by Paul Draker
Lauren and JT were pacing at the edge of a sloping rocky breakwater that blocked the view of what lay inland.
Lauren waved impatiently. “Let’s move out, people.”
“Be careful,” Brent said. “We should all stay close together.” He stood with the others at the edge of the dock, where it met land. The shore was rough here—a maze of small projections and inlets that curved out of sight in the morning mist. In the light, their surroundings no longer seemed scary. But they did look wild and desolate.
Jordan pointed a group of small seals out to Camilla. “Just look how cute they are!” she said. “Like puppies.” The seals stirred lazily on the rocks and slipped into the water with barely a splash.
Veronica sniffed. “Filthy animals.” She stepped off the dock to join the others. But Camilla was surprised to see her smile at Jordan, laying a hand on her arm as she went by. Unbelievable. Jordan had charmed even her.
Jordan grinned at Camilla. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up, sister.” She clapped her hands together. “This is so crazy. Let’s get rolling before the gung-ho types steal all the glory.”
Camilla looked down at Jordan’s feet, wobbly in stiletto-heeled pumps.
“Manolo Blahniks,” Jordan said. “I’ve got some flats in my bag, wherever that is.”
“In the meantime,” Camilla said, “those are going to get destroyed.”
“Whatever. I don’t care about that.” Jordan started toward the breakwater, then looked back over her shoulder. “Besides, after I win I’ll be able to buy myself a whole closetful.”
Not if I can stop you. Camilla swallowed. Teams and collaboration were more her thing than head-to-head competition, but in the end there could be only one winner here. All Jordan’s “OMG, guys” and “sister” stuff aside, it was important to remember that. She followed Jordan along the shore. An avid mountain biker, Camilla was in pretty good shape herself, but Jordan moved with the athletic grace of a dancer. The thought of going toe to toe with Jordan intimidated her more than she wanted to admit. But they would be on the same team, she reminded herself. Jordan liked her, too. It was okay to want to be friends with her.
Tangled coils of rubbery brown seaweed were piled here and there, with great mounds of it along the waterline. Camilla recognized it as kelp. Knots of it floated in the water, supported by air bladders that grew along the hoselike stalks. It looked like the tentacles of some alien thing, more animal than plant. Freaky. She made an involuntary grimace but quickly changed it to a neutral expression, remembering the cameras that were probably watching right now.
At the base of the breakwater, Jordan took a tentative step onto the rocks, then another, before she stopped. In high heels, her footing was precarious. She looked stuck.
“Come on, help her,” Veronica said.
Camilla shook off her misgivings and hurried forward.
Jordan already had an arm around Veronica’s shoulders. She threw her other arm around Camilla’s and gave her a friendly squeeze. Together the three of them joined the others making their way up the rocky slope.
Soon all ten contestants stood in an uneven line at the top of the breakwater. Nobody said anything at first. Camilla’s jaw dropped in amazement as her surprised eyes roamed the strange vista in front of them, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.
Everywhere she looked, things were in motion: flopping, flapping, wriggling along the ground, or rising into the air in brief hops to land again nearby. Sleek wet heads rose up to look around, then lowered again. Mouths and beaks opened in threat, warning away other animals that came too close.
Next to Camilla, her pale silver eyes wide, Veronica stared in openmouthed disbelief. She shook her head once, as if to clear it.
“Where in the hell did these people just dump us?”
CHAPTER 23
Verve Coffee Roasters, Santa Cruz, California
“Karen’s back tomorrow,” Heather said. “She can meet with us then. I talked to her admin.”
“That’s crap,” Jacob said through a mouthful of muffin. “She’s avoiding us.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she said, handing him a napkin. “But now we get to the interesting part. I also got hold of Sara, from Raja’s team.”
“And?” He dropped the muffin onto his plate, spilling crumbs.
