Dinosaur Lake (10 page)

Ann sighed, “Don’t I know it. I’m not going in to Freddy’s for lunch for at least a month, until the hubbub dies down. He’d probably poison me on purpose.”

“Only a month?” Zeke snickered. “That’s what you think, girl. Freddy will
never
forget.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll just go to the Corner Cafe from now on. Except I’ll miss Freddy’s barbecue chicken.” Ann was smiling mischievously.

“After the Spring Fest, I and about twenty-five others sure won’t.”

Ann laughed. Zeke had been one of the unfortunate ones who’d ended up at the hospital. So he’d experienced the story first-hand. Yet revenge had nothing whatsoever to do with Zeke running the story. After all, it was news and he had to print it.

Ann turned and saw him watching her from the doorway.

“Husband, what a surprise. What are you doing in town?” Pleasure on her face as she walked over, which quickly faded when she caught the concern in his eyes.

“Thought maybe you’d like to go out to lunch with me.”

The ploy wouldn’t fool her. His tired and glum expression would tip her off something was bothering him.

“Got something to tell me, huh?” she whispered up at him. “Something’s wrong?” Then, nearly in the same breath, “You’ve figured out what happened to those missing boats, haven’t you?”

He nodded. “I believe so. I’ll tell you about it over lunch.”

“Hi, Zeke,” Henry hailed over her head at the older man.

“Hi, Henry. Out of your jurisdiction a little, aren’t you?”

“My day off.”

“Some people have all the luck,” the editor grumbled good-naturedly. “I bet you even got a pension plan, too.”

“A modest one.” Henry’s laugh echoed in the small room.

He chatted with Zeke as Ann shut off her computer and gathered her purse and sweater. After giving him their goodbyes, they walked into the bright sunlight.

“Are you okay? You look terrible,” was the first thing out of her mouth as she eyed him. She gave him a quick, hard hug. “Looks like you haven’t slept at all. No great mystery because you never came home last night.”

“No, I didn’t.”

The Corner Cafe was a few doors down from the newspaper office and they were nearly there. It served sandwiches and soup, great pies and cobblers, but no barbecued chicken.

Henry took Ann’s hand in his and tucked it close to his side. “I’m fine now that I’m here with you.”

“You and Justin were on the lake all night again, weren’t you?”

“Yep. Squatting dead in the water like two scared turkeys the day before Thanksgiving.”

She stopped and studied his face. “You saw something, didn’t you? There
is
something in that lake, isn’t there?” She sounded both vindicated and stunned.

“Yes, we saw something and, yes, there is some sort of creature swimming around in Crater Lake and probably living below the water in the caves. Or so Justin thinks. Killing animals around Wizard Island. We ran into it last night. It attacked our boat. And it was
big.
”

He heard his wife’s gasp, saw her body tighten. “Animals and…people…have been killed?”

Henry nodded. “Possibly people. Right now they’re still classified as missing people.”

“My god, you and Justin could have been hurt. Killed.”

“But we weren’t. We’re alive and kicking. Well, I am anyway. Justin’s sleeping at the lodge. So you can stop fretting.”

A bell rang announcing their entry as he opened the café door and steered her towards a rear booth. They sat down. The waiter, a skinny high school kid with shorn hair and an earring in one ear, dropped off menus and dashed off.

Over lunch Henry recounted the night’s adventure.

Ann remained quiet, but her expression, at different times, displayed incredulousness, excitement, or apprehension. Then fear.

When Henry finished, her hand squeezing his, she said, “What a story! What a scoop. Wait until I tell Zeke.”

“No, you can’t tell him about this yet. You can’t tell anyone.”

She began to protest but Henry shushed her. “Don’t you see, you can’t tell anyone about this right now. It could unleash a mob of people on the park. Monster seekers, newspaper reporters, camera crews and the curious. They’d camp out everywhere. It’d be a circus. Worse. It could be a disaster. Justin and I feel the creature, whatever it is, is extremely dangerous, especially if it, as we suspect, can leave the water.”

He told her about the dead animals they’d found around the Island, the missing boat people, and the tracks Justin had discovered going into the water.

