The Lynx and The Bear
He woke up. Gradually at first, consciousness flickering out of dream state. Then suddenly. The feeling of being watched surged through him, blurry gaze searching the room, landing on a set of piercing golden eyes. Whole body tensing, an immediate adrenaline flood, he didn’t sit up. The impulse was to disappear.
It felt too dangerous for words to keep eye contact with the stoic animal perched patiently on the dark wood dresser next to his bed, but it felt just as dangerous to look away. Blinking sleep from his eyes his gaze widened to take in the picture — a yellow cat, the size of a retriever, two pointed ears standing straight up, poison tipped, effortless. The morning light cutting across it’s chest like a blade from between the sill and bottom of the window shade. Cutting across a jade stone set in gold, hanging from a tan leather strap around it’s neck. The stone shone the same as the eyes, as if from within.
The lynx sprang suddenly onto the bed near his feet, barely disturbing the covers, and stepped down to the floor slowly. Walking to the bedroom door it stopped and turned it’s head to look at him. This act felt like a command in the way your fathers asks you to “please, take out the trash;” and he peeled back the covers to slip out of bed as smoothly as he could with every fiber of muscle and sinew in his body pulled tight. The animal glanced at his clothes, tossed on the bedside chair last night, and then turned back to the door.
He pulled on his shirt and jeans, suddenly aware of the silence in the room as his keys rattled in the front left pocket, and cleared his throat softly. The lynx did not turn from the door.
Hesitating as long as he could before giving in to this bizarre situation, he took a couple of steps, standing as close as he dared, he opened the door. The lynx padded out, and as its tail cleared the strike, he quickly closed the door behind it. Holding his breath, listening for a reaction from the other side of the door. Suddenly that feeling of being watched returned, but more insistent, and he turned to find the lynx perched again on his dresser.
This time he did yell out, nerves finally pushed beyond holding, as the lynx once again leapt from dresser to bed, to the floor at his feet. The golden eyes stared at him for a beat, more scolding than dangerous. Again he opened the door, but this time as the cat passed, he followed carefully behind.
His apartment was undisturbed, the same clean clutter of books, bits of driftwood, and surf magazines, but it all glowed softly in the morning light — the hard edges smoothed over.
The lynx went directly to the front door and waited without turning. He took a steadying breath, his mind reeling with the insanity of letting a wild animal loose in the city. Unlocking the deadbolt, he looked at the cat. It seemed to acknowledge his uncertainty with a nod of its head, which he found had the calming effect he needed. He opened the door wide, and they both stepped out onto the small stoop.
If his apartment had been softened, the outside world was something closer to fuzzy. The pavement so soft it looked like a feather mattress, the sunlight felt like he could wrap himself with it like a blanket. The cat stood stock still on the porch, in a crouch, ready to pounce, the jade dangling from its neck shining even brighter in the sunlight.
His pulse immediately sped up, scanning the street for threats, wondering whether the lynx was reacting as predator or prey. The few cars and people moving on his street were so blurry it was impossible to discern.
Then, HE came walking through the gate at the side of the building — surf board under arm, wetsuit pulled up only to his waist, grey hoodie, and flip flops slapping his feet. He watched himself cross the front yard and turn onto the sidewalk. He was the only clear object in the world, the sound of the sandals the only clear sound as they clacked off down the sidewalk.
The lynx immediately relaxed, and hopped down the three steps in front of it, making its way to the sidewalk without turning back to him. He followed, hustling to catch up. Whatever was happening he felt very sure he did not want to lose sight of the cat.
At the corner, a couple of blocks down he watched himself cross the intersection and head toward the beach down 9th. The lynx began to hurry, and they jogged along together until they were only a couple of paces behind — himself. They all stopped at the corner waiting for the light to change so they could cross PCH. The heavy traffic on the highway looking and sounding like he was seeing it underwater without goggles on. It was so unnerving to be standing right behind himself, like seeing someone from school you were close to, but hadn’t talked to since graduation.
The light changed and as he went to follow himself down to the sand he realized the lynx was not moving. He turned and stepped back onto the curb, trying to understand. The lynx looked meaningfully into his face for a moment, then turned its head to look down the street across 9th. Following the cat’s gaze he saw a woman round the corner a block down.
