by Paul Sating
Peter laughed off the comment, but Jared pressed him. "No, really. What is it?"
"It's probably just me."
"Please ... tell me," Jared was now very curious. This turn was sudden and so unlike Peter. "Listen, I've already lost almost everything worth having. There's nothing you're going to say that would sound crazy to me."
Peter paused, his eyes flickering at the other tables. "Just don't be naïve about this. Sasquatch are fine when left alone, but they won't like threats and there are plenty of people who don't want you to find them. Plenty of people. You won't be making friends."
3
Ignoring the eyesore of the abandoned brewery building, Jared climbed back into his car and let the air conditioning and satellite radio take him away from his conversation with Peter. It was not a good way to end the meeting. It was disturbing, in fact. Peter wasn't one for hyperbole. What he saw in Peter's eyes was the same thing he'd seen in Maria's eyes for years.
It was the disease of this goddamn investigation, spreading from person to person. Unstoppable.
Words held back. Things unsaid.
Call it a generalization or stereotyping, but Peter was the embodiment of the scientific community—conservative in almost every measure like it was bred into them during their training. Jared hadn't met many in the scientific community who would reach for anything. Ever. Especially not in their words. He had no idea how serious the information was that Peter had. Nor did he know how much truth it held or how reliable Peter's sources were. One thing that was clear; Peter was convinced Jared wasn't alone in his search, enough so to unravel in public. That freaked Jared out.
Peter hadn't given him any more to go on because he hadn't made it safe for Peter to share. There was something there, underneath the layers of the conversation and he was so damn frustrated by not being able to put his finger on it. He wasn't a child; he didn’t need protecting. Two decades of investigating Bigfoot taught him that few people were willing to stick their necks out for someone else, even in the safest of circumstances.
He leaned his head back against the headrest. Even if Peter was only partially correct, it meant trouble. He didn't have childish expectations about the Bigfoot community. It was like any other, a compilation of good and bad people, kind and gentle souls mixed with a trace of selfish assholes, ambitious morons mixed with people who'd move out of their tent to give another person cover for the night. It was a microcosm of America. It also had a small segment of people willing to do anything to get ahead, and it was those people who Peter warned Jared about.
But there were things Peter wasn't saying and Jared couldn't understand his friend's silence. Why protect information?
There were no names, no organizations to go with the warning. Peter swore it wasn't that he didn't want to tell Jared but that he couldn't because he didn't know them himself. Message boards spread rumors and half-facts, was all he said. Jared understood. He'd been in the game long enough to know what other Bigfoot hunters could be like. He expected this to happen at some point and was actually surprised it took this long. Why did it have to happen now, though? Was he being talked about because he was making too many waves as he launched this new public project?
He was almost offended it took the darker elements to acknowledge his work — a thought that would have been humorous if the impact on Peter hadn't been so obvious, so significant.
Peter changed. At the end of the conversation, he wasn't the same person he was when they'd started dinner. And Jared couldn't say anything that assured Peter enough. Not to open up. There were layers that Jared would have to pull apart if he ever got the chance. It was frustrating, but he wanted to respect Peter's vulnerability. And he didn't have the time to deal with this childish shit. Not Peter, but envious Bigfoot hunters who were unwilling to make the necessary sacrifices to get where he'd gotten; the people who didn't want to invest the sweat equity to achieve what he'd achieved but who wanted the attention and fame as if they had. Though it was unsaid, Jared felt it. Whatever Peter heard went well beyond the typical sabotage employed by jealous rivals.
Most people had no clue what Bigfoot hunters were actually capable of.
As he drove home through Tumwater he thought about their goodbye. Their departing gestures had lost authenticity. Maybe Peter regretted opening up to Jared about the rumors he'd heard, or maybe he was afraid of how he'd act. There was no way to be sure, but the fact was that Peter was distant and his farewell was practiced, manufactured—the type of farewell someone would give to a boss they wouldn't mind seeing the backside of. The way their conversation ended would give him something to think about all the way out to Rainier tomorrow.
