She made dinner and sat eating it near a window. Venus hung low and bright in the western sky.
Feeling a little homesick, she decided to drive down to the bottom of the resort road and check her mail. Maybe her dad had already mailed her little care package. She always looked forward to those when she was out in the field. He sent cookies, clippings from the science section of the New York Times, paperback novels he’d read and wanted to discuss with her, funny little drawings he did.
Outside, the weather had turned a bit colder. Storm clouds were gathering in the west. She switched on the wagon’s heater as she drove down. At the mailbox, she found a handful of correspondence waiting for her. All of the letters were from nonprofits except one: another postcard. This one was from Saguaro National Park in Arizona, showing a mountainous vista dotted with the iconic shapes of saguaro cacti.
The back read, I can see why you love this place. It was in the same handwriting as the earlier postcard, also unsigned. The postmark was from Tucson this time, dated almost three weeks ago. It was bent and slightly water damaged, and had obviously taken a much longer time to reach her than the Berkeley postcard. She flipped the card over, frowning. It was possible that the postcard was from someone she’d worked with down there. She’d spent four weeks in the desert tracking Sonoran pronghorns. Members of the conservation organization she’d done the work for would have her Boston address. Once again, a yellow mail-forwarding sticker covered the original address. She peeled it away, finding her Boston address. She read the message again. It was innocuous enough, but something about the unsigned postcards made her feel uneasy. Not signing a postcard generally meant that the recipient would know who you were. But this person felt like a stranger.
Back at the lodge, she placed it with the other postcard, an unsettled feeling coming over her.
Twenty
Out in the field, Alex paused at the base of a massive talus slope that swept up the side of the mountain. The rock pile opened up into a large meadow ringed by the forest. She picked out a flat rock and sat down. She’d been out checking her camera traps, happy to find more dark brown hairs that could be wolverine. Shrugging off her pack, she placed it next to her. The weather had turned cold over the last couple of days, with thick gray clouds moving in from horizon to horizon. The wind blew across the meadow, bringing with it the sweet scent of pine and a hint of coming snow. She’d called Kathleen that morning to see if snow was actually in the forecast. It was, and Alex planned to be back to the lodge right at dark today, snuggled down with a book in front of the fireplace.
She couldn’t wait to strap on a pair of snowshoes after the storm and see what kinds of prints she’d find. It was yet another way of knowing if wolverines were using the preserve.
She closed her eyes for a moment, grateful to be out in this amazing place. The eeeep of an American pika drew her attention back to the rock pile. She spotted it on a nearby rock, watching her, its buff-colored fur puffed up against the wind. Small relatives of the rabbit, pikas had always enchanted Alex. The pika barked again, then darted to another rock. Alex watched as it bounded from rock to rock, stopping at the edge of the boulder field to collect a giant mouthful of grasses and bound back on the rocks, its mouth comically crammed with vegetation. Beneath an overhanging rock, it piled the greenery on top of an existing heap of grass. Once the vegetation dried in the sun, the pika would store it below and survive on it throughout the winter. It darted down between two boulders and Alex lost sight of it.
She pulled an apple from her pack and sat for a moment, turning it over in her hand. Then, pressing the apple to her nose, she inhaled, enjoying the simple pleasure of being outside, eating something like an apple, created in all its perfection by nature.
She was about to take a bite when the feeling of being watched returned. Her back went rigid with the primal sense of something out there, focused on her. She lowered the apple, glancing at the tree line that surrounded the meadow.
She didn’t see anything there, so she pivoted, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand, trying to make out any movement.
Still she didn’t see anything in the trees, but the feeling grew more intense. Cold fear washed up her back. She turned to zip up her pack and something rustled in the bushes to her left. She snapped her head in that direction, seeing a dense clump of mountain blueberry bushes swaying. No other nearby brush moved, so it wasn’t the wind. She froze, staring intently. The bushes there parted, and a mass of black fur rose up.
