New Year Island (12 page)

Near the three industrial buildings, a rickety framework of metal beams lay on the ground alongside a pile of rubble. Some kind of tower had fallen there long ago. An eight-foot concrete seawall protected the warehouse buildings. Two other concrete structures—a windowless blockhouse and a twenty-foot concrete dome—stood a short distance inland. Seals, sea lions, and birds swarmed around it all.

“This was right here in California all this time?” Mason laughed. “Who knew?”

Lauren stood rigid, staring into the distance. Camilla’s gaze followed hers to a group of larger, darker animal shapes occupying the flatter sections of the beach and downslopes.
Those
were what had chased Lauren and JT last night.

The animals looked similar to the seals and sea lions. But much, much bigger.

One of the largest reared up, lifting the front of its blubbery body high into the air. It was bigger than a pickup truck. Its blunt snout ended in a lumpy mass of flesh that hung in front of its face like a short trunk, jiggling from side to side as the animal rippled along the beach like a gigantic, obese caterpillar. It bellowed a challenge—a deep, gargling rumble that Camilla could not just hear but
feel
, vibrating through the rocks under her feet.

Its opponent, an equally monstrous creature, lumbered forward to close the distance between them. The giant combatants drove into each other, chest to chest, and struck at each other’s neck and shoulders with savage bites. Short flippers waved at the air for balance as they rose even higher, trying to crush each other into the sand. The wet slaps of snouts smacking flesh echoed off the bluffs as blood streamed from the deep wounds inflicted by their sharp teeth.

“Oh god, that’s horrible,” Camilla said. “It’s like
Jurassic Park
here.” She looked away. “What
are
those monsters?”

Even Mason seemed subdued by the spectacle unfolding before them. “I guess Juan was right after all,” he said.

Juan the dive captain—her motorcycle rider—stood with his hands on his waist, watching the animals fight, with an expression of mild curiosity on his face. His black dress shirt was untucked, shirttails flapping in the breeze.

“
Mirounga angustirostris,
” he said. “Northern elephant seals.”

Camilla couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Jordan noticed. She shook her head once, mouth tight with disapproval, and walked away.

Conflicted, Camilla followed. She found Juan fascinating, but they were on different teams now. She didn’t want to risk alienating Jordan, her chosen team captain… and maybe also her new friend.

“T
here’s nobody here,” Camilla said. “Unless they’re inside one of these buildings.”

Brent squinted at the two houses, then turned toward the three warehouse structures in the other direction. He scratched the side of his head.

Watching him, Camilla smiled to herself. He did that whenever he was thinking, reminding her of a big, cuddly cartoon bear wondering where the honey is.

“Where do you think they put our bags?” he asked.

“No kidding. I need to change my shoes.” Jordan balanced on one foot like a stork, and reached for the other shoe. She tore off the broken heel and tossed it aside. Her designer stilettos were totally trashed, falling apart and coated with filth, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was staring at the two ruined houses with a look of wide-eyed curiosity.

“I say we try those first,” she said. “They look more interesting.”

Camilla poked Mason in the shoulder. “I’ve got some news for you, my
GQ
friend, and don’t forget this is coming from a mountain biker…” She grinned. “You’re about to get real dirty.”

“I’m a banker,” he said. “I’m used to being real dirty.”

“Come on,” Veronica said. “While you’re standing around yapping, those guys are actually doing something.” She pointed to Lauren, JT, Juan, and Travis, who were already picking their way across the open space toward the houses. They moved in single file, weaving and stepping carefully between the seals and the seabirds whose nests dotted the ground every few feet.

Camilla’s group followed. Jordan led the way. The remains of a wooden walkway lay scattered at their feet. A few boards were still laid out in the original railroad-track pattern, but most had been pushed aside or were missing completely. Seals waddled nervously out of their path. Birds protested their passage with angry squawks.

“There’s babies everywhere, guys.” Jordan was smiling. “Seal pups, chicks in the nests. This is some kind of a breeding ground, so watch your step.” Her own steps wobbled on her broken stiletto heels.

