Forsaken - An American Sasquatch Tale (11 page)

Chapter Nine

She saw the pitch near the rendezvous and approached with caution. Unable to sense Adrian, her stomach twisted. Something was amiss. She sniffed the air and detected a hint of cigarette smoke. Maybe he had taken up the habit.

Sasquatch teenagers weren’t much different from human ones, other than the obvious, and they all went through phases of rebellion. Smoking was sometimes a part of it, but because her daughter prided herself on appearances, Liberty didn’t believe she would try it. A wishful thought, but at that point she’d have given up her pardon to see Sage hunkered down behind some log puffing away.

She took another few steps toward the rendezvous, felt a buzz in the air as it penetrated every hair follicle. She sent out a feeler but sensed no humans. Some type of electronic device was nearby, though. A mild current. Maybe a dropped cell phone. A mounted trail camera.

She needed to keep her guard up, to bustle, until she figured out exactly what it was. She eyed the hatch of the tiny cavern about ten yards away. The spot was matted. It had been disturbed recently. She moved forward cautiously, one foot at a time.

Step, stop, sense, repeat.

As she got closer, the disruption around the entrance became clearer, but the buzz faded. So she retraced the path she’d taken and moved east, toward the road. The sensation got stronger.

She got down on all fours and crawled forward, then laid flat. The device hadn’t been dropped, she knew that much. At ground level she lost the signal entirely. She stood up and it resumed. A few more paces and there it was. Mounted at eye level, seven feet high, was a tiny black camera, aimed toward the ground. She reached around from the side of it to keep her arm out of the lens, snapped the camera off the branch, put it on the ground, and stomped on it.

She gathered up the pieces and hauled them away. Rolling a rather large mossy log, she dug a hole, and buried the evidence, rolling the log back on top.

She’d wasted too much time. Hopefully Adrian had not arrived early and left thinking she wasn’t going to show. Liberty hurried to the hatch, lifted it, sat down on the edge, and slipped in.

A quick, shallow drop and she stood there as human. Painless, with hardly a wobble.

As soon as she developed her voice, she called out in a whisper, “Adrian? It’s me, Liberty.”

No response.

A sliver of moonlight filtered down, not much and not far into the room, but enough to see the space was empty. She looked around and saw no sign he’d even been there. Confused, Liberty fetched the zipper baggie out of the recess at the base of the hatch. She pulled out a candle and lit it with one of the lighters inside the bag, then stepped further in and pulled the vine to shut the hatch.

She swept the light low to the ground, made sure no creature larger than a chipmunk had made itself a home there. When she felt certain she wasn’t in danger of coming face to face with a feisty raccoon, she grabbed a second candle from the bag, dipped its wick into the first, and when it caught fire she walked around and looked for a note. Maybe Adrian had been and gone. Nothing. Maybe he’d never been in the first place. Had he run behind? Had he been unable to sneak away?

Everything felt off, though she couldn’t put her finger on it. She stood in the middle and turned in a slow circle, eyed every inch of the space, tried to determine what wasn’t sitting right. She peered into the shadows, turned until she’d come fully around.

Right there, something nudged her brain, but she couldn’t grasp it. She started the search again, and as the light passed beneath the hatch, it clicked. The limb. It was empty.

“What the nuts?” she whispered. The sound of her own voice caused her to jump and she scolded herself.

Frowning, she walked toward the limb. Nathaniel had mounted a hickory branch near the entrance. A place to hang their clothes. A few broken cobwebs dangled from it, but that was it. The pajama bottoms and sweatshirt Liberty kept there were gone. Her skin prickled as if it finally registered the chill and knew there was no promise of coverage. And the way the spider’s silk hung in uneven strands, it had been recently disturbed.

Her eyes darted to every nook and cranny, hoped a shadow wouldn’t magically come to life. The idea of someone she didn’t know invading their private space frightened her. She felt an urge to hide.

Had Adrian made it or not? She envisioned Becky back at the truck and she seemed miles away. She had to leave right then, get back to Becky. And the somewhat safety of the truck. Hopefully Adrian had done the same.

