Макс Брукс - Devolution - A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre

We think we have a bear. That was the consensus of the HOA meeting this morning. I went around before breakfast to knock on doors. I tried the Durants again. The same as last time. Vague TV glow from inside, the zzzzzp-zzzzzp of the elliptical. No voices this time though, and I am proud of myself for trying the doorbell. And when I got nothing, I even went around to their backyard. The curtains were drawn over their kitchen windows and doors. I rapped on the glass. I called their names. Again, no response. Mostar warned me not to get my hopes up. “They’re not leaving Elba.” But she didn’t explain why and warned me not to waste time wondering.

But how can I not? Are they embarrassed about being dethroned? Hiding in self-imposed exile because their façade has been shattered. I guess that makes sense. The model and the salesman. Smoke and mirrors. I wonder.

Everyone else was receptive though. We all met at the Common House to discuss what happened last night. The Perkins-Forsters saw something too, from their bedroom window. They weren’t sure what though, a dark mass at the edge of their porch light. And Bobbi thinks she caught something moving through the trees. Reinhardt didn’t see anything. He was fast asleep. So was Mostar. At least we’d been right not to wake her up.

She shocked me at the meeting, what she said about a bear. Earlier, at the door, when we’d knocked to ask her about getting together, I’d told her what I’d seen. I used the word. I made it very clear. And she acknowledged it, at least with her body language. By her nod, her tone, I thought she believed me. So, you can imagine how I felt when I heard her say to the group, “Well, it sounds like we have a bear sniffing around.”

Before anyone could respond, she continued by adding that that’s all it could be. They’re the only animals tall enough to reach the tops of the apple trees. Didn’t everyone notice their remaining apples (the ones the deer didn’t get) were gone? I had, and I could tell that a few of the others had too. A lot of the fruit trees looked “vandalized.” I know there’s a better term for it, but so many of the top branches were snapped, the fruit picked clean. Squirrels couldn’t have done that kind of damage, and deer, even on their hind legs, couldn’t have reached that high. That was Mostar’s logic.

She also pointed out that, if anyone was considering raccoons, they might be smart enough to open the compost bins, but certainly aren’t strong enough to tear them from their foundations. Everyone seemed satisfied with that. And yes, for just a second, I found myself rethinking everything. I mean, bears are big and hairy. And they have no neck. And when they stand on their hind legs, can’t they get pretty tall? It all kind of made sense, and if Mostar was saying it, then maybe Dan and I were just freaking out for no reason. Actually, I was the only one who’d seen anything. I totally expected Dan to agree with Mostar.

But then he spoke up, asking about the tracks. Don’t bears have claws or something? I caught a look on Vincent’s face, his eyes hitting the floor. Had he already been thinking along those lines?

Reinhardt waved the idea away. “Do any of us really know what bear tracks look like in the wild? And isn’t it common for animal prints to change shape over time, grow and morph as the tracks melt then refreeze with passing days. I recall one incident back in Connecticut, when I saw week-old deer prints that looked like elephants had stampeded across my lawn.”

That worked on the room, the Boothes and Perkins-Forsters all nodding in agreement. I noticed that Palomino was looking at Mostar, who, again to my surprise, was openly complimenting Reinhardt on his “astute explanation.” Palomino looked as puzzled as I felt. I shot Dan a WTF glance and he responded by addressing the crowd.

“Yeah, but we’re not talking about snow here. Ash doesn’t melt and refreeze. And even if time or wind or whatever could morph them into something else, these tracks are so fresh you can see every…”

And suddenly his words trailed off. I didn’t understand why at first. I glanced at him. Then I saw that he was looking directly at Mostar. Her eyes were maybe a millimeter wider than normal, and that shake of her head, I don’t think anyone else noticed it. All eyes were still on Dan. He just sighed, shrugged, and said, “But… yeah… now that I’m, like, actually saying it all out loud, you’re right, I don’t know what bear tracks look like. Sorry, I’m just really tired.”

Reinhardt gave a condescending, “Of course, of course,” and bowed his head in mock magnanimity.

Mostar immediately followed up with a chuckling, “So we have a fuzzy visitor,” and with a gesture out to the tree line, she said, “and we might also have solved the mystery of who killed that wounded mountain lion.” At that, Vincent threw up his hands in a silent “eureka” gesture. I heard an affirmative mmm from Carmen as well as a grunt from Reinhardt. Mostar, smiling so slightly, continued with, “Which means we’ve got to be a little more careful, don’t you think?”

More approving sounds, more supportive body language. It was crazy, what Dan would call a “Bizarro World” moment. Mostar leading the room.

And then she asked, “So does anyone have bear spray?”

Record scratch.

No one said anything for a tense moment, until Bobbi blurted out “No!” I think her own forcefulness surprised her. But when we all looked over, she continued, “That’s so cruel! They’re just trying to eat, and you want to mace them?”

Mostar’s face didn’t change. Serene, diplomatic, I can only imagine the words she was biting down. “I’m just thinking about the cougar,” she said calmly, probably with her bones rattling from the strain, “how we don’t want anything like that to happen again.”

Bobbi argued, “We were surprised. And if we’re just more conscientious from now on, watch where we’re going, make sure we give the compost bins some space…”

Effie looked like she was about to disagree with Bobbi, but as she shifted to speak, Carmen cut in. “Or… if we clean out the bins, move the edible waste into the woods, away from the houses, they…”

“Then they won’t have a reason to come close.” Reinhardt completed the thought chain with a very smug expression. No doubt, he was somehow congratulating himself for the plan.

Bobbi looked happily relieved. She grabbed Vincent’s hand and turned to Dan. “No one expects you to do that, Danny, we’ll all do it ourselves. It’s only fair.”

Again, no change from Mostar. Okay, maybe just the tiniest tension in her voice? I think I know her well enough by now to see what repressed anger looks like. “Isn’t it…,” she said slowly, clearly considering each word, “dangerous to feed the bears?”

A pause from the room. Bobbi looked to Vincent for backup. “I think that’s only in heavy tourist areas,” he said. “More of a long-term, seasonal issue than a one-off situation like ours.”

Bobbi added, “And, if you mean ‘dangerous’ to the bears, I think it’s only if they lose their hunting instincts by becoming dependent on humans.”

Vincent brought it around with, “Which, again, isn’t an issue because our compost can’t make more than one meal at best.”

“But,” again, Mostar treaded lightly, “won’t putting that meal out… encourage them?”

“For what?” That was Carmen. “Bears aren’t aggressive. Not unless you surprise them with their cubs.” As if to accentuate the point, she reached past Effie to stroke Palomino’s cheek.