“Where’s that big, handsome sheriff?” she asked casually.
Charlie spoke up. “Uh, Bud’s up in Seattle for a couple days on department business.”
Marsha left that topic alone. “Well, Ian, it was very nice meeting you. Here, let me give you my card. Call me so we can meet and have coffee or something some time.” She dug into her purse and retrieved her business card, then handed it to Ian.
“All right then. Bye!”
The men muttered their goodbyes and Marsha turned and walked slowly back across the room. Without hesitation, she exited through the side door she’d come in through.
Charlie looked over at Ian. “Well, thank God for small favors. At least we’ve got her out of our hair.”
I wonder? Ian thought.
In the parking lot, Marsha walked briskly over to the driver’s window of the station van and motioned for Tom to roll it down.
“Change of plans. I tell you, something’s still cooking around here. I can feel it. We’re going to move the van up the way just a bit. We’ll park out of sight. My guess is those two, they’re going to rendezvous with the sheriff back up the mountain. That is, once they’ve loaded up with liquid courage! Tom, it’s not hunting season yet is it?” Tom shook his head. “Well, the deputy, he’s all dressed up like Rambo. Like he’s ready to hunt something!”
Back inside the bar, Charlie stood up. “Let’s get going. We’re losing daylight.”
Ian got up from his chair. Charlie laid down enough money to cover their tab, and Ian left some cash for a tip. The two men walked from the bar to Charlie‘s car.
Chapter 34
Silver Bullets
Charlie and Ian spotted Charbonneau looking out the window at them as they pulled up his driveway. Ian stayed in the car while Charlie walked up to the front door. He saw Old Charbonneau hand Charlie a small brown paper bag and the two exchanged some pleasantries. Then Charlie turned and walked back to the car and climbed into the driver’s seat.
He handed the small bag to Ian. “Charbonneau was able to make three bullets. He said the purity of the silver is excellent, and these will be powerful and accurate. I laughed when he said that. I told him they wouldn’t be any more accurate than the marksman who fires them. I hope you’re handy with that pop-gun of yours.”
Ian smiled reluctantly as he looked intently at the bullets in the bag.
“Yeah, well, I’m no Dirty Harry when it comes to handguns, but I’m okay!”
Charlie pulled his car around and they exited the long driveway back onto the main road. A few minutes later, they were driving through town, heading east towards the mountains.
Charlie decided mostly for Ian’s sake that he should speak. Ending an almost ten minute silence, he said, “Well Ian, here’s what I figure we should do first. First, let’s head up to the falls. Maybe if we’re lucky, well if you can call it luck, we’ll discover some more evidence.”
Ian knew that Charlie meant more of Bud’s remains. The thought was too grisly for him to call a spade a spade.
“Ian, something else you should know about Jean-Chastel. A couple years back, Bud caught wind that Chastel might be the guy who was peddling moonshine to some of the unfortunates up at the reservation. Bud questioned a few of them, but nobody would drop a dime on the guy. They no doubt didn’t want to lose their source. But more than that, Bud said they seemed scared to death to even talk about it at all. Bud figured Chastel probably was the moonshiner. The guy had to get a little money somehow, but he never could prove it. If Chastel was running a still, it was nowhere around his cabin. Probably had it hidden way up in the hills. Anyway, Bud did some checking on Chastel. You know, police records, public records, you name it. Nothing came back on the guy. And I mean nothing at all! There are no records that he even exists. The man’s a ghost, a total recluse who lives completely off of the grid. He don’t own any vehicle. Occasionally, like you seen today, Chastel will bum a ride into town from someone up on the rez. But Christ, just to do that, he’s got to walk several miles up and down hill and dell. And I mean through some goddamn dense forest and steep-ass ravines just to get to anyone who has a car or truck.”
Ian couldn’t help being fascinated by Jean-Chastel Gevaudan. How someone, anyone, could live completely by their own rules, totally outside the entrapments of modern society was incredible. Unless they were an immortal, savage werewolf!
Charlie took a deep breath. His mood seemed to suddenly change to that of dead seriousness.
“Ian, if your crazy theory is even part right, if Chastel is our guy, well, that would make things simple!”