She didn’t even bother to tuck in the candles after she’d extinguished them. Once word of the disturbance got out, the place would be off limits. She got a foothold in the side of the shaft and popped out of the cave on her first try, transformed as she rolled and, without another look back, ran like the wind for the truck.

The tailgate was still open when she arrived and she slid in.

Becky let out a startled, “Whoa.” Then laughed. “It better be my dainty friend, Liberty, or I’m going to spray your face off.” She pointed a can of mace toward the back, lowering it when they made eye contact.

Becky got out, shut the tailgate, and climbed back in the driver’s seat. Before she turned the engine over, she passed the phone and stylus to Liberty. “How did it go? Did you talk to him?”

She typed and handed it back.

“Not there?”

Liberty shook her head.

“You think it was someone human?”

She nodded, typed,
Someone there took clothes.

“Damn. You think Adrian even made it?” Concerned furrowed Becky’s brow. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Liberty thought for a moment, then shrugged. She didn’t know his story for sure and couldn’t begin to decide what the right thing to do was. But she knew she needed to confide in Nathaniel. And soon. This was a fiasco. She was a mess. And trying to say it all with a pine-needle stylus was wearing on her.

She emitted a low growl.

“Whoa, missy.” Becky put her hands up, one still held the can of mace. “Don’t think about getting all Incredible Hulk on me.”

Liberty saw a flash of fear in Becky’s eyes and felt ashamed. She quickly nodded, motioned for the phone.
I’m sorry
.

Becky read it, eyed Liberty like she may be a poisonous mushroom, then smiled. “It’s okay. Guess I’m not used to you acting so salty.” Becky passed the phone back and sat for a minute, stared out the windshield lost in thought. Finally she said, “So, what do we do now? Are we still on for the Jenkins’?”

Liberty didn’t bother to type, just nodded and settled back as Becky started the engine and pulled away. She went over the events in her head. Tried to imagine what might have happened at the rendezvous.

Maybe Adrian had gotten caught when he’d tried to sneak out. Or, maybe he’d made it to the rendezvous, but hunters chased him away. She hadn’t sensed death, a body, so she didn’t play too long with the idea he’d gotten mistaken for a bear and been shot. It was possible some random person or the property owner had gotten lucky and discovered the cave. From the clothes they’d be able to tell somebody frequented the space and so set up the camera to catch the interloper. She doubted it was the property owner, seeing how they were—-according to Mitch—older than dirt and feeble as hell.

She sighed. She could play the what-if game all day long, and still never know.

Becky spoke as they passed their woods. “We’re almost there. A few more miles.”

Liberty looked out the side window and saw the farmhouse through the foliage, perched up on the hill. Idyllic, she thought, the way the willow branches swayed on either side of it, and how the moonlight shone against the roof. She never saw it this way. Her view was from the rear, and only from the kennel’s basement windows.

When Mitch and Ellie moved in, they renovated the outside. Added siding and a breezeway that connected the garage to the house. They also refinished the basement, which when he still lived there, was where Kevin spent most of his free time. Though they never hurt for money, thanks to some wise investments on, first the uncle, then on Mitch’s part, Kevin found he desired his own. To do with as he pleased. Except he made his in possession of narcotics and ended up doing time downstate. When he’d gotten out of prison, he hadn’t gone home.

Liberty turned away. Speeding past the old farmhouse on Little Church Road, no one would know a widowed old man lay dying inside. Catching a glimpse of the happy, red barn-shaped mailbox with its flag up, you wouldn’t know it acted as death’s concierge, escorting letters back and forth to oncologists, funeral directors, and hospice on the daily.

And you couldn’t tell there was a whole world just below the grassy knolls in the woods. Did the other houses they’d passed have secrets, too? She figured a better question to ask was, didn’t they all?

Chapter Ten

Ten minutes later, Becky pulled the truck off the dirt road and killed the engine. Liberty’s eyes got huge when she looked out the window. The tires were inches from a rather deep ditch. At least if someone flew over the crest behind them they wouldn’t plow into the back of the truck.

Liberty wondered how merciful it might be if a big milk truck, like the ones that regularly flew up and down Rimrock Hill, would come out of nowhere and bash into the back of the pick-up. No more worries, no more what-ifs.