Her brain struggled to interpret what she was seeing. At first she thought it was the long black back of a bear. But the form righted itself, the back going vertical, a distinctly humanoid face peering out at her. It stood, a massive creature of black fur, and placed a hand on one of the tree trunks.
Sasquatch.
Alex froze, unbelieving, unable to look away, and unable to move. The creature stepped forward, hesitantly entering the meadow. It left the protection of the trees, bringing its arms forward, and stopped there, the powerful hands on the ground, poised in a crouch.
It was no Sasquatch, she realized as it drew closer.
It was a gorilla.
She watched, her heart hammering, as it came toward her, moving on its knuckles now, bringing its rear forward in tentative steps.
Slowly it crept forward, studying her, then stopped about ten feet away. Alex didn’t move. Disbelief had rooted her to the spot. The gorilla sat back on its haunches and lifted a hand to its lips. It pointed to its mouth and then at her. Down. Down to something at her side. The apple.
The gorilla repeated the motion. Alex held up the apple questioningly. The gorilla moved forward again, stopping again five feet away and sitting back.
Alex studied its face. It was a kind face, with watery eyes. She’d never been this close to a gorilla before, but even she could see how thin it was. It wasn’t like the healthy robust gorillas she’d seen in documentaries over the years. This one was malnourished, a little shaky.
Alex held out the apple. The gorilla reached out, then gently took it from Alex’s hand, their skin briefly touching.
Alex watched while the gorilla ate the apple gingerly. When it was done, it crept a little closer to Alex. She didn’t feel any aggression from it, and her fear began to melt away. The gorilla brought its arms up again and made a series of motions with its hands and fingers. When Alex didn’t respond, the gorilla did the same set of motions again, forming shapes with its hands and gesturing.
It was signing, Alex realized.
She knew only the most rudimentary signs. When she was living in the dorms in college, a girl on her floor had used American sign language, and Alex had learned a little from her.
Falteringly, she made one of the few signs she remembered, the sign for “Hi.”
The gorilla signed it back to her, then followed with something more complicated that Alex didn’t understand. Alex put her hands out pleadingly and shrugged.
The gorilla sat back, looking frustrated.
“I’m sorry,” Alex told it, and it perked up at her words. Alex remembered then that gorilla researchers—like Penny Patterson, who worked with Koko—would speak and the gorillas would answer in sign. It wasn’t that they didn’t understand spoken words, it was that their vocal cords didn’t allow them to speak them. Still reeling at being faced with this miraculous creature, Alex asked, “Where did you come from?”
The gorilla answered in a series of signs she didn’t recognize.
Alex stared at the creature. What in the world was a gorilla doing out here, especially one who knew sign language? Had it been at one of the universities? It was obvious from its malnourished condition that whoever had been caring for it was no longer doing so.
When she was in college, some students had freed lab animals during a raid on a medical research facility. A few of the animals had gotten away during the scramble to gather them up and find new homes for them. One rabbit and a chimp had escaped, never to be found again.
/> But a gorilla? It was possible some well-meaning people had released it from a study facility and it had escaped from them, or they hadn’t been able to find a home for it, so they thought it would be better off out here in the wild.
She reached into her pack and pulled out a pear she’d saved for later. She handed it to the gorilla, who again took it gingerly. It smelled the fruit and then ate it, its eyes sad. She wondered how long it had been out here by itself, struggling to survive. This wasn’t exactly the kind of terrain a gorilla would thrive in. Then it hit her: the Sasquatch Jolene had seen—how long ago had that been? This poor creature could definitely be what Jolene had spotted moving through the trees.
If she could gain the gorilla’s trust, maybe she could take it back with her to the lodge and call the LTWC. She knew they were involved with another organization that set aside preserves for rescued circus or smuggled animals.
The gorilla finished the pear and signed something back to her. Again, she had no idea. “I’m so sorry. I don’t understand.”
