They left us behind. They forgot about us all those years ago, but they’ll be back some day. They always return. It may have been a long time since they were here, but they’ll come back. They left us their yards, their toys, their tunnels, and their town by the bay. We’ll keep watch over them while they’re gone.
How do I know? My father told me a story grandpa told him a long time ago. There used to be a lot of people in the town. Some of them worked in the tunnels lining the valley the creek runs through. Others worked on boats. A few of them taught children and the rest sold things to other people. There were so many of them until the big boat started taking them away. Did I mention the big boat?
The big boat was bigger than all the other boats. It was so tall and so long that it could hardly fit in the bay. They gave the boat a name, too, but I forgot it. It used to take people and return them every day. It also brought stuff to the island. One day, a lot of people went on the boat. They took all the stuff in their houses, too. Some of them stayed behind, but the ones who went never returned. Their houses stayed empty. After a while, all the tunnel people, the teaching people, the selling people, and the boat people left on that big boat. They never returned, either.
They even took their giant machines and buildings away from the tunnels they used to dig. Every piece of wood, every window, every door, every chimney, and every boiler disappeared. The boat must have taken them, too. Even the boat left us behind. It never came back to leave stuff for us like it did the people. Maybe it forgot about us, too.
We don’t have much food to choose from. Even though I hate to do it, I have to kill the chicks I find in bird nests so I don’t starve. Even though I hate to do it, I have to kill the otters while they sleep so I don’t starve. Even though I hate to do it, I have to kill the weak and dying seals that stay behind after sunrise. I’ve done a lot of things I’ve never wanted to do, but at least I did them to survive.
My father and I are the only ones left now. We aren’t the best the best at hunting or finding shelter, but we’re the only ones left. Maybe it’s because John-John and Mary slept in that house one night when the winds blew hard and knocked it down. Maybe it’s because Willy and Charles chose to follow that wayward rat into the old tunnels and never came back. Maybe it’s because Philip, Stanley, Joey, and Hannah climbed over the hill to find the people and never returned. Maybe it’s because mother was so hungry that she tried to raid an eagle nest while the eagles were still there. Maybe it’s because we’re lucky.
My father is old now. He can’t hunt for himself so he sits beneath the entrance of the unfinished tunnel where the cold can’t get him and the winds can’t blow him away. I hunt for him even though I hate hunting the young, sick, and weak. I carry him to the creek to drink even though the water tastes bitter. I sleep next to him at night so he won’t feel cold even though I hate doing things that remind him he’s old.
We don’t talk much. That is to say he doesn’t talk much. He mostly nods and grunts when I talk to him. I don’t think he can speak anymore. I can see the lumps around his throat. They grow bigger and bigger each day. Maybe they’re keeping him silent. Maybe they’re stealing his breath. Maybe they’re sapping his strength. Maybe they’re supposed to be there.
Last night I took him to the creek to drink when he woke me up. He was lighter and weaker than usual. I carried him on my back and for once it didn’t hurt. When we got to the creek, he drank so much I thought he might dry up the creek. He drank so much that he began to talk. His voice was hoarse and restrained.
Humans…beyond…hill…tomorrow…find them.
“Father, there are no humans there – only another cove.” I told him.
Find…them…tomorrow
“Father, I can’t leave you alone for that long.” I told him.
Leave…me
“I’ll bring you with me. You can ride on my back.” I told him.
My father nodded weakly. He was looking up at the hill. It was that same hill Phillip, Stanley, Joey, and Hannah climbed over. It was that same hill where the vanished. It was that same hill I never climbed because nobody ever climbed over it and returned. I hated the thought of climbing that hill, but I should have been used to doing things I hated. I would kill in a heartbeat if it meant my father and I could live for one more day, but I hesitated to climb that hill unless it helped my father and me to live.
I carried my father back to the unfinished tunnel that night. I set him down where he always slept. I watched him struggle to stand. I watched him struggle to walk. I watched him sit down and fall asleep far away from me. I left him alone. My father always told me to let sleeping dogs lie.
Even though it is nighttime, I wake up anyway. I wake up father and tell him I’m ready to go. He looks toward the hill and nods. He climbs onto my back and I walk toward the place where the humans are. My father is very light now. I can walk far without stopping for a rest. I walk through the tall grass and flowers and head toward the hill. As I get closer, it turns into a mountain. I am afraid of climbing it, but I see a trail winding up the side of it like a snake. The humans have been here before. I climb the trail, but not the mountain.
