallel to the main road, which was the only thoroughfare through town. It led toward the Denver Boulder Turnpike. Now the street was pocked with holes and crumbled dirt. The store was on the western side of the street, and I made my way toward it from the back alley, which was flanked by the mountain from which I'd been watching. I had no defensive weapons at my side. I had a bedroll, a jar of soy sauce for making my own jerky, a billy for collecting rainwater, and a flashlight, which needed new batteries.

  I entered the store through the back door, which was hanging off its hinges and surrounded by tall weeds. The morning felt surreal and was hot and dry, and I was feeling lightheaded from lack of nutrients. I hoped for even one drink of water or something cold. An apple. A still-working freezer with an ice cream bar.

  Once I got into the store, I realized it had once been a convenience store, the kind that was old-fashioned instead of neon-lit. The floors were wooden and falling apart. I stuck my foot through a plank, and when I did, that's when I heard a noise upstairs. Seems I had gone and woken up someone or something above, and I wondered if it were the eerie woman with bad stockings. The steps creaked as someone or something descended them slowly. I didn't move but felt sweat trickle down my face as my heart started to race.

  When I saw a bloke about the age of 50, I transitioned from scared to hopeful that he and I could help each other in some way. But it soon became apparent that this dude wasn't out to aid me. He was dirty, unshaven, and stank. I slowly put down my pack and raised my hands up in the air when I noticed a knife held out in front of his oily face. He looked and smelled like he hadn't bathed in year.

  "Whatchu doing in'ere," he called out. His accent was thick, like the dirt on his skin, and I couldn't place it. It wasn't southern or western, maybe European of some kind, but with a slur. I didn't smell any liquor on him, and thought maybe he'd developed a lazy language where he couldn't be bothered to pronounce words. Maybe he'd spent the last few years talking to no one.

  "Just traveling through," I said. "Trying to find some water."

  "And ya just figgered you'd come in some other man's home?" He was now at the bottom step, and I practically fell over from his stench.

  "I can leave," I said. My eye stayed on that knife. What I had on this guy was height and youth. Agility. Maybe not strength though.

  "You betcher arse you can leave," he said. "But I nawt gonna let you. Any man that comes to my home like that 'serves to die."

  His mouth opened with a sick grin, and I realized there was not one tooth in his head. He swung the knife toward me, aiming right at my chest. The frenzied look on his face made it seem like he was going to not just kill me but start cutting me up into pieces. Of all the people on the road I had met, he was the most frightening, because he had the look. The look of a killer. A man who would kill out of insanity. Glee even.

  I quickly blocked the direction of his knife and kneed him in the junk. That was enough to get him off his feet and plant him on his knees in temporary pain. From there, I had the advantage and kicked him in the chin so he fell backward. The knife went flying, and I scrambled to get it. He tried to adjust himself, but I got to the knife first and retrieved it quickly. He swung his fist toward my neck, I ducked, and he went sprawling again. Now that I knew he was out to kill me, I rationalized that I needed to save my own ass. He was releasing a chain of foul language, his awful breath practically blinding me. I had him stonkered, and I knew it. I had the knife. He hadn't touched me, and he was in pain.

  I figured I would steal his knife and warn him to back off, and then just leave. Leave him alive, I thought. But when he came at me again I dug the knife right into his heart. As he groaned against me, I held the knife there, hoping it had killed him for good so I could go on living—and at the same time I hoped he wasn't going to die, because otherwise I had a man collapsing and dying on me, with it being my fault. I backed off and hopped away as he fell, his blood beginning to pool on the floor. The next moments were confusing and dark. I had just killed a man. At the same time I noticed a melty chocolate bar and an entire aisle of beef jerky and peanuts. I could hear the man die, and my attention turned back to what I had just done. I finally withdrew the knife. I would need it if the world's become like this, I thought.

  ***

  I came back to the present, to the cold and snowy day where just a moment had passed, and Daniel still had aim toward the bear, which was passed out. Daniel was going to do it, I thought. I quickly looked at Jimmy's wrinkled old face and then at Leo's bearded, surly face, and heard the cock of Daniel's shotgun. I jumped at him and swiftly forced the gun out of his hands. It was a quick movement that surprised even me. I held my knife up toward him threateningly. No shot went off, and the others tackled him to the ground.

  "What in hell's bells!" cried Jimmy.

