Caldera

by Heath Stallcup

  Richard glanced back at the woods and shook his head. “I don’t know, Bill. Those woods are pretty thick with underbrush.” He scratched at his chin and glanced ahead. “She’d have sliced herself to ribbons if she tried something like that. And with no clothes? I just don’t see it.”

  Bill set down the first aid kit and stretched his back. The case was starting to get too heavy on him, and the pain in his knees let him know that he wasn’t a young man anymore. He stared down the path they were on and shook his head.

  “There’s just too many side paths and…” he paused and looked toward the large hill where the noise from the concert was still playing, “…noise going on.”

  Richard patted his shoulder. “I know, it’s frustrating,” he sighed. “Look, why don’t we work our way back up toward your camp. If we can pick up her trail again, we go after her, if not, then we sit tight at your camp. I’ll contact the ranger station and see if maybe they can send someone to search for her? They have all kinds of specialized gear just for finding lost people.”

  Bill considered what he was saying and finally nodded. He had to quit this. He wasn’t a lawman anymore, and he wasn’t a first responder, either. He was RETIRED. He had to quit fooling himself. Finally, he snorted a short laugh. “You’re right.” He bent to retrieve the kit. “This is work for younger men.”

  “There ya go,” Richard said as the two turned and headed back toward Bill’s camp. “I think if we take this Y up here, we can make it back to your camp quicker.”

  “You sure?” Bill studied him. “I’d really rather not get lost out here at night.”

  “Pretty sure.” Richard smiled and patted his shoulder. “Brought my grandson camping up here a couple times. We camped right over that way and used to cut across over there to get to the lake faster.”

  “Lead the way.” Bill extended an arm and let Rich take the lead.

  The two made off through the woods and cut back at the Y that Richard mentioned. The path was a bit steeper, but Bill soon recognized some of the RVs and a few of the more colorful tents that were his ‘view’ as they crested the hill. He shook his head as his Jeep and tent came into view.

  “Who’d have thought we were that close?” Bill panted as the road leveled out.

  Richard chuckled. “They twist and turn and cut back on themselves so much, it’s easy to get turned around.”

  Although Bill could see his campsite, it was still a bit farther away than he’d thought. He was winded from the climb by the time they arrived and he tucked away the first aid kit. He knew he would sleep well tonight if that blasted noise would ever end.

  The two assumed their positions around the dying campfire and Bill exhaled hard. “What a night, eh?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Richard agreed as he stole a glance at his watch. “In all the excitement, I’d about forgotten about Harriet and Jake coming back.”

  Bill’s face dropped for just a fleeting moment, but he masked it quickly. “I guess you have to go.”

  Richard stared off toward the hill where the concert still went on and shook his head. “I don’t know if I could get out through all of that.”

  “Well, you’re more than welcome to stay the night here,” Bill offered. “It is a seven-man tent.” He shrugged when Richard’s brows went up. “What can I say? I like my room. Besides, it was on sale.”

  Rich smiled and pulled his phone out. “Let me text Harriet and let her know I’ll be late. And why. Wouldn’t want her to think I was out dancing with another woman.”

  “I’m a terrible dancer.” Bill stretched and yawned.

  “So am I,” Richard said. “But then, so is Harriet, so she thinks I’m a good dancer.” He grinned. As soon as he sent the text, he looked up the number for the ranger station. “I’ll give the rangers a call and let them know about the woman…” He trailed off as he listened to the phone ring. After a while, he punched the END CALL button and simply stared at Bill. “No answer.”

  “They probably couldn’t hear it for all of that.” He hooked a thumb toward the concert.

  Richard simply nodded, but still found it odd that somebody wasn’t manning the station. They normally kept someone near the phones at all hours in case of emergency. “It could be possible they are already tied up…what with the ambulances being out.” He stared out at the other campsites.

  “You don’t look convinced,” Bill said.

  Richard smirked and shook his head. “I’m not.” He continued to stare out into the darkness and both men turned when a scream echoed in the distance.

  “That didn’t sound good,” Bill muttered.