Which was the last thing he felt like doing.
The air blasting his face was a nice distraction from thinking about Peter's sudden change, the way his friend emotionally cut himself off. Jared didn’t want to think about how Peter went into protective mode because he felt that he was, at least, partially to blame for it, not Peter. Peter was a dear friend, a confidante, who was often ostracized by the other professionals in his field.
He was a guardian from the very beginning.
Maybe that was why Peter's reluctance to open up bothered him so much. They didn't have the type of friendship where they hid things.
They didn't have the type of friendship filled with things that needed hiding.
*****
Morning coffee and a roadside diner breakfast didn't make Jared feel any better. He would have loved to record for the podcast to tell everyone how great things were, how quickly they'd turned around, or that Peter had called him in the middle of the night to apologize for dumping more information on him than was useful. But none of that happened. Jared started the day the same way he ended it: alone, in a quiet house, with only his Border Collie for company and distraction. Molly was a wonderful dog, but sometimes even the best dogs couldn't balance out the troubles created by humans. Her company was still a release.
Jared tried to think about what his future podcast listeners were going to need to hear, about him, the way the investigation had to progress to make it legitimate, and of Sasquatch. He tried to think about how he could frame it so that even future listeners ignorant of Bigfoot or even unaware that it existed, would be able to understand why Jared spent his life searching for this beast.
But he couldn't wrap his head around anything related to the podcast right now, not when he was consumed with uncovering who was behind what troubled Peter. How did they get so close, so threatening, without Peter being confident of their identity? If Peter could name names, he would, without hesitation. Yet, no names were forthcoming.
It was another pile of worry on top of thinking about how he was going to repair things with Maria. Or even opening the damn door to making up?
But he was a professional. He could pout or he could work. The former wouldn't get him any closer to resolution. Finding Bigfoot was the key; it would allow him to put the rest of this behind him for good. Then he could focus on Maria and begin a normal life again if she'd allow him. But he had to start here to get there.
He had to travel that road, whether he wanted to or not.
And that road began with a park ranger named Andrew Porter and Mount Rainier National Park.
Three hundred and seventy square miles of intense natural beauty in the western half of the Evergreen State, the park is a calling card for the region. The economies of the small dots of townships that surround the national park rely on visitors being drawn to the immensity that is the park's gem, the volcano. Anyone who visits Washington and doesn’t make their way to Mount Rainier committed a criminal offense in Jared's mind. It deserves all reverence paid to it.
But he wasn't heading to the volcano to enjoy the splendid natural beauty the park offered throughout the year. He was heading there because Andrew, someone who was unknown to him only two days ago, called to request a meeting. Urgently. What he heard in that call was something he’d heard a thousand times over. An o
verwhelmed person dealing with something they couldn’t understand.
Or he doesn't want to deal with it, Jared thought.
But it didn't make sense. Mount Rainier wasn't a hotbed of Sasquatch activity, at least not the legitimate kind. There were reports from the park, but they were hardly reliable. The vast majority of the videos Jared received claiming to be Bigfoot sightings on the mountain were an outright sham; pathetic attempts to get attention and accolades, all undeserved. The small remainder of claims always fell far short, lacking any substance that would make him even want to think about investing the day-trip. It wasn't a place to waste time or energy. He loved the park, loved being on the mountain, but not to hunt Bigfoot. There were better things he could do with his time.
Jared was making the long drive to see Andrew because, whatever it was that he had, the park ranger made it clear that he had no desire to speak about it over an open phone line. That was exciting.
