7 A Frightened, Demoralised Bunch

[Stephen Whiteside]

7 A Frightened, Demoralised Bunch

© Stephen Whiteside 23.12.2011

Pocus returned to his tour group. What a frightened, demoralised bunch they were! He had done well to duck away for the brief time that he had. He had been well and truly missed. Perhaps it had been a mistake, but he had felt a desperate need to communicate with his brother. With that done, he felt strong enough to face whatever it was that needed to be faced. A problem shared. Something like that.

They were cowering on the forest’s edge, exactly where he had left them. All were steadfastly refusing to step back into the kayaks, convinced the salmon would leap out of the water and peck their eyes out. Perhaps they would. It seemed unlikely, though. Bears are quite clearly alive in the way that kayaks are not. And the salmon would not know that there was a human being sitting inside every kayak. Although they do jump out of the water, that’s true. Perhaps they might attack after all.

Anyway, it was all academic. Nobody would step back into their kayak, and that was that. Pocus thought about their next move. It was a four day walk back to base. He could contact the big people mover and arrange for it to pick them up at Copperbung. That would reduce it to two days. But they’d be long days, and they’d have to spend the night out somewhere.

The difficulty was that all their gear was stowed in plastic bags in the kayaks. They had no back packs. Food, extra clothing, sleeping bags and mats, tents. All in plastic bags with plastic draw strings. Very difficult to carry. They’d have to find a way, though. And obviously they’d need to travel light. Sleeping bags they would definitely need. Only half the number of tents. They’d all have to squeeze up. And only the barest necessities of food and clothing. Even then, it was going to be tough. Very tough.

Pocus gestured for them to follow and, in a tight huddle, they moved through the forest to the other side of the bend where they had left their kayaks high and dry. But where were the kayaks? All that remained of them was tiny pieces of yellow plastic, strewn widely around the area. Same for all their gear. Reduced to rubble, and scattered widely. Victim, too, of killer salmon? Surely not!