The gorilla sat back, looking down at the ground, and Alex could feel the immense loneliness it felt. This high country of Montana was no place for an animal like this. She wondered what it had been eating to survive. Likely bark and leaves.
“Do you want to come back with me? I can find a safe place for you.”
The gorilla looked up at her and made a series of gestures.
“Is that a yes?” Alex asked.
The gorilla just stared at her, so Alex held out her hand. Hesitantly, the gorilla reached up and grasped her fingers. Its hand was warm and leathery, and Alex thrilled to the completely foreign sensation of communicating with this out-of-place animal.
Moving slowly, she stood up from the boulder. Not releasing the ape’s hand, Alex reached for her pack where it lay on the rocks. She was about to close her hand around the strap when the ear-splitting crack of a gun made her heart leap. She flinched violently, releasing the gorilla’s hand. A chunk of rock next to her blasted away. Jerking her hand from her pack, she stumbled backward. The gorilla took off for the trees as another shot made Alex’s whole body jolt in surprise. A tuft of grass next to her launched up into the air, loose soil spraying over her.
Ducking down by one of the larger rocks, she couldn’t tell where the shot was coming from. Somewhere in the trees, she thought, but she couldn’t even determine a direction. She had a split second to move, unsure of which way to go. But if she stayed there, she was dead.
Bracing herself for another ear-splitting boom, Alex launched herself away from the rocks, sprinting for the trees in the direction the gorilla had run.
Twenty-One
Bracing for a shot that would tear right through her, Alex reached the trees and dared to stop. She had to pinpoint where the shots were coming from. For all she knew, she could be running right at the gunman, and fear made her heart drum so powerfully in her chest that it hurt.
On the far side of the meadow, she heard someone crashing through the bushes. Her entire body heaved with relief. She’d chosen the right direction. The gunman was behind her, trying to get a better shot.
She ran on, being as quiet as possible, but with all the dry pine needles and branches it proved impossible. She had to either outrun him or find a place to hide. She opted for the former. Without her pack, she was fast and light on her feet. The gunman was carrying a rifle at the very least, so maybe she could outrun him. Leaping over logs and brush, Alex ran with everything in her. She glanced through the trees ahead of her, seeing no sign of the gorilla. She skirted around a large boulder, then weaved between a dense cluster of lodgepole pines.
Once she got enough distance, she could angle back down the mountain toward the lodge. She didn’t dare do it yet, because it would take her right across the gunman’s path. Her legs pumping, Alex thudded over the forest floor as she sailed over fallen logs and old splintered stumps. She hadn’t crossed this particular section of forest before, but she knew that if she kept running straight, she’d come upon an avalanche chute that she’d climbed her first week here. And just beyond that was a boulder field with large enough boulders that she could lower herself down into one of the crevices and hide, letting herself rest and catch her breath.
Suddenly she heard a voice and came to an abrupt halt. It was some distance away to her left. She pressed against a tree, staring out in that direction. The voice spoke again, and now she pinpointed the location and saw him, a man about a hundred yards away, standing in the trees, a rifle resting on his shoulder. He hadn’t seen her. He pressed a radio to his lips and spoke again. “Which way?”
She listened, trying to keep her gasping breaths quiet. He sported a big bushy red beard and wore hunting gear—a camouflage jacket and pants.
He spoke into the radio. “I haven’t seen her. She might be that new land trust person who’s staying at the Snowline.”
The radio beeped and another voice came over it. “Cut off that route. Don’t let her get to the lodge.”
The hunter clicked his talk button. “You got it.”
A panicked feeling of being trapped rose up within her. There were at least two of them. She had no pack, no water, no phone, no way to communicate with help. Even if she doubled back to her pack and retrieved her cell phone, she didn’t have service out here. The landline at the lodge was her closest option to finding help.
But if they were cutting off that route, then maybe retrieving her cell phone and climbing one of the higher mountains was her best bet. Maybe she could get a signal up there. But she’d have to make it back to her phone.
