by C B Cox
“Who’s there?”
Silence.
I sense someone, or something, close.
“I know you’re there. Show yourself,” I yell, bolting up and whirling through three hundred and sixty degrees.
“Who is it?” I moan.
A lump catches in my throat. I swallow hard. Listen for movement. The rain has stopped. Is the canopy so dense that the rain can’t pass?
“Bella. Come here. You stupid dog,” I yell. I’m desperate. I listen hard. All I hear is an interminable silence. No wind. No trace of movement. My heart pounds against my rib cage.
Another twig cracks. Something ricochets around the canopy overhead. The eerie silence at ground level amplifies the sound. I sink down into the ferns and cower beside the log. I cover my face with my hands. Something scurries through the undergrowth nearby. I hold my breath. Hardly dare to look, I peek through the gaps between my fingers. The white tip of a deer’s tail flashes past. I lose sight of it in the undergrowth.
“Crazy woman. Pull yourself together,” I hiss.
Seems I’ve been tracking a deer. Or maybe it’s me, being tracked? Hunted even? The great outdoors is a mystery to this particular city girl.
I’m losing it. I appreciate that much. I must take my finger off the panic button. Calm down before I go to pieces. I’m no good to anyone, including myself, like this.
I close my eyes. Calm my breathing. My heart rate steadies. I scan the area. To my surprise, I locate the footpath. It’s three yards ahead, half concealed by ferns. Fear has blinded me. It was there all along. I wait a beat. Feel my hysteria dissipate. Return to my core task of finding Bella. She has to be here somewhere.
Although I don’t recognize this particular route through the woods, I follow the footpath, anyway. It’s well worn. Footprints suggest recent use.
Most likely, it’s one of Levi Wiley’s hunting trails.
Overhead, the canopy thins. The rain strengthens. I trudge along the footpath, through knee-high undergrowth. Narrow shafts of light aid my progress. I reach the edge of the wood. I see the ocean. It’s ten feet to the cliff top. I stride towards it, telling myself Bella can’t possibly have come this far.
Chapter Forty
Driving rain peppers my face. Wind rips at my jacket. I step over to the cliff top. Gaze down over thirty feet of vertical rock. The foreshore below is a series of rocky fingers creating deep ravines running lateral to the land. I’m not familiar with this particular spot. I narrow my eyes, place a flat palm above my brow and study the jagged coastline. Distantly, a yellow hue sits low on the horizon at the meeting of ocean and sky. Another storm is brewing.
Behind my temples, my brain throbs. I call out for Bella. My broken heart yearns to see her. To run my fingers through her fur. To tickle her ears. I’ve failed her. Failed her badly. Run out of ideas. I’ve turned over every stone. Fatigued, it’s time to call it a day and return to Tern Lodge to get warmed up.
In my mind’s eye, I imagine Bella sat on the porch, shivering and hungry. Seeing her, I bound up the steps two treads at a time. She raises up. Yawns a wide, lazy yawn. Lays her head on one side. Innocent, questioning eyes ask me where the hell I’ve been?
A theory pops into my head. While I was sleeping off my stupid hangover, unable to rouse me – needing to relieve herself – she will have ventured outside in the rain. Poor thing. It’s all my fault. I’m solely to blame. I’ve panicked and taken off on a wild goose chase, searching for a lost dog that was never lost. She’ll be there on the porch waiting for me. I tut. Thrust freezing hands deep into jacket pockets.
I hear a faint whimper.
Did I?
I step to the edge.
Hear a weak whine.
“Bella, where are you?” I cry, peering over the edge, scanning the foreshore.
Another whimper.
I close my eyes. Try hard to triangulate the noise.
I hear a low whine.
East.
The whines and whimpers seem to be coming from an easterly direction. I turn east. Scan the foreshore. At first, all I see are jagged gnarly fingers of rock rising from the ocean and terminating against the vertical rock face below where I stand. In a ravine between two fingers of rock, I spy what appears to be a foot square patch of golden fur.
It’s Bella!
“Oh my God. Bella,” I sob. She’s not moving. I take five steps right. A narrow meandering vee-shaped ravine is revealed. Bella is wedged in the ravine’s bottom ten feet from the rock face, five feet from the tide. Her head is obscured from view and faces the ocean. Her right hind leg projects up and back at an unnatural angle from beneath her limp body.
