In Wildest Dreams

by Linda Palmer

  Mom next gave us a professional video camera with full spectrum and night vision. Slim and light with a handy shoulder mount, it’d be a breeze to take stills or switch to video. But I didn’t see any more in the gear bag. “Just the one?”

  “That’s all the two of you should need.”

  “What’s he going to do?” I glanced to the van’s third row seating, where Doug Crouse, one of their long-term photographers, sat.

  “He’ll film the beginning and conclusion, as well as our set up of ground cameras and such. Sid will watch the screens and monitor whatever other equipment we use.” She referred to Sid Majors, the tech guy.

  “Oh.” Pleased with the downsizing that had already been made, I sat back and watched breathtaking scenery zip past our window.

  So this was Chile. Though the MaM crew had filmed in South America before, we’d never been to the west coast. So I had to drag my reluctant gaze back inside the van to study the facts of the volcano that was our destination. Apparently there hadn’t been an eruption since 1987, which was good. Elevation of the peak was 21,560 feet, which was not so good. I knew about altitude sickness. I knew we had to play it safe. “So what’s the plan?”

  Mom gave me a smile over her shoulder. “Your father and I talked for a long time last night. We’ve decided to take your advice about filming and casting. MaM needs a new image. So while Doug films us looking for the Peuchen, you and your young man will document your search for the Cherufe. We’ll share base camp, of course.”

  What the hell?

  “Kit’s not my young man, okay? He’s somebody else’s.” Maybe several somebodies. “And what’s a Peuchen?”

  Mom never blinked. “A shape shifter that’s been spotted in the same area, most often in the form of a flying snake. We’ll film two episodes at once.”

  “But we’re all supposed to go together.”

  Dad chuckled. Mom sighed. “Give it up, Ellie. The chemistry between you two is so obvious. Are you trying to keep the relationship secret because you’re cohabitating? I assure you that we’ve been there, done that ourselves.” They exchanged a smile. “We won’t judge.”

  Ewww.

  A glance at Kit, who was struggling not to laugh, really did me in. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. We’re so madly in love that we can’t keep our hands off each other.”

  “I knew it!” Mom was all smiles. “A little romance might be the shot in the arm we need, right, dear?”

  “You bet.” Dad glanced back, beaming at me.

  Baffled that they appeared so happy about my nonexistent affair, I clamped my mouth shut and focused on the scenery again. If Kit and I had chemistry, I sure couldn’t feel it. And why were my parents so anxious for me to hook up with someone anyway?

  “What was it about her that drew you in?” Mom directed her question to Kit, who gave me a blatant once over.

  “Those amazing green eyes.”

  I snorted. “Contacts.”

  “Her smile.”

  “Veneers.”

  “And that gorgeous body.”

  “Spanx.”

  Dad laughed and laughed. “See? Humor is what’s missing from the show. Our viewers are going to love you guys.”

  Sheesh.

  Chapter Five

  By midafternoon, we’d reached our destination, unpacked, and hiked into the woods at the base of the enormous mountain. So far, we’d all adjusted pretty well to the lower air pressure resulting from our steady rise in altitude. Since no one planned on climbing to the top of the mountain, I figured we’d be okay, if occasionally breathless. The biting cold was another thing altogether. Although I had dressed for temperatures in the forties, the wind seemed to blow right through my flannel-lined jeans and thick parka.

  Everyone helped set up the base camp that would be the center of our monster hunts. When we found a suitably flat area, Sid raised a collapsible, waterproof canopy. Doug got the generator and situated the folding table that would hold our top-of-the-line monitoring equipment. I pitched one of the tents. Kit waited for orders and quickly caught on as he helped whoever needed it.

  Mom had done her usual prep, which was always extensive. Based on interviews with locals, she’d marked sightings of the Cherufe on a detailed geological map of our immediate area. We studied it and discussed our options with my parents, who had way more experience with that sort of thing than we—well, I —did. Kit clearly had some familiarity with the wilderness, though he didn’t make a big deal of it and deferred to my parents’ wisdom.

