by Watt Key
This is over.
I began to plan how I was going to get out of there. I reached into my pocket to grab my knife with the compass, but it wasn’t there. An alarming feeling shot through me. I shoved my hand into my other pocket. Nothing. Then I remembered I had it sitting beside my pack in the shelter.
I went back to where the shelter had been and got on my hands and knees. I crawled around, desperately looking for the knife. I reasoned that surely something so small and weighted like that wouldn’t be far. But even after clearing the leaves and debris to bare dirt, I didn’t see it.
With no compass I knew there was little chance I’d make it out of the hammock alive. I needed to know exactly which way was southeast, the most direct route to civilization. I couldn’t afford to make a rough guess using the sun and the stars. I had to make it fast before I ran out of strength. I was certainly too weak to risk getting lost.
I stood up and tried to calm myself, to come up with a logical search plan for the knife. I gazed around the clearing again, taking in the circumference of destruction Alpha had left behind. This time I noticed something I had missed while crawling around that morning. There was a blue shirt caught up in some branches at the edge of the clearing, gently swaying in the breeze. I didn’t remember having any clothes out. Unless they were drying, I always stored them in my pack. And then I realized I didn’t have a blue shirt at all.
I slowly approached. As I got closer the shirt became vaguely familiar to me. A blue short-sleeve button-down with a light plaid pattern. It was Dad’s.
28
I took the shirt off the branch. My hands were trembling as I looked at the tag inside the collar. I already knew what I was going to find. Mom always wrote our names there. It was barely recognizable because of the faded ink, but there it was—Parks.
I looked up quickly and slowly turned and searched in all directions. “Dad!” I said aloud.
There was nothing but the endless hammock.
I had not really believed my parents might be alive. Not even once. But now I had Dad’s shirt. Did the creatures find it? How would it have come off him? How would they have found it without finding Dad? And what about Mom? Are they out here? What would Dad be doing without his shirt?
It didn’t make sense. But the creature left it for me. That’s what she was doing last night. There was no way I could leave. If my parents were out there, I had to find them. And to do that, I had to find the creatures.
It was a quick, easy decision. There was really nothing else to consider. I was going to find my parents or die trying. I stuffed the shirt into my pack and pulled out my cap and slipped it on. Then I gazed over the spring at the spot where the creatures seemed to appear most. That was the best place I knew of to start. Even without the compass I knew I’d be walking roughly north, deeper into the Refuge and almost in the opposite direction of any civilization. But once again, there was no other option.
I circled the spring and arrived at a small gap in the underbrush. I pushed through to find an obvious footpath leading away from the clearing. I was certain it hadn’t been there the first day I’d gone looking for shelter and other signs. Yet now here it was, a muddy trail of footprints worn like a cow path.
I stepped into the shadows of the hammock and began following the trail. At first it was obvious. In addition to the giant footprints and matted palm fronds, on either side were twisted and broken branches. But after about a hundred yards, the path diverged in several directions. I stopped for a moment, trying to decide what to do. I looked up at the sky to discern what direction I was headed in. I knew I’d started off going north, but after winding around on the trail I was disoriented. Now I found the canopy so thick all I saw were bits of sunbeam falling across the upper leaves. Without being able to see the sun and without a compass, there was no way to set a course.
I considered retracing my steps. I stood there looking around and listening and thinking. A soft breeze filtered its way through the palms. My eyes were drawn to an area of thick underbrush that wasn’t moving. I studied this place and gradually made out the shape of the young female, standing as still as a statue, her golden coat blending in perfectly with tree bark and palm fronds and sunlight. At first the sight of her was shocking. Then it was eerie.
We stared at each other for what must have been a full minute before I heard her grunt softly. I thought of the shirt in my pack. I slowly slipped my arms out of the straps, keeping my eyes on her the entire time. I placed the pack in front of me and knelt behind it and stopped. She made no move. I slowly brought my hand to the zipper and began to open the pack. When she didn’t react, I reached inside and felt the shirt on top and eased it out. Then I stood and held it up where she could see it.
The female turned and stepped away and was gone.
“Wait!” I called out.
I hurried after her, stuffing the shirt into my pack again. I came to the place where she’d been standing and stopped and looked around. It took a moment, but I eventually saw her, watching me from about the same distance. I eased the pack on again and waited to see what she would do.
“Do you understand me?” I said.
She didn’t respond.
“You brought me the shirt. My dad’s shirt. Do you know where my parents are?”
She turned and walked away.
I knew she didn’t understand what I was saying, but I was certain she knew what I wanted. And she knew I would follow her to get answers.