The trail curves around the side of the mountain, or maybe it’s a ridge. They all look the same to me. The trail winds, dips, and climbs over the hills and valleys ahead and off into the hazy distance. I lie down for a quick rest. My father sits next to me and pants as if he had just carried me over the mountain-ridge-hill. His panting turns into wheezing. He looks toward the trail ahead and nods at it. He looks at me with an expressionless face. He climbs onto my back and we continue.
Father was right. The humans have been here before. They scraped out the sides of the hills and dug many short trails that lead to nowhere. I smell something familiar. Seals and otters like to eat whatever makes this smell. I think it’s called “fish”. As I follow the trail, the scent gets stronger. The trail curves around one last hill until it ends at a beach. I smell the fish and the ocean, but it is too foggy now to see what is ahead.
We stop for a rest on the beach. My father is wheezing harder. He looks behind us. Through the fog I can make out a small village. The buildings look newer than the ones at our town, but they are still empty and abandoned. They are made of metal and are flimsy compared to our wood and brick buildings. My father looks down the beach ahead of us. It is so foggy that I can hardly see what is ahead. My father climbs onto my back again.
I carry him over the beach until we reach a spot where a creek flows into the ocean. The creek looks to be shallow enough to swim in, but I can’t swim with my father on my back. I look upstream and into the fog. If I search for a shallower spot, I might not be able to find the beach again. I take a deep breath and cross the creek. I can hardly keep my nose above the water level, but I make it to the other side. I am shivering cold and wet, but I can’t shake myself off yet – I hear another creek ahead.
I walk around a pile of rocks lining the base of a bluff and find the creek behind it. This creek is much deeper and wider than the one before. I set my father down on the sandy bank of the creek and rest a while. He is silent again. I walk over to him and nudge him. He is silent. I nudge him harder. He is silent. I walk over to his ear and nibble it. He is silent. I realize he has been wheezing until we crossed the last creek. I think I can revive him, but I see the lumps on his throat. They are the size of the smooth black pebbles on the beach.
I drag him to the creek and set him down in the water. I look at him one last time, half-expecting him to say something. He is already speaking, though. He is telling me what he told me last night. I let him go and the creek carries him into the ocean. I watch as he drifts away into the fog. We go our separate ways.
The water is cold and the current is strong, but I swim across with ease. I shake myself dry and sniff the air. The scent of fish is getting stronger. The beach ends at a hill with a trail climbing up it, but the trail doesn’t lead toward the smell of fish. I see the beach hasn’t really ended yet. There are cliffs next to the hill with piles of smooth black pebbles beneath them. The pebbles look like a trail to me. I sniff in the direction they lead. The scent of fish is stronger.
The waves gently reach toward the cliff, trying to take its pebbles away. Maybe they’re trying to take the cliffs. Maybe they’re trying to take me. I continue down the pebble beach, the scent of fish becoming stronger with each step I take. The beach winds around the cliffs many times, but I’m sure it will lead me to the humans.
The scent of fish is overpowering now. I can see something up ahead. It glows softly in the fog. It hovers in the fog ahead of me. As I step toward it, the pebbles give way to sand once more. I step closer. The light breaks into four smaller lights. I step closer. The lights are embedded in a wooden door. I step closer. The door is embedded in the wall of an old wooden building. I step closer. I sit down in front of the door and look up at it.
The cold air bites at my nose and ears. My stomach growls with hunger. My throat begs for fresh water. I only know of one place that can stop the growling, begging, and biting, but it’s too far away now. I take my chances. I howl. I howl for the people to come back. I howl long and loud until I run out of breath. I listen for a response. I hear nothing but the waves meeting the shore, the gulls calling, and the grass rustling.
The door opens. A bright light blinds me for a moment, but something big and tall steps in the way and blocks it. I look up at the thing, squinting as I try to see the dark figure against the light. It kneels down and extends a hand toward me. The hand smells like fish. I lick it. It tastes like fish. I look at the figure and know it isn’t a fish. It has two eyes and a nose between them. Its face has no snout but it still has a mouth somehow. Its ears are pressed flat against the sides of its head. Its only fur is on the top of its head. It is a human.
The people came back that day. They came back for me. They always come back. They’ve been waiting in a giant building in the cove. They’ve been digging, fishing, building, and riding boats. They have yards, toys, and a village. They have giant machines, they have selling people, and they have teaching people. They’ve been waiting a long time. I’ve been waiting a long time. Next time I’m alone, I won’t wait so long. I’ll make sure we’re not waiting for each other.