Crystal Creek

by Malmborg, William

  Cheryl seemed at a loss, her phone in hand.

  Had it not been for the pictures she had shown him to prove a body had been there, he would have been pissed off, his thinking being that she was trying to set something up as a news story. It wouldn't have been the first time she embellished something in an attempt to get publicity, but he would have damn well tried to make it the last time if it had looked to be the case again. Having seen the pictures though…well…he was at a loss too.

  "You said you heard gunshots and then a scream." It was not a question but a restating of her earlier statement.

  "Yeah."

  "And even though you ran the entire way here, it still took you several minutes to get here from the cabin."

  Cheryl nodded.

  "Following that, you got lost and it took what, three hours for you to get back to your house?"

  Cheryl nodded again and said, "Yeah, about that. We went back and forth for quite some time looking for the cabin and Jeep, but then headed down once the lightning started."

  Quinn considered that secondary statement and wondered if she was concerned about justifying why it took them so long to get back. A typical journey from here to town when on foot and off road would take thirty to forty minutes. Having gone back and forth for a while, and then having been faced with the lightning storm, three hours wasn't anything to be ashamed of. The only oddity was the fact that she had gotten them lost in the first place, especially when going from the clearing to cabin. Had she not been an experienced woodsmen, then he could understand it, but Cheryl had grown up in Crystal Creek and had spent quite a bit of time in the wilderness. It was hard to imagine her losing her way. Then again, it could happen to the best of them, so…

  He let those questions fade and contemplated a new one.

  Who would want to kill Marlon Gibbs?

  The man was harmless, and aside from a few run-ins with the law over illegal hunting practices, he never bothered a soul.

  He turned back to Cheryl. "Why did you two come up here in the first place?"

  She stared at him for a few seconds and shrugged. "Brian wanted to find out if anyone had seen anything unusual up here. I figured who better to start with than Marlon Gibbs since he has lived up here for years and knows the land better than anyone."

  Quinn couldn't fault her for such thinking, his own mind having taken him on the same path during his initial investigation into the Margaret Jones disappearance and then again when he tried to figure out who would have left the girl's phone with Cheryl.

  And if it had been Marlon Gibbs, he would no longer be able to share that information.

  Not that the man had been very forthcoming when Quinn had tried to talk to him a few weeks earlier. In fact, he had been downright hostile, anger over the incident with the bear still fresh on his mind even though Quinn had done everything he could to get the county to let it go before it came to his arrest and short jail stay.

  Did someone know he had information?

  Or is his death completely unrelated?

  Maybe the cabin would yield some answers.

  Maybe it would contain—

  Cheryl's cry pierced his ears.

  He spun around just as something crashed into him, something with hairy arms that wrapped around his body in the tackle. And then he felt something crashing into his skull. A rock of some kind, one that didn't quite knock him unconscious but was enough to leave him senseless and immobilized. He also felt his bladder let go.

  "No! No! No!"

  It sounded like Cheryl, the words eventually twisting into a long horrific scream.

  22

  Brian somehow managed to slam himself into a low-hanging tree branch while trying to find his way through the woods, his eyes failing to see it since they were glued to the path that Cheryl had led him down earlier, one that was almost impossible for him to make out. Blood dripped, the branch having cut open the flesh above his right eye.

  Keep going! the voice inside urged.

  His legs obeyed, his right arm wiping at the wound to clear the blood while his feet continued onward.

  The cabin appeared in front of him just as a scream echoed from the right, halting him.

  Cheryl?

  A second scream reached his ears.

  He started for the trees and quickly charged into the brush, his only guide being the screams, which continued to echo, each one fainter than the one before it until, eventually, they stopped.

  23

  Head pounding, Quinn tried to get to his feet, his arms pushing against the ground, muscles shaking as if this were the final push-up to break a world record. He couldn't do it. His body fell back to the ground, chin striking the rocky surface with a painful thunk that echoed through his mind. Also echoing were the screams from Cheryl, the creature having dragged her into the woods.

  Gotta get up.

  Instead, he closed his eyes.

  It was just for a second, one that lasted several minutes.

  He opened them again, the pounding within his skull having faded a bit.

  Cheryl's screams had stopped.

  He twisted himself so that he was on his side rather than face-first on the ground, pain echoing from several areas within his body.

  A moan escaped his lips.

  All he wanted to do was close his eyes again. A few more minutes and he would be good to go.

  No!

  Getting a hand under him, he pushed.

  A cry reached his ears, one that came from his own lips.

  A few seconds later, he was sitting up, his back against a boulder. It helped keep him steady as he prepared for the next step, which would be standing.

  Something moved within the trees.

  He twisted a bit, right hand going to his sidearm.

  The gun was still there.

  He pulled it out.

  A figure appeared from the trees, one that came to a stop and looked around.

  Their eyes locked.

  The figure charged toward him.