  Richard’s eyes reflected his concern. “That didn’t sound human.”

  Chapter 8

  “Hold up, Buck!” Bob called, pressing his hand to his side and wincing at the stitch developing. “I’m not as young as I used to be.” He practically stumbled as he slowed his jog to a slower trot, and finally to a walk.

  “Dad, she could be anywhere by now,” Buck whined. “We can’t keep slowing down.”

  “Just give me a moment to catch my breath,” Bob huffed as he bent over and gasped. “Remember, son, I work behind a desk for the most part. I’m not as young as you are.” Bob envied the young boy for both his youth and his stamina, but if he maintained the same pace, he’d soon be passed out…or dead under a bush. He wondered whether or not a bear would bother to try to eat him if he already looked dead.

  Buck quickly trotted back to his father and lowered his voice. “What if she bites someone, Dad? Or scratches them?” He pulled on his arm. “We have to push on.”

  “We will, son,” Bob replied, pushing himself to a standing position. “I just need a moment.”

  Bucked sighed audibly and put his hands on his hips, staring at his father. “We really don’t have time for this, Dad.”

  Bob turned a hateful eye toward him. “Well you’re just going to have to damned sure make time,” he said in a low voice. “You think I enjoy being winded when I’d rather be out there looking?”

  Buck took a tentative step back, his eyes wide as he stared at his dad. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Bob stuck his finger in his face to emphasize, “You need to remember who’s the goddamn kid around here, buddy,” he barked. “She may be your mom, but she’s my wife!”

  Buck stepped back and stared at the man that he now barely recognized. “I know that, Dad,” he said quietly.

  Bob stood staring, his chest heaving in anger. His eyes shifted from Buck’s face to his own shaking finger and back. Slowly, he lowered his hand and fell back into the dirt. “What the hell’s come over me?” he moaned.

  Buck took a tentative step forward but hesitated. “Dad, were you scratched?”

  “What?” Bob asked absently. “No.”

  “Bit?” Buck asked as he tilted his head and tried to see his father’s face in the dimming light of his flashlight.

  Bob looked up at his son, his eyes red with unshed tears. “No,” he all but whispered.

  “Then, what’s with all the anger?” Buck asked as he slowly closed the gap between them.

  Bob hung his head and silently wept. “This is all my fault.” He sobbed. “If I hadn’t twisted her arm to come here…”

  Buck then realized the guilt his father had loaded on himself. He knew this trip was important to his dad and how hard he had worked at convincing each of them to come on it. He knew that his dad felt that the trip would be good to help pull the family together, but now here they were, Keri was sick, his mom was sick, and if the movies were anywhere close to being right, the only ‘cure’ was a bullet to the head. He didn’t know if a hospital could help either of them, but he knew that they had to try. He gently placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

  “You can’t do this to yourself, pop,” he said softly. “Mom and Keri need you to pull it together. I need you to pull it together.”

  Bob shook his head as the tears ran down his cheeks. “What can I do?” He threw his hands into the
air. “Even if we find her, I’m too pooped to haul her all the way back to the camper. I can barely get myself up and down these damned hills.”

  “Fine. Then if…I mean, when we find her, you tie her up like you did Keri and we bring the camper to her.” Buck squeezed his shoulder again. “That’s the good thing about having a motorhome. You can drive the thing.” Buck was actually smiling at him.

  Bob lifted his head and wiped at his face. He nodded at his son and sniffed back the unshed tears. “How’d you get so damned smart?”

  “Must have got it from Mom,” Buck teased.

  “Must have.” Bob slowly got to his feet. “Okay,” he announced with renewed vigor. “Let’s go find your mom and hogtie her.”

  “Yeah,” Buck drawled out. “That’ll go over like a fart in church.”

  “Language,” Bob muttered as he took off again, only slower.

  Shelly slammed on the brakes to her ATV and stared at Hatcher as he braked alongside her. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” she gasped. “We need to go back there and figure out what the hell is going on.”