Ian looked at Charlie, confused. “How so?”
It was starting to get dark so Charlie switched on his headlights. He then glanced over at Ian. A forced grin had replaced Charlie’s normal pleasant smile and his eyes looked wild. Charlie’s sudden change of expression made the hair on Ian’s neck stand on end. Charlie then spoke in an overly calm voice.
“It’s easy to disappear someone who’s already invisible!”
Charlie grew quiet again as they approached the stretch of road where Jeremy and Katie had crashed, and Bud had been killed.
Ian could feel the palatable tension that was welling up within Charlie. Ian didn’t know him that well, but he knew this was not Charlie’s typical demeanor. Charlie was getting more intense, more single-minded by the minute, singularly intent on utterly destroying whatever had attempted to attack his son and Katie, had attacked Rob Richards, and had killed those hikers and his best friend Bud.
For some reason, and Ian could not for the life of him understand this, he was no longer afraid. Even as absurd as it seemed when he’d run it over and over in his mind, Ian could not get Jean-Chastel Gevaudan out of his mind. It was much more than the pseudo-facts. Ian somehow felt the connection.
“Charlie, what if this guy Jean-Chastel … What if he was named or named himself after the Jean-Chastel of the seventeen hundreds in France we were reading about? What if he’s just some crazy serial killer type who’s obsessed with immolating people in the name of that whole Beast of Gevaudan thing he read about? Or maybe he’s even some distant relative of that guy and it plays into his delusion, and due to his lycanthropic mental illness he puts on some animal skin suit when he goes out on killing sprees. That would explain quite a bit of it, right? Shit, maybe he’s even a cannibal!”
Charlie swerved a little as he took his eyes off the road to glance at Ian. He then grunted, “Yeah, maybe.” Charlie glanced up at his rearview mirror. “But we got another concern right now.”
That caught Ian off guard, breaking his concentration. “What? What other concern?”
Charlie shook his head in disgust. “We’re being followed by your lady friend!”
Ian looked over at Charlie. “My lady friend?”
Charlie took a deep breath. He then nodded with exaggeration as he again glanced for a second back into his rearview mirror. “Have a look for yourself!”
Ian twisted his body in his seat as far around as he could and took a good look back at the roadway behind them. He made out the KATW Channel Thirteen news van. “Oh shit, you’re kidding me!”
Chapter 35
Moon Rises Harmony Falls
Charlie took a left off of the main road onto the long, bumpy gravel road that led up to the falls. He glanced over at Ian then focused back on his driving as he spoke. “They saw us turn. They’ll catch up to us in just minutes, so here’s the plan. Soon as we get up to the little parking area, we’re gonna grab the guns and flashlights and head up towards the falls before they get here. That means we’ve got to move fast! We sure as shit don’t want them dogging us up at the falls.”
Ian nodded in agreement while he replied, “Yeah, good idea! They’ll think twice before wanting to head up through the thick trees and briars all the way to the falls in the dark, especially trying to pack their equipment.”
Charlie was glad Ian was on the same page. He continued, “That’s right, they pro
bably won’t attempt getting up to the falls by themselves, but if we give them any chance to follow us, mark my words, they’d make the climb, getting in our way every step and maybe frightening off whatever the fuck we’re hunting. That lady reporter, she’s got guts, I’ll give her that. Well, like I said, we’re gonna move fast! We ain’t gonna give them no easy opportunity to follow!”
Charlie and Ian continued up the old logging road until they reached the small clearing that served as a parking area at Little Merwin. Charlie parked his car and turned off his ignition and lights. He then pushed the button to pop open the trunk.
“All right, let’s get moving. Ian, grab the rifle out of the trunk. And there’s duct tape and a couple of flashlights back there. Grab them too! I’m gonna use the tape to lash a flashlight to my rifle.”
Ian nearly leapt from the car. He bounded to the rear of the vehicle and grabbed everything Charlie had asked him to retrieve. He handed the rifle, one of the flashlights, and the roll of tape to Charlie.