  Kit and I would be taking another hike to one of a network of volcanic tubes/caves that rimmed Tupungato. We planned to rest for a bit and then explore all night, filming everything we did. Mom and Dad, who’d remain in the area surrounding base camp, were going deeper into the woods, where they’d use various gadgets to help them locate the Peuchen locals claimed to have sighted there. They had one gizmo that measured vibration, another that registered moving shadows, and a third that picked up sounds the human ear couldn’t hear. Add to that the infrared settings on the cameras, and we all had a solid strategy.

  I noted that the blue sky had filled with billowing gray storm clouds. Knowing rainfall was scant all year round in Chile, I held onto my hope that nothing would come of them. My parents helped us with our backpacks. We helped them with theirs. Everyone did one last check to make sure we’d remembered everything. Doug got his camera ready.

  I found a good backdrop and faced him.

  “Five, four—” He silently finished the countdown to one with his fingers.

  “Hi, I’m Ellie Boone, the daughter of Leigh and Rich Boone. Before they began hosting ‘Myths and Monsters,’ my mother and father traveled the world researching legends for her popular young adult books. They didn’t stop when I came along, so I’ve lived all over the planet and seen a lot of amazing things.”

  Mother, who stood to the side, smiled really big, a silent reminder that I should do the same. “For that reason, I was thrilled when they asked me to search for the Cherufe. I brought along a friend of mine, Kit Macchioni, a world class photographer. With luck, we’ll find the elusive cave monster so many Chileans have seen.”

  Doug gave me a thumbs up and lowered his camera.

  “Did I sound sincere?” I caught Kit’s eye. He stopped rigging the shoulder mount long enough to meet my gaze and nod. “Then this is it, I guess.” I caught my dad’s attention. “You two be careful out there.”

  “You know we will, and you should, too.”

  I nodded.

  “Whenever you’re ready.” Kit motioned toward the trees and what might’ve been traces of an old trail in the forest undergrowth. I waved to my parents, who were getting ready to film a similar opening spiel for their monster hunt.

  There was a period of adjustment as Kit and I fell into step. He fiddled with the camera, now seated on the shoulder mount; I fiddled with the backpack, which was heavier than I’d expected. I’d pulled my hair in a ponytail and put on a cap with LED lights built into the brim. Kit had one on, too, and with darkness falling, it was a dang good thing. We didn’t want to use the big flashlights until later.

  I knew people wondered why, on shows like this one, all searching was done in the dark. I’d wondered that, too, until my dad explained that cryptids tended to be nocturnal. That struck me as awfully convenient for so-called eyewitnesses. Who could really see anything in pitch blackness, right? He’d also said that spirits and other mystical beings supposedly liked the dark, too.

  In all their years as hosts of MaM, my parents had never really proved the existence of any legendary being. Not that they hadn’t found signs—weird nests, droppings, scraps of fur, bones. They often did, and sometimes DNA testing was inconclusive or came back “species unknown.” But the elusive golden ring of validation eluded them, resulting in skeptics who considered their efforts a joke. More than anything, I wanted to document a success, the reason we ducked limbs and stepped over tangled undergrowth with our trusty camera filming our p
rogress.

  We talked as we walked, banter centering around the myth, our trail, and hilarious spills when vines unexpectedly snagged our boots. When we reached the first evidence of past lava trails, I stopped and turned to him. “I should probably say something about the Cherufe before we get in too deep. Or would it be better for us to have a dialogue about them?”

  “Too fake. Just talk.”

  “Okay. Ready?”

  He nodded and raised the camera.

  “Just in case you’re not familiar with the legend of the Cherufe, it’s an evil creature made of rock and lava. The Cherufe is humanoid in shape and is said to be the source of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. As the stories go, the beast can only be appeased by the gift of a virginal maiden. There hasn’t been an eruption of Tupungato since the eighties. I hope it’s not because an innocent girl was sacrificed every year.”