  Hatcher shook his head. “Our first priority is to the people in this park. The recreational campers, the fisherman, the hikers, the—”

  Shelly cut him off, “And you don’t think that an abandoned ambulance with blood splattered through it isn’t something that might be a risk to the campers?”

  “I was answering your call,” Hatcher explained, purposely leaving out the part about the ravaged EMT. “Or do you want to abandon the search for Fisher?”

  Shelly balked and stared at him, her mouth opening and closing, but nothing coming out. She glanced back the way they had come, then back to him. “This isn’t right, Hatch. You can’t pin this on me.”

  Hatcher gave her a pained look. “Who said I was pinning anything on you? Fisher is my man. He is my responsibility.” He narrowed his gaze on her, “What would you have me do? What if it were you that were missing?”

  Shelly gave him a dirty look and shook her head, “Oh, no, you don’t,” She breathed through gritted teeth. “That’s a cheap shot.”

  “Is it?” Hatcher asked. “How many deputies are out here tonight? How many other EMS units? How many other rangers for that matter? And yet, without knowing any of the facts behind why that ambulance is sitting there like that, you want me to abandon the search for Fish?”

  Shelly stared at him a moment, her features unreadable.

  “I have no idea what the story is with that ambulance. It was abandoned. There was blood everywhere, yes. There was a uniform shredded up inside, yes. But there was also a body in the tent that was untouched, and there was blood all over the place inside there as well.” He ticked off facts on his fingers. “This could have been anything from that naked woman tripping out on drugs, to a cougar attack, a bear, a wolf attack—”

  “Wolves don’t attack people, you know that.”

  “With all that blood? With body parts lying around? Who knows what a hungry pack might do,” he argued. “And I did call for a deputy to respond and check it out.” He stared at her hopefully.

  Shelly exhaled hard and shook her head. “Fine. You tell me you really think we’re on Fisher’s trail and I’ll stick with you out here.” She motioned him forward. “Otherwise, I really think we need to head back and at least take a second look at that ambulance. We know these woods better than anybody, Hatch, and you know that.”

  She didn’t want to give up on the search for Fisher any more than Hatcher did, but she also knew they were just going through the motions. It was inky black out and they hadn’t seen any signs of the ranger since they left the blood pool. Hatcher was doing what he felt he needed to in order to make her happy and to appease his sense of duty. He needed to know he did everything in his power to find the man. She knew this because it’s the same thing she would be doing if she were in his shoes.

  Hatcher hung his head and sighed. “Fine,” he muttered. “We go back.”

  “Good.” Shelly started the ATV again and shot Hatcher a dirty look. “We can look for Dwayne’s trail on the way back. If we find something that looks promising, we can check it out.”

  Hatcher nodded. “Deal.”

  Mitch winced as the guitar squealed off key and the soloist staggered about on the stage. He stole a glance to the side and saw one of the deputies covering his ears, his eyes squinting, a look of pain painted across his features. Mitch stifled a smile as he tried to focus on the crowd again. His eyes scanned side to side and from front to back as the crowd swayed with the beat. He did a double take as he noticed something sprint through the woods on the far side of the natural amphitheater. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing, but whatever it was, it moved fast. He tried to focus on it, but they were too quick.

  Mitch tapped the deputy beside him to garner his attention and pointed toward the fast mover, but it was lost in the dark shadows. He let his eyes fall back behind the fast mover to see if it was being chased, but he spotted nothing. Whatever it was, seemed to move with purpose. “Did you see it?” he yelled over the noise.

  “Just a glimpse,” the deputy yelled back. “Light in color, moving fast. Slipped behind those trees.”

  Mitch motioned with his head and the deputy ambled off in the direction the fast mover was last seen. Mitch watched as the man skirted the crowd and slipped into the woods, his sixth sense sending alarms all throughout him. He caught the attention of the two rangers he’d brought, and, using hand signals, sent them as backup with the deputy. As he watched his men work their way down the edge of the crowd and enter the woods, Mitch worked his way to the far edge of the crowd, angling himself to try to see the last position of the fast mover and still keep an eye on the crowd.

