The Hobgoblin of the Redwoods (4 page)

She let out a defeated grunt but said nothing. Instead, she started peddling back toward the house.

This is where I made my first mistake. When we reached the road that went all the way to Oregon, we stopped and glanced down the long stretch. The road was better than my aunt's driveway, but the edges had tall ferns almost as tall as me that came right up to the edge of the dirt.

“Can we go down that road?” Sara asked. “Cars can't go very fast on this.”

Again, she was making too much sense. I'm not one to listen to a ten-year-old very often—unless it's to my advantage.

Just as we were about to head up the road to the Redwoods and Oregon, I saw a flash of motion to my left. By the time I looked again it was too late.

The huge wolf-dog ran right into me, knocking me to the dirt road. I was pinned under the bike.

Lucky pranced around me and barked for the first time, a deep howl that brought up the hair on the back of my neck.

Sara laughed so hard she almost fell off her bike.

“Lucky, get off me,” I yelled.

He ignored me. He just started sniffing and pawing at my backpack. I finally crawled out from under the bike and wiped the dirt from my pants.

“Let's go,” I said.

“Can we take Lucky with us?”

I thought about that. That beast didn't like me. I was sure of it. “No! Danielle wants him to stay at home and watch for that bear.” I wondered how he got out of the house, and if he got that mouse before escaping.

“Bears sleep during the day,” Sara said.

“No they don't.”

“Yeah, that's what Danielle told me last night. Bears sleep during the day and hunt at night. She should know.”

Great. “Okay. What if he gets lost up in the mountains? Danielle loves that dog. Do you want that to happen?” That should do her.

Again she just shrugged in agreement and started riding off. I did the same, but I didn't expect what happened next. Lucky kept following us.

“Go home!” I yelled.

We both stopped to watch the wolf-dog just standing in the middle of the road, staring, and waging its tail at us. I swear he was trying to mock me, just like my little sister does.

“Go on!” I yelled. Nothing. Then I did something I'll regret for the rest of my life. I picked up a small rock and threw it at Lucky.

The dog let out a yelp. I hit him right in the butt.

“Benjamin!” Sara yelled at me, just like mom used to. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn't mean to hit him,” I said. And that was the truth. I was aiming for a puddle right next to him, hoping the splash would scare him home.

The rock did the trick, though. Lucky disappeared somewhere into the woods. He must have had a trail back home.

I felt really bad, though, and it was even worse watching the look on my sister's face. It was as if I had just killed the darn thing. It was a little rock. Really.

We continued down the road.

I was in the lead, peddling away, when I saw something cross the road up ahead. I could have swore it was a person. But it wasn't a person. I looked back at Sara, who was busy simply keeping her bike from falling. Where mine had wide tires, hers were skinny. Anyway, I'm sure she didn't see what I thought I saw. Which was...what?

I had a feeling I would find out soon.

I guessed we were about a mile up the road when I hit the brakes and slid to a stop. Sara slowed and put her foot down.

“Why'd ya stop?” she asked.

“I thought I saw something cross about here.”

“Was it that bear?”

“I thought you told me Danielle said bears sleep during the day?”

“Right.” Then she looked up to the sky, which had now turned from sun to partial sun and on to complete clouds. “But it's getting dark.”

I didn't have a watch, but I knew it was somewhere around two in the afternoon. “It won't be dark for hours,” I told her. I looked back down the road we had just traveled. We had climbed a small hill. Then I noticed it.

Sitting back in the ferns on the right side of the road was a small wooden sign with holes where someone had shot it—the sign read “Now Entering Redwood National Park.”

“Look, Sara,” I said, pointing to the sign. “We're in the Redwoods.”

“Cool.” Then a look of near horror came across her face. “But Danielle told us not to go into the Redwoods.”

I sighed. “Sara, what am I gonna do with you? That's a figure of speech. Sort of like how she says she's going into the field to work. But there is no field. Only woods. Redwoods. She just didn't want us to go into the woods.”