“Hold in there, Bella, I’m coming…”
I take a deep breath. Steel myself, summoning the courage to tackle the cliff.
Overcome by vertigo, I halt. Behind glass, I’m fine. High buildings have never been a problem. This is different. The ocean wobbles at the horizon. Fearful of pitching headlong over the cliff, I spin around.
Someone help me.
“Help me!” I scream.
I rally. Bellow. Grit my teeth. Turn to face my fears. Glance down and locate the patch of fur – Bella – laid in the ravine. A seagull reels overhead and laughs at my predicament. My cries for help go unanswered. I’m alone without suitable equipment. No rope to steady me, or a chisel to hew out handholds. Why am I even contemplating climbing down the cliff?
I must at least try a rescue attempt.
She’ll die otherwise. I tell myself.
I lower my butt onto the saturated ground, flip over onto my front, push back and hang my feet over the precipice. The ground is cold and wet. I shuffle back. Sucking air, I gather my thoughts. I glance back over my shoulder. A tree root projects from the topsoil layer at the cliff top. It’s three feet long and an inch in diameter. I grab it with both hands and lower myself gingerly over the edge. The root creaks under my weight. My feet scrabble across the rock face as I search for a foothold. My right foot settles on a narrow ledge. I move my left foot beside it. Only just in time. The root snaps with a twang. Losing my balance, my upper body rears back from the rocks. I make a frantic grasp for the rock face. My fingertips scrabble desperately and find purchase. I pull myself forward. I’m holding on for dear life with my fingertips. With my face pressed against the saturated, frozen rock, I take a breath. Scanning the rock, I locate a crevice deep enough for a handhold. I reach out and push my fingers into it.
I pause to think. I have no choice. I have to climb down. I have to reach, Bella. I’m her only chance.
“Come on,” I yell. “You can do this!”
I take a glance at the waves crashing against the foreshore thirty feet below and release my fingers from the rock face. It’s time to trust my instincts.
To my relief, the next ledge is much closer than I first thought. I tell myself to focus on the climb and block out the fear. It’s easier said than done. Gusts of wind surge and eddy up the vertical wall of rock. I take a firm grip of the uneven surface. When the wind subsides a little, I start the climb down. Progress is slow and tortuous. Five minutes later, reaching the bottom of the cliff, I stop, clutch the rock and hunker down against the wind.
Bella lays injured in the ravine. Geysers of icy seawater spurt over her. I’ve got to act quickly with purpose, otherwise she’ll be swept away by the rising tide. She’ll drown. As will I, if I don’t move.
I crouch down. Shuffle forward tentatively over the seaweed-covered rocks. It’s as slippery as hell. I spread myself like a spider and move down the incline. I slip and crash against the unforgiving surface. Sliding into the ravine, I snatch at seaweed and halt my slide. My face stings. I taste blood. I’ve bitten the inside of my cheek.
I’m too slow. The tide is rushing in to meet us. It will be too late.
“Move, Bella, move…” I cry.
I slither into the ravine. My calves tremble under tension. Lactic acid burns my muscles. The urge to give up is overwhelming.
&
nbsp; But I’m close, now.
I can’t quit. I must push through the pain barrier. Inch by excruciating inch, I move forward. The incoming tide is just inches from Bella’s nose. There’s no time to waste.
I rip off my jacket and throw it over Bella. Her leg is clearly broken. I crane over her. Blood foams and bubbles from her nose and mouth with each shallow breath. Her eyes are closed.
“Bella, Bella, Bella!” I scream above the wind and rising surf. Tears spill from my eyes. I shake her carefully. Apply a little pressure. She’s unresponsive. I’m too late. She’s dead. I sob.
Then, just as I’m about to give up, her right ear flicks.
Thank God.
I look around. My eyes dart across the foreshore, searching desperately for a way out. I have to get off the foreshore to the safety of the cove, and the beach beyond. Bella needs urgent veterinary attention.
