Page 119 of Sleeping Giants

“Help,” he croaked.

The beach road looked so far away. His truck, the door still open, seemed so small in the distance.

“Help us,” he whispered.

The beach was empty. The market was a mile down the road, hidden in the trees. No one had seen them. No one was coming.

The idea came to him then. It came back to him now, in the final moments of his life, as he lay on his back in the clearing outside the trailer where he had spent his last, contented years, knowing he had done at least one small good thing in his life. Blood trickled from the wound in his chest. He could feel it, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the memory.

Let them think he’s dead.

On that wet and cold beach, Ralph had stopped.

Tell them he died in the waves.

Shivering, he had cradled the wet boy in his arms and stumbled tohis truck. He stripped Dennis out of his wet shirt and then wrapped him in warm blankets, his head safely out, and covered him lightly with a tarp, hiding him on the floor. He parked the truck where no one would find it, and walked the rest of the way to the market.

Twenty years later, a gunshot wound to his chest, Ralph looked up. The boy, now grown, was above him. He was talking. Ralph blinked, drowsy. He felt very tired from going in the waves. It was time to rest. He saw that Dennis was holding the rabbit. That was good. Dennis put the rabbit down, and she sat next to the older man. Ralph could feel her by his side. She wanted to tell him something.

He turned his face, away from Dennis, so he might hear.

35

It was fall, and the rain reminded Amanda of the beach.

A large travel crate sat on the concrete floor inside the habitat.

In the shadows, a small crowd watched. Pete was there. Amanda had made sure he would lead all the research into the reunion. Next to Pete was Patty, who seemed quite enamored with him. On the other side was Pete’s sister, whom he had flown down from Anger Bay. She wanted to take back a blanket imprinted with the smells of both of the sisters, to reassure their mother back in Anger Bay that her daughters were still alive.

“Now,” Amanda said, and the door of the crate was lifted. A dirty, malnourished polar bear stuck out her snout, sniffing. Patches of her fur were worn away. Her black eyes were filled with fear.

Larry stood in the back, next to Dennis. He had bought a small condo in Seaside, where he had hung out his shingle as a private investigator. Dennis had moved to Portland; he was attending occupational therapy with Amanda, and they were slowly getting to know each other. Dennis had discovered he had a knack for politics, and was working to pass a bill against holding time. He called it Reggie’s Law.

The door of the travel crate opened directly into the enclosure where Nova would live, beside her sister, until her quarantine had ended. If allwent well—and it never had before with Molly—the bears would live in the habitat together. Nova could heal and get treatment in the presence of her sister.

Molly was currently outside, napping at the top of the hill. She did not know another bear had arrived.

In his hotel office, they had found Charlie’s secret. He had filled a notebook about Martha King and how she had been his therapist in Colorado, at the beginning of her career. He wrote about buying the hotel with her help, and having her reappear in his life, only to enlist him in covering up the murders of the boys. He even wrote about pushing Brett off the cliff out of fear that someday he would realize Charlie was the one he had seen in the woods. Under the notebook was a tape machine that had been attached to his hotel phone, where he had recorded Martha calling in the middle of the night, asking him to bury bodies. It had been enough to convict her of several charges of murder. She was unrepentant to the end, saying the only thing she had ever done wrong was care for children. She now lived in prison, surrounded by her thank-you cards.

After a long, fruitless search, the constable had given up trying to find the missing boys buried in the woods. Ike Tressler died of liver failure soon after his release from jail. He was never charged with the sexual abuse of boys at Brightwood. Justice, Amanda was learning, was a concept, not a cure. People looked for the easy answers, when there were none.

Slowly, Nova came out of the crate. She entered the concrete enclosure and sniffed.

“You can close the gate,” Amanda said, and Sean closed the door behind the bear, smiling at Amanda. The floor of the enclosure wasbare, except for a pile of hay in the corner, for sleeping. Nova sniffed around the corners.

From outside came a sudden long, moaning call.

Molly had smelled her sister.

“Here she comes,” Amanda said.

Molly came running into her enclosure, shrouded with rain. They could smell it on her. She stopped, looking around. On the other side of the bars, Nova lifted her long, sinuous neck.

Both she and Molly swiveled their heads to look at each other.

Molly rose to standing. At the same time, so did Nova. Both bears stood and stared at each other through the bars.

Molly was the first to drop to all fours. She approached the bars carefully, and sniffed. Her sister dropped, too, and came closer, to smell Molly.

They inhaled deeply, as if in ecstasy.

“Would you look at that,” Pete said.

The two bears stood again, belly to belly, at the bars dividing them. Their long necks wove and danced. Molly clawed at the bars, as if she had waited her whole life for this moment and would not be denied.

Addendum, from theAlaskan Gazette:

A female polar bear has been photographed outside the closed research station in Anger Bay, Alaska. She has been carrying a blanket in her mouth. Locals say the bear carries the blanket everywhere she goes.