Ann understood. “No, I guess it wouldn’t be wise to advertise this yet.” She smiled softly, holding his hand across the table. She hadn’t let go of him since he’d told her of his close call the night before.

“I’m going to close the lake area down. You can print that. We’ll just have to invent some other reason for it. Dock or road repairs or something. It’s going to be hard enough emptying the lake area this time of year, especially after that story of yours runs tomorrow. But I promise you, honey, soon as it’s safe and we figure out how to handle the situation, you and the paper can run the full account, exclusively. But first, one way or another, the problem will have to be solved. Park Service won’t like keeping the lake closed for long, it’s a large tourist draw and with that last round of budget-cutting the Forest Service did on us, we need the revenue.”

Money, it always comes down to money, he thought.

“Now I’m sorry those stories are coming out tomorrow, Henry. I’d try to stop them, if I could, but the paper’s already printed, bundled and on its way to the readers.”

“Not your fault, sweetheart. Can’t be helped, so don’t worry about it. My men and I can keep the lake off limits, no problem.” Or so he hoped.

He ordered more coffee and when the waiter left, he leaned against the booth. The orange plastic was cold against the small of his back. He was suddenly so tired he could have fallen asleep right there. Sensing his frustration, his exhaustion, Ann ran her hand down the side of his face and smiled understandingly.

“I’ll finish my pie and we’ll go home. You need some sleep.”

“That I do.”

“What did the creature look like?” she wanted to know.

“Off the record.” Then he did his darnest to quench her curiosity.

After he was finished, she asked about the progress of one of George’s pet projects, a homeless camp inside the park set up by the Forest Service and funded by the county. A kind of tent city. Campers who’d come, stayed and had never left. She planned to write their story, hoping to gain public support. There were so many homeless these days. They needed somewhere to go. Help.

“The Forest Service got extra funding for them,” Henry revealed. “They can stay for a while. George told me how grateful those families are, not to be charged fees, or evicted and moved on again. They’re tired, beaten down. The board voted to let them stay until they get on their feet. George starts installing chemical toilets and setting up fire circles tomorrow. Several of the other rangers have agreed to help by reinforcing and rain proofing their homemade tents. And George is going to teach to fish those who don’t know how. Heaven knows how much he’s spent on the groceries he’s already taken out there.”

“George’s a good man,” Ann said. “Heart of gold.”

“That he is. I haven’t been out to the camp yet, but George says the conditions are pitiful. A dozen families live out there with their kids.”

George wasn’t the only one who cared about the homeless. Ann was passionate about helping them, in and out of the park. How could people become homeless in the wealthiest nation on earth, she often asked him, and he knew she experienced guilt every time she bought a new blouse or ate a good meal when so many others wore rags and were hungry.

“George says those at the camp are mostly people who’ve lost their jobs. Blue collar workers who’d been living from paycheck to paycheck. They lost everything and foreclosures forced them to leave their homes. The poorest of them are living in tents propped up by tree limbs, patched with taped together plastic trash bags, and warmed with propane heaters. They’re not bad people, just desperate. To survive, they’re self-teaching their children and trying to live off the land like mountain folks. Nowhere else to go. I’m glad the park is letting them stay. Getting them aid and the necessary paperwork, so they can.

“Except,” Henry paused, “I’m worried. That camp’s near the quarry and that’s awful close to the lake.”

Ann’s eyebrows lifted. “Could that be a problem? I thought you said the creature lives in the lake?”

“It does. Most of the time, we believe. Maybe, to be absolutely safe, we should relocate the camp farther away from the caldera. After all we have two-hundred and fifty thousand acres of valleys and forest out there to choose from. No sense in taking chances.” He yawned, his eyes suddenly heavy.

Ann stood up, and put her purse over her shoulder. “Maybe we should pay the bill and get you home to bed? You look like a zombie.”

“You’re coming home with me?” He perked up, rising, as well, and fished out the wallet from his pocket.

“I could. I’m done at the paper. I was finishing up when you walked in.”

“Good. I’ll take care of the bill and you go ahead. I’ll be right behind and will meet you at home, hon. Drive carefully.”

“I will. See you there.” His wife gave him a quick kiss and walked out the door.

He wasn’t far behind.

