BAD KARMA: CHAPTER 11. He was on the boat when it happened. Trey Campbell glanced up, thinking he'd heard something, perhaps the cry of a gull. He saw the tall white cliffs to the west of the island, the natural wonder of Catalina. "The Kirk in The Rocks" as it was popularly known. Within those cliffs, a series of interconnecting caves and tunnels that he had once believed created a great labyrinth within the island. As a boy, he'd scaled those rocks, and explored what seemed then like endless trails through the caverns. His father had taught him to shoot a gun from those cliffs, but not to kill anything. That was forbidden. To shoot bottles and skeet and even as a warning in the air, to a trespasser if the situation warranted it. But never at anything that breathed. A gun firing in the dark morning. He felt a cold sweat break out along his back and neck. Not from the heat, but from what seemed, momentarily, like a primal fear of creation itself: the sea, the rocks, the endless sky. He knew it was irrational, perhaps even a sign of a panic attack.
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