by Paul Draker
“I’d like to buy a vowel,” Mason announced.
Five minutes later, Camilla was grinning and shaking her head, looking at Mason. He had five jugs of water at his feet, along with three rolls of duct tape and the bear spray. He had traded his RF tags, along with the space blankets and the first-aid kit, to Juan and Lauren for the water. Camilla looked around, realizing that Mason had now cornered the island’s water market. Other than her, with the jug she was saving for Jordan, he was the only person with more than one jug.
She poked him in the chest with her finger. “All I can say is, you better share when people need it, buddy. Or you’ll have me to answer to.”
“Want some free financial advice?” Mason pointed at the jugs at his feet. “Always invest where there’s limited supply and high demand.”
Jordan appeared suddenly from around the corner of the bluff facing the mainland, jogging barefoot along the beach with a large Tupperware container in her arms. A big bag of trail mix was balanced on the top. She smiled her dazzling smile.
“Guys, I know where all the food is.”
CHAPTER 48
Zelda’s Beachside Restaurant, Capitola, California
“A film crew?” Jacob asked. “Is it those Discovery Channel guys again?”
Karen Anderson looked at Heather for help.
There beneath the big white-and-maroon-striped umbrella on the restaurant’s open sundeck, the soft, ocean-scented breeze was just cool enough to feel good on Heather’s face. She wanted an explanation as badly as Jacob did, so she didn’t say anything. Dmitry didn’t, either.
“What the hell?” Jacob said. “Why aren’t we out there as technical advisers at least, making sure they don’t disrupt things?”
The beach in front of them was crowded with tourists and locals. Children played in the sand and ran in and out of the surf in half-zipped wetsuits, screaming with delight. On the other side of the esplanade, a pastel-colored row of faux-adobe haciendas—beach rentals—nestled against a backdrop of eucalyptus trees.
Karen pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She looked around at the surrounding tables, then put the pack and the lighter back in her purse with a sigh.
“Try and see how this looks from our perspective,” Heather said to her.
The waitress, a twenty-something blonde with a streak of purple in her hair and turquoise nail polish, arrived with their burgers and salads. Dmitry smiled at her, and she smiled back at him from behind oversize dark sunglasses.
The Santa Cruz coastline curved away out to sea in both directions, revealing miles of beach-and-bluff coastline under a wide blue sky spotted with cotton-puff clouds. The tall coastal bluffs to the south were ridged with white-painted houses interspersed with eucalyptus and cypress woods.
The focus of their conversation lay just a few short miles up the coast in the other direction, to the less-populated north: Año Nuevo Island.
Karen picked up a fork and put it back down. “Look, I’m disappointed, too,” she said. “I really look forward to our stay out on the island every year. But there are financial considerations as well. A little flexibility from you guys would be helpful.”
“Last time Discovery did that segment, I didn’t like the way they made us look,” Jacob said. “They’re not interested in the science; they only want ratings. They play on people’s fears.”
“Your food’s getting cold,” Karen said, and started on her salad.
Heather looked down at the weathered decking at her feet, worn to a rounded smoothness except for the knuckle-size bulges of harder knots in the wood. A small brown sparrow bobbed near her ankle, looking up at her hopefully. She dropped an inch-thick home-style french fry, and the sparrow hopped toward it.
“I didn’t invite you here to argue,” Karen said. “I wanted to give you some good news. Team, we’re fully funded for the next eighteen months. So extend the study. Expand it. We have last season’s tracker data to work with now…”
A rhythmic tinging rose from the table, stopping her in mid sentence: Jacob tapping his fork against his plate. He was looking out at the waves, jaw working like he was chewing something he couldn’t swallow.
“Why didn’t you tell us until the last minute?” Heather asked Karen.
“This thing just came together,” she said. “The stars aligned.”
“That’s no answer.”
“You guys need to grow up a little.” Karen’s voice took on a little heat. “We were almost three hundred thousand dollars short heading into next year. Projects were on the chopping block. Including yours…”
“What?” Jacob snapped out of his sullen reverie.