  “Or maybe the Cherufe has lowered his standards and settled for a cow or pig or something. It must be hard to find a virgin these days.” Kit’s laughing gaze nailed me to the spot.

  “Don’t look at me. I’ve been out of the running since high—” Too late I remembered he was filming. “Crap! Delete that last part, okay? I don’t want to shock my parents.”

  “The parents thrilled that we’re cohabitating?”

  I sighed. “I’m so sorry about that. I have no idea where it came from. It didn’t help that you played along.”

  “You need to lighten up, Boone. You’re always so freakin’ serious.”

  “I am?”

  “You know you are.”

  He was right. I did. Suddenly a little blue, I stepped off the trail and sat on a dead tree lying parallel to it. I eased my backpack straps off my shoulders, got some bottled water from it, and drank.

  Kit sat beside me and did the same. “What’s been going on with you the last couple of weeks?”

  “Is that thing recording?” I pointed to the camera he’d set just-so on the log.

  “Nope.”

  “Okay. I think I might’ve made a mistake opening the bakery.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because it’s stressing me out so much that I’m not enjoying it.” I looked away from him, embarrassed by the tears filling my eyes. “We’re not in the black yet. I hate trying to think up new ways to get my name out there. I also hate that I think about the price of everything as I’m working. Really compromises my creativity, you know? And the whole six-days-a-week thing? It’s just too much.”

  “How long has Hot Cakes been open?”

  I told him.

  “Realistically speaking, you should probably give yourself a couple of years to build your business. Nothing happens overnight.”

  “I know, and I will. It’s just…” I took another swig of cool water. “I borrowed money from my parents to get started. I want to succeed, but in doing that, I’ve lost the fun aspect of what I do. I had no idea that would happen.”

  Kit tugged on my ponytail. “I feel your pain, babe.”

  “You do?”

  “Yep. All those stupid dances and parties I grouse about? I actually enjoyed them at one time. Every face tells a story. I used to be fascinated by the people I saw through my lens. Now, not so much.”

  “Maybe you’ll get the World Wonders job. But if you do, will it become a chore, too?”

  “No, because I’d give up my apartment, sell my car, and get rid of all the material things I owe for or might miss.”

  That sounded so good. “I envy you.”

  “You could do the same.”

  My gaze locked with his. “How? I’ve got to pay my folks back, and I have a one-year lease on my bakery and a two-year on my apartment. Besides, I have to make a living doing something.”

  “And you hate to admit defeat?”

  “Yeah.” Sigh. “There is that.”

  He stood. “The storm’s really rolling in. We need to get a move on. According to the map, we’re a football field away from the nearest cover.”

  “Should I say anything else about what we’re doing?”

  “Unless your viewers are idiots, they’ll figure it out.”

  The plop! of an ice cold raindrop brought me to my feet. “You go first. I’ll film for a while.”

  With a nod, he helped me settle the camera before draping the backpack strap over one of his shoulders and forging ahead on long legs that made me hurry to keep up.

  Kit from behind was as good as Kit from the front, and I just might’ve focused the camera on the nicely curved back pockets of his hiking pants for a second or two before I realized what I was doing. I decided I should probably film over it to avoid embarrassment. Stopping right where I was, I checked out the camera screen and began a slo-mo reverse. I went too far and saw the images my partner had captured last.

  “You filmed my ass?”

  Kit, several feet ahead, turned in surprise. “Huh?”

  “My ass. You filmed it.”

  In two steps he stood beside me. “Maybe I should handle the camera.” He reached for it.

  I dodged him. “And maybe I should go back to the beginning and check out what else is on this thing.”

  “Well, you can’t do it here.” As if on cue, it began sprinkling. A second later, the heavens opened up.

  I panicked. “Save the camera!”

  Kit dug into the backpack and came up with a plastic cover. That secured, he grabbed my hand and began running. The plastic billowed, blocking my view. I tripped over more than one obstacle in our path. Where in the heck were we going? My head lamps were bright, but so small that all I could see was the blur of trees as we haphazardly wove in and out of them.