Deciding on her next course of action, she carefully worked her way back toward the rock pile where she’d left her pack. She could just barely make out the sun through the thick clouds, and it was getting close to dipping behind the mountains. As she quietly crept forward, the light grew more dim as the sun set. Occasionally she could hear men in the near distance, radioing one another, and progress was slow. How many were there? They were definitely spreading out, trying to intercept her on her way back to the lodge.
Stopping to listen frequently, grateful for the coming dark, she crept on. A bright spot glowed in a patch of thinner clouds, and she knew that the full moon had risen. It illuminated the clouds from above, casting a silvery light over everything and creating pockets of shadow that she could move in. She stopped every few minutes, listening intently, but didn’t hear anyone.
Finally she reached the rock pile, with the meadow stretching out on one side. She paused in the trees, trying to make out the shape of her backpack in the dark. She could see it, just where she’d left it. Her water, phone, food—it was all in there, so close.
She was about to step out to get it when she froze. She’d heard something on the far side of the meadow, and a cold chill zinged up her back. She waited, one hand on the trunk of a tree, her foot frozen in midstep.
Then the sound came again, a sniff. She followed it to a dark patch of trees just opposite her. As she watched, the filtered moonlight glinted off something moving there, something metal. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make it out. The metal object moved again. Another sniff. Moonlight created a dim glow along a long, narrow black object. A rifle.
She held her breath. A man waited there in the darkness, ready to snipe her if she returned for her backpack. He sniffed again, readjusting his stance in the trees and wiping his nose. Moonlight revealed the gun barrel again. He hadn’t seen her.
Silently she withdrew, holding her breath, taking agonizingly slow steps backward, careful to stick to patches of shadow. At last she turned around, picking her way along the forest floor on her toes, wincing with every muted crackle of pine needles beneath her feet. She could barely hear the crunches and knew the man wouldn’t be able to hear them at his distance, but it didn’t stop her heart from pounding painfully as she made her retreat.
When she was safely away, she sat down at the base of a tree to rest. She needed a plan. She had all the resort keys in h
er pocket, but couldn’t return to the lodge. Not only were they working to block off her route, but they’d probably set up a similar sniper situation there, too.
Who were these people, and why did they want her dead?
She pictured a map of the preserve, trying to figure out if there were any nearby neighbors. Jolene and Jerry were on the far east side from where she was, a considerable distance away, near Cooper’s spread. To the west was another ranch. She remembered seeing it in the distance when she rode in with Jolene that first day. She was a lot closer to that than she was to Jolene’s place. She tried to remember the topography between her current spot and the ranch, and believed that she had to climb over a single ridge before it would be in sight. The way was steep and likely had only game trails to follow. High above her was the gondola building, but she was so far away from any of the ski lifts or the gondola path that the climb up to it would be dangerous in the dark, with some steep, exposed sections. She wasn’t sure if the radio up there still worked, either.
Deciding to try the ranch house, Alex made her way in the dark, getting thirstier by the minute. The mountain air, usually so welcomingly dry compared to the humidity of the East Coast, was now making her parched. She thought longingly of her water bottle.
She breathed in the crisp night air, which had grown markedly colder since sunset. Thick clouds had overtaken the sky, and with only the bright patch of the moon to keep her oriented, she had to be careful not to lose her way. As she hiked on, the familiar scent of snow carried on the breeze. She wouldn’t be tucked in safely at the lodge now. Despite the warm weather during the last few weeks, winter was steadily encroaching. She knew in Glacier National Park that the famous Going-to-the-Sun Road would close in the next few weeks and might not open again until mid-June.
If she had been safe at the lodge, she would have relished an oncoming snowstorm. But now, with her thin fleece jacket and nylon hiking pants, it wasn’t a good time. She didn’t even have a hat, gloves, or rain gear. Those things were back in her pack.
A Solitude of Wolverines Page 21
