Page 28 of Grave Matter

Now, we’re all standing on the dock, waiting for Kincaid and Nick. The mycology cohort is supposed to go on a boat expedition to an area that isn’t accessible by road and is too far to walk.

“This is exciting,” Lauren says to me, a damp breeze messing up her hair. “I hope we see whales.”

“I want to see the megalodon,” Munawar says. “Jason Statham has nothing on me.” In keeping with his promise, he’s wearing a shirt that saysMe, Mycelium, and I,which he promptly zips up under a puffer jacket. It’s chilly out, the fog thick as soup in places, but at least it’s not raining.

Kincaid and Nick appear at the top of the ramp and stroll down single file, Kincaid towering over the surfer dude, both of them dressed in heavy-duty rain jackets, Kincaid’s olive green while Nick’s is bright yellow.

“Looks like you’re all dressed for the weather,” Kincaid says to us, meeting my eyes for one intense moment, harkening back to my dream. My cheeks burn, and I look away. “If you need hats, gloves, or a poncho, they’re in bins on the Zodiacs. You never know when the weather will turn. We’ll be splitting up. Munawar, Natasha, Lauren, and Toshio with Nick. Sydney, Patrick, Clayton, Rav, you’ll be with me.” He gestures to the sleek black boat to our left.

I look at Lauren in surprise that we’re being split up, and she grabs my arm in an overly dramatic gesture.

“Noooo, Sydney,” she cries. “I’ll never let go.”

I know she’s joking, but I really don’t want to be separated from her, especially as I’ll be in a group with both Clayton and Kincaid, two people I have very opposing feelings about.

“Life jackets are on your seats,” Kincaid adds. “Put them on.”

I get into the boat, which looks like it might take tourists whale watching with the two-by-two seating configuration down the middle. There are even straps on the seats to hold us in. I take the first seat and give Rav a grateful smile when he sits down next to me. I like him, and from the way he and Lauren give each other the eye, I know that yet another romance is budding on the compound.

I slip on the life jacket, which barely fits over my boobs, then pull down the harness, clipping me into the seat.

“We’ll take it slow out of the inlet,” Kincaid says, getting behind the wheel at the back of the boat and yanking the cord on the motor until it roars to life. “There’s a raft of otters we don’t like to disturb, as well as the herons who like to nest along the shore. They can get quite ornery. Once we get out of the protected waters and past the barrier rocks though, that’s when things might get a little bumpy. Remember, that’s the North Pacific out there. No other landmass between us and Japan. The wind is picking up a little, so there’s going to be some chop, but the swells should be tolerable today. Anyway, we’ll let Nick’s group go first and be the guinea pigs. They’ll radio back if it gets too bad, and we’ll stick to the inlets instead.”

Rav and I wave to Lauren in unison as Nick’s Zodiac pulls away from the dock and heads down the inlet, their wake leaving glassy ripples that spread out toward the shores.

“What are the chances of us seeing whales?” Rav asks Kincaid. “Orcas?”

“There’s always a chance, though lately, we’re more likely to see humpbacks and greys at the moment,” Kincaid replies. “Everyone ready? Hold on.”

The boat pulls away from the dock, and soon, we’re zipping along at a comfortable speed. The wind is cold, and I regret not grabbing a hat, but it’s also exhilarating to be out on the water. We slow as we go past the otter raft, which is basically a bunch ofadorable sea otters with chubby, fluffy faces lying on their backs beside each other as they snooze and eat. Possibly the cutest thing I’ve seen.

We then zoom around an island that lies sentry at the start of the inlet before we approach the fog bank. Being in the front, everything rushes toward me like a roller-coaster ride until my nose is cold and I know my cheeks are stained pink, my hair a mess that keeps escaping the satin scrunchie I’ve tied it back with.

Soon, rocks appear through the fog, waves crashing over them, giving us our first glance at the wild ocean. The waves build, swells sweeping toward us, and we meet them with a smack, water crashing over the bow. I yelp as I get sprayed, along with Rav, then start laughing.

“Well, that woke me the fuck up.” Rav chuckles, wiping the water off his forehead.

We hold on tight, the waves getting smoother and further apart as the boat leaves the inlet, careening up the coast. You can’t see much with the wind and sea spray whipping in your face, but to one side, the ocean seems to go on forever, no horizon, only grey. For a moment, I have the disorienting feeling that I’m close to falling off the edge of the Earth.

But then I notice quite a few small fishing boats in the distance, bobbing between the waves, and it feels good to know we’re not quite as isolated as it feels. Being at the lodge really makes you feel cut off from the world.

To the other side is the Brooks Peninsula, a long, giant mass of land made of steep, forested slopes, the top covered in clouds. Nick’s boat turns inland and heads to a beach close to us, but Kincaid keeps going.

“I know a better beach!” Kincaid yells, his voice barely audible over the wind and engine.

We go further up and around a point until I see a long, wide stretch of cream-colored sand dotted with giant driftwood, the dark green forest behind it. There are a few rocks that Kincaid maneuvers the boat around, but once we get close to shore, we don’t drop speed as much as we should.

“Hang on!” he yells.

We crash through the surf, spray flying everywhere, until the Zodiac slides up on the sand, coming to a halt that nearly gives me whiplash.

“I didn’t think mycology could be so exciting,” Rav jokes.

“If there’s no dock, this is the only way to get you off and keep your feet dry,” Kincaid says. I glance back to see him lock the engine up out of the water, then stride along the boat and leap over the nose and onto the hard sand, the surf breaking behind us.

Kincaid holds his hand out for me, and I quickly unbuckle myself, slipping my hand into his. His hand is as cold as mine, and yet I still feel a warmth spreading, skin to skin. I swear he even gives it a squeeze, but that could be just him trying to steady me so I don’t eat shit when I land in the sand.

Everyone else follows, and we take off our life jackets, tossing them into the boat.

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