Charlie briefly set the flashlight and tape onto the hood of his car. He then positioned the rifle with its stock against the ground, holding it with his knees, barrel towards the sky. He rapidly retrieved the flashlight and tape from the hood and swiftly lashed the flashlight onto the underside barrel of his rifle. Without further delay, Charlie took the lead, and the two men headed into the dense thicket, heading towards the falls. Just before disappearing into the woods, both men heard the distant sound of a vehicle approaching. Ian turned and looked back. They’d already put around fifty yards between themselves and Charlie’s car. Ian could see rapidly approaching headlights dancing up and down in the tall trees alongside the gravel road as the vehicle made its way to the parking area. Marsha Steward and her cameraman Tom Iverson had arrived.
An eerie, strong wind suddenly began blowing. Trees, bushes, and tall grass began whipping to and fro, making it more difficult to trudge through the low-hanging fir and alder tree limbs, tangles of vine, and multitudes of rainwater-soaked limbs and foliage, all of which continuously slapped them in their faces and all over, soaking them head to foot.
Ian mused, It might as well be pouring down rain. Wouldn’t be getting any wetter!
Charlie and Ian kept moving forward quickly as quietly as they could. Charlie looked back over his shoulder at Ian and said in little more than a whisper, “Ian, the wind is blowing from the north. That’s good! We will be upwind, throwing off our scent. The noise from the trees will make it more difficult for us to be heard.
Ian thought, Yeah, but harder for us to hear as well.
Charlie and Ian were nearly coming out of the dense woods back alongside the lake near the falls when Charlie switched his rifle-mounted flashlight off. He motioned for Ian to extinguish his as well. Charlie then knelt down on one knee, and Ian followed suit. Both men remained hidden by cover as they gazed up at the elevated position of the falls, which was less than forty feet from where they knelt. From their position, they could see that somehow, the massive boulder had been returned to its place of origin, completely closing off the falls-side entrance to the cave.
Charlie spoke quietly. “Okay, plan B. There’s an animal trail just to the right of the falls created by herds of elk making their way from up in the mountains down to this watering hole. Hikers use it all the time in the summer. The trail goes about three miles up into the hills. Then it opens to a large clearing. Just beyond the clearing about a quarter mile further up, the forest gets real dense. Never been logged, old growth forest. That’s where Jean-Chastel’s cabin is. Shall we?”
Ian nodded. The two men rose, switched their flashlights back on, and proceeded towards the trail.
Primarily due to the combination of adrenaline and all the walking he’d done over the last couple of days, Ian was doing a good job of keeping up with Charlie. Somehow miraculously, he wasn’t even getting out of breath as they traversed up the trail that was beginning to present itself as a fairly steep incline.
Charlie looked back over his shoulder and showed the first glimpse in hours of his usually jovial self as he softly said, “You’re doing pretty good for a white guy!”
Ian was equally quiet with his reply. “Are we there yet?”
Chapter 36
Cabin Fever
Charlie and Ian crouched low amidst a thicket of bushes and blackberry briars. In the moonlight, they could clearly see Jean-Chastel’s small log cabin. There was smoke billowing from the chimney. At that elevation, there were small patches of snow on the ground. It wasn’t freezing out, but nearly.
Charlie looked over at Ian and spoke very quietly, almost in a whisper, “What time do you have?”
Ian glanced at his watch and replied in an equally quiet voice, “It’s quarter till ten.”
Charlie stood up straight and said in an almost normal volume, “All right. Enough of this creeping around. We’re gonna walk right up there and announce our presence. Mind you, have that silver pea-shooter of yours drawn and ready! Despite what I’ve said, if he’s our man, I’ll make the arrest if possible!”
Ian had figured all along that Charlie was the kind of man that would at least try to do the right thing. Not that Charlie wasn’t capable of taking a life. Ian knew with clarity that Charlie was quite capable should it become necessary. It was himself that Ian worried about. Can I do this? Can I shoot to kill should it come down to it? Ian had asked himself that question over and over during the hike to the cabin.
Both men walked briskly but cautiously with guns ready up to the front of the cabin.