Dmitry was back, with three white cups balanced on saucers, which he slid onto the butcher-block table. “They do fancy foam drawing on top, see? Is nice, but coffee tastes same like Starbucks.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Jacob said. “I hate it when you say that. It’s not even close. Anyway, Heather, go on.”
“Raja’s team also had their time on the island canceled with no explanation,” she said. “They were freaked out at first, just like us. But Karen told them not to worry, she’d gotten their grant fully funded through next year—at a higher level. Ours, too. Karen said they could add another researcher to the team.”
“Still sounds like the usual bullshit politics. Raja’s team gets preferential treatment, and we get the shaft again.” Jacob’s voice rose, drawing stares.
“Sh-h!” Heather said. “You’re missing the point. It wasn’t just our stay that got canceled this year. It looks like none of the Institute teams are going out now.”
“That’s crazy,” Jacob said. “Parks and Rec can’t just arbitrarily revoke permits. So who bumped us?”
Heather considered. “Maybe it’s the change of underwriter. Sounds like Karen found us all some new sponsor, so maybe this year’s permitting grants weren’t valid anymore.”
“Maybe, maybe, maybe. That’s all we’ve got?” Jacob gestured with his arm, splattering coffee on a nearby couple.
“Sorry!” Heather said, handing them her napkin. Jacob crossed his arms to fume.
Dmitry looked confused. “Okay, Karen says somebody give us money for next year? No progress review first? Is good news, then.” He stirred away the fern-leaf pattern in his latte foam. “But why we don’t go to island?”
“Somebody else is going out instead of us,” Jacob said. “Bet on it.” He sounded calmer. “There’s no way they’d bench both Institute teams and have the station sit empty, not during December. That’s when things really get cranking out there—for the pinniped and avian researchers, too.”
“Look, I’m still not happy we aren’t going,” Heather said. “But, frankly, this new funding thing is a relief. We were looking pretty sketchy for next year; you know that. Now it sounds like it’s a done deal.”
“I still say we’re getting screwed.” Jacob wiped at his mouth. “It’s the usual thing. The Institute doesn’t get enough PR value out of our research, despite its importance. Our babies aren’t cute and fuzzy enough for the mainstream public.”
Dmitry frowned. “You should not think of them as ‘our babies,’ Jacob. Does not show respect. They are not pets. Very dangerous animals—you need to remember this always. If you getting careless with them, something bad will happen.”
CHAPTER 24
Camilla stood at the top of the breakwater and looked down the slope at the scene in front of her, just taking it in, unable to speak. A boiling brown carpet of seals and sea lions, flecked with the white and gray of seabirds, blanketed the ground sloping away from where the ten humans stood. The downslope ended in bluffs that dropped to a small beach on the far side. White-capped waves churned the half-mile-wide channel that separated the beach from the mainland, where a sandy point faded into rising bluffs.
They were on an island, she realized. It was small—maybe a quarter-mile long and only a few hundred feet at the widest spot. There wasn’t a single tree, not a single other person in sight. Only rocks and more animals than she had ever seen in one place before. In many spots, she couldn’t see the actual ground itself; it lay hidden beneath the teeming seals and sea lions. Colonies of gulls, auklets, cormorants, and other seabirds hopped between the seals, adding their noise to the din. Trains of pelicans crossed the sky ove
rhead.
“Oh my god! Someone actually lived here?” Jordan pointed to a pair of oversize two-story houses that commanded the high ground to their right. Both structures were ruins, their empty window frames dark. The silhouettes of dozens of large pelicans jutted like living gargoyles from the rooflines.
Brent pointed to three plainer, newer-looking structures to their left. “Those are in better shape,” he said. “Some sort of warehouse or factory complex, maybe?”
Near the three industrial buildings, a rickety framework of metal beams lay on the ground alongside a pile of rubble. Some kind of tower had fallen there long ago. An eight-foot concrete seawall protected the warehouse buildings. Two other concrete structures—a windowless blockhouse and a twenty-foot concrete dome—stood a short distance inland. Seals, sea lions, and birds swarmed around it all.