Where had that come from? Ellie had died in a similar type of car accident. Died without ever knowing what would become of her son.

Liberty shook her head, how could she contemplate an act so selfish? What had Becky ever done except become her friend? Liberty didn’t deserve her.

“Look.” Becky pointed at her windshield. “Up there to the right.”

Liberty craned her neck to see out the slider window between them. Roughly five hundred yards away down in a slight gully she saw a house. A security light brightened the yard in front, and another one lit up the area behind it near an old barn. The view wasn’t good. She scooted to look out the cap windows on the side, and it was much better. The tinted glass softened the security lights, and made it hard to see the yard, but at least she didn’t have to contort her body to see.

“I see two vehicles. Russ’ SUV and a little gold…” Becky paused. “Looks like a Focus, maybe.”

Liberty spotted them. The cars were parked in the driveway near the end of the house closest to the road. They sat in front of closed doors that looked to be the kind that led into the basement.

“I see lights on inside. Upstairs and downstairs,” Becky said. “Wow, not much for conservation, are they?”

Liberty watched Becky spy with her binoculars, panning them left and right.

The kid, Victor, who took the photo, lived here. Adrian said he saw Sage with him. Becky jerked to the right and focused there for a moment. Liberty tensed.

She gripped the stylus, typed on the screen, and passed the phone to Becky through the cab window.

Becky lowered the binoculars to see what she’d written and shook her head. “No, nothing. I thought I saw movement near the garage, probably just a raccoon or dog.” She passed the phone back and they continued to watch the house.

“You know what?” Becky finally glanced back.

Liberty figured it was unnecessary to type “No. What?” so she just stared.

“I kind of thought having you in the back would, you know…maybe make the truck smell funny? No offense, but I figured it would be the same as toting around a few dogs, or a horse, maybe,” Becky’s eyebrows went up and she nodded a bit, “but, for real. You smell pretty normal. Like you wouldn’t even know a Sasquatch was back there.

Liberty smiled inside, figured if she did it on the outside it might scare Becky. She waited until Becky quit jabbering and handed her the phone.

Becky read it, mouthed “Bitch?” and then clicked her tongue. “Well, that’s not very nice.”

Liberty teased her because she knew Becky tried to use extra caution and say the right words. It wasn’t Becky’s fault that the general belief was all Sasquatch stink. It wasn’t true, of course. Not every Sasquatch did, only the teenage boys. They were crammed full of hormones and, in Liberty’s experience, their scents were worse than cornered skunks.

Becky’s phone chirped and she cupped it in her hands to help diffuse the light before answering, “Lindy?”

“Uh, huh. Okay. Gosh, I know.” Becky’s voice was low, sad. “Okay, thank you. I’ll be back really soon.” Becky pressed a button and passed the phone to Liberty. She released a breath. “He’s accepted some pain medicine, but his vitals are weak. She said it’s really only a matter of hours now.”

Liberty nodded and turned to watch out the side window. Maybe this wasn’t a useful way to find out anything. Maybe they should head back.

Liberty’s breath was either too hot or she breathed too hard because the glass kept fogging up. She had to wipe it off every couple of minutes. As she used the fur on her forearm to squeegee off the fifth round of mist, she heard it.

Had she? Liberty held her breath and pressed an ear to the glass. There. There it was again. She looked up. The sound had come from the Jenkins’ house.

A Sasquatch wail. Her heart sped up. Her hackles rose. She tried to remain calm. Definitely masculine. At first she pictured Adrian. But no, the wail was from a more mature male. If she could just step outside, she’d not only be able to see and hear, but would be able to sense, as well. She tallied up the risks.

“Hey,” Becky said, “what’s going on?”

Liberty turned to look and saw Becky had the binoculars up and focused out the passenger window. She brought them down, looked at Liberty, and pointed, “You see that?”

Distracted by the wail and deciding what to do, Liberty had missed the activity to the right of the house. A flash of light appeared in the field. No. Two flashes, headlights. They bobbed up and down, getting closer every second.

“Oh shit,” Becky hissed, and then her keys jangled. “Stay down, Liberty!”

The headlights flashed and bounced inside the cab as the engine sounds from the field started to get closer, louder. Liberty flattened herself the best she could in the bed.