  He almost raised the gun to fire, but then realized it would be a mistake. This was not the one who had attacked him. It was Brian.

  You told him to wait in the truck.

  What's he doing?

  "Where's Cheryl?" Brian asked.

  "Help me up."

  "Where is she?"

  Quinn pointed with the gun to the trees near the bottom of the rocky slope.

  It was the best he could do, having not seen where they actually went.

  "Help me up," he said again.

  Brian did, his hands quickly getting Quinn up onto his feet, his butt positioned against the boulder so he was somewhat sitting on it as if it were a stool that he could spring from, his feet firmly planted on the ground. Following that, Brian took off toward the trees.

  24

  The rocks were uneven and worn smooth from the wind, and if Brian had stayed upon them, he probably would have broken something in a fall. Instead, he made his way between them, some of the areas looking like natural paths, others so cramped that water would likely form pools within them during rainstorms rather than running off into the woods.

  At the tree line, the land became a bit friendlier, though it was steeper, his body pausing against a pine that had lost most of its lower branches. From there, he scanned the area looking for Cheryl, trying to figure out what a Bigfoot-like creature would do with her.

  Was it dragging her to a lair?

  Like King Kong with the female sacrifice from the island natives?

  Such action seemed so Hollywood, yet maybe Hollywood had gotten it right. Maybe mythical ape creatures did desire female companionship.

  If so, what was it planning on doing with her?

  The question wasn't difficult to speculate upon, his mind producing several sickening images as he moved along the tree line trying to find evidence of where they had gone. Nothing popped out at him. He needed tracks like the ones he had followed from the vehicle to the cabin, or sounds that he could guid
e himself toward. Right now he had neither.

  "Cheryl!" he called out.

  His voice faded into the trees without reply.

  He turned and looked back at the clearing, a debate on going deeper into the trees being waged.

  He didn't want to get lost.

  Then again, this area seemed to have very little underbrush, possibly due to the slope, so it wasn't difficult to see the clearing and the direction he would need to backtrack to reach it once he was in.

  And if you find them?

  This creature had taken down two men who were armed and knew how to use their weapons. He was unarmed and had never once been in a fight. He wouldn't stand a chance.

  Cheryl had a gun as well.

  Why hadn't she used it?

  All that screaming meant she was conscious…

  Had it fallen from her holster when she was attacked?

  Or had the creature grabbed her in such a way that she couldn't get to the gun?

  He looked upon the ground as if he would actually happen upon the gun, but it was nowhere to be found.

  And then he made a decision: he was going into the woods.

  It wasn't bravery so much as a realization that he would never be able to live with himself if he didn't try to help. This despite the fact that he knew he couldn't really help, not unless he found her on the ground, left behind by the creature, his own body not having to fight to secure her but simply help her to her feet.

  25

  Quinn Parker radioed for help, Jeanne requiring clarification three times before she accepted what he told her about a man-like ape having attacked them.

  "You mean someone dressed like an ape?" she finally asked.

  "Yes!" Quinn snapped.

  "Okay. I'll call the county."

  "No, that'll take too long. Just come up yourself."

  With that, the conversation ended.

  He hooked his radio handset back onto his chest and looked down the slope, his eyes just barely able to see Brian as he walked along the tree line.

  You need to help him, an inner voice said.

  How? another asked.

  He couldn't even stand up without the world starting to spin, let alone navigate his way down a rocky slope toward the tree line. And if he attempted it, he would probably add to his injury by cracking his head against a rock in a fall.

  No, best to wait for Jeanne to arrive.

  That'll take an hour.

  Even so, it was the best option.

  Down the slope, Brian disappeared into the tree line, the young man finally deciding to venture into the trees to see what he could find.

  Hopefully he wouldn't get lost.

  Finding Cheryl with the limited search and rescue resources the county possessed would be difficult enough, especially if the one who had her was trying to elude them and had a spot that was tucked away. Having to split those resources between two missing people…

  He gave a mental shake of his head at the thought.

  A second later he was bent over, stomach heaving, acid and mystery chunks that should have been long since digested spilling out between his legs and mixing with the dirt.

  I need to get to a hospital, he noted to himself and reached for the radio.

  You already called Jeanne, another voice reminded.

  He contemplated this, a hand going to the back of his head to investigate the wound once again.

  The swelling was worse than it had been before, his fingers finding a golf-ball-sized lump where earlier it had been the size of a dime. The amount of blood that had soaked in his hair had increased as well, the entire back of his head sticky with it as it tried to dry within the sweaty hair.

  Hit me with a rock, his mind muttered.

  The pictures that Cheryl had showed him of Marlon Gibbs entered his thoughts. He too had been hit with a rock it seemed, or had his head smashed into the edge of a boulder over and over again until the skull was busted.

  That could have been me.

  If Cheryl hadn't been there, he would likely be dead, his own brains splattered all over the place. Instead, Cheryl was being taken somewhere, likely to be held captive while being raped.