Something moves in my peripheral vision, high above me. I look up. A man stands silhouetted against the sky on the cliff top. He steps forward to the edge. Leans over. Peers down. He’s watching the spectacle unfold. He’s seen us. Perhaps he’s come to help? I praise the Gods. Wave my right hand frantically in an arc above my head. Cup my hands into a megaphone.
“Help! Help!” I shout. “Please!” A gust of wind plasters my hair over my face. Momentarily, I’m blinded. I scrape back my hair. Blink and clear my vision. He’s gone.
There was someone there. I saw him. I know I did…
“Help me,” I yell.
A bubble of snot balloons from my nostrils. I wipe it away with my sleeve. My cries blow off on the wind. I look up again.
There’s no one there. I’m hallucinating.
I’m alone. Again. Bella’s survival rests on my shoulders. I can’t go up. She’s too heavy to ascend the cliff. I must find a route around to the cove.
The tide keeps rising. Another fifteen minutes and the ocean will cover the foreshore and the ravine.
“Wait here, sweetheart,” I whisper. “Don’t you worry, I’ll find a way,” I tell her, pushing the edges of the jacket under her.
I shuffle across the foreshore for thirty feet in an easterly direction. A huge boulder looms over me and blocks my route. I scrabble around it, drag myself up on the seaward end, crane over it and see the beach. I’m closer to it than I first thought. If I manage to carry Bella around the boulder, we’ll reach the safety of the beach before we’re cut off and drowned.
If I don’t make it, we’ll be washed out to sea and no one will ever know.
Get a grip.
Hunkering down, I return to Bella wedged in the ravine and push my hands beneath Bella’s neck. I lift her head slowly. As I lift, her ears flick. She’s still with me. Just. There’s no time to waste. If we don’t escape the rocky foreshore and the incoming tide, we’re going to die.
I won’t allow it.
She’s heavy, soaking wet and unconscious. I sniff. Snot rises along my nose. I swallow hard. A sheen of sweat bleaches over my forehead into my eyes. I can only just lift her, let alone carry her. I hatch a plan. I need a stretcher.
My jacket?
I take my jacket and lay it down next to Bella. Ease it under her right side and push it under her limp body as far as I’m able to. I scrabble across the ravine, crouch down and drag the jacket beneath my injured dog. It’s a gargantuan effort. I’ve made a sledge to break the friction: a stretcher of sorts. It’s the only hope I have of moving her.
“I’m sorry… I’m trying to be careful,” I sob.
The rain and surf whip at my face. Saturated clothes drag me down. I rip off my wool cardigan and throw it away. I’m going to need all the strength I can muster to lift Bella out of the ravine, across the foreshore, to the cove.
I shuffle forward, bend down and collect the front seam of the hood. I swing myself over the ravine, using the hood as a pivot point. I land on the other side. I draw a lungful of moist air. This rescue attempt is going to take all my strength.
I drag hard on the hood.
My jacket and Bella slide up and out of the ravine. She lands on the rock besides me with a dull thud. Elated, I suck a long breath and lay back.
I have to be careful. The foreshore is slimy and wet. One slip and I could fall and smash my head against the rocks. Injured, I’d succumb to hypothermia within the hour. It’s a deadly environment.
My boat shoes afford little grip. They’re soaked and heavy. Pain burns and stabs through my feet and along my calves.
I take a firm grip and start to drag Bella across the rocks. Progress is slow and painful. I get cramp. The pain is unbearable. I breathe tortured breaths. The vaporized breaths dissipate on the wind. With each labored step, the effort drags more heat from my body. My teeth chatter like a pneumatic drill against a concrete sidewalk. Biting cold freezes my fingers to a clumsy numbness. I lose grip of the hood. It slips out of my hands. Bella slides away and crashes against a boulder. The boulder sits on the edge of a deep ravine.
“No!” I roar.
I slide over the slime to the boulder, take a firm grip of the hood, drag Bella away from ravine and certain death.
I glance right. I estimate the huge rock dividing the foreshore from the beach to be three yards distant. I prepare myself mentally for one last effort. If only I can make it to the beach, then there’s hope.
