Frenzy

by Robert Lettrick

  “Whatever,” Emily said dismissively. “The guide said beavers are stimulated to build dams by the sound of moving water. It irritates them for some reason, so they start cutting down trees, dragging them into the river to block off the current and stop the noise.”

  Heath nodded. “I think I understand. Beavers already have a weird psychological issue with water, so maybe that overrides the hydrophobia?”

  “It’s just a theory. I mean, if this is a new strain of the rabies virus, different mammals may be affected differently, right?”

  “Maybe.” Heath looked down into the water and noticed clusters of frog eggs attached to underwater plants. They looked like tiny pale balloons. Inside the eggs were squirming tadpoles, eager to slip free and begin their lives. They were so blissfully ignorant of the death taking place all around them. It ticked Heath off. He wanted to shred the eggs apart, or stomp them into jelly with his pruned and peeling feet. He needed to feel like a predator again. He was sick of being prey. Instead he looked to the west bank, saw the two grizzly bears keeping pace with them, moving in powerful, ambling strides, and was correctively reminded that no matter how badly he wished otherwise, prey was exactly what they were.

  “I should’ve saved a couple of arrows for those two,” Will said, kicking water in the bears’ direction. “I used them all up on the beavers. They probably weren’t designed to kill a bear anyway. They were target arrows with bullet-headed tips, not bladed for big game.”

  “Is it just me, or is the water getting shallower?” Dunbar asked.

  “That’s exactly what it’s doing.” Heath noticed it, too. “This can’t be the river that runs by town. This is barely a creek.”

  “Maybe it’ll rejoin the main branch,” Emma said.

  “Yeah,” Will scoffed. “And maybe someone’ll come by on a Jet Ski and offer us a lift.”

  Heath didn’t think either scenario was likely. He suspected the stream would run its course, choked to death by the forest in the end. They’d gone the wrong way after all, and that meant backtracking the half mile, climbing over the dam, swimming across the beaver pond—it was exhausting to think about. And they’d have to deal with the beavers again.

  “We should go back,” Heath said, shrinking as he heard his own pronouncement. “I know that’s not what you guys want to hear, but we made a mistake. We should have gone left at the fork.”

  The group eased to a stop.

  “That was my vote,” Dunbar reminded everyone. “At least Theo had the good sense to go left. I didn’t see the kayak in the pond, and he never would have gotten it over the dam, just him and Molly.”

  “I don’t know,” Heath said. “I just wish we’d let Theo take Cricket instead. He needs a doctor….”

  “He won’t survive the trip back.” Will tossed this comment out so casually it made Heath flinch.

  Emma had had enough. “Maybe you can feed him to the bears, Will! That’ll keep them busy while you escape! Is that what you had in mind?”

  “Overreact much?” Will fired back.

  Heath stepped between them. “Emma, relax. Will’s just stating the obvious, even if it was insensitive. Cricket’s really sick. It’s getting dark. In half an hour we won’t be able to see. Backtracking all the way to the fork will take twice as long, and then we’ll still have to get to Granite Falls from there.”

  “Figures you’d defend him,” Emma said with a sneer.

  Heath didn’t like what she was implying. “If you have something to say, then just say it, Em.”

  “Fine. It’s more than a little weird, Heath, that you’re always defending Will. You two have been buddied up since we were in the livery. Mr Soucandi had you two pegged—the Tin Man without a heart and the brainless scarecrow that’s always got his back.”

  “Shut up, Emma,” said Dunbar.

  She wouldn’t. “You said the wolves ran right past you and Dunbar? Right, Heath? That’s odd. I thought they were attracted to noise. Where was your noisemaker? I don’t recall you having it when we dragged your sorry butt into the river.”

  Heath was unbalanced by her insinuation. “Mine was—”

  “I suppose you could’ve hung on to yours if Onyx was using you as a doormat?” Dunbar leapt to Heath’s defense. “And besides, it’s not Heath’s fault he’s smart enough to figure out what the rest of you couldn’t. And if he hadn’t, he’d be dead and so would I! So I’ll say it again—shut up, Emma!”

  “Emma…” Emily said, gently taking her sister into custody.

  “Fine!” Emma snapped, allowing herself to be separated from the group, but as a parting shot she said, “If Cricket dies, just remember who talked him into getting into this stupid river in the first place”—she made a V with her fingers and stabbed them in the air at Will and Heath—“you two idiots.”

  This didn’t sit well with Dunbar. “And when you’re shampooing your stupid hair at your stupid home in stupid Portland just remember who saved your STUPID life.”

  “Shut up, Dunbar!” was her tight, over-the-shoulder response as she stormed back in the direction of the dam with Emily trotting after her.

  Heath put his hand on Dunbar’s shoulder. “Smooth, buddy,” he whispered.

  “Yeah, well…” Dunbar scowled. “She’s stupid.”

  “So I heard.”

  “You know what? Emily is prettier.”

  “It’s because her nose leans slightly to the left,” Heath reminded him.

  “Yeah. That’s right. Cricket was right.”

  “Cricket…” Heath exhaled deeply.

