Sea Change Read Free Page A

says, “I wouldn’t mind going fishing later.”
    She’s throwing me a bone and I’m not too proud to take it. I can’t help but grin. Midmorning and Sumi’s been gone a couple of hours. I’ve cleaned last night’s frying pan and dishes, found my duffel bag and descummed myself, also found the outhouse, including a well-read stack of Field and Stream —what a surprise. My jacket isn’t cutting it, so I put on Sumi’s and unfold the sleeves. It fits pretty well, actually. In the pocket there’s a cartridge. Must be for the rifle. I put it back in the pocket and head out to look around the grounds.
    The wind has dropped and the rain too. At the edge of the forest, huge cedar trees drip rainwater. Seabirds drop and loop over the water. The guest cabins are nice. They cluster to one side of the main lodge, and each one looks out over the bay. Sumi’s cabin and a few other buildings are behind the lodge. All the buildings except her cabin are shuttered for the winter, the doorways covered with poly. Farther back, pushed right out to the forest, is a slope-roofed metal building. It’s boarded up too. There’s a sign: Generator . Not that it’s running, based on the total lack of electricity in Sumi’s cabin. I wander around back and that’s where I find the deer.
    It’s hanging upside down, by its back-legs, from a chain block and tackle on a log frame. It hasn’t been skinned. I reach up and touch the fur along its neck. It feels smooth. Close like this, I can see a subtle pattern in the deer hair. When I touch it, the body rotates, the chain clunk-clunking in the block. Now I’m looking at the underside, and the body cavity is propped open with sticks and is totally empty, as if it was scraped clean. The deer’s eyes are open and follow me as the body turns one way, then the other. It’s not very big. I think about Sumi’s bear story. A bear could drag this thing away, no problem. I glance around. It could drag me away too.
    The forest seems quiet all of a sudden. I feel hairs lift on the back of my neck. Something’s watching me, I can feel it. I spin and scan the forest. Nothing is moving. Nothing is making a sound. It’s like there’s no air.
    How fast can a bear run? I eyeball the distance to Sumi’s cabin. Too far. A small outbuilding is closer.
    I sense it more than hear it, a long exhaled breath. All I can think of is the bear.
    I run. I don’t know how long it takes to reach the outbuilding, but in those endless seconds I decide I’m going full bore through the door. It’s not that easy. My shoulder actually bounces on the plastic over the door. I take my boots to it and make some holes. Then I start ripping it with my hands and find the door handle. It’s not locked, thank goodness, but it opens out, damn it. I am totally crazed. I yank on the door, using it like a giant pry bar. The heavy vinyl finally gives and I dive through the door. Then I scramble to get the door closed. Nothing works anymore. My hands feel like I’m wearing ball gloves, but I manage to yank it closed.
    There’s no light. I rip air into my lungs. My hands are shaking, so I make them into fists and jam them in my armpits.
    Outside, something thumps on the stairs.
    Can bears open doors?
    I crab walk away from the door so fast that my head crashes into something, and what feels like every fishing rod known to man rains down on top of me. Still, I scrabble backward, and I feel rods snapping.
    Then the door opens. In the sudden light, I see Sumi. She looks at the shredded plastic around the door. She looks at me, sitting on my ass and so relieved that it is her and not a bear that I’m actually giggling. She starts to laugh too, until she sees the pile of broken fishing rods. Then she starts to swear, every word I know and even some I don’t, repeating a few choice ones for good measure.

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