As she scooped, she looked north up the coastline. It was almost completely dark now, and the place had a deserted feel. She could see the mountains of Big Sur—the place where the highway rose to hang terrifyingly at the edges of cliffs hundreds of feet above the sea. Yes, there were cars going by at fairly regular intervals. But nobody seemed to want to stop anywhere along this stretch of road except Bea. Perhaps they knew something she didn’t?
A horrible sound caused her to drop the litter box, scattering nearly half the mostly clean litter. It was a sound Bea never could have described. Like the roar or snort of some kind of wild animal, but with a strange echoing resonance. It was unlike anything she had ever heard before and seemed to defy classification.
She picked up the litter box again and ran—as best Bea could run at her age—back to the van. There she fairly threw the box and scoop in ahead of her, then locked herself inside with shaking hands.
The sound seemed to be coming from the ocean, which was a good twenty feet down from the bluff. In time she saw the shape of something like a huge seal—or walrus, or some such thing—in a thin stream of moonlight. Well, it had no tusks, so of course it was not a walrus, but it seemed altogether different from a seal. It tipped its head back and released another strange echoing snort. It sported a bizarre profile to its head, like its nose was ten times too bulbous and large.
Bea reached for the key to start up the van, then dropped her hand again. She didn’t want to go back to Cambria, because the girl was there. Or anyway, she likely would be there by now. Bea didn’t want to seem to be checking up on the kid. Even more to the point, she didn’t want to leave herself open to any more criticism from the little know-it-all. Besides, wasn’t it hard enough just to take care of herself? What did she have left over to offer to anyone?
She didn’t want to go north, because she was terrified of that next piece of highway.
It was an interesting phenomenon, her sudden terror of that road. When she and that girl had begun driving north from the zebra sighting, Bea had been only uncomfortable at the thought of driving that narrow, winding stretch of dangerous highway. A minute later it had paralyzed her to the point of forcing her to stop the van.
She looked at Phyllis, who looked back. The cat’s ears were laid back, listening to the strange sea monster noises.
“It’s in the ocean,” Bea said. “It can’t get to us up here.”
And with that, Bea felt a little more comfortable herself.
She looked into the cat’s perturbed face and wondered something. Was it possible that the highway ahead of her had grown scarier the moment that girl stepped out of her van? Because now Bea would be driving it alone?
“That’s ridiculous,” she said to the cat, who cautiously returned to eating.
Bea startled awake in her easy chair, unaware that she had ever fallen asleep. She winced into a bright light. Someone was shining their headlights into her van. And she was all alone out here with no way to defend herself.
She fumbled her keys out of the pocket of her slacks and ducked under the curtain to the driver’s seat, where she attempted to find the ignition. Suddenly there was light in her eyes. She turned to see a male figure standing just outside her window. He was shining a flashlight in her face. Bea’s heart stopped, though thankfully only for a beat or two. Then it hammered its way back into the living.
The man reached up with one hand—the one that was not training a flashlight on her—and rapped on her window with the backs of his knuckles.
“Highway Patrol, ma’am.”
Bea gasped air and tried to calm herself. With absurdly trembling hands she placed the key in the ignition, turned it to accessory power, and lowered the window.
“You startled me.”
“Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to do that.” He angled the flashlight so that Bea did not have to blink into it like a terrified deer crossing the highway. “But there’s no camping or overnight parking anywhere along this stretch of road.”
“Oh, I wasn’t camping.” Bea could hear her voice shake, and wondered if the officer could hear it, too. “I was headed north and I was a bit tired. And it’s such a . . . well, it’s a dicey piece of road ahead of me. I just thought I should stop and take a little break.”
“Okay, I understand. But in about fifteen minutes you’ll be within the hours that are considered overnight camping. There’s a fine for violations. So you’ll need to be somewhere else now. If you’re tired, it might be best not to drive the road north of here at night. I’m not saying people don’t do it. Plenty do. There’s no law against it. But mostly it’s the folks who know that road well and feel pretty confident on it. If you’re at all sleepy and you have any reservations about the drive, I’d stay somewhere tonight and tackle it in the light of morning.”
They fell silent for a moment. Bea was aware of that strange animal sound again. That rolling, echoing snort.
“What on earth is that beast I keep hearing?” Bea asked the officer.
“Elephant seal. This is their territory, right along this stretch of coast.”
“I see. So I should go back to Cambria, then.”
“Might be a good idea. They have lots of nice little motels and inns, and you could get a good night’s sleep and be safer on that road in broad daylight.”
“Thank you, Officer,” she said, and started up the van.
Especially thank you for telling me before I got stuck with a citation, she thought. Because right now just affording food and gas is plenty challenging enough.
“I have to at least check,” Bea said out loud as she drove along the dark and deserted Main Street of Cambria. Ostensibly she was speaking to the cat, but the cat was nowhere to be seen, so it fell along the borderline of talking to herself.
She drew close to the little market with the gas pumps out front. She would just shine her headlights in the direction of the door. If the girl was not there, then she must have found lodging with someone. And so that would be that. Bea could wash her hands of the situation once and for all.
She swung the van to the right to aim her headlights at the door.
In the beams of illumination, a limp and bedraggled Allie sat with her back up against the door of the closed shop. She winced into the light and threw a hand up to protect her eyes.
Bea yanked the steering wheel left and drew parallel to the door where the girl sat. She pulled just beyond the first gas pump and powered down the passenger window. Allie blinked at her in the soft light of a streetlamp.
“She wouldn’t take you in, huh?” Bea called.
“She’d already closed up the store and gone home by the time I got back here.”
“Yes, it was a longer walk than we thought, wasn’t it? I noted that on the drive back.”
“You’re telling me. I just walked it.” She sounded as though she had been crying.
Damn, Bea thought. Now I have to feel bad for her again.
“Well,” Bea said, her voice hardening over with self-protection, “you see that little parking lot two doors down? The one in front of the building that’s for sale?”
“Where you were parked before.”
“Right. That’s where Phyllis and I will be tonight.”
Allie blinked at her in silence for a beat or two.
“Who’s Phyllis?”