  By Bigfoot?

  No.

  The thoughts faded, the pounding within his skull too much to contend with.

  And then he realized that while his head was still pounding, the louder pounds were not within his head but were coming from the trees. They were gunshots.

  26

  Brian heard the gunshot but didn't fully register what it was until the bullet lodged into the trunk of a pine tree to his left. A second and third shot followed, those bullets also slamming into bark not far from where he stood, pieces being punched out into the air.

  A fourth shot revealed to him where they were being fired from, his eyes able to make out Cheryl, who was about fifteen feet away, body wedged between a shelf of rock jutting up from the earth and the trunk of a tall pine tree.

  Her clothes were torn, her breasts exposed, though it was the barrel of the gun that he focused on, the round opening in line with his eyes.

  "Cheryl," he said, voice so soft that she likely didn't hear it.

  No shot echoed.

  Not that he would hear it if it did, his mind recalling things he’d read that said one never hears the shot that hits him because the bullet travels faster than the sound.

  "Cheryl," he said again, this time loud enough for her to hear. "It's me, Brian. It's okay."

  He wanted to lift up his hands to show that he was harmless, but his body seemed frozen in place, all his limbs locked.

  She did not lower the gun.

  He stayed where he was, heart thumping against his chest.

  She was going to shoot him.

  He could sense it coming, her finger adding pressure to the trigger, her horror at what had just unfolded painting him as a threat.

  And then she lowered the gun, fingers releasing their grip so that it fell onto the dusty ground, her hands going up to her face, sobs echoing as he rushed over to her, useless words of comfort leaving his lips.

  27

  "I think he was going to…going to rape me," Cheryl said once the three were in her Jeep, the two having helped keep Chief Parker upright as they navigated their way to the vehicles. "I felt his penis when he got on top of me, and it was…dripping."

  Is it rape when it's an animal that does it? Brian wondered from the passenger side, but then dismissed the question and instead asked, "Why'd it let you go?"

  "I don't know," Cheryl said, guiding the vehicle down the mountain. "After hitting the chief, he grabbed me and started dragging me into the woods and then lost his grip while trying to…" She took a deep breath. "I pulled the gun and was going to shoot him, but he ran away before I could take aim."

  Brian didn't know what to make of that.

  Cheryl looked at him for a moment, then back at the road, then into the mirror at the chief.

  Brian followed her gaze and looked at Chief Parker, who was slumped against the window. "Chief Parker?" Brian asked.

  The chief glanced up at him, face asking, What?

  "Just making sure you're still with us," Brian said.

  They were hoping to meet up with the authorities that he had called so that they could get him to the hospital sooner, Cheryl heading toward the town as fast as she dared on the twisty mountain roads. Cheryl herself seemed fine, the initial shock of what she had endured having quickly faded away once they were back in the clearing.

  "I saw it," Brian said.

  "You did?" Cheryl asked.

  "Yeah, while waiting for you two. It ran across the road right in front of me."

  Cheryl was silent for several seconds and then asked, "Did you get any pictures?"

  "No."

  "Me either."

  Silence returned.

  Brian thought about what he had seen, mind replaying the moment the creature ran by the vehicle. Something felt off, but he wasn't sure what it was. Nor would he
be able to pinpoint it given the lack of photographic evidence. All he had to go on was his memory, and that wasn't enough to study things.

  "What is it?" Cheryl asked, slowing for an upcoming curve.

  "I don't know," he admitted. "This entire thing seems so surreal."

  "Yeah."

  "I mean, I've never ever heard of a Bigfoot attacking anyone, yet Annie claims to have video of what seems to be an attack, there's a dead man, another who was almost killed, and then your attempted abduction." He paused. "It feels more like a movie than real life."

  "Life is stranger than fiction."

  "True, but…"

  Cheryl waited.

  Brian didn't know what else to say. He couldn't explain it.

  "I know one thing," Cheryl said while rounding the curve.

  "What's that?"

  "It's going to make for one hell of a news story."

  "Yeah." He smiled. But only if I can get my hands on the video.

  "Are you going to post about all this once you get back to the room?"

  "No, probably not yet."

  "How come?"

  "I don't really write while on the investigations themselves; I simply take notes and gather evidence. Plus, this is all so intense, I think I should release it all as one big story rather than as little updates here and there on my author site."

  Cheryl didn't reply to this.

  "That does remind me, would you be able to send me the pictures you took of the body and footprints?"

  "What?" she asked. Then, before he could repeat, "Oh yeah, of course."

  “Perfect."

  “But only if you credit me.”

  “For sure.”

  Nothing else was said, the three eventually hooking up with Jeanne, who was responding to the chief's call for help.

  "You sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Brian asked.

  "I'm fine," Cheryl said, her jacket zipped all the way up despite the heat, hiding her torn shirt and exposed breasts.

  Brian looked at her for several seconds.