Soren nearly jumped again.
“Would you stop doing that?” he asked.
“Doing what? You’re just hanging out with a dumb expression on your face staring at the damn trees,” she said. “It’s like you’re not even here.”
Soren bit his lower lip and looked at her.
“I don’t know what it is,” he said. “It just feels . . . off here.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“You’re psychic now, too?” she asked.
“No, but I do believe in gut instinct,” he responded.
“And what’s that say?”
“Run like hell.”
“You want to leave?” she asked.
Her tone and the look on her face were begging him to say yes. She clearly didn’t like it here any more than he did.
“No. Let’s take a look around,” Soren said, and he regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.
“Okay,” she responded, sounding unhappy.
“I do wish you’d thought to warn me we were coming,” he said. “I could have brought my equipment.”
Annika’s face lit up.
“I forgot!” she said.
She went around the car and gestured for him to follow. She pressed a button on her key and opened the trunk. Soren looked down to see a large metal case. She reached down and unlocked it. Inside was an array of cameras, gadgets, and other tools of the trade.
She gestured at a small camcorder.
“It’s a Sony,” she said. “Top of the line, ultra-high-def. But it’s been modified to detect infrared and ultraviolet spectrum. It can pick up anything not visible to the naked eye. Over here is a digital EMF thermometer, complete with backlight so you can see it in the dark. We also have an EVP audio recorder, which can pick up a range of sound not detectable to the human ear.”
Soren couldn’t help it: he whistled. This was fancy stuff, far better than what he had back at the office. He supposed there were benefits to working for an outfit with cash. He reached over and picked up a pair of large silver binoculars. They were heavy and appeared to have two sophisticated cameras inside.
“Digital recording binoculars. Those aren’t infrared, but they can record anything at a far distance,” Annika said, sounding proud. “You can even record in 3-D. Here, let me show you.”
She took them from his hand and fiddled with a button. She put them to her face and looked out into the forest—and then frowned. She took them off and looked down at them.
“That’s funny,” she said. “I could’ve sworn I charged the battery on this.”
Soren picked up the EMF thermometer and switched it on. It was supposed to detect electromagnetic pulses, which most paranormal researchers believed were an indicator of possible supernatural activity. But this particular device did nothing. Soren jostled it for a minute, but it was clear that it, too, wasn’t working.
“Shit,” Annika said, and she tested the other equipment. After a moment she gave him a look.
“Nothing works,” she said.
“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” Soren said, but he knew neither of them believed that.
“Want to give up?” Annika asked again.
Soren didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he shot one last wistful look at the car and walked over to the bent gate. It was latched with a chain and an old padlock that looked rusted, but Soren didn’t bother to try and get through it. He climbed up on the gate and then hefted himself over. He turned to help Annika down as she did the same, and the two walked on the overgrown path into the forest.
Soren was careful to ensure that they stayed on the trail. He had no desire to lose their way and end up lost. He had a GPS on his phone, but without cell service it would be of little use to him.
“I was really hoping to try that stuff out, too,” Annika said. “We could have been like the Ghostbusters.”
Soren was disappointed, too. All the equipment he owned was secondhand and not exactly state-of-the-art.
“Can I ask you something?” Annika said.
He glanced over at her.
“Fire away,” he said.
He worried it would be another question about Greyslake, but she seemed to know enough to stay away from that subject.
“If pretenders are so indestructible and can be anyone they want, why don’t they take over the world?”
“Why are you asking that now?”
“Because I’m freaked out and I need a distraction,” she replied. “The radio, then our cell phones and the equipment. This place isn’t exactly welcoming. And this question popped into my head the other night.”
Soren looked off into the forest for a minute before responding.
“Not exactly sure,” he said. “I just have theories. For one, there aren’t that many of them. It’s tough to nail down exact numbers, but I’d guesstimate less than a hundred. For another, they don’t seem interested in traditional human concerns like money and power. They do what they do for other reasons.”
“Which are?”
“The thrill of it,” Soren replied. “They enjoy hurting and killing people.”
Annika visibly shivered.
“On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know more,” she said. “What’s the weirdest case you’ve ever been on?”
It grew darker the farther they walked into the forest. Soren once again had the sense that it should be brighter than it was. The path became narrower and the trees were even closer. It felt like they were being surrounded.
The sense of being watched was heightened, but Soren couldn’t see anything unusual. That was part of what worried him. He saw no squirrels, birds, or life of any kind. It was as if the place was a dead zone not just for cell signals but everything else as well.
“Probably in a town called Hilltop,” Soren answered. “My assistant and I worked a case there, and we ended up lost in an abandoned underground mine.”
“That sounds bad,” Annika said.
“It gets worse. There was something down there with us. It turned out to be a—”
As he was talking there was the sudden snap of a twig from the forest behind him. He whirled around to see a Native American standing there, staring at him. He was dressed in what appeared to be deerskins, his head shaved in a Mohawk.
“What the hell?” Soren managed to say before the Indian turned and fled into the forest.