“On an island like this, they’re safe from predators,” Camilla said.

“Except humans,” Mason said.

Brent nodded. “Except humans.” He frowned, a puzzled expression on his face as he stared at Lauren, JT, Juan, and Travis in the distance. But he tucked his hands into his vest pockets and followed Jordan through the living obstacle course.

Camilla and Mason exchanged a glance. Behind Brent’s back, Mason raised a hand to scratch the side of his head. It was a good imitation, except for his exaggerated expression of confusion.

She shook her head at him. She liked Brent. Waving an arm to indicate the island around them, she silently mouthed, “Cameras.”

Mason swept off an imaginary top hat and bowed to an invisible audience.

Camilla rolled her eyes and turned to follow the others.

• • •

“These houses have got to be a hundred years old,” Jordan said, “but no one’s lived here for decades.” She bent to pet a seal. “Except these guys.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Brent said.

Jordan smiled but ignored him.

The seal seemed to enjoy her attention. It rubbed its neck against her hand, closing its eyes. Camilla wasn’t really surprised.

“He’s just a wet little doggy,” Jordan said. She pointed at the larger house. “I know a little about architecture. That looks like a classic Victorian, although it’s in pretty bad shape. The other one was built later. It’s in the Greek Revival style.”

“Who cares?” Veronica said. “Neither one’ll be around much longer.” She pointed to a dark gap that yawned from beneath the Victorian, where part of the foundation had collapsed. “Let’s find someone and figure out what the hell we’re supposed to do.”

The two houses had lost all their exterior paint to the elements long ago. They were weather-beaten to a uniform gray, striped white with heavy streaks of bird guano. Dozens of empty black window holes and doorways stared back at the contestants. The dormers and eaves of the larger, Victorian house were greenish with mold. Four brick chimneys jutted above, topped by the silhouettes of roosting pelicans. White seagulls and black cormorants landed and took off from the roof in a steady buzz of activity. Camilla noticed them flying in and out of the windows, too.

The other house—the one Jordan had called Greek Revival—looked plainer, but still large for a two-story. The architects had built it as an extension to the Victorian, with a shared foyer connecting the two houses. Yelping seals spilled from the doorways of both and waddled up and down the slumping porches.

“These were mansions,” Camilla said. “But who built them out here? And
why
?”

No one answered.

A few smaller structures stood in the open space around the houses. A large storage shed, a chicken coop, and a laundry outbuilding stood nearby. Isolated sections of picket fencing projected from the ground. Piles of debris and wind-stripped siding lay everywhere.

The rocky bench where the houses stood extended fifty feet in each direction before steep bluffs fell fifteen feet to the roiling, splashing sea below. Both houses faced toward the mainland. On that side, bluffs dropped to the island’s largest beach.

“How could anyone live here?” Camilla asked. “The animals would just overrun everything.”

“There used to be a barricade.” Brent pointed back the way they had come, to where a dark line zigzagged across the island, cutting it in half. “Bluffs on three sides, so the seals can’t get up here from the beaches. They fenced this area off and kept it clear.”

Small sections of barricade still stood—heavy logs stacked three or four high, held in place by thick fence posts. But most of it had fallen long ago. Brown logs lay scattered in piles near the broken posts.

Camilla laughed. “That wouldn’t do much to keep out an elephant seal.”

“Looks like the bigger ones prefer the beaches,” Brent said.

Juan, Lauren, JT, and Travis stood on the porch of the Victorian now. It looked to Camilla like they were getting ready to go inside.

“Veronica’s right,” she said. “Let’s go, team.”

• • •

“Careful,” JT said. “It’s dark. You don’t know for sure none of those big elephant things are waiting in there.”

“You heard Juan.” Lauren smirked. “They’re only seals.”

Juan shrugged. “Sixteen-foot, five-thousand-pound, aggressive, territorial seals.” He started toward the doorway, but she blocked his chest with her arm.

“Ladies first,” she said.

Lauren stepped into the doorway, panicking a small sea lion that was coming out at the same time. It leaped sideways into the yard to avoid her. She paused at the threshold for a few moments, squinting into the darkness, then moved inside.