The archway across the road announced his arrival. Jared eyed the ranger when he handed over the $20 bill for the toll. She smirked as if she knew how painful that was to his wallet and wished him a nice day, releasing him to begin the long trek. Up. Up. Up. It took another hour to reach the summit, if you considered the Henry M. Jackson Visitor Center to be the summit. There were another few thousand feet of mountain to traverse to reach the actual summit, but this was as high as a human could get by vehicle unless you were a park ranger with special privileges. Jared circled the parking lot, looking for a spot, which was nigh-on impossible this time of year. Hell, any time of year it was tough to find a place to park. In the summer, the fair weather sailors came out to enjoy the majestic beauty of Mount Rainier and in the winter twenty feet of snow buried everything except for the small area park services kept plowed, drastically reducing the available spots. He was lucky to find a sliver to squeeze the vehicle into.
He parked and took a moment to enjoy the volcanic mountain for what it was. Even though he acted like an idiot when it came to Maria, he wasn't completely oblivious. How many people lived day in and day out, unable to enjoy beauty like this? How many people would never be able to stand in a parking lot, halfway up the side of a volcano, and contemplate the frailty of being a human being? People thought they were so powerful, sometimes placing themselves on the level of gods and yet, if the volcano decided today would be the day it wouldn't hold its temper any longer, it would send a death cloud spiraling into the atmosphere that would choke out life long after the collapsing mountainside crushed those below it. Whether you lived in Seattle or Los Angeles or any of the filthy cities on the east coast, it was difficult to appreciate how futile the human experience was because life offered too many entertaining distractions in those types of places. Humankind removed itself from nature and lost touch with their own fragility. But Mount Rainier reminded him of that each and every time he saw it.
Regrettably, at least in part, Jared left the beauty of the mountain to its eternal existence and stepped through the long, covered walkway and into the center. A long, low maple counter separated him from the two rangers greeting guests. He asked for Andrew. The female ranger smiled and walked him around the corner of an immense pillar. Darkened offices lined this side of the center. Vertical banners provided other barriers as well as snippets of historical facts about the region. Andrew's office was around the back of one such display. The ranger knocked on the office door and a muffled voice called out from behind it.
"Have fun," she smiled and pushed the handle down, opening the door for Jared.
"Thanks," he mumbled to her back as she turned to walk away, and stepped into the small office that was cluttered with junk. Haphazard stacks of boxes filled one corner. Andrew’s desk was layered in loose papers like he was trying to bury some secret underneath their cover. The saying goes that first impressions are lasting impressions and Jared couldn't silence the critical inner voice that told him to run away from Andrew as fast as possible.
But the man looked busy. Very busy. During his time investigating Bigfoot sightings, Jared had come in contact with a number of park personnel. They were like any other profession, but they were also short-staffed a lot of the time, spread across vast areas and responsible for the safety of stupid people who didn't heed posted warnings. He didn't envy them at all.
Andrew looked up at him only after the female ranger left Jared standing alone at the door, unsure what to do. "I take it you're Jared?"
"That's me," he answered, taking a seat after Andrew motioned at it with a distracted gesture. Jared got the sense this ranger wasn't someone who'd be thrilled to have his time wasted, even if it was him who requested the meeting. So Jared had no problem getting down to business. "Thanks for your time. Mind if I record this?"
"I agreed to it."
"I wanted to make sure it was still okay with you. Legalities and all that."
"I get it. I'm sure you've got to be careful with that."
If you only knew, Jared thought, but said, "I have to be careful with everything. Are you a believer?"
Andrew scoffed. "In Bigfoot? Hardly."
It was an interesting response. Andrew wasn't combative. He wasn't antagonistic. Jared felt like he was stopping Andrew from getting to something that needed getting to. But on the other hand, this office gave the impression there was a lot Andrew needed to get to that he wasn't able to. This investigation was probably another task in a long line of tasks that needed to get done at the expense of Andrew's physical and mental health. "But you called me because of something you've got? Something you think I need to see?"
Instead of answering, Andrew asked, "You want anything to drink?"
"Sure," Jared tried to temper his frustration. He didn't have time to dance after spending the last two hours driving all the way out here. "What do you have?"