The first yard is uneventful. As I start to drag Bella over the second yard – across the layer of glistening seaweed – I start to lose grip. The seam slips from my frozen fingers. Bella slides off down the slope. I scrabble up and launch myself after her. I land with a crash on my butt. The seaweed cushions my landing. We arrive at the huge rock, simultaneously. I slam my right foot against the rock and tension my leg as best I can. Bella crashes against it. My knee buckles. An inferno of pain ignites within my knee. I won’t succumb. I push hard against the rock.
I shuffle forward, take a firm grip of Bella’s collar and drag her off of the jacket. She’s limp. With a mighty effort, I drag her around the rock and gingerly lower her to the sand, tail first.
We’ve made it to the beach.
I launch onto the sand. Lay looking up at the sky, breathing hard. Angry dark clouds rush overhead. I imagine them as demons feasting on my despair. I squeeze my eyes closed. Shut out the waking nightmare.
Breathe. Just breathe.
My chest heaves. My heart races to return blood to my brain. I’m spent and relieved. I drag myself up into a sitting position. Take in the scene before me. From where I sit, I can see the wooden steps at the center of the beach leading to the safety of Tern Lodge. My relief is short-lived. We’re still in danger. The tide rushes over the sand towards our position at an alarming rate. Caught on the wind, clumps of coffee-colored sea froth swirls over us. Having come this far, I have to get Bella to safety.
I need to go get help.
I hunch over Bella’s limp body and press my ear against her side. Her breathing is shallow. Her eyes are cloudy and lifeless. I press my fingers into the folds of her neck. Her pulse is faint, but it’s there. She’s cold. She won’t survive long enough for me to go get help and return. The weather is deteriorating. I won’t let her die, out here, alone.
I have to get her home.
The jacket is shredded. The right sleeve hangs by a thread. It won’t take any more abuse. I’m going to have to carry Bella all the way home. Whilst it’s only a hundred yards distant, it’s a formidable prospect.
You can do this… I tell myself, only half believing it.
I tug at Bella’s collar. Lift her right eyelid. She’s unresponsive.
“Come on girl, hang in there. Let’s get you home.”
She makes no sound. Doesn’t object to my arms passing under her. I lift her easily. I’m surprised at my adrenalin fueled strength. She feels thin and vulnerable. Never have I felt her ribs. She’s limp in my arms. Her broken right leg sticks out like an afterthought. Her golden fur is lank and clings to her diminished body in sodden clumps. My big beautiful retriever is li
ke the newborn puppy she once was.
Long spears of rain fall from a leaden sky.
I stagger across the beach, towards the dunes, with my head down against the rain. Sand coagulates underfoot. It’s tough going. I take two steps forward and one step back as the base of the dune – blown across the lower steps – collapses under me. When I reach the steps, I hitch Bella up and press her frozen body against my chest. I fall up the steps.
Five minutes later, I reach the lodge and the porch. Exhausted, I lay Bella down in her dog bed.
“We’ve made it, Bella, we’ve made it! You’re going to be all right. I told you… I told you…”
I lift my weary body upright. Wipe the rain and grime from my face. Blink away the brine from my eyes. Bend over and settle my hand on Bella ribs.
She isn’t breathing. I stall. Try again. Convince myself I’m mistaken.
I close my eyes. Massage my eyeballs with my fingertips. Open my eyes. Examine her ribcage.
She isn’t breathing.
Bella has died in my arms.
Eyes that once danced with light and love stare vacantly towards the pines and the ocean beyond. Her mouth has sagged open, exposing her canines. A long thread of drool drips onto the cushion. She’s laid on her side, absolutely still. Lifeless. With no soul to stir her.
Broken and empty, I settle on the porch deck, lift her head forward onto my lap and stroke her ears, head and neck.
I hear an otherworldly scream of such ferocity that I think it might waken Bella from her slumber. The sheer force of it blurs my entire world.
Then I understand. I’m hearing my scream.
The world is silent. Everything stills. A chasm of emptiness opens up deep inside of me and steals my breath. Air catches in my throat; cannot reach my lungs. I take a sharp breath. The chasm replenishes. A single tear traces down my cheek. The chasm empties and replenishes. Sobbing, I push my face deep into the folds of Bella’s fur at the neck. My chin trembles like a small child who’s lost her favorite doll.
“Oh, Bella,” I sob. “I’ve let you down… I’m so … so … sorry…”