“Slow down, girl.” JT shouldered past Juan to follow Lauren into the house.

Camilla turned to Jordan. “Should we go search the other one?”

“Come on in, people,” Lauren’s voice commanded from deep inside the Victorian. “This is just gross. But it’s definitely where we’re supposed to be right now.”

With no breeze to disperse it, the smell of feces and ammonia was far worse inside. Camilla waited until her eyes adjusted to the dimness, then followed Lauren’s voice. Soon they all stood in the large central sitting room of the Victorian. Dim light filtered in through the doorways and the open windows of adjoining rooms. Abandoned nests—feather-studded piles of mud, dung, and coyote brush—lay mounded on the floor. The seals had coated the floorboards in a thick layer of droppings and mud from outside. Shuffling away from the contestants, they huddled in the corners of the central room, making restless, disturbed motions.

“Disgusting.” Veronica brushed at the sleeves of her sweater. “This is absolutely
revolting
.”

Sea lions moved up and down a stairwell leading to the second floor. The stairs were so thick with filth that Camilla couldn’t see individual steps, just a muddy ramp. But she could see that Lauren was right.

Someone else had been in the building quite recently to prepare for their arrival.

A
large flat-screen video monitor loomed from the wall above the nest-choked fireplace. Once they were all in the room, the screen lit up and a familiar face appeared. Julian wore a different suit—black this time, and judging from its cut and sheen, another two- or three-thousand dollar outfit. It looked strange, juxtaposed with the dirty wood and pockmarked concrete of the wall they could see behind him.

“Congratulations,” he said, “and welcome to the playground where our adventure will unfold. And what a playground, huh? This is a unique location, a rare biodiversity hot spot where dozens of species congregate each year to procreate and ensure their continued survival.

“You may have already met some of our larger seasonal residents.” He chuckled. “I suggest you stay out of their way. It’s mating season, and they can be a little touchy this time of year.”

“No shit,” JT muttered.

“So, again, I welcome all of you to Año Nuevo Island. We’re in a restricted area not open to the general public. It’s quite a privilege. We have the opportunity to witness, at close range, the natural drama that plays out here every winter.”

Julian leaned back against the wall and looked at them all. “But this year, Año Nuevo will fulfill another function, too. It will provide the dramatic stage for our series of six challenges, the first of which is about to begin.”

He paused, as if to ensure their attention. An expectant silence descended over the room.

Camilla looked at the eager anticipation on the faces of her fellow contestants. She knew that her own looked the same. Her legs tensed with nervous readiness.

“The Victorian-style house we are standing in was built in 1906.” Julian pushed off the wall, speaking faster now. “It’s the former residence of the lighthouse keeper. The lighthouse on Año Nuevo was active from 1890 to 1948—you may have spotted the wreckage of the tower. The assistant lighthouse keeper’s residence is the adjoining house, right through that archway there.” He pointed past the contestants.

“Both houses would frequently get overrun by the native wildlife. It was a constant battle for the island’s full-time residents: the lighthouse keepers and their families.

“After the lighthouse was decommissioned, the houses were abandoned to the elements. Nature has spent the last sixty years taking them over.” He grinned and pointed both index fingers at the contestants. “Now
you
are going to take them back.”

Veronica shook her head. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“The rules of this first challenge are simple,” he continued, ignoring her interruption. “It’s a team challenge, so you’ll divide into two equal-size teams. We need to make these buildings habitable again, but first we need to evict the current tenants. One team will focus on clearing this house, while the other team clears the house next door. For every seal or sea lion you usher out, you add a point to your individual score. Be firm but gentle; harming the wildlife is not allowed.”

He paused. “Your scores are all-important. You start with zero points. In each challenge, you can win points. In some, you can also
lose
points. At the end of all six challenges, the player with the highest score wins the grand prize—five million dollars. So guard your points well.

“And here’s how team dynamics come into play,” he said. “The team that finishes clearing its building first wins today’s challenge. Each person on the winning team will have twenty points added to their score.”