“Yes, it was going to get cut.” Karen said. “I found a way to save it, and all you three can do is bitch.”
In the silence that followed, something fluttered at Heather’s feet. She looked down to see the brown sparrow whirr into panicked flight and shoot between the yellow-painted railing that separated Zelda’s Restaurant from the beach. The big gray pigeon that had chased it away waddled back to the abandoned french fry at her feet. It regarded Heather with its beady black eye for a moment, then began to peck at the fry.
Jacob sounded agitated. “Think of the damage those Discovery assholes will do, running around out there unsupervised.”
“I never said it was Discovery Channel. In fact, I can’t tell you too much more right now.”
“I don’t get it.” Heather stared at her. “Why the secrecy? That’s weird, Karen—really weird.”
“No, it’s bullshit.” Jacob tossed his half-eaten burger onto the plate. “I don’t accept that. You have to tell us who’s out there.”
The purple-haired waitress was back. She dropped off the check, then slipped Dmitry a folded piece of paper with her turquoise-nailed fingers. He grinned at her, tucking it into his shirt pocket, and she walked off with an exaggerated wiggle.
“Nice,” Heather said to him. “Can we focus here?”
“I don’t need pressure from you, too,” Karen said. “I get enough of that from the board. And the grants committee is just…” She put her empty glass down with a thump and pulled her wallet out of her purse. “Trust me, I’m taking good care of us here.”
Dmitry leaned back in his chair, not smiling now. His eyes were on Karen. “Who is going to island, Karen? They are already there? You should tell us.”
“That’s not the point,” Karen said. She put three twenties on top of the bill, looked at her watch, and got up. “Guys, it’s the holiday season, and my plane leaves soon. It’ll be Christmas in a couple of days. Wrap up the surveys, turn ‘em in, and then take a couple weeks. Enjoy yourselves. Visit family; have some eggnog; sing some carols; get drunk. That’s what I’m going to do. I’ll see you back at the Institute in January.” She walked away fast, heels clicking against the boards.
Heather looked down at her plate, stunned. Then her attention was drawn back to scrabbling motion near her feet. A big gray-and-white herring gull darted at the pigeon, which fled, bumping into a chair leg before flapping away across the beach.
The seagull picked up the french fry in its cruel beak and turned its yellow gaze on Heather for a moment. Then it hopped up on top of a nearby piling, flipped the fry around lengthwise in its beak, and gulped it down.
Scavengers and predators, she thought. Nature’s hierarchy in action—even here, with the soft murmur of children’s laughter in the background. The sun went behind a cloud, and a gust of wind blew across the patio, chilling her. Not hungry anymore, she looked at Dmitry and Jacob.
“Karen’s family’s local,” she said. “They live in Berkeley. So why exactly is she headed to the airport?”
CHAPTER 49
Jordan lifted the jug two-handed and drank, the cords in her slim, elegant neck standing out as she swallowed. She lowered the jug and looked down the beach.
Camilla took another bite of Snickers bar and followed her gaze. A few hundred feet away, the beach widened to a blunt tip pointed toward the
mainland. Huge gray shapes moved restlessly in the early-afternoon haze, galumphing across the sand at the heart of the elephant seal rookery. Alpha males patrolling their harems roamed the waterline, chasing off interlopers. Challenges rolled across the beach and echoed off the bluffs behind them—deep bass rumbles that she could feel as well as hear.
Everything at this end of the beach was on a giant scale. Even the newborn pups lying next to their mothers were the size of German shepherds. The older juveniles were larger than Camilla herself.
“I couldn’t get close,” Jordan said. “It was a big crate with one of those ‘perishable’ stickers on it, buried partway in the sand.” She pointed. “Right there.”
Camilla looked, and her legs suddenly felt weak. “Oh god.”
From behind her, where the other eight contestants stood in a semicircle, she heard groans of dismay. She turned to stare at them, eyes wide. What was Julian thinking? He couldn’t possibly intend…
Lauren collapsed to a sitting position on the sand and hugged her knees. “No way,” she said, shaking her head vigorously. “They can’t make us do this. Fuck that shit—it’s flat-out suicide.”