She was moving in real time, features sharp, her purple shirt bright. She ran all out, barefoot. As she got closer he could see she was frantic, her long brown hair flying behind her. She looked like she had run straight out of bed and onto the street. When she caught sight of him, the other him, from across the highway she cut right, leaping off the curb. Within a few strides a large blue streak slammed into her from the right. A noise like every member of a symphony playing one wrong note sounded out. The smell of burnt rubber filled his nostrils, and the woman tumbled across the asphalt in front of the blurry outline of a city bus screeching to a halt.
Before he had fully realized what happened, he was out into the middle of the intersection standing over her. Other muddled shapes swerving and skidding around the scene. She lay on her back, vivid red blood pooling across the soft grey street from behind her head. Every part of her covered in road rash, except her face. Her large blue eyes stared out, right at him, so beautiful and bright it took him several seconds to realize she was completely motionless. Her chest still, her left arm at the wrong angle. The only movement coming from the sunlight reflecting off the jade set in gold, hanging from a leather strap around her neck.
He stared hard at that stone, then forced himself to look back to the corner where the lynx sat, staring back at him, with no stone, or collar. Then everything went black.
-
She woke slowly, naturally, no alarm set on her day off. She lived close enough to the beach that she could easily hear the surf break on a Sunday morning, when the traffic was not yet bound up across PCH. She lay still, listening to the easy ebb and flow of waves, feeling the peace of life lived near the edge of the Pacific Ocean.
The sound was nearly lulling her back to sleep when she began to realize that it was not coming from outside, but the far corner of the studio apartment. It was not the even but slightly varied rhythm of the break, but metronomic, heavy, pervasive. Her mind somersaulted from the brink of dreamspace to the electric immediacy of panic. Shooting up in bed, brown hair splaying across her face, eyes blinking hard and fast, focusing on the shape of a large black bear sitting in the corner next to the door.
She opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out was a rush of breath. The bear never flinched, never moved a great shaggy limb, but only continued the slow steady breathing that caused it’s shoulders to rise and chest to swell, then compress, then swell… Its eyes were not malicious, or wild, but more like the amber loving patience of a family pet, a golden retriever at rest. They shone brightly in the morning light. The chest was marked by fur in the same amber color, the perfect outline of a triangle pointed down, all sides and angles even, a radiant pyramid, inverted on black background.
Without realizing it, her breathing had slowed to match the bear, as if being coached by it into tranquility. Her hammering pulse slowed, her fists unclenched, her jaw closed and relaxed. When she had been calmed, the bear, with no gesture or preamble, lifted onto it’s four paws. Lightly, like a feather swept in a small draft. It padded in a circle and stood staring at the door, the only sound its steady breathing and leaden tapping of its massive claws on the wood floor.
She waited, expecting… something? What could possibly happen next? If the bear and turned to speak it would have surprised her less than if it had begun behaving like a wild beast. Suddenly the bathroom door of the opposite wall opened and SHE walked out. She was in sneakers and shorts, a tank top, hair pulled back in a pony tail, ear buds in, leather necklace with the jade stone. She walked clumsily to the door, while flipping music on from her phone and pulling the arms of her sunglasses out with her lips. She held them below her eyes, scanned the apartment casually. She walked right by the bear’s face close enough to feel its breath as she opened the door, slid the Ray Bans on, and stepped outside.
The out of body experience one feels when waking up to a massive black bear sitting in one’s urban apartment is compounded when watches one’s self walk through a room completely unaware of one’s self. Her heart began hammering again, but the bear was still there, still breathing slowly, still waiting.
She slid out of bed quickly, pulled on a pair of terry cloth shorts, searching for her sneakers, realizing she was already wearing them outside, headed for the door barefoot. Grabbing a purple hoody, one arm in as she opened the door wide, giving space for the bear to silently lumber outside, leather necklace with the jade stone swinging as she followed after, zipping up the hoody and shutting the door.
The ground was smooth and soft, not hot or cold, almost fuzzy feeling under her barefeet. She paused to look around, but the bear was moving at a brisk pace down the sidewalk, toward PCH following after the apparition of her. That was how she thought of it at first, but as she caught up she realized that the other her was the only concrete looking thing in the world, everything else was fuzzy and soft, even her own hands shown a little too bright when she looked down.