  “What the heck are you two yapping about?” Miles said, sick of the juvenile bickering. “Emily’s nose? Quit gossiping like old ladies and make a decision!” He sounded tough, but Heath could tell by his expression that Miles was feeling brittle, spent, on the verge of a breakdown. The giant carefully shifted the sick boy in his arms to relieve some of the strain that had built up in his back while he’d stood around waiting for a decision. Heath would never have suspected Miles of being capable of such gentleness. Cricket looked smaller than usual in his hulking arms. Doll-like, even.

  “We can’t let him die, Heath,” Dunbar said with determination in his voice.

  “We won’t,” Heath promised.

  The boys followed in the general direction of the Ems, but not too close, with Miles bringing up the rear. The bears weren’t sure what to do. They just growled in complaint and shook their massive heads, frustrated by their inability to reach prey that was not only moving at a turtle’s pace but was now reversing direction for no apparent reason.

  Miles, who was having the absolute most miserable day of his life, growled back at them, “If you’re coming, hurry the hell up. We’re not waiting on you.”

  The group didn’t get far.

  A gunshot rattled the air.

  “That was close by!” Will said excitedly. He and Dunbar skipped through the river sideways ten yards or so, searching for a window through the woods, hoping to see the source of the blast.

  “There!” Dunbar pointed. “I can’t believe we didn’t see that!”

  A hundred yards off through the forest was a large facility. It looked almost like a Walmart, gray and boxy, except there were no signs adorning the facade. The group’s view of it was partially obstructed by trees, but they could see a Jeep parked in front of the entrance. A man was loading something into the back of the vehicle. He was wearing a khaki uniform, a baseball cap (a silver ponytail trailed from the back of it), and a pair of mirrored sunglasses. A rifle was slung over his back.

  “Hey! Mister!” Dunbar shouted. He waved his arms frantically. “Yo! We need help over here!”

  The man ignored them.

  “Save your breath—he’s too far away.” Will put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. The man whipped his head in their direction. Then he slowly turned his whol
e body. He took a few steps toward the stream and stopped.

  “He sees us!” Dunbar said, doing jumping jacks in the water.

  He had seen them, Heath was sure of it. But something was wrong. Instead of acknowledging the group, the man went back to his Jeep, slammed the back hatch shut, and climbed in behind the steering wheel. The brake lights glowed, then dimmed, and the Jeep lurched forward. It turned and headed away from the river, down a service road, disappearing into the forest.

  “Where’s he going?” Emma asked. “He’s getting help, right?”

  “The guy had all the help he needed slung across his back,” Will said and spat in the river. “He’s leaving us out here with Yogi and Boo-Boo.”

  The grim reality that they’d been abandoned by an adult, even if he was a stranger, came as an unexpected blow to their already fragile spirits.

  “Hey! Come back!” But it was too late, he was already gone.

  “Are you sure he saw us?” Emily asked.

  “He saw us,” Will replied.

  “Loser!” Emma yelled after the Jeep.

  “It’s fine,” Will said bitterly. “We’ll go to the building. There’s gotta be a phone inside. Maybe other useful stuff, too, like food, a TV so we can see if this mess is on the news yet. Maybe even guns. The place has a military feel to it.”

  “I agree,” said Heath. “You think that guy was a soldier?”

  “No,” Will said. “A soldier would have stayed to help us.”

  Will’s plan—to get inside the building, check to make sure it was secure from wildlife, and then contact help—had one major flaw. Two if you counted each bear individually. “It’ll be easy enough,” he assured them. “The fastest runner—that’d be me—will head down the river while the rest of you wait here. The bears should stay with the group since you pose a more tempting target as long as we’re all in the water. When I’ve got a good head start on them, I’ll head onshore and take off running. They’ll come after me then, I guarantee it.”

  Heath shook his head. “No way! It’s too dangerous. Grizzlies can go from zero to twenty-five in six seconds. They can hit thirty miles an hour when they sprint. They’ll catch you, Will.”

  “No, they won’t. I’ll stay close to the river and just before they reach me, I’ll jump back into the water. Maybe if they’re busy with me, they won’t even notice you leaving.”

  “And then what?” Miles asked. “You’re stuck in the river.”

  “Yeah,” Will conceded the fact. “But not for long. You guys will call in the cavalry and we’ll all be home in no time. Easy peasy, as Molly would say.”

  The group admitted it was as good a plan as any. Before they put it into action Heath asked Will for a moment to talk in private.

  “I thought I should tell you, in case something happens…to either of us…that I was wrong. Will, you can be a total jerk sometimes—”

  “Agreed.”

  “—but now that I know you better…now that you’ve stuck with us and got us out of some pretty hairy situations…and here you are, about to do it again…I know there’s no way you would have put our lives at risk coming out of the livery. I believe you. I’m sure you had your noisemaker and just lost it on the lawn. Things got pretty crazy and—”

  “Listen.” Will stopped him. He looked Heath in the eyes and said, “Remember after the bats attacked? I told you to never assume you know my motives, because you’re not up to it.”

  “Yeah. I remember.”