Camilla turned back to where Jordan was pointing. The crate sat right in the center of the island’s biggest harem of elephant seals, its upper half just visible behind the bulk of a basking female. A monster alpha bull shuffled back and forth, guarding his turf, a massive flipper brushing against the crate with every pass.
Jordan turned to face them all, looking frantic. “Guys, we’ve just got to. There’s no other choice.” Her bare feet stamped the sand, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “We need that food.” She sucked in a breath and smoothed her hands against her stomach, looking at the crate.
“Jordan…” Veronica took her by the arm, her voice filled with concern. “Have you eaten anything at all?”
Tears suddenly spilled over Jordan’s eyelids, and her mouth turned down at the corners. She shook her head and looked down at her feet.
Camilla looked at the empty Tupperware container by their feet, at the residue of trail mix in the crumpled bag, the Snickers bars in the other contestant’s hands. Hadn’t Jordan already taken her share?
“But why not, dear?” Veronica asked.
Jordan was crying hard now. She looked from person to person, her face desperate.
“I’m severely allergic to peanuts,” she sobbed. “I could die.”
• • •
“Well, your plan has the virtue of simplicity, at least,” Mason said.
“Shut up, Mason.” Camilla looked at Jordan, a dozen yards away. The tears were gone now, and Jordan’s jaw was set. Okay, then. They would do this, for Jordan and for themselves. The candy bars Camilla had eaten had restored her strength. Still, what they were about to do was far more dangerous than anything she had ever seen on a reality show. They were all being incredibly stupid here. Including Julian.
But Jordan had shared the Snickers bars and trail mix she found with everyone. She hadn’t asked for anything in return. Even Juan had taken a couple of Snickers bars, although he hadn’t thanked her—hadn’t even acknowledged her. Camilla was starting to have her doubts about Juan. After all, she hadn’t actually seen the rider’s face when he rescued the child.
Glancing at Juan briefly, she squatted next to where he, Mason, JT, and Lauren were huddled.
“Here’s how we do this,” she said. “Grab that thing…” She pointed at the ten-foot metal spar she had asked them to retrieve from the tower wreckage. Then she handed Mason a large metal carabiner from her backpack. “Duct-tape this onto the end, and run the rope through it.”
“We’ll be like the mice trying to hang a bell on the cat,” he said, fingering the carabiner’s one-way spring-loaded gate.
“No, you won’t, because the rest of us will lure that monster away from you four,” she said. “Once you get close enough to the crate, JT uses the pole to clip through the handle. Then everyone retreats, and we haul the crate back to us with the rope. Easy.”
“Easy, huh?” Mason laughed and held up the canister of bear spray. “Safety precaution, in case the rest of you can’t keep that beast away from us.”
Hefting the spar one-handed, like a javelin, JT stood and pointed to his left side. “Lauren, you there. Mason on my right. Juan, you behind me, steadying the pole.”
Camilla stood and walked toward the others, who were spreading out in a wide semicircle around the crate. Jordan, studying the bull elephant seal and the crate beside it, didn’t look up.
“Everyone, move in slow,” Camilla called. “Be careful—we don’t want anybody hurt.”
They converged on the crate cautiously, from all sides. The crate’s guardian reared up and tossed its head, lurching from side to side, trying to keep them all in view. Camilla watched the seal grow more and more agitated. She braced her feet, ready to bolt, but it wasn’t moving away from the crate. She started circling sideways, getting closer.
A roar came from behind her, and she whirled about, heart racing, to look over her shoulder. She had accidentally edged too close to another male’s territory. Weaving between the female seals and juveniles at her feet, she quickly scrambled away, breathing a sigh of relief when the second seal didn’t pursue her. This was going to be tricky.
“Travis,” JT called. “Buddy, now’s your time to shine.”
Travis didn’t make any move. Camilla wasn’t really surprised. She would have to do something to break all their paralysis. She looked at Brent. He scratched the side of his head, watching the seal, then met her eyes and shook his head. She knew what he was telling her: too dangerous. But Jordan needed food, and soon enough, the rest of them would, too.