The procession continued across PCH and down onto the sand to where the beach was firm enough to jog. She was watching herself exercise? Just as her “other form” was about to set off down the shore a surfer put his board down on the sand a few paces ahead of her. He leaned over to attach the leash to his ankle, then as he stood up and reached back to zip his wetsuit he looked saw her standing there, waiting. His smile was instantaneous, and natural. He said something to her, good naturedly, and she responded in kind. Then he picked up his board and, nodding, walked into the surf. She was blushing slightly, both versions of her, and beamed back at him. As he crossed into the water she began her run and never looked back. He turned and watched her for a several seconds, then waded further out and dove on the board to begin paddling.
She started to take off down the beach to follow herself, but the bear didn’t move. She stopped short to watch it take a few more steps to the edge of the water, then sit down with the small waves and sand curling around it. She walked up alongside, the water running over her toes as well and reached out to touch the bear’s head, coming up just short. It turned slightly and leaned into her. She could feel its full weight against her hip, and she rubbed the soft fur behind its ears. She felt so peaceful for several minutes as they watched the surfers ride wave after wave.
She could still see the guy from a moment ago, he had a white stripe running up his wetsuit from ankle to neck. He rode a couple of waves, taking his turn in the lineup. It was his turn again as the next swell gathered up to push in. He took a few big strokes, then popped up onto the board, angling to her left. There was another surfer ahead of him, paddling out, and he went to make a hard cut to avoid colliding. It looked like his footing slipped, and he wrenched over. Falling clumsily, the nose of his board popped up and connected with the side of his head. The sound was clear, even from the beach.
At the same instant her body tensed, the bear stood up on its hind legs, towering over her, and several of the of other surfers began paddling hard to where he went down. As the wave passed over, surfer and board were tossed. The board still tied to his foot was pulling for shore. His body, facedown, motionless, resisting.
Three of his compatriots reached him and pulled him onto a board. Kicking hard and yelling for help. A lifeguard from a little way up the beach ran down, med kit in hand, and met them in the small waves. They picked him up and carried up to where she and the bear were standing, laying him down in the hard sand just where he had leashed up.
There was so much commotion, yelling, panic in all the people around him, but he was still. Crystal clear, all sharp edges, his shaggy black hair in wet rivulets around his face, posed like a renaissance painting, amber eyes staring up unblinking. She watched helplessly as everyone tried to be useful, they tore his wetsuit down to his waist, jostling his body so his head lolled to the side, his dead eyes locked on hers, looking so alive. There was a triangle tattooed on his chest, like an inverted pyramid.
She tore her gaze away and found the bear staring at her, the sun shining through amber iris’s and the amber fur on its chest. Everything went black.
-
She woke with a gasp, already in her hoody and shorts, sand stuck to her feet, all over the sheets. She let out a small cry and sprang to the door, slamming it behind her as her feet carried her on their own.
-
He was out of bed before he was awake, already dressed. Pounding through the apartment, and onto the sidewalk. His pulse was pounding in his ears, jaw clenched tight, he began to run barefoot toward the beach. He was at the corner in no time, across 9th and tearing up the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians screaming in his own mind.
They collided at full speed as she rounded the corner of 8th and PCH. His arms flying around her to keep from bowling her over. He lifted her slightly nearly going over the top and stopped. She looked into his face, both of them flushed and breathing hard. He set her down and she grabbed his shirt collar, pulling it down until he could hear it ripping. She let out a ragged sigh when she saw the triangle tattoo there, in the middle of his chest. Tears were in her eyes instantly.
He stood there still holding her arms and his knees went weak as the adrenaline drained from his system. They stood there together holding on, each feeling like a breeze might blow them away. She took a few steadying breaths and looked down.
“nice shoes,” she said. He beamed at her, gratefully.
“do you drink coffee?” he asked reaching to feel for his wallet. It wasn’t there. “I…” he began, sheepishly.
“that’s ok, I’m just a block up 8th,” she cut in, “we can stop in and grab some cash on the way.” She smiled, naturally, and took his elbow to lead him back.