Charlie, speaking once more in little more than a whisper, said, “Okay, Ian, listen up. I want you to keep very low and quiet as you make your way to the back of the cabin. Once you’re in place back there, stay clear of the back door and keep your head down. When I announce my presence at the front, you be ready if he decides to bolt out the back. If he does bolt out the back, don’t try and be no hero. Shout at him to freeze. But if he doesn’t stop of his own accord, don’t do anything stupid that could get yourself hurt. He’s a big guy. And likely as not, he may be armed with a shotgun or something, you understand? Ian, all those wild stories and theories we been talking about … If this is the man we’re after, that’s all he is. A man, nothing more. Just a crazy lunatic. Hell, maybe Chastel really does think he’s some kind of animal or something. I can buy that. Mind you, that don’t make him any less dangerous. A crazy can be the worst monster you can imagine. So if you see him, shout out your position, and I’ll come running. When you’re ready, I’m gonna give you about two minutes to get into position. Then I’m going up and announcing myself. Got it?”
Ian nodded as he thought, Just a man. Of course, Charlie’s right. Chastel is just a crazy, a big crazy Cajun. Nothing more!
Ian took a deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity. He then let his breath out slowly in an attempt to help gather his composure and steady himself. Ian, shaking a little from both the cold and his nerves, retrieved his pistol from his ankle holster. He’d already loaded it with the three silver bullets during their drive up to the lake.
Ian crouched over as low as he could. He began making his way towards the back of the cabin, moving as slowly and as silently as he could.
Behind the cabin were two small wooden outbuildings. From where Ian stood, one appeared to be a shed, and one smelled to be an outhouse. The shed door was closed but not locked. Ian went over to it. He quietly opened the door and shone his flashlight in, taking caution to not expose his light beyond the confines of the shed. Ian was horrified by what he saw as hundreds of flies flew directly at his face. Instantly, a stench beyond putridity completely overcame his senses. Ian gagged. He bent over at the waist and began succumbing to uncontrollable heaving. But somehow, after an eternal instance of convulsing, he managed to hold back further reflux of sputum and soured, acidic, throat-burning stomach content that had nearly filled his throat and mouth. Zero residual presence, Ian thought as he successfully managed to swallow his mouthful and
suppress his instinct to scream from terror-induced panic. He nearly lost his balance as he stumbled on wobbly knees, slowly backpedaling from the shed door. Ian managed to maintain enough presence of mind to switch off his flashlight as he continued to back away from the shed. He began to shake all over from shock and nerves and took a deep breath, reaching down deep within himself and managing to summon a semblance of composure. It was too late to rely on anything that could pass for courage. Ian’s brain had switched to autopilot. He was on survival mode, pure and simple. Fight or flight, Ian mused. Only problem was the choice had been made. Too late to run. The plane’s already left the proverbial runway! Ian positioned himself off to the side of the back door of the cabin. Shaking from shattered nerves and the cold, he crouched down and waited at the back of the cabin, alone, in the full, moonlit night.
Charlie had positioned himself just to the left of the cabin’s front door, rifle leveled chest-high at the doorway. He began speaking loud, clear, and in a forceful voice.
“Jean-Chastel, this is the Harmony County Sheriff’s Department. We need you to come on out with your hands empty, held high in plain sight. We got some questions to ask you. Now don’t get no idea of bolting out the back. We got a dozen men positioned all around your place. You’re completely surrounded! You got less than a minute to come on out, or we’re coming in! You got that, Chastel?”
Hearing Charlie yell those words caused a twisting, cramping knot to well up within Ian’s stomach. A dozen men surrounding the place? Yeah right, he thought. His heart pounded harder and harder. Ian’s sweating palms made gripping his pistol with any confidence increasingly difficult.
In less than thirty seconds, the cabin door burst open. Jean-Chastel stood there completely naked and empty-handed in the doorway.
The cabin was dimly lit by a couple of oil lamps. The only thing within the cabin that Charlie could make out clearly was a very large bear-skin rug with its head and claws intact lying on the floor in the center of the cabin.
Loup-Garou: The Beast of Harmony Falls (The Ian McDermott, Ph.D., Paranormal Investigator Series Book 1) Page 14