“Because of the Hobgoblin.”

I shook my head and started walking the bike along the road. Sara followed.

“Well? What about the Hobgoblin?” she asked.

I stopped. “That was a camp fire story. She was trying to scare us.”

“Well, it worked.”

Suddenly I heard the brush rustling on the right side of the road. “Shhh,” I whispered.

Sara heard it now as well. “What is it? Was it what you saw cross the road?”

I shook my head no. “That went across over there.” I pointed over to the left side of the road.

The rustling got louder and now we could see the ferns moving. Then nothing.

I listened carefully. That was strange. I couldn't hear a thing. Not even a bird chirping.

Then the hairy beast stepped from the ferns. Or should I say hopped?

It was a furry bunny rabbit.

Sara held her breath. “Look,” she whispered loudly. “It's so cute.” She lay her bike alongside the road, and the motion made the rabbit jump to the middle of the road.

“Don't move,” I pleaded quietly.

It seemed to know we were there, but it didn't seem to care much. I set my bike down onto the edge of the road and tried to step toward the rabbit.

The rabbit hopped once, its eye checking us out, and its nose sniffing the air.

I stepped forward again.

And again it hopped once.

“Maybe we should leave it alone,” I said to Sara.

By now she had crept forward and was at my side. I looked up and down the road. There were no cars. In fact, no cars had come by the whole time we were on the road.

I didn't say anything, so Sara moved slowly toward the rabbit. It let her get within a few feet before scurrying off into the woods on the left side.

“Darn it,” she said. “I was so close.” She cocked her head toward me. “You know what? It seemed to be smiling at me.”

“You're crazy. Great! Now I have a crazy sister. At first I thought you were just stupid. Now you're crazy and stupid.”

“Am not.”

“Are so.”

We went on like that for a while.

Angry, Sara ran off after the rabbit.

“Get back here,” I yelled. “Don't go into the Redwoods.”

But it was too late. And just like the old man said the night before, the Redwoods seemed to swallow her up.

She disappeared.

I had no choice now. I had to follow her.

“Darn it, Sara,” I hollered after her. “Get back here!”

That wasn't the worst of it, though. While we were looking forward, Sara seeking the rabbit and me searching for Sara, we should have been looking back over our shoulders.

Luckily I caught up with Sara in the Redwoods. Her red sweater helped me there.

We did see the rabbit a few more times, mostly as flashes of brown against the plush green of grass and moss-covered forest floor.

What we both realized almost at the same time was that we were among the huge trees of the Redwoods. We would see one, marvel at its beauty and size, and then see another farther ahead and run toward it. Before we knew it, we were both exhausted and needed a rest.

I slipped off my backpack and took a seat on the extended root of a Redwood, while Sara turned her head, looking in all directions.

“Can you believe how big these trees are?” she said. She lifted her head up, scaling the tree I sat against. “I can't even see the top.”

“Sure you can,” I said, looking straight up. Then I realized she was right. The clouds had lowered and now a fog covered the tops of the trees.

“Maybe we should head back,” Sara said. She started walking across the mossy ground.

“Wait,” I said. “You're going the wrong way.”

She stopped and looked around. “But we came from over there.” She pointed off in no general direction.

I glanced around the forest. It all looked the same to me. One tree looked just like the other. In San Francisco we had street signs. And there was up or down streets. And the Bay. And the city skyline. But here it was different. It was all the same.

We argued for quite a while about which way to go. Finally I told her that I was the older brother.

“And besides,” I said. “Both dad and Danielle told me to look after you.”

“Did she tell you to get us lost in the Redwoods?”

“We're not lost,” I yelled. “We're right here.”

“But where is here?” she said softly.

There was no sun to help me figure out our situation. I knew that the sun would set on the ocean, and that the ocean was back down the road toward Danielle's house. We had gone up a pretty big hill almost from the time we turned from Danielle's driveway. Let me think. That would make us...lost. But I couldn't let Sara know that.