* * *
She never let me get closer than forty or fifty feet before she disappeared again. I could tell we were traveling in mostly a straight line, but she led us through dense thickets of cane that I had to fight through and bogs where I sank up to my knees in mud. For what felt like a quarter of a mile, she led me through a shallow marsh, where I waded through black water reaching my waist. It was only when we were in the water that I could see any sign of her moving ahead of me. And then all I saw were the ripples of her passage gently lapping against the flooded timber. She was there and she was gone. Then she was there again and gone again. I would have never traveled through such a place alone. I was certain there were alligators and snakes watching me from every direction.
After what felt like hours of this, I was at the point of exhaustion and about to drop in my tracks. But weak as I was, I had to keep going. I knew if I lost her not only would I never learn the mystery of Dad’s shirt, but I would be hopelessly stranded. So I pressed on, sometimes falling on my face in the water, other times tangled in briars or tripping through mud as thick and sticky as tar.
She always waited for me. We eventually came to an area of higher ground, where my feet weren’t getting stuck in the mud and the walking was relatively easy. But I was so tired I could barely take a step. Then I tripped over a fallen limb and lay on my side. I didn’t think I was going to be able to get up again. I rolled over and saw her stopped ahead, watching me.
“I have to rest,” I muttered.
Nothing about her facial expression ever changed. I can’t recall even seeing her eyes blink.
I lay there, catching my breath, my legs aching and my stomach sick. After a few minutes I pushed myself up and backed against a cabbage palm. I looked up at the sky. I still couldn’t fully see the sun, but I could tell it was after noon. Then the creature grunted softly, and I looked over at her. It struck me again just how human she looked from a distance. She seemed to be about my age.
I made a clicking sound with my mouth, trying to imitate their language. The female didn’t react, and I wondered what I’d said, if I’d said anything at all. A moment later she grunted and turned and disappeared. The thought of finding my parents came rushing over me again, and I stood weakly.
“I’m coming,” I said.
29
I followed for what must have been another mile over this higher ground. We traveled mostly what looked like deer trails weaving along under live oaks and loblolly pines and through palmetto and wispy thickets of cane. Then
we came to a place where I saw a crudely made lean-to structure off to my right. I stopped and studied it. Several broken limbs were supported across the upturned root system of a fallen sweetgum. There was a back wall made of sticks and palmetto. In the hollow space was a mat of grass, pressed like something as large as these creatures had recently rested there. I looked for the female and saw another similar structure on my left. Neither of the shelters were complete enough to provide much protection from the rain. They struck me more as temporary outposts.
I heard the beast grunt. I searched the sun-dappled tangle of underbrush ahead until I saw her dark eyes studying me. I started forward again.
We were getting close to something.
* * *
I felt like I was walking on harder ground. Then I began to see patches of exposed limestone through the leaves. A moment later I broke into a clearing about fifty feet wide, shaded beneath the fronds of giant cabbage palms. Here the limestone rose into a small hill with several flat, boulder-size rocks strewn about. Across the clearing the female sat on her heels, arms wrapped around her knees, like we were stopping. I took off my pack and dropped it on the ground and sat down to rest.
“What is this place?” I said to her.
She didn’t blink. Nothing about her moved.
“What about my parents?”
A light breeze passed over me, and I watched her hair flutter around her face. Then the breeze was gone, and her hair fell back into place. After I caught my breath I began looking around the clearing, studying it closely. And I began to pick out subtle things that didn’t fit in.
First of all, it seemed odd that the limestone rocks appeared to have been swept clean while the edges of the clearing were thick with oak leaves. I thought maybe the wind had done this, but the small clearing was mostly sheltered and the rocks were flat enough to hold at least a few of them. Across the clearing to my left, I noticed what looked like a deer skull wedged in the fork of two tree limbs. Then my eyes traveled down the tree to something else. At the base was what appeared to be white cloth.
I looked at the female. Had it not been for the shifting of her hair, she could have been made of stone. I stood and started across the exposed rock, walking toward the tree but angling closer to the creature than I’d been all day. Her head slowly turned and followed me. When I came within several yards of the white cloth, the realization of what I was looking at hit me suddenly and caused me to gasp and stop short. There, folded and stacked at the base of this tree, were the rest of my parents’ clothes. Mom’s white blouse. Her blue jeans. Dad’s khaki pants. Everything but their shoes.
I looked at the creature again.
“Where are they?” I said.
Her face gave no answer. I went to the clothes and knelt before them and lifted each folded garment just to make certain I wasn’t imagining things. They were stained and torn, but there was no doubt about them being my parents’. Then I began to get a strange feeling about the clearing and didn’t like having my back to it. I pulled my hands away from the clothes and looked up past her and over to the giant rocks on the ground behind me and to my right. Not far from the rocks, I saw the beginning of a fissure. The crack gradually widened to about a foot before the boulders covered it. I looked at the female again, like she might have an explanation. But I got nothing from her.
I stood again and walked toward the crack. I was no more than ten feet from my strange guide when I stopped and peered into the outside edge of a dark chasm. When I breathed I sucked in a whiff of death.