***

Henry slept the rest of the day. Ann didn’t disturb him. He awoke that evening and they had supper with George. The hot dinner topic being, of course, the mysterious beast haunting Crater Lake.

Later, alone, Henry and Ann watched a little television and turned in early. Justin had telephoned after dinner and arranged to have breakfast the next morning with him before he went on duty; said he wanted to talk about their adventure of the night before. Henry wondered what Justin really wanted.

By eleven they were asleep.

Henry was awakened minutes before dawn by the telephone’s ringing on the headboard’s shelf. Half-asleep, he fumbled the phone, dropped it, and finally got it to his ear.

The conversation was brief.

“Chief, can you get into headquarters right away?” George’s voice sounded strained.

As groggy as he was, Henry knew something was up. “What is it?”

“Superintendent Sorrelson’s here. He wants to talk to you about our dilemma.”

“Our what?”

“You know, closing the lake area. And there’s another problem. Don’t want to discuss it on the telephone, though. Big brother could be listening.”

“I won’t be long,” Henry said and hung up.

Waking Ann, who could sleep through an earthquake, Henry made her aware of George’s call. He climbed out of bed and put on a clean uniform and drove to headquarters with the rising sun in his eyes. It was around six o’clock. Usually he went in at eight, so it was only two hours early.

The ranger’s station was abuzz with a lot of activity for such an early hour. Sorrelson, the Park’s Superintendent, was waiting for him in his office, sitting in Henry’s chair, along with a grim George Redcrow sulking in the corner. Henry rarely saw the superintendent unless there was a problem. The man was usually busy with meetings and glad-handing state politicians.

“Heard about your close call the other night, Henry,” Sorrelson grumbled, his plump lips barely smiling.

“It was close, that’s for sure.” Henry met the other man’s flat gaze.

“Went fishing and caught something you weren’t expecting, huh? Got any idea what you saw? Wasn’t some giant fish, was it, now? Like they spotted a few years back at Culler’s Lake? Or could it have been one of those inflatable dragon toys? You know how the city kids like to play tricks on us during tourist season.”

“No, Sir, it wasn’t a fish or a toy.”

“What was it?”

Here goes nothing
, Henry thought,
here goes my job
. “Now, don’t laugh, but the paleontologist they sent us from John Day’s–he was with me the other night–thinks it’s some sort of dinosaur throwback. Maybe even an offshoot of an ancient Pleiosaur. Or a mutant hybrid never seen before, but a live one and bigger than a whale. And it’s here in the lake. Has been, most likely, for the last year or more. Only now, perhaps because it’s become large enough, it’s making its presence known.”

Sorrelson didn’t laugh, but stared at him as if he were waiting for the punch line, his eyes hard. He didn’t wait long.

“In the lake you say?”

“Yes, in the lake.” Henry walked over to the chair beside George and sat down. He yearned for a cup of coffee and his eyes glanced through the window towards the coffee pot in the adjoining room. The other men in the office had coffee, and he was jealous. Sorrelson caught him looking at George’s cup. “Get yourself some coffee, Henry.”

When Henry returned to his office, Sorrelson coaxed, “You sure, the thing in the lake couldn’t have been anything else? A large log or something?”

Hell,
Henry thought,
I knew it would be like this. He thinks I’m nuts.

“Well,” Henry fought a caustic smile, “it was dark and the fog was thick. But I’m sure it was alive, damn big, and viciously aggressive; it tried to capsize us, whatever it was. If it was a fish, it was the biggest fish I’ve ever seen. If it was a log, it was a mighty active log. It attacked our boat. Plain and simple.”

“Bigger than a whale, you say?” Sorrelson’s eyebrows were questioning curves. A beefy hand glided along the side of a fleshy jaw. A short, heavy set man he was also going bald. He wore glasses, but being vain, left them off most of the time, which made him squint a lot. He didn’t reside in the park, preferring the town. Henry often wondered how he’d ever gotten to be superintendent of a national park. Connections, no doubt. But he was a wheeler-dealer and knew whose hand to shake, whose donation box to fill, to get what he wanted.

“Bigger.”

Sorrelson glared at him. “Redcrow here says you want to close down the lake area; stop the boat tours for a while until we can decide if this
creature
is dangerous?”