Andrew gave him a brief shrug as if his mind was already on the next task. "Coffee and water."
"Not much of a selection," Jared grinned. "Tight budget?"
Andrew grimaced, as if Jared had asked something he couldn't possibly understand. "In the park, we survive on coffee. It gets cold and boring out here."
"And the water?"
"To rehydrate," Andrew answered. "We don't have much in the way of medical expertise except what we can do for ourselves. So if we can delay or avoid needing medical help, we do it."
That made sense. "Coffee sounds great," he answered. Andrew rolled the few feet to the coffee maker, poured two cups and placed one in front of Jared without asking if he wanted any creamer or sugar. Deep space looked brighter than the contents of the cup. "So, what needs to happen for someone who doesn't believe in Sasquatch to call someone who is pursuing evidence for its existence?"
"This," Andrew answered, turning and grabbing a stack of papers no less than twelve inches thick. He plopped the stack down right next to the coffee.
Jared looked at the stack through narrowed eyes. "What are those?"
"Reports our stations have taken in over the past few months from around the mountain," Andrew answered.
"All of these?"
"Yep."
Jared flipped through the sheets as quickly as he could, "There have to be nearly a hundred of them in here."
"I know."
For a second, Jared remembered his initial reaction to Andrew; how he wanted to run the instant he saw the disorganized mess of a ranger. He was thrilled he hadn't.
Sitting in front of him was a treasure.
4
"Seventy-five reports ... didn't want you having to count all those," Andrew nodded at the stack Jared now held in his hands.
Seventy-five? Over how long? It didn't make sense. There was no activity on Rainier —not legitimate activity. How had this station collected so many reports and no one in the Bigfoot community was talking about this location as a new hot spot? "I appreciate it," Jared smiled, trying to cover his concern. "This is strange. Sightings have been so rare out here for years."
Andrew pointed at him with the cheap,
roller-tip pen. "Well, what you've got in your hands disproves that. I'm not sure why, but these have been held back."
"Held back?"
"Sorry, that's all above my pay grade," the ranger replied. "You should find a lot of information in those. I don't know what you can get out of it, but I figured it'd be something useful to you. Some are sightings, some prints. Some are ... crazier."
"What do you mean?"
Andrew's expression darkened. "Last week some hikers claim they came across a Bigfoot. Like, actually interacted with it."
Jared flipped to the front of the reports. "Which one is that?"
"On top," Andrew answered over Jared's question. "I thought you'd want to see that one first."
Jared took his time reading it. He scanned, read, and re-read what was in front of him in plain black and white. "This is ... remarkable."
"If it's real," Andrew answered.
"You don't believe they saw this?"
Andrew's response made Jared cringe. "I don't believe a large ape stopped to have a conversation with a group of hikers. No."
"This report doesn't say that. It says that--"
"I was being flippant. It's pretty remarkable. Maybe too remarkable."
Jared sighed before he could hold it. He'd heard this so many times. Thanks, YouTube! Because of the idiots who put questionable videos on the internet that were nothing more than pathetic cries for attention, the vast majority of people had become numb to the fascinating beauty of this creature. Any other animal? They laughed it off. Loch Ness monster? Nessie didn't get a tenth of the hate Sasquatch did. As land mammals, humans didn't fear anything that couldn’t get to them. Sasquatch was different. Sasquatch could pop out without a moment's notice during a family hike. A camping trip? What was that noise at night? People were much more vulnerable to Sasquatch than some aquatic animal of lore. So it made sense for fragile people to demean the legacy of that which they saw as a threat. The only thing people disliked more than being afraid was admitting they were afraid. It made sense. Someone in Andrew's position couldn't be blamed; he spent the majority of his life in the wilderness and that made him vulnerable. Vulnerability bred fear. Fear bred animosity. It was all tied together. Jared understood that part of human nature enough to not fight Andrew's reaction and reasoning. "How long have you worked the mountain?"