  A solid wall of black rock suddenly loomed ahead. Kit led me along its rim until we found the mouth of a cave. I didn’t have time to panic before he tugged me in after him. Thunder rolled, a sound I could feel as much as hear. A lightning flash revealed that we were safely out of the wet and able to stand upright, but just. I deliberately didn’t glance around. So far, I was fine, but if the cave behind me was huge, I’d panic.

  “You okay?” Kit rid himself of the backpack and took the camera from me before brushing raindrops off his North Face jacket.

  I did some brushing off, too. “A l-little c-c-cold.”

  “We should have a blanket in here somewhere.” He found one of those aluminum-type rescue blankets and draped it over my shoulders. Although thin, it did provide some warmth, but I was so wet my teeth kept chattering. Without explanation, Kit ducked into the rain again, leaving me all alone. The dark swallowed me and my pitiful LEDs whole. My heart rate jumped to triple digits. A shiver that had nothing to do with the weather started at my heels and groped its way upward until my whole body got caught in its clutch.

  Without trying, I pictured what I didn’t have the courage to face and confirm. Vast, curved walls of long-hardened lava. Tumbled rocks. Endless tunnels leading nowhere. Just how far back did this awful cave go?

  More important, how would we keep from getting lost in it?

  Chapter Six

  Where are you, Topher?

  But this wasn’t a dream.

  My gaze swept the gloomy woods. A tiny row of head lamps, bobbing between trees, told me Kit was on his way back. Cold, damp air swirled around him when he burst into the cave, a good-sized bundle of limbs in his arms. “Damn. It’s downright frigid out there, but I think I found enough wood that wasn’t soaked through.”

  “I would’ve tagged along.”

  “You can help me with these.” He let the limbs fall to the cave floor. All were wet to some degree, of course, but no deeper than the bark.

  In full summer camp mode, I knelt to stack them. “Got flint?”

  “No, but I do have matches.” Grinning, he pulled a small box from his pack. After adding some brown moss from his jacket pocket, he squatted beside me and struck one after another that either hissed against the damp flora or died in the chilly wind. “I guess we’d better move a little farther in.
” Kit caught my chin in his hand and made me look at him. “How’s the phobia?”

  “I’m dealing.” I averted my gaze because my words sounded as shaky as I felt. Although there was zero chance of me going deep enough inside our cave to get lost, what if the fire lured something wild? Something that really and truly existed: pumas, wolves, foxes?

  Kit dug a real flashlight from a holder on his belt and stepped past me to check out the cave. “This isn’t so bad. If we keep the opening in sight, you should be fine. Don’t think of it as a cave, okay? Think of it as a castle. A hidden castle.”

  My heart stopped. “What did you say?”

  “Pretend we’re in a cas—” He flicked the light over my face. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Kit hesitated before turning away. “See those arches? They’re really a vaulted ceiling. These stone walls are draped tapestries. We’ll build a fire in that fireplace over there to warm us up.”

  Still stuck on hidden castle, I couldn’t even answer. What were the chances that Kit would use the same diversionary tactic as Topher? One in a zillion, I figured. “If this is a castle, who made it? Fairies?”

  Kit hooted. “What are you? Nine? Deep breath, Boone. You’re losing it. And stop worrying. I won’t let the big bad beastie get you.”

  “Promise?” My laugh sounded embarrassingly shaky, but not for the reason he’d probably assumed.

  He went still. “Are you scared of the Cherufe?” Disbelief laced his words. “Damn, Ellie. It’s just a legend. A stupid legend created a zillion years ago by simple men to explain something they didn’t understand.”

  “I know that.”

  “Good. For a second there, I thought you were as obsessed as your parents.”

  “They are not obsessed. They’re dedicated.”

  “Yeah, to the study of what never was or will be.”

  “That’s a little harsh don’t you think?” My tone definitely had an edge to it.

  “Sorry, but it’s true and you know it. Now are you okay? Or do we need to get out of here?”