Soren darted after him.
“Soren, wait!” he heard Annika shout, but he didn’t look back.
Soren didn’t think about what he was doing and let his instincts take over. The Indian was quick, moving at a rapid pace through the trees. He seemed to bob and weave through the forest as if he knew it well, leaping over obscured rocks and logs. Soren watched him put a hand on a fallen log and jump over the obstacle without apparent effort.
Still, Soren didn’t fall behind. He mirrored the Indian’s movements, slowly gaining on him. The Indian sprinted to the left through another copse of trees with Soren just on his heels.
Now Soren’s target started to make mistakes. He tripped once, and it was nearly enough for Soren to grab him. He appeared to pick up speed and fled toward a thick line of pine trees. The branches were so close together, they obscured what lay ahead in the forest.
Just as Soren was about to catch him, the Indian jumped through the trees. The move caught Soren off guard, and he tripped over a log on the ground in front of him, sending him sprawling forward through the pines and into the dirt.
Soren barely paused, rolling on the ground and hopping up, ready to pursue his quarry again. When he scanned the forest, however, his target had disappeared. As far as he could tell, the Indian had vanished into thin air.
He crouched down and waited, unwilling to admit he’d lost him. He thought of Annika’s story of how someone had seen a Native American hunting party in this forest. He remembered that her file had also made references to ghostly Indians who walked with bows clutched in their hands and war paint on
their faces.
But Soren didn’t think he’d been chasing a phantom.
Everything was deathly still. Once again Soren was struck by just how silent it was. There should have been birds chirping or animals crawling around in the underbrush, but he heard nothing.
Soren tried to relax and closed his eyes. If the Indian started running again, he’d know soon enough. He concentrated on anything he could hear.
Assuming the Indian wasn’t a ghost, he was nearby. It had taken Soren only a few seconds to recover from his fall, not enough time for his target to gain much distance.
It was faint, but he thought he could hear something. It sounded quiet, almost hushed, but it was the noise of someone who was out of breath. Soren felt barely winded himself. Maybe it was the fact that he ran six miles a day just to try to clear his head, but something about the chase had also made him feel more confident. He should have been panicked, out in Reapoke Forest without a clue how to get back to the car.
Instead, he only felt focused on the task at hand. His target was nearby, lying down and trying to regain his strength. Soren had to stop that, or he’d have another breakneck chase on his hands.
He opened his eyes and scouted the area. He spotted two nearby shrubs that were big enough to conceal a human being. The two were far enough apart that Soren knew if he guessed wrong the Indian would be back on his feet and running again. He needed to prevent that.
He stood up and pulled his cell phone off his belt. When he looked down, he saw it had no signal, but he dialed Annika’s number anyway. He put it to his ear as the phone tried futilely to connect with anything.
“Annika?” he said loudly. “I lost him. You know that story about the Native American hunting party? I’m beginning to think this guy was part of that. One minute he was here and the next—poof—he was gone.”
Soren strolled forward, carefully keeping himself roughly equidistant from the two shrubs.
“I don’t see any sign of him anywhere,” he continued. “I’m going to try and get my bearings and head back. Call me if you get this.”
Soren returned his phone to his belt holster and closed his eyes again. He had to make a decision about where his target was. Listening for the breathing, he thought it was coming from the left. He opened his eyes, leaned down, and picked up several small rocks. He tossed them to the right—first one close to him, then another farther away, and finally one almost at the other shrubbery.
All the while Soren kept his eyes to the left, waiting. The ruse worked. Soren saw the Indian’s head pop out, looking to the right, apparently convinced his pursuer was headed that way.
Soren closed the distance between them before his target had time to figure out he’d been tricked. The man’s head jerked around just as Soren threw himself at him, catching him in the chest.
The two fell to the ground, and Soren quickly pinned the Indian to the forest floor. He bucked and tried to shake him off, but Soren held fast. He forced the man’s hands together, keeping them pinned with one arm, while he freed his right hand. He brought back his arm, readying himself to punch the Indian in the face.
“Stop struggling or I break your nose,” Soren said.
To his credit, the man stopped moving. He glared up at Soren in obvious terror.
“Just let me go, dude,” the Native American said. “I won’t tell anybody I saw you. Swear to God.”
Whatever Soren had expected him to say, it wasn’t this. For starters, even though he knew better, he was halfway anticipating that the man dressed in deerskins would speak in some ancient tongue. He certainly wasn’t expecting the patois of a California surfer.
“Who are you?” Soren said.
“Kael,” he said. “Kael Jefferson. Just let me go. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Why are you out here?”
“That’s a great fucking question, man,” Kael said. “A great fucking question. I’ve got no idea. I wasn’t planning on coming and nobody knows . . .”
He stopped, apparently aware that his comments were unwise.
“I mean, I told some folks I was going out here to . . .”
He stopped, realizing that wasn’t going to work either.
“Don’t kill me, dude.”