“That’s my plan.”

The Superintendent didn’t say anything for a minute or two, as Henry and George waited. The room was hushed. From earlier experiences Henry knew Sorrelson was mulling things over in that steel trap of a mind of his, trying to find a way for the park to keep operating. It couldn’t bring in money if its prime attraction was gated off. Most people came to see the lake.

The silence broke. “I’d say that was too hasty. Let’s give it a bit more time, Henry. After all, tourist season is just coming into full swing. I hate to tell you this, but they’ve ordered me to cut back further on your funds this year. You might have to lay off a couple more rangers. If you close down the lake they might see that as justification for even more layoffs. Humph. A monster in the lake might be good for us. Bring more tourists. Budget needs the income.”

Layoff more rangers? They were short-handed already, and with some sort of giant predator prowling the lake on top of it all, what was the man thinking? Henry’s disbelief flushed his cheeks, anger showed in his eyes; but, with a warning look from George, he kept his irritation to himself. Sorrelson wouldn’t listen anyway. Once he decided something he rarely changed his mind.

The Superintendent grilled Henry, “Where do you think this thing in the lake–if there is something in the lake–might have come from?”

“Dr. Maltin, the paleontologist I mentioned before, believes it may live in the caves beneath the caldera.” Henry cradled the Styrofoam cup in his hands and stared at the wet indentation the bottom had made on his pants leg. The cup was leaking, so he drank the rest of the coffee. It felt strange with someone else sitting at his desk, drinking coffee out of his cup. He didn’t like it much.

“The caldera is honeycombed with underground caves. All of them uncharted and probably unstable.” Henry met Sorrelson’s eyes. “You called me in two hours before my shift, Sir, to ask about what I saw two nights ago in the water and to tell me not to close the lake area for now–is there anything else?”

Sorrelson’s gaze shifted to George. “Well, there was something else. George can explain. He was on duty last night.”

George Redcrow’s head had been slumped on his chest, but when spoken to, he raised it. Henry recognized distress in his friend’s face. “Yesterday there was an incident in that homeless camp near the old rock quarry.”

“An incident?” echoed Henry.

“Late in the day, around eight or eight-thirty, close to sundown. You know, Henry, how gloomy it can be in the woods by that time of day?”

Henry nodded, waiting for George to continue.

“Seems they had a visitor. Some enormous, noisy animal, by their account. It scared the bejesus out of them as it crashed through the woods behind their camp.” George produced a hand-sized notebook and flipped it open to the middle. “Two men, Gregory Black and a Leonard Morrison, were sent out to investigate the racket. Black was a vet and an experienced woodsman, who knew his way around the forest. He’d been out of a job, too, for a while, suffered from battle-related flashbacks, a chronic medical condition, but could take care of himself in the wild, according to the others. Morrison got laid off six months before from the mill in Medford and when the money ran out he and his family were evicted from their home. He’s got three kids and a wife, Jane.”

“What happened to him and his friend?” Henry cut to the point.

“Seems they never returned. They were officially reported missing as soon as the sun came up. Camp people were too scared to risk coming into headquarters before then, afraid the thing was still lurking in the woods waiting. They’ve asked for help to find the missing men.”

Henry experienced a cold creeping dread.

“One of Morrison’s children, a girl name Nikki, claims she saw a monster–her exact words–said it was about a thousand feet tall. Says it ate her daddy. She’d snuck off after him and Black when they went out looking.”

George put the notebook away. “But I don’t think we can count on her as a reliable witness.”

“Why not?”

“She’s seven years old and in shock. I tried to get her mother to take her to the hospital in town so a doctor could check her out, but none of them have medical coverage of any kind. And no money. Just a lot of misplaced pride. So I couldn’t persuade her. The girl’s mother isn’t taking it well, either. She insists her husband’s not coming back. That he’s dead. That both men are dead. She believes her daughter. The situation is unsettling.”

George seemed to be done talking.

“We need to get some rangers out to the camp and search for those missing men. Now.” Henry looked over to Sorrelson, who had closed up his briefcase and was preparing to leave.