  Daniel yelled and moaned under the weight of the others. "Jimmy, that bear killed my son," he screamed. "Can't have that thing on our mountain. If it weren't for that bear, Cameron would be alive!" Daniel writhed and moaned. He was still in mental anguish and would be for a long while. Jimmy was old and had a bad foot, but he was strong, and along with Leo, wouldn't let Daniel go. I felt frozen.

  Leo said, "It isn't the bear's fault. Come on, Daniel. It's nobody's fault. We have to have this bear. You want the wildlife to survive so your remaining child, if she grows up on this mountain, will have food? The bear is a part of that chain, just like you and me. It's fucking insurance for survival."

  "That's radical environmental talk," Danny cried. "When it comes to man versus beast, man wins. That's the way it has always been, and that's the way it was meant to be."

  "Blah, blah, fucking blah," Jimmy countered. "It ain't the way it always was, and the only reason it ever got that way is because the same idiots who thought the Earth was flat had that thought process going on. Because of them, and the ones who came later, we are in this predicament--hell, son. Where they were the highest in the food chain, where nothing out in nature mattered. This ain't the dark ages."

  Leo helped Daniel back up finally and said, "Besides, we can't go around making the decision to do something for this bear and then one of us deciding the opposite. We have to work together here."

  Daniel finally yelled, "Alright, alright!"

  "You ain't gonna come out and kill this thing when we're not here, is ya?" Jimmy asked.

  "No!" Daniel shouted.

  He sat down on the cold ground, red-faced. We let him be for a while. His anger coursed through him like rapids in a river. I remembered something I had been saving just then. From my experience at that store in Colorado. I had one chocolate bar left and felt so bad for Daniel I threw it to him.

  Daniel's eyes fixated on that candy. It landed in snow. He reached for it and said, "What the hell?"

  "Something from my travels. Give it to your daughter," I said.

  Daniel's face paled from its redness and he slowly became resigned. "I don't think I could have done it. I just..."

  "It isn't going to bring Cameron back," Leo said, slapping his friend on the shoulder.

  "I think, uh, it's really my fault. I shouldn't have brought the kids out that day without a gun by my side, even to scare off a bear." Daniel said.

  "So you don't want to kill it then?" Jimmy plodded on.

  "No."

  "Remember, the bear didn't go after Cam when he fell," Leo said. "It ran off to the woods. Could've easily attacked your son. But it didn't."

  Daniel had some tears welling up in his eyes. "If I would've just..."

  "And it wasn't your fault," Leo said.

  "Yeah, it was," said Daniel. "I wasn't being careful enough."

  "Well then it's my fault too," Leo bargained. "I should've come up and told you about the bear right away, before you decided to take your kids out that day."

  "Uh, guys," I said. "Do we really want to be having this discussion when this bear wakes up?"

  We decided to get down to business,
and Daniel checked the bear for wounds and found the place on her forearm I'd stabbed the other night. Daniel's hands were shaking so much that Jimmy offered him some whiskey. Now I felt bloody awful about stabbing this creature. The wound was infected with pus, which was draining. Daniel got out a kit he had brought along just for this reason. He had Jimmy build a little fire as he trimmed the wound area, heated snow water, and pulled out some anti-bacterial soap. He covered the wound in Betadine iodine, a staple these mountain people seemed to always have around, then rubbed Neosporin over that. He also tagged the bear's left ear.

  "Didn't know you was a vet, Danny," said the old man.

  "You get to be one when you deal with horses and sheep every day," replied Daniel curtly.

  We left the bear alone and traipsed back down the mountain, not before gathering more pine nuts, though.

  By the time we got to the plateau where the cabins were, it was already getting dark. A pink horizon edged over the violet sky, and small stars began to emerge. Fran came out of Elena's and said she'd been watching for us for hours. We were a remarkable sight, I imagine: dirty, smelly, cold, and hungry. I waited for the others to head inside, as I felt my presence here was lower on the totem pole somehow. I didn't know why I felt that way, only my experiences in the past year on the road had been frightening and dangerous.

  Though I often felt like the odd man out, these mountain folks were more like family to me than anyone else I had met on the road. There was some love here. I didn't want to move on, but sometimes I felt that there was no place for me here. They didn't know me. I was just some guy from the road. Regardless, the next morning, I figured I should take off again, but I wasn't sure where to go.

  Leo—Chapter 9

  Jimmy went home. Caine disappeared. Elena, Daniel, and Kristy slowly recovered. I finally felt like I had Fran to myself.