Soren almost felt bad for him. Despite his potentially fierce appearance, given the deerskins, the Mohawk, and a nose ring, Kael Jefferson did not seem intimidating. Soren stared at him, judging him to be in his late teens or early twenties.
“What’s with the outfit?” Soren asked.
The question took Kael off guard.
“I was just wearing this for the powwow,” he said. “You know, the one down the road?”
He looked at Soren hopefully and continued talking when there was no response.
“I’m supposed to show people how to skin hides,” Kael continued, now almost babbling. “Not like I’m an expert, but my older brother, Mingan, talked me into it. He’s big into the whole heritage thing, you know? Anyway, he wanted us to show up in traditional garb and put on a demonstration. He made me wear this. I would have rather been showing off my mad archery skills, but Mingan gave that job to Danny. Which is stupid. I’m easily the best shot in the tribe.”
“Where’s the powwow?” Soren asked. “Here?”
“Are you insane? Nobody from the tribe would come here. It’s in the Wildlife Management Area. There’s a big one every year at this time.”
“Apparently you would come out here,” Soren said.
“I know,” he said. “I just . . . I had this dream and—fuck, I don’t know, dude. I’m not supposed to be on until 3:00 p.m., and my ex was going to be leading one of the dances, and I needed to catch some air, and I thought, ‘Well, I’ll just go out and . . .’ Shit. Could you let me go? This hurts.”
Soren ignored the request.
“So nobody from the tribe comes here. Why?”
“It’s not just the tribe, dude,” Kael said. “Nobody enters this forest.”
“Except you,” Soren said again.
“Didn’t we just have this conversation?”
“We’re going to keep having it until you explain yourself.”
“I don’t know,” Kael replied. “That’s the truth. I needed to get some air at the powwow, and I just started walking. I didn’t really think about where I was headed. Then I saw you and I know you Association types don’t like us out here, so I ran. I don’t know what brought me out here, I really don’t.”
Soren had no idea what the Association was, but he didn’t want to let on, lest Kael clam up. Overall, he believed his story. It was either that or the kid was a very accomplished liar, something that seemed unlikely.
“I’m going to get off you now,” Soren said. “But the deal is that you aren’t going to flee. If you run, I will chase you down and then I will hurt you. If you stay right here, I won’t touch you. Are we clear?”
Kael nodded. Soren released him and stood, watching the Indian as he carefully sat up. Kael looked down at his hands and rubbed his left wrist.
“You’ve got one scary grip, dude,” he said. “And the way you run . . . That was pretty badass.”
“So this is the first time you’ve ever come out here?” Soren asked.
Kael nodded solemnly.
“Yes. Er, yes, sir,” he said. “I was just being stupid. It won’t happen again.”
Soren stared at Kael for a long moment.
“You know I’m lying, don’t you?” Kael finally said, looking defeated.
“I watched you run,” Soren replied. “You know these woods like the back of your hand. So no, I don’t believe this is the first time you’ve ever come out here.”
“Okay,” he said. “I may have been out here to—you know—think and stuff. I know you guys don’t like it, but there’s something about this place. It gets to you.”
“It gets to a lot of people,” Soren said. “Do you know anything about the missing girl?”
“Who?”
“Seriously, I am
not a fucking idiot,” Soren said. “And you are a terrible liar.”
“Everyone knows about her,” Kael said. “There was a big search party formed. I was part of it. Mingan might have let a few people know that I knew my way around here. But we didn’t find her. Not like I thought we would.”
“Why not?”
“Come on, you’re from the Association, dude,” he said. “You know all about this place. That’s why you’re guarding it all the time, right? To keep people out so they don’t disappear or die and shit.”
“What’s the Association?” Soren asked.
Kael’s face registered confusion and then a growing sense of alarm.
“You’re not working for them?” he asked.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Kael looked around in a panic. He jumped up, and Soren put a hand on his arm to keep him from running away.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Soren said.
Kael gave him a disbelieving look.
“You don’t get it, man,” he said. “I thought you were with them. But if you aren’t . . . they’re going to be here soon. And we do not want to be here when they arrive.”
“That’s why you were so scared of me,” Soren said. “You thought I worked for this Association.”
Kael gave him an almost comically shocked expression.
“No, I was scared of you because you are a freaky-looking guy in shades in the middle of a forest who runs like a fucking demon,” Kael said. “The Association was just a feather in the cap of fear, if you get what I’m saying.”
“Fair point.”
“Whatever. You can’t stay in one place for too long when you’re out here. They have cameras and shit. They’re going to find us.”
“So?”
“They’re not nice people. We’ve got to go.”
It was then that Soren noticed the noises. In any other forest it could have been squirrels chasing each other. But not out here.
“That won’t be necessary,” Soren said.
Kael looked crestfallen.
“Why?” he asked, although it was clear he already knew the answer.
Soren watched as four men dressed in tactical SWAT gear and carrying assault rifles walked out of the trees.
The Forest of Forever (The Soren Chase Series, Book One) Page 10