“I’m sure you’ll find them, Henry. Unless a monster has truly devoured them,” Sorrelson muttered sarcastically. He wasn’t as worried about the missing homeless as Henry thought he should have been. He bet it would have been different if they’d been politicians. “I leave the matter in your capable hands. Keep me informed. And those other matters? Keep the lake open and let me know which two rangers you’ve decided to cut. Your choice. I’ll try to get them the best severance package I can, under the circumstances.

“You can leave messages with my secretary. Tomorrow I’m flying out to Los Angeles for a golf tournament. Won’t be back for a week or two, at least.”

Henry was relieved when the Superintendent went out the door. The man couldn’t get away fast enough.

“Okay, George,” Henry exhaled, sentried at the window, watching the Superintendent’s car leave behind a trail of dust. “Let’s gather some rangers and go out to the camp. Find out what’s happened to those two men. This whole thing’s starting to spook me,” he swore under his breath, slapping on his hat.

***

The homeless camp was less than half-mile from the lake. Henry had already asked himself if the lake beast was the same
monster
that had terrorized the camp. He was afraid it was. Either way, moving those people was a good idea, especially if there was something prowling the lake area.

But the camp people weren’t the only ones in the line of danger. It depended on how far afield the creature could roam from its lair. Rim Village and the park’s main campground were two miles from the caldera. Not that far. Most of the people, over two-hundred, who worked in the park lived in the Rim Village dormitories. Good Lord. Henry prayed the mysterious predator stayed near the water. Only what they discovered at the camp and time would tell.

Henry, George, Matthew Kiley and another ranger, Peter Gillian, arrived a short while later at the camp. It was early but the place was alive with activity. Henry could hear someone crying.

A rag-tag collection of children spotted them and came running.

“We need to talk to Mrs. Jane Morrison,” Henry told the children. A small boy dressed in oversized clothes stepped forward. Henry noticed that though his clothes were threadbare, they were clean. A baseball was clutched in one grimy hand. A baseball cap sat cockeyed on his head.

“That’s my mom. I’m Stevie Morrison. She’s in our tent with Nikki and Mona, my sisters. I’ll show ya.”

“All right, son,” Henry said. “You lead, we’ll follow.”

“A monster ate my dad,” the kid blurted out so matter-of-factly he could have been reciting baseball scores.

Henry glanced sideways at George. The man’s face was stone.

They followed the boy to a tarp-covered tent tucked between other tents; some small, some larger. Some appeared to be homemade and some were store bought. The one they found themselves in front of was made of different sized taped patches, old canvas peeking through. All different colored tape. Must leak when it rained.

Henry had driven past the camp many times since they’d set up weeks ago, but, though he’d meant to, he hadn’t had the time to stop. There were many campers scattered throughout the park. Maybe the camp reminded him too much of the homeless back in the streets and empty lots of New York. Like a rampant disease, homelessness had spread over the last few decades until it had even encroached into the park. At least a camp ground was better than living in a cardboard box on the sidewalks of New York.

George Redcrow apparently had visited the camp many times. People waved at him as they strode by. The Morrison boy seemed to know and trust him.

Standing before the tent, Henry caught, out of the corner of his eye, George handing the boy and his friends packages of Twinkies taken from a brown paper bag, and he smiled. Soft-hearted George. He should have had kids of his own. He had a way with them.

The boy scooted through the entrance flap and into the tent.

There was no place to knock, so Henry called out, “Mrs. Morrison, can we speak to you about your missing husband and his friend?”

From inside a woman’s voice, between coughs, responded, “Come on in.”

Inside it was gloomy. The green canvas filtered the sunlight into a greenish twilight and the space smelled of mud and damp. Henry hadn’t ever seen anything like it. There was a folding table with a couple of rickety chairs surrounding it, covered with the basic necessities needed for tent life: boxes of cereal, cans of evaporated milk, paper cups and plates, lanterns and paper towels. Stacked to the right of the food were scuffed and lidded Tupperware bowls full of heaven-knew-what. Bundles of clothes and stacks of canned goods were piled around the sides of the tent. The wooden poles propping up the center had nails in them from which hung jackets, sweaters, and more lanterns. There were sleeping bags rolled up and stacked in a corner with blankets and pillows on top. The tent’s floor was a layer of scuffed plastic.