I thought about my dad out on the ocean with nothing to guide him but his compass and the stars. He had talked to me many times about how he could find his way when there was nothing—no objects or buildings—to help guide his fishing boat. And now he was somewhere out on the Pacific on his way to Alaska.

What would he do? What would Danielle do? I had to be strong so Sara wouldn't panic.

“We go that way,” I said confidently, pointing toward the most likely route. I picked up my backpack and started off slowly.

How far had we run after the rabbit? And how far after that had we gone chasing trees? And I called Sara stupid.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Sara asked, her voice filled with concern.

“Sure,” I lied. “Dad said when you're in the woods you should always follow a straight line. Pick a tree, walk to that, and then pick another one.”

“What if you pick a tree that's in the wrong direction?”

Okay, maybe my sister wasn't stupid. Sometimes she wasn't just a pain...sometimes she was right. I changed the subject. “Dad also said that rivers lead to civilization.”

“What does that have to do with this?”

I stopped and pulled on her arm. “I'm just saying I'm not a complete idiot. I did listen to dad.” Not a complete idiot. Maybe a total idiot, though.

“What's that?” I said, pointing off into the forest.

Sara saw it, too. “What was that?”

We stared at each other for a moment, and then both searched the forest again for movement. I was sure it was the same “thing” I saw cross the road.

“Maybe it was a deer?” Sara offered.

“Deer don't walk on two feet,” I said, shaking my head.

“What about the bear?”

“Bear don't walk on two feet either.”

“I saw them on the Discovery Channel,” she said. “They can stand on their back feet.”

“Stand, yes. But not walk. Or run.”

All I could think about was the story Danielle had told us last night. The Hobgoblin. But that was just a story. A story meant to scare us. Well, I didn't want to mention this to Sara, but I think it was finally starting to work.

We had been going in a straight line for some time when Sara stopped suddenly.

“What now?” I asked.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she whispered.

“Go behind that tree,” I said, pointing to a smaller one a few feet away.

She hesitated and did as I told her. She kept talking the whole time, though. Will we get to the road soon? How far are we from the road? I tried to answer her questions, but I had to admit to myself that I didn't know.

To Sara I simply said, “Not far, sis.”

Her disposition had changed when she rounded the tree. She had a smile on her face.

“What?” I asked.

“I had to go a long time ago. Now which way?”

“There,” I said, pointing down a small hill. “Wait.” I held Sara back with my hand. I whispered, “Look.”

Just down the hill a ways was a creature moving through the grass. It was dark brown with lighter brown along the sides. It looked like a short little bear with a fat tail, with ears like a beaver.

“What is it, Ben?”

The animal stopped at a stump and ripped it open with its long claws. Then it stuck its nose in like an ant eater and shoved aside the rotten bits of wood.

“I don't know. But it looks mean.”

We watched the beast for a while, frozen in our own tracks, until it moved into the thick underbrush and vanished.

At that very moment I wished we had let Lucky come along. But did I tell Sara that? No!

“Let's go,” I said.

We didn't walk far when I saw a ball of fur ahead barely above a patch of tall ferns. The fur was as black as night and was moving slightly.

I held Sara's hand. “What's that?”

Then I realized that she was shorter and probably couldn't see it, even though it was only about twenty yards away.

Suddenly it rose above the ferns.

Its huge head swiveled about, sniffing the air. Its long arms dangled down like wilted tree limbs.

Now Sara could see it.

She gasped.

“A bear!” Sara screeched as loud as she could.

With that, the bear dropped to all fours and crashed off into the forest in the opposite direction.

Sara had a tight hold of my arm.

And, I'll admit right now, I was more than scared. I had never seen a bear that wasn't in a zoo cage—fat and lazy. But this one...this one looked hungry enough to eat the both of us and still have room for berries for dessert.