She wove between the pups and smaller female elephant seals. Smaller? They were still ten or twelve feet long. But they weren’t giants, like the old bull stationed in front of the crate. Camilla eyed it carefully as she got close. It had to be over sixteen feet long. Holding its head eight feet above the beach, it watched her. Looking at it made her legs feel weak and shaky again.
“Camilla,” Brent called from behind her, “Stop. There’s a difference between brave and stupid.”
She raised a hand in acknowledgment, not taking her eyes off the bull… and crept forward. She hoped Brent understood; she couldn’t let fear control her actions. Not once. Not ever. She had decided that a long time ago.
When she was fifty feet away, the bull suddenly lurched forward, bellowing as it charged. Camilla pivoted and ran, her feet kicking up the sand. But her spin was clumsy, and she stumbled. The beach shook under her knees, and she bounced to her feet, knowing the monster seal was close behind her. The chocolate bars were back in her throat, threatening to come up—oh god, she was dead now. Camilla ran.
“Hey, hey! Over here!” Brent shouted.
Out of the corner of her eye, Camilla saw Brent running forward, waving his arms above his head. The elephant seal turned to chase the bigger target, and Brent shambled away.
To Camilla’s horror, she realized that Brent wasn’t very fast. She yelled wordlessly and ran back toward the seal.
It turned toward her again, then spun and humped back toward JT’s group, who had gotten within twenty feet of the crate. Lauren ran, and the rest scattered, too. The bull took up its post in front of the crate again, bobbing its head and roaring at them all.
“Lauren!” JT shouted. “You’re supposed to have my back.”
“Like you had my back the other night on the dock, first time we saw one of these babies?” Lauren shook her hands loosely, limbering up her fingers. “I seem to recall you running past me like I wasn’t there, JT.”
Mason laughed.
“He’s right, Lauren.” Juan raised his voice, addressing them all. “We need to work together. If we don’t, somebody’ll get killed.”
Camilla racked her brain, trying to think of a solution. If only they had something to drive the seal off without hurting it… Fire! That was the answer. Grinning, she turn
ed to Jordan to share her idea.
The expression on Jordan’s face stopped her cold.
It was a look Camilla had seen before, but never in person. She had seen it on TV, on world-class runners waiting for the starter’s gun. On champion figure skaters about to enter the arena. On professional boxers eyeing an opponent. The laser-focused concentration of someone for whom winning was everything—the only thing in the world that mattered. It transformed Jordan’s beautiful features into a mask of fierce determination, her eyes into green ice. Jordan’s nostrils flared. She bounced in place once, setting her feet, and then sprinted directly at the crate and its terrifying guardian.
“No!” Camilla shouted. “Wait.” She started after her, but it was futile. Jordan ran with the light-footed grace and speed of a trained athlete; she couldn’t keep up. The distance between them grew.
The alpha seal swung its head in Jordan’s direction and exploded into motion. It came on like a bulldozer, with shocking speed. Sand flew. Jordan didn’t even slow down.
Skidding to a halt, Camilla clapped a hand over her mouth. Her team captain had gone absolutely crazy.
Jordan ran straight into the oncoming seal’s charge. The slim young woman and the five-thousand-pound behemoth came together like a bicycle running head-on into a bus. Camilla screamed.
The massive alpha bull slammed its chest forward, toppling onto Jordan, and she pivoted away to the side. A slender white hand snaked up to deliver a vicious slap across the elephant seal’s eye.
Camilla’s scream cut off in mid breath. Who was this woman?
And then Jordan was sprinting along the waterline with the angry elephant seal in pursuit, hurdling over smaller seals in her way as she led the giant bull away from the crate.
Several of the smaller juveniles failed to get out of the bull’s path in time. They disappeared under its bulk to lie injured or dying in its wake, crushed into a bed of crimson-stained sand.
Camilla looked away, closing her eyes. Then she opened them again. On the open sand, the monster was faster than Jordan.