by DG Wood
Darkly returned to the kitchen and opened the freezer. She removed the ice collector from the ice maker and dumped the ice out into the sink. A plastic sandwich bag was the last thing to fall out. In it, Darkly found several IDs in her own name. There was a California driver’s license, a Social Security Card, and a US birth certificate.
Darkly admired the photos of herself. They were recent. There was nothing these people couldn’t get. She removed the IDs she had traveled to L.A. on from her handbag and put them in the sandwich bag, which she placed in the bottom of the ice receptacle and returned to the freezer.
Darkly made herself an omelet and went to bed, eager to sleep for eight hours under the knowledge that only one or two other people knew her exact location. She could relax and lose herself, even if only for a night.
Scoutmaster Paul Nabor was approaching the summit of the hike. One of the two telescope housings loomed in the dark above them. The dark outline was just visible against the dim light of the stars. The observatory was closed for short-term renovations, so Paul and his kids should have the lawn in front of the facility to themselves. It was a great night for a lesson about the constellations.
But, Paul was mistaken. They were not alone. It was one of his youngest scouts who saw it first. In his first year of scouting, the boy remained close to Paul the entire hike. His flashlight caught the glow of eyes up ahead in the trail, and then a tail and fur, as something long slinked off into the brush.
“I just saw a coyote, I think,” said the boy.
“Stop,” whispered Paul to the other boys.
The troop quieted and huddled around Paul, who was scanning the brush on the side of the trail for what the boy had seen. To his surprise, his flashlight beam bounced off two large eyes.
“Shhh,” the scoutmaster commanded.
There was nothing to silence. He had every boy’s attention. He couldn’t believe it. There was a coyote watching them. A brave fellow. A big fellow, too, thought Paul, as the boys aimed their lights on the spot their scoutmaster was focused. They lit up the face of the animal. Its fur was a bluish silver. Paul immediately noticed the wide face, rounded ears, and jaw that was not as pointed as it should be. This had to be a stray German Shepherd or a coyote and dog mix.
The canine whined and lowered its head.
“I think we have found a stray dog, lads,” Paul.
There was a collective sigh of disappointment from the scouts.
“He’s probably scared, aren’t you, boy?”
Paul lifted a small backpack off his back and removed a granola bar.
“He can smell the coyotes. He probably wandered into the park when it was light. But, if we don’t help him find his way out, he runs the risk of being eaten.”
“Eaten?” asked one of the scouts with alarm.
“Domestic animals are an easy source of food for coyotes. They’re predators. They’re only doing what nature made them for. Every animal on this planet, including us, is programmed to seek out the easiest food source. Though from the look of the size of this guy, it would take the whole pack to bring him down.”
Paul unwrapped the granola bar and held it out for what he thought was a lost pet.
“Come on, boy. We’re not going to hurt you. Come on. Show us your tag.”
Paul stepped closer to the dog, waved the bar in the air and then set it down on the ground.
The dog stepped back deeper into the brush and disappeared.
“Well, that’s that. I’m not going in after it. Let’s keep moving.”
Paul motioned to the walls of the observatory above them.
“Almost there.”
Just as they resumed the hike, there was an ungodly commotion in the brush. Snarls followed by growls followed by jaws snapping followed by yelps. A pack had found the stray, and war ensued.
Paul ushered the boys back to the opposite edge of the trail from the commotion.
“Stand back. We’re not in any danger. They don’t attack humans.”
At that moment, the boys were given reason to think otherwise when six coyotes came bolting out of the bush, snapped and barked at the scouts, and then ran down the hill, two of them limping.
The scouts and their leader were frozen in shock. This was more nature than anyone had anticipated. After a minute, Paul broke the silence and refocused the boys on the climb.
“Okay. This has been a memorable night.”
That was the cue for boys to let loose. Laughing and excited chatter continued for the rest of the hike up to the observatory. Paul led the boys around the final corner up onto the lawn in front of the iconic monument from the golden age of Hollywood, celebrating its love of the stars in the sky, as well as the stars in the hills.
The building was dark, and scaffolding obscured much of the elegance of the building’s curves. The security shed on the other side of the observatory lawn was also dark, and the parking lot was filled with skips of building debris.
“Let’s look at the light show, gentlemen,” Paul said, leading the troop to the railing that overlooked the canyon below and the Hollywood sign on the next hill over.
Hollywood stretched out below them, and, in the distance, the streetlights of Santa Monica ended at the blanket of blackness that is the Pacific Ocean. Paul felt the urge to whip around. The primitive instinct that told human ancestors they were being stalked grabbed hold of the scoutmaster.
Paul scanned the lawn and astronomers monument with his flashlight. Nothing. He checked his watch. It was time to call the mothers with minivans and carry them all back down the hill.
“Before we go, can anyone name the six astronomers the monument was built as a tribute to?”
But before Paul’s question could be answered, the largest dog anyone in the troop had likely ever seen, appeared from behind the monument and sat its hindquarters down on the lawn. It stared at Paul and the boys and bared its teeth. The animal’s low growl carried on the air over to the troop, and the boys instinctually moved as a group to behind Paul.