My heart began drumming in my chest so hard I could feel it in my ears. I knelt at the edge of the chasm and lowered my face, trying to peer under the boulder and see into the black recesses, but I couldn’t see anything. I looked up at the creature again.
“Are they down there?” I asked her.
A breeze tossed her hair around her face again. It was like talking to the trees.
I grabbed the boulder and tried to lift it, but it must have weighed more than a thousand pounds. Not even the strongest man alive could budge it. I lowered my face into the crevasse and breathed in the foul air.
“Dad,” I called into it. I got only a deep, hollow echo in return.
30
I already knew there was nothing alive at the bottom of the crevasse. And I knew the remains of Mom and Dad were down there. I had a passing wish I could see their bodies, but I knew it was better that I couldn’t. I didn’t want to remember them like how they would have looked.
Is this where the creatures hid their own dead?
It was the perfect setup: a deep fissure in stone covered with a boulder that nothing but a Bigfoot could move. It would explain a lot about why their remains were never found. But the fact that they pulled my parents’ bodies from the river, brought them here, and buried them with their own didn’t make sense. And the clothes. Why fold them? Who folded them?
There seemed to be no explanation other than they have some reverence for life.
I looked at the female again.
“I’m going to get my pack,” I said.
I retrieved the pack and returned to the boulder, circling it this time and sitting on the other side of it, facing her. She wasn’t more than five feet from me. I put the pack in front of me and slowly opened it and pulled out the blue shirt. When she didn’t startle, I held it out to her. She reached and took it. Then she folded it and placed it on the ground between us. The act was both shocking and frightening. I couldn’t grasp how she knew to do this unless she’d watched me fold my own clothes. Yet, eerie as it was, it also signaled to me that she was perhaps more curious and accepting of items made by humans than the rest of the creatures.
We watched each other for several more minutes, and all the while, the urge to try something I never thought I would be brave enough to attempt again built up inside me.
I took a deep breath and slowly pulled the camera from the pack. I held it there in front of me for a moment, letting her get a good look at it. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking, but she made no indication I was upsetting her. I slowly raised the camera to my eye and peered at her through the viewfinder. She was right there, only feet away, every detail of her face and body as clear as a photo from National Geographic. And I clicked the shutter and she was still there. And I clicked it again. And again. And again. I stood and walked around the boulder and took more pictures of her profile while she sat there, still as a statue. I used every photo and returned to sit down in front of her. I dropped the camera into my pack, breathing heavily, like I’d just let go of a snake. Then I zipped the pack and sat there, trying to calm myself, still in disbelief of what I’d done.
These pictures will be the best photos of a Bigfoot the world has ever seen.
* * *
I wasn’t sure what my next move was. Logically I should have been ready to leave. I had everything I’d come for. But there was this creature sitting before me. For some reason she was trying to help me, and I’d betrayed her in a way I couldn’t imagine she understood. I couldn’t bring myself to just stand and walk away from her after what I’d done. And even if I had, I knew I was hopelessly lost, and without her help I was likely to die before I ever reached civilization again.
The hammock was slipping into the shadows of dusk. I guessed there was only an hour left before nightfall.
“I’m hungry,” I said to her.
This close I saw the black of her eyes shimmer in response to my words, like she took them in but didn’t do anything with them.
I brought my finger up and touched my mouth. Suddenly she stood and turned and disappeared into the trees. I assumed she understood what I wanted and was going to find food. I leaned back against the boulder and waited.
She was gone for nearly a half hour before she returned with green trout and placed them before me. She may have already eaten because she didn’t seem to want any. She sat down in the same spot and waited.
I wondered if these fish were the rare Suwannee bas
s Stanley had talked about. Even if they were, it certainly wasn’t going to stop me from eating them. Since I didn’t have my knife, I had to do as the creatures did and bite into the fish, scales and all. Unlike them, though, I avoided the bones and intestines. There was enough meat on both fish to fill my shrunken stomach without having to chew on the unpleasant portions.
When I finished I wiped the scales from my lips and began to think about where I was going to sleep that night. Then the creature did something strange. She picked up Dad’s blue shirt that was still folded next to her and walked it over to the stack of clothes and placed it on top. Then she came back to me and sat again. I’m not sure what she meant by it, but I started to think about the clothes and how they didn’t really belong out here and how I should do something with them.
It was almost night now. The crickets were thrumming, and the small animals had ceased scurrying about.
“I’m going to get the clothes,” I said.
I stood and went over and picked them up. Then I looked at her to make sure she didn’t object for any reason. It was getting hard to see her face in the dark, but she made no movement or sound.
I walked the clothes to the edge of the crevasse and dropped them down the dark hole. I stood there for a moment, thinking maybe I should say a prayer but not sure what was appropriate. Then I remembered Mom had always liked Psalm 23. I didn’t remember all of it, but I said what I could recall.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside quiet waters.
He refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil,
for you are with me.