“This was right here in California all this time?” Mason laughed. “Who knew?”
Lauren stood rigid, staring into the distance. Camilla’s gaze followed hers to a group of larger, darker animal shapes occupying the flatter sections of the beach and downslopes. Those were what had chased Lauren and JT last night.
The animals looked similar to the seals and sea lions. But much, much bigger.
One of the largest reared up, lifting the front of its blubbery body high into the air. It was bigger than a pickup truck. Its blunt snout ended in a lumpy mass of flesh that hung in front of its face like a short trunk, jiggling from side to side as the animal rippled along the beach like a gigantic, obese caterpillar. It bellowed a challenge—a deep, gargling rumble that Camilla could not just hear but feel, vibrating through the rocks under her feet.
Its opponent, an equally monstrous creature, lumbered forward to close the distance between them. The giant combatants drove into each other, chest to chest, and struck at each other’s neck and shoulders with savage bites. Short flippers waved at the air for balance as they rose even higher, trying to crush each other into the sand. The wet slaps of snouts smacking flesh echoed off the bluffs as blood streamed from the deep wounds inflicted by their sharp teeth.
“Oh god, that’s horrible,” Camilla said. “It’s like Jurassic Park here.” She looked away. “What are those monsters?”
Even Mason seemed subdued by the spectacle unfolding before them. “I guess Juan was right after all,” he said.
Juan the dive captain—her motorcycle rider—stood with his hands on his waist, watching the animals fight, with an expression of mild curiosity on his face. His black dress shirt was untucked, shirttails flapping in the breeze.
“Mirounga angustirostris,” he said. “Northern elephant seals.”
Camilla couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Jordan noticed. She shook her head once, mouth tight with disapproval, and walked away.
Conflicted, Camilla followed. She found Juan fascinating, but they were on different teams now. She didn’t want to risk alienating Jordan, her chosen team captain… and maybe also her new friend.
CHAPTER 25
“There’s nobody here,” Camilla said. “Unless they’re inside one of these buildings.”
Brent squinted at the two houses, then turned toward the three warehouse structures in the other direction. He scratched the side of his head.
Watching him, Camilla smiled to herself. He did that whenever he was thinking, reminding her of a big, cuddly cartoon bear wondering where the honey is.
“Where do you think they put our bags?” he asked.
“No kidding. I need to change my shoes.” Jordan balanced on one foot like a stork, and reached for the other shoe. She tore off the broken heel and tossed it aside. Her designer stilettos were totally trashed, falling apart and coated with filth, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was staring at the two ruined houses with a look of wide-eyed curiosity.
“I say we try those first,” she said. “They look more interesting.”
Camilla poked Mason in the shoulder. “I’ve got some news for you, my GQ friend, and don’t forget this is coming from a mountain biker…” She grinned. “You’re about to get real dirty.”
“I’m a banker,” he said. “I’m used to being real dirty.”
“Come on,” Veronica said. “While you’re standing around yapping, those guys are actually doing something.” She pointed to Lauren, JT, Juan, and Travis, who were already picking their way across the open space toward the houses. They moved in single file, weaving and stepping carefully between the seals and the seabirds whose nests dotted the ground every few feet.
Camilla’s group followed. Jordan led the way. The remains of a wooden walkway lay scattered at their feet. A few boards were still laid out in the original railroad-track pattern, but most had been pushed aside or were missing completely. Seals waddled nervously out of their path. Birds protested their passage with angry squawks.
“There’s babies everywhere, guys.” Jordan was smiling. “Seal pups, chicks in the nests. This is some kind of a breeding ground, so watch your step.” Her own steps wobbled on her broken stiletto heels.
“On an island like this, they’re safe from predators,” Camilla said.
“Except humans,” Mason said.
Brent nodded. “Except humans.” He frowned, a puzzled expression on his face as he stared at Lauren, JT, Juan, and Travis in the distance. But he tucked his hands into his vest pockets and followed Jordan through the living obstacle course.