  “I didn’t mean that as an insult. I meant you’re too nice to understand how a kid like me operates. Even now you’re trying to absolve me of sins without knowing for sure whether I committed them or not. I’m not saying I tricked you all, but let’s assume I did know that loud noises drive rabid animals crazy. Let’s say your original instinct was right and I did leave mine inside the livery….”

  “You knew…” Heath whispered.

  “Again, I’m not saying I did and I’m not saying I didn’t. This is all just hypothetical, Heath. I’m teaching you a lesson here, so keep an open mind. Let’s say you were right about another thing, and I was trying to keep certain ­people alive because I knew they might aid in my survival: Sylvester because of his skill with a bow—although it didn’t help him any in the end. Miles for his strength—sure it was Cricket he ended up carrying, but if I’d gotten hurt, I could count on Miles to get me home. And then there’s you, Heath. Let’s say I deliberately gave you a broken noisemaker to keep you safe on the run to the river. Let’s say you were the most important key to my survival right from the beginning.”

  “Me?” Heath was lost. “Why would I be—?”

  “Because you’re likable and I’m not. I know that, and I’m okay with it. But likability is a severely underrated trait. A necessary trait for a good leader.”

  Heath was starting to get the picture and the picture was ugly. “You used me! To get the others to do what you wanted…like when I tried to persuade them to leave the livery. And I convinced the survivors in the river to let you come along. I see it now. I’ve been agreeing with you at every turn.”

  “You think I was manipulating you? Really? No….” Will shook his head. “You were agreeing with me because I was always right. And you’ve survived this long because of me and only me. But yeah, maybe I knew the group would listen to you, and that you’d listen to me. Not because you were weak-minded, but because you’re smart, another reason you mattered. Nobody’s come as close to beating me at chess as you did, and you’ve barely played before. That’s not luck. That’s intuition. Your intuition told you to follow me, and that kept you alive.”

  Heath was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. Or think. He just held himself up against the current and tried to process Will’s hypothetical confession. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, not as an insult, but because he truly needed to know.

  Will gave a sad sigh. “Emma asked me the same thing earlier, remember? I told her about Lyssa. Did you ever figure out the moral?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” He’d been mulling the story over since he’d heard it. “It’s better to be the hunter, Actaeon, torn to bits by animals, than to be like Hercules, driven crazy, forced to do things you don’t want to do. Like you did today.”

  “No. You’re still trying to find the good inside me…some crumb of compassion that you shouldn’t assume is there.” Will placed his hand on Heath’s shoulder, his icy eyes darting side to side, scanning Heath’s for understanding. “You with your cancer should know better than anyone what I’m saying. The world is out to get us. That’s its job, dude. There’s madness all around us, not just here. Get it? We all have to make choices, Heath. I made some and so did you. Our choices kept the group alive. Uncle Bill made choices, too, and look where it got him. Look where it got the other campers. He led them to a tomb. We led our group here. Think about that.”

  Heath felt the urge to shrug Will’s hands off, but he couldn’t find the strength. “What are you saying, Stringer?”

  “I’m saying it’s better to be Gaia. It’s better to be the one controlling the madness than to be the one controlled by it.”

  Having delivered one final shocking lesson, Will gave his cabinmate some parting advice before sloshing away toward the shore. “Watch out for squirrels, okay? Try to stay alive, Heath.”

  “One, two, three, go.”

  This time the plan went off exactly as Will figured. He waded downstream, pacing off twenty yards. Then he marched onto the shore, hooting and hollering. The bears charged after him. Right before they caught up to him he ducked back into the river. The grizzlies were furious, pawing at the ground, standing up and slamming back down, driving deep tracks into the mud. They were fierce. They made Onyx look like a wimp. Will did a victory dance, then broke into a fit of insane laughter. His antics held the bears’ attention.

  Heath, Dunbar, Em and Em, and Mi
les, with Cricket cradled in his arms, ran close together through the trees, across the service road, and up to the front of the building. While they were running, it dawned on Heath that they might need a key to get inside, but instead they found the left side of the glass double doors propped wide open. There was a dead man lying across the threshold keeping it from closing. He wore a white lab coat, ruined by a bullet hole in his back. Blood was pooling out around him. There was no time to be horrified.

  “Get him out of there,” said Emma.

  Dunbar and Heath cleared the door, dragging the body into the foyer.

  “I’m starting to think it’s a good thing the guy with the gun left,” Dunbar said.

  Heath nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

  “I’d have preferred if you’d dragged him outside,” said Emma, disgusted.

  “So his smell can attract the animals?” Dunbar stood up and faced her. “Way to use your head, Em.”

  With everyone safely inside, the door closed and the lock clicked. They were in a long, rectangular room that ran the width of the building front. On the wall opposite the entrance was an unmarked metal door with a small porthole-sized window. To the right of it was a check-in station. There was no one inside to greet them. Although it was obviously a waiting room—there were several ­padded benches lining the walls—it was barren of any creature comforts like magazines, a television, or even plants.

  “Is Will okay?” Emily asked.

  Emma pressed up against the glass. She grinned. “I can see the crazy boy. He’s okay.”