If Paul didn’t know any better, he would swear he was looking at a wolf. But, that was impossible.
The dog, or wolf, then got up on all fours and walked slowly toward Paul, teeth still bared. This thing was attacking. It loped a couple paces, and Paul and the boys backed themselves into the railing. Then the wolf slowed to a creeping pace again.
Paul had no time to think. If he had, he may have told the boys to run for the skips and climb on top of the debris to fight the wolf off with boards and pipes. Or, he may have thought to run for the security hut, kick in the door and hide there until sunup.
But, all that came to mind was to charge the animal and distract it from attacking the boys.
“Okay. Now listen up. You all remember how we got up here. It’s a lot easier and faster going down.”
Paul made eye contact with the oldest boy, who was covered in merit badges.
“Jarrod, you’re in charge. I’m going to distract the dog and draw it away. You make sure everyone makes it down in one group. You move quietly back to the trail. Understood?”
“Yes sir,” Jarrod answered.
Paul put his hand on Jarrod’s shoulder.
“Make sure everyone stays together.”
Jarrod nodded.
“Turn your flashlights off, and start moving now. Don’t turn them back on until you’re halfway down the trail.”
Every flashlight clicked off, except for Paul’s. Paul charged the animal and flung his canteen, hitting the canine square between the eyes. It whelped and backed up.
“Go,” Paul yelled to Jarrod.
As the boys made their way back to the trailhead, the wolf regained its composure and focused on Paul’s light, as Paul hoped it would. The wolf stalked the scoutmaster once again, and Paul backed up quickly, leading the wolf to the observatory steps, as his troop disappeared silently down the trail.
Paul and the wolf kept the same pace, and the scoutmaster reached the winding stone stairwell that le
d to one of the two telescope housings. He climbed over the low cast iron gate and backed up the steps. As he reached the bend in the stairwell, the wolf leapt over the gate and followed Paul slowly up the steps.
Paul lost sight of the wolf as he turned the bend of the circular stairwell. He then hurried the rest of the way up to the roof and look-out. Paul had an unobstructed view of the entire L.A. basin below. Millions of people out there, and none of them could help him. He turned back to the stairwell and waited for the wolf that would appear any moment. But, it didn’t appear. Thirty seconds passed, and then thirty more.
He looked back out over the city. In the canyon below, much to his relief, he saw one light, then several, then all the flashlights of his troop turn on. They were moving quickly as a group to safety, as he had instructed. He thought this was the time to join them. The drop down to the tree tops couldn’t be more than a story. Then he could climb down a tree to the ground and race in darkness down a path he had trodden more times than he could count.
Paul directed his light into the canyon to find a landing spot and caught sight of something he never expected. Looking up at him were four faces. These faces were connected to naked bodies. There were two young men, a young woman and a middle-aged woman.
“What the f…”
But he didn’t complete the thought. The hairs on the back of Paul’s neck leapt to attention, he spun around to see the wolf leaping for his head. Paul put his hands in front of his face in one final futile act of self-preservation. The weight of the wolf slamming into him catapulted the young scoutmaster with most of his life still in front of him off the Griffith Observatory roof and into the canyon below.
Paul heard his own neck snap when he missed the tree canopies and landed on the rocks below. He was dead less than a second later. Just as well. No one should experience being eaten alive.
About twenty minutes later, Jarrod led the troop out of the park onto Los Feliz Boulevard, where he flagged down an L.A. police cruiser and officially triggered the biggest local news story of the year.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Darkly had barely slept. Nightmares. Each was a variation on the same theme. She was running, driving, sitting on the sofa. In each scenario, in the sky, out the window, was a moon growing ever larger in the sky. It grew to the size that its brightness became blinding, enveloping Darkly’s body with a feverish heat. She pulled her clothes apart, but her naked body offered no relief. At the moment of feeling like she would burst into flames, Darkly would wake, sweating profusely.
At six in the morning, Darkly ended her last dream, got up and rummaged around her bottomless pit of a handbag for a pair of speedos and a t-shirt. She went for a run around the Echo Park reservoir and grabbed a coffee and muffin from a local, organic, fair trade shop run by an over-privileged blonde woman who told Darkly the coffee she was about to enjoy had been blessed by a shaman. Darkly knew a thing or two about shamans, so it wasn’t the selling point the proprietor had hoped for.
Back at her flat, Darkly showered and then sat down in front of the TV in the living area to eat her muffin. Every local channel had the same news. The morning was owned by a scout troop from Los Feliz, and by their scoutmaster, whose partially-eaten body was discovered in the canyon below Griffith Observatory.
A young, Latina reporter stood in front of a road barrier, with a sign hanging from it that read Park Closed.
“I had the opportunity to speak with a parent of one of the scouts, who had this to say about the tragic night’s events.”
The picture on the television cut away to the front door of a suburban home. The same reporter held a mic in front of a man in his forties, who was unshaven, with bags under his eyes.
“My son says it was a big dog. A coyote, I guess. Maybe a hybrid dog and coyote. Who knows. Paul was a godsend. They don’t make many men like him. He lived for those boys. If a family couldn’t afford camping supplies for their kid, they came out of his pocket.”
