Finished with dinner, Jared tucked the empty containers into his daypack, then picked his way across the moonlit slope to the far side of the knoll. He often saw coyotes trot along the road, but they had never bothered him and he enjoyed their singing. He’d been told a mountain lion roamed the park. He had never seen the lion, but sharing his home with a lion didn’t frighten him. Jared felt perfectly safe being alone in the dark in the canyons. Only people frightened him. And doctors.
After his bowels moved, Jared washed his hands and utensils with a bit of bottled water, brushed his teeth, and took a blanket and poncho from the duffel. He wrapped the blanket and poncho around his shoulders, wiggled into the sleeping bag, and settled back against the duffel.
The glittering lights of Los Angeles spread before him to the horizon. Red and green lights marked helicopters crisscrossing the star-field city. Moving stars were jets carving long gentle descents into LAX.
Jared watched the moving lights, and grew sleepy. He dozed, woke with a start, and dozed again. Sleep came easily, but never lasted. Each time he woke, Jared noted the moon. The moon and the stars were Jared’s clock, giving him a measure of the night’s passage.
Jared judged he was awake at approximately two in the morning when a flash of light in the tunnel startled him. The tunnel grew brighter, abruptly went dark, and a car emerged.
Jared sat up.
The car’s headlights had been on in the tunnel, but now they were off.
The car’s brake lights flared. The car stopped in the dim ochre light from the streetlamp, and its brake lights died.
This wasn’t a police car or a ranger’s SUV. Jared couldn’t make out the color, but it was dark. A small sedan, Jared thought. Then the driver’s and passenger’s doors opened, and two men stepped out.
Fear flashed through Jared like a lightning bolt. He threw off the blanket and poncho, and scrambled up the hill. He tried to move quietly, but his frantic heart thundered. They might be gangbangers or kids who’d seen him earlier and had returned to have their fun. It had happened before when Jared lived by the beach. He scrambled higher, thinking he could hide above the old water tank, and that’s when he stopped and saw they were still by their car.
They opened the trunk and lifted out something large and heavy. Then an arm dangled free, and Jared realized they were lifting a body.
The men carried their burden to the edge of the slope and heaved it over the side. Jared heard one of the men grunt with their effort, and the snapping of brush as the heavy weight rolled downhill. The two men immediately returned to their car. They did not turn on their headlights. Their taillights did not glow. Their dark car disappeared into the shadows of the canyon, and they were gone.
Jared stood motionless. His heart slammed and he did not breathe. His head buzzed with a high-pitched whine. He wondered if the person they’d thrown into the brush was still alive. He wanted to see and help if he could. They might need help. They might be dying.
Jared did not move.
Jared spoke aloud.
“Go see. Help.”
He tried to move, but his body was filled by the whine.
“Jared. Do something. Find a ranger. Get help.”
The whine became a maelstrom of rushing thoughts.
The police might blame him. They might think he was responsible and lock him in a hospital and fill his head with chips and chemicals.
Above him, the water tank creaked.
Jared lurched sideways, and shouted.
“Leave me alone! I didn’t do it. I didn’t see it. I’m not even here.”
Jared stumbled back to his camp, and peered down at the empty road.
A whisper came from beside him.
I imagined it. There’s no car, no men, no body. It’s all in my head.
Jared nodded, agreeing.
“That’s right. I imagined it.”
The whisper was behind him.
Doesn’t matter. You’re sick. You’re a head case. You’ll be in trouble.
Jared clenched his eyes and pressed his palms to his temples.
“But I didn’t hurt anyone. I didn’t.”
Tell the police.
“I can’t! I’m scared!”
Do what’s right. You know what’s right.
Jared sat in the rocks and wrapped his arms over his head.
“Stop talking. Stop shouting. I can’t think.”
You’re pathetic. You’re worthless. You’re psycho.
“I’m scared!”
You saw what happened. You’re a witness.
“They’ll drug me. They’ll blame me and lock me up.”
The dead need you, Jared. Are you going to help?