another expedition tonight. Could we just do it the same way as before? Please?”
Henry sighs, “All right,” and takes up his end of the stroller.
It is worse than he feared—so dark they can barely see where they’re putting their feet; so dark they can’t see each other’s faces. Henry has never been particularly afraid of the dark, but he does have great anxiety about screwing up—so how did he and Ruby wind up carrying their wiggly, whining daughter between them down a steep mountain trail in fog and total darkness? One turned ankle, one misstep, and they could all break their necks.
“I wanna walk!” Moxie hollers, jouncing the stroller as she fights the restraining belt. “No! No, no, no, no, no! Let me ouuuut!”
“Maybe we should let her walk,” Henry says, getting kicked by her flailing shoes.
“Yes! Daddy, let me walk, I wanna waaaaalk!”
“I don’t think so,” Ruby says firmly. “That would just make it a thousand times worse.”
Suddenly there is a sound from the darkness just ahead of them—a loud thrashing in the brush. Ruby and Henry go silent, listening, as Moxie continues to complain.
“What the hell was that?” Ruby hisses.
“Nothing. An animal,” Henry says. “Probably a deer.”
“You hear that, honey?” Ruby says to Moxie with forced brightness. “Deer. Pretty deer, like Bambi.”
“Where?” Moxie pouts. “It’s too dark!”
“Shh. You have to be quiet and listen.”
Henry is flashing on the conversation he had earlier: These wild hogs can tear you up good if you’re down on their level. Boar, deer, goats, bison—he knows that any of them can attack people under the right circumstances, and they’re all here on the island, running wild.
Had tusks this big, I swear.
This island is a regular big-game sanctuary—that’s one of its major attractions. So what was he thinking, bringing his family out here in the middle of nowhere, after dark? The danger just never occurred to him; they ought to warn you about this kind of thing. Now if anything happens, it’ll be his fault.
There’s that sound again, a little farther off.
“It’s going away,” Ruby says hopefully.
“No, mommy! See Bambi!”
“Hush or you’ll scare Bambi away.”
Steadying his nerves, Henry says, “Come on, don’t worry about it. Let’s just get down.”
“Like I was planning to pitch a tent.”
They continue on, painstakingly feeling their way, both aware that it is actually taking twice as long as it did to come up. It’s possible to see just enough to avoid running into trees, the fleshy eucalyptus trunks visible as ghostly columns looming out of the void, but not enough to avoid the myriad branches and wisps that hang across the path. Henry, leading, catches the worst of it.
Moxie seems to have settled down, quietly disgruntled. Now her parents are starting to find their rhythm, grimly focused on the task and making better time.
“Is this the way we came up?” Ruby asks. “It seems a lot longer.”
Testily, Henry says, “It’s downhill, that’s all I know. One way or another, it has to end up at the Pacific Ocean.”
“Wasn’t that what the Donner Party thought?”
The thrashing noise again, off to the right. This time it doesn’t stop, but seems to move toward them. It doesn’t sound furtive at all, snapping branches and ripping through the thick undergrowth. It sounds big.
“Bambi!” Moxie shouts.
“Quiet, Mo. Shit, honey, what is that?” Ruby whispers.
“I told you, it’s gotta be a goat or something—we’re just disturbing them.”
“What if it’s a cougar?”
“There are no cougars on Catalina.”
“I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. Put that camera away; let’s keep moving.”
“It’s coming closer!”
“I know, relax.”
All of a sudden it’s right there in front of them—Henry can see it. Rather, he can see something, a shaggy, upright blob lumbering across their path, so close that he must stop short to avoid bumping against it, his heels skidding on gravel. A horrible stench fills the air, putrid as a dead cat.
The thing seems to pause and look over its shoulder at them—a weird, hairy gray sack, slowly heaving—then it is gone, crashing into the underbrush.
Querulously, Ruby says, “What is that?”
“I don’t know.” Henry’s heart is ringing his chest like the clapper of a bell. “I couldn’t really tell.”
“Was it a person?”
Her saying this startles Henry more than anything else. “I didn’t think so. Did you?”
“I don’t know.”
They doggedly keep on, afraid to talk lest they attract the thing again or freak each other out more.
Then things start to get better: There is the clammy smell of sea moss, and in a few minutes they hear the welcome plopping of the ocean. Like a