The dad shook his head, and the location switched back to the park and the reporter on her own.
“A selfless man who had conducted this night hike many times before. So, what went wrong this time? Today, L.A. Animal Control will conduct a sweep of the park, in search of an unusually large coyote. Any coyotes caught will be destroyed as a precaution. If rabies is to blame for such a display of animal aggression, officials say that containing the outbreak to Griffith Park must be the priority in the days ahead.”
Darkly turned the television off and addressed her reflection in the shiny black screen.
“Goddammit. You were too late. You failed. You couldn’t save a fish from a frying pan, Darkly Stewart. Fuck me!”
Darkly made her way almost immediately to Griffith Park. She made one stop on Western Avenue, where she stepped into a pawn shop t0 buy a pair of binoculars. She then drove to the Los Angeles Zoo parking lot and joined the throngs of families and couples making a day of it with the animals.
Darkly purchased a single admission ticket and found a quiet bench, from which to study the complimentary map. She soon found what she was looking for.
Twenty-five minutes later, Darkly confidently slipped under a road barrier and walked up a service road that ran behind cages of small primates from South America. Certain that no one was looking, the Mountie left the road for the place she was most comfortable: in the bush.
Darkly carved her own trail up the base of Mount Hollywood until, just a little out of breath, she reached a proper trail, which she joined and traveled for a steady, relaxed hour before branching off onto a bridle path and taking that the rest of the way to the summit.
No other hikers were encountered on the trek, and Darkly was certain all trails had been closed at their beginnings in deference to the investigation taking place in the park. Above her, three helicopters circled the mountain. Darkly felt safe from the peering eyes of the news and police copters. She had found a pair of camouflage pants close enough to her size, along with a tan-colored top in the closet of her home away from home. She blended in perfectly with her surroundings.
The bridle path brought Darkly to an intersection of several hiking trails just below the mountain’s summit. Below her were the skylines of Burbank and Glendale, and over the summit would be Hollywood.
Darkly didn’t climb any further, but made her way covertly around the summit, remaining hidden within the small desert trees and succulents until she reached a spot that gave her as clear a view of the observatory as she could hope for. Darkly raised the binoculars around her neck to view the commotion below. The observatory lawn was filled with Mercedes utility vehicles marked with the words L.A. Animal Control on the sides.
Wafting up from the unseen canyon below the observatory was smoke. It wasn’t the smoke of a fire, but more like a controlled fog. Animal control officers emerged from the canyon trail carrying coyote bodies, either passed out or dead from the smoke, and deposited them in the utility vehicles.
“Pointless,” said Darkly aloud to herself.
There wasn’t a coroner’s vehicle, or much of a plainclothes force. This was a clean-up operation. The coyotes would take the blame, gassed and dragged from their dens, then extinguished, and the park would be declared safe once again. A tragic, freakish, once-in-a-generation accident of fate that would go down in Hollywood lore, to be marched out and retold every Halloween season. There was sure to be a docudrama made about the scout troop.
Nothing more could be learned from this vantage point. Darkly needed to get closer. So, she settled in for a rest, hoping the rattlesnakes were already in hibernation mode, and waited for nightfall.
Full-on darkness came not long after 5pm. Darkly ate a pack of child’s fruit gummies she bought in the zoo. It suddenly popped into her head that her car would be towed after closing. She really couldn’t afford to bring attention to herself, but this was more important. She would just have to hope for the best.
The clearance operation continued below, with floodlights mounted on the
observatory roof lighting up the canyon, when Darkly made her way carefully down to the lawn, a light black jacket she had carried with her zipped up tightly to her neck. Part of her thought the best thing to do was walk through the clutter of cube vans and the city’s middle management, as though she belonged there. It had worked for her before. Nowhere better to hide than in plain sight. But, her gut told her it wasn’t going to work this time.
After jumping between official vehicles and avoiding the eyelines of bored uniformed cops in patrol cars, Darkly dove down a narrow trailhead that began at the corner of the observatory’s parking lot. Lights had been set up throughout the canyon, so the terrain was illuminated enough for her not to worry about falling down a steep gully. They also illuminated the smoke used to incapacitate the coyotes, giving the whole place an otherworldly look. Darkly shone a small penlight on the trail in front of her. She was looking for prints.
As she wound her way along the trail, Darkly could hear the growls and whelps of drugged coyotes being dragged from dens in the ground. Shooting them would have been more efficient, thought Darkly. Though, she wouldn’t want to be in the vicinity of a green officer firing his weapon at a wild animal in the dark for the first time.
Darkly was getting close to the sound of human voices. Twenty more yards, and she’d need to turn back. It was another five yards, when Darkly spotted them. The dirt was dry. It never rained in southern California, as the song goes. But, Darkly was adept at picking up the faintest tracks. Plus, the park had been closed to public traffic all day, meaning there was little chance of the ground being disturbed. At least where the police hadn’t trodden.
She bent down to get a closer look. She was certain. They were the paw pads of a canine. And she thought she could just make out the points of claws. Darkly placed her hand next to the faint print. It was the size of her own hand. A little bigger, actually. That’s no coyote.