  He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling something just wasn’t right as he took one last look at the crowd, and then started working his way down along the edge toward the woods. His eyes probed the depths of the darkness as he increased his speed, breaking through the underbrush just as the crowd erupted into a wild applause.

  Before Mitch’s eyes could adjust to the gloomy darkness, he was tackled and knocked to the ground by a large body. He rolled with the blow and came up swinging, his huge fists swishing through the night air to wreak havoc upon whoever was foolish enough to blindside him. Luckily for his attacker, he didn’t connect with either blow as his attacker rolled upon the ground, blood gurgling from his throat. Mitch squinted in the darkness, trying to force his eyes to adjust quicker to the gloom. He crabwalked to the body sprawled on the ground, hands clutching his neck and blood seeping from the wound.

  “Mike!” Mitch exclaimed as recognition hit him.

  It was one of the rangers he had brought here to cover the concert. One of his men. One of his people that he had sent here into the woods to find the fast mover. He moved in close and pulled his jacket from his shoulders, using a sleeve to try to staunch the flow of blood.

  “Hold on, buddy! Just hold on!” he yelled as he hovered over the man. Mitch reached for his radio and keyed the mic. “Man down! Man down! Send EMS!” he bellowed, his voice panicked.

  “Affirmative, what’s your twenty?” came the dispatcher’s steady reply.

  Mitch glanced around to gather his bearings. “We’re just west and behind the stage area,” he explained in a more steady voice. “Tell them to hurry.”

  “They’re on their way,” the disembodied voice replied. Mitch holstered his radio and turned his attention back to Mike who now stared vacantly toward the night sky.

  Mitch’s breath caught in his throat and he shook his head. “No,” he mumbled and he shook the man slightly. “Mike?” He shook him again more vigorously. “Mike! Stay with me, bud!”

  Mitch glanced around at the surrounding area and saw something moving beyond the soft glow of the stage lights and dart behind the bushes. He brought his flashlight up and clicked it on. He wasn’t prepared to see what the light illuminated. He saw pieces of flesh scattered and blood splattered about. His fir
st thought was, Who exploded a deer? Then he saw the light tan of the deputy’s uniform and it registered…that’s no deer!

  Mitch staggered back away from his friend and swung the flashlight from side to side as his mind kicked into overdrive. “Darren?” he called to his other ranger. “Darren!”

  A low moan caught his attention and Mitch swung the flashlight so fast he nearly lost his grip on it. He saw Darren slowly approaching from a low hill, a bloody hand held to his head. “Darren!” He sprinted to the man’s side. “What the hell happened here?”

  Darren Wilson collapsed to the ground and shook his head slightly. “It was all a blur, boss,” he said softly. “I swear, it looked like a woman, but…”

  “But what?”

  He lifted his eyes to meet his supervisor’s. “She hit like a damned linebacker, that’s what.” Darren slumped farther to the ground. “Bitch bit me, man.” He held his hand up for inspection. Mitch held the light up to his hand and what appeared to be a human bite-shaped chunk was missing from the meat below the pinky finger.

  “Jesus,” Mitch breathed. “We need to get you checked out.”

  “No, I’ll be okay.” Darren waved him off. “I just have to get my props back under me.” He held a hand up to stop him. “When she hit me, I slammed into a tree.” He gave him a lopsided grin. “Those damn things don’t give when you hit ’em, did ya know that?”

  Mitch simply nodded, unable to find the humor. “I know.”

  Darren shook his head. “I’m the loopy one, boss. But you seem out of it. What gives?”

  Mitch lowered his eyes and sighed. “Mike’s…” he paused, almost unable to find the words. Just like a Band-Aid, rip it off. “Mike’s dead.”

  Darren’s eyes grew wide and he paled. “Are you sure?”

  Mitch nodded. “His throat was ripped out.” He indicated with a nod of his head. “He bled out right over there.”

  Darren’s bottom lip began to quiver and he started breathing erratically. Mitch watched him a moment and feared he was about to hyperventilate. “Okay, buddy, you need to stay calm,” he soothed. “We’ll catch her, whoever she is.”