Camilla and Mason exchanged a glance. Behind Brent’s back, Mason raised a hand to scratch the side of his head. It was a good imitation, except for his exaggerated expression of confusion.
She shook her head at him. She liked Brent. Waving an arm to indicate the island around them, she silently mouthed, “Cameras.”
Mason swept off an imaginary top hat and bowed to an invisible audience.
Camilla rolled her eyes and turned to follow the others.
• • •
“These houses have got to be a hundred years old,” Jordan said, “but no one’s lived here for decades.” She bent to pet a seal. “Except these guys.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Brent said.
Jordan smiled but ignored him.
The seal seemed to enjoy her attention. It rubbed its neck against her hand, closing its eyes. Camilla wasn’t really surprised.
“He’s just a wet little doggy,” Jordan said. She pointed at the larger house. “I know a little about architecture. That looks like a classic Victorian, although it’s in pretty bad shape. The other one was built later. It’s in the Greek Revival style.”
“Who cares?” Veronica said. “Neither one’ll be around much longer.” She pointed to a dark gap that yawned from beneath the Victorian, where part of the foundation had collapsed. “Let’s find someone and figure out what the hell we’re supposed to do.”
The two houses had lost all their exterior paint to the elements long ago. They were weather-beaten to a uniform gray, striped white with heavy streaks of bird guano. Dozens of empty black window holes and doorways stared back at the contestants. The dormers and eaves of the larger, Victorian house were greenish with mold. Four brick chimneys jutted above, topped by the silhouettes of roosting pelicans. White seagulls and black cormorants landed and took off from the roof in a steady buzz of activity. Camilla noticed them flying in and out of the windows, too.
The other house—the one Jordan had called Greek Revival—looked plainer, but still large for a two-story. The architects had built it as an extension to the Victorian, with a shared foyer connecting the two houses. Yelping seals spilled from the doorways of both and waddled up and down the slumping porches.
“These were mansions,” Camilla said. “But who built them out here? And why?”
No one answered.
A few smaller structures stood in the open space around the houses. A large storage shed, a chicken coop, and a laundry outbuilding stood nearby. Isolated sections of picket fencing projected from the ground. Piles of debris and wind-stripped siding lay everywhere.
The rocky bench where the houses stood extended fifty feet in each direction before steep bluffs fell fifteen feet to the roiling, splashing sea below. Both houses faced toward the mainland. On that side, bluffs dropped to the island’s largest beach.
“How could anyone live here?” Camilla asked. “The animals would just overrun everything.”
“There used to be a barricade.” Brent pointed back the way they had come, to where a dark line zigzagged across the island, cutting it in half. “Bluffs on three sides, so the seals can’t get up here from the beaches. They fenced this area off and kept it clear.”
Small sections of barricade still stood—heavy logs stacked three or four high, held in place by thick fence posts. But most of it had fallen long ago. Brown logs lay scattered in piles near the broken posts.
Camilla laughed. “That wouldn’t do much to keep out an elephant seal.”
“Looks like the bigger ones prefer the beaches,” Brent said.
Juan, Lauren, JT, and Travis stood on the porch of the Victorian now. It looked to Camilla like they were getting ready to go inside.
“Veronica’s right,” she said. “Let’s go, team.”
• • •
“Careful,” JT said. “It’s dark. You don’t know for sure none of those big elephant things are waiting in there.”
“You heard Juan.” Lauren smirked. “They’re only seals.”
Juan shrugged. “Sixteen-foot, five-thousand-pound, aggressive, territorial seals.” He started toward the doorway, but she blocked his chest with her arm.
“Ladies first,” she said.
Lauren stepped into the doorway, panicking a small sea lion that was coming out at the same time. It leaped sideways into the yard to avoid her. She paused at the threshold for a few moments, squinting into the darkness, then moved inside.
“Slow down, girl.” JT shouldered past Juan to follow Lauren into the house.