Chasing the Demon

by Paul Sating

  Jared's hand lingered on the bag. He still didn’t have a body. That was the darker side of all this, wasn't it? The public would need that before they would invest a second of interest in thinking about the existence of Sasquatch. In the bigger picture, no matter what he did, no matter what he accomplished, none of it would matter if he didn't have a body to show the uninitiated.

  No, don't do that to yourself. Don't let them give you reasons to quit. Not when you're this close.

  But it was easier said than done. Those dissenting voices of realism distracted him. Jared knew he could only do what he could do; everything else would be left up to fate or destiny if you believed in those things. The opinions of people who didn't care about anything beyond making their next mortgage payment didn’t matter. He reminded himself that he could even deliver that body the world demanded and still have millions of people who'd claim his work a worthless hoax. He reminded himself of that because that was reality and the people who mattered, the people who would help those dissenters understand, they would see the value in this wealth of gathered evidence. That’s who deserved his attention.

  That was why he was headed to Aberdeen on a day he'd rather be anywhere else. He was seeing someone who would put science behind this.

  Jared reluctantly moved his hand into the front pocket of the bag and grabbed the recorder. It was painful. "Kurt Cobain was a genius. It doesn't matter what your particular taste in music is, it's pretty hard to deny that claim. The man changed music; something very, very few musicians ever can actually lay claim to, especially nowadays. In Aberdeen, Washington he's much more than that, though. Here, he's a god. In this city you don't question his brilliance or character and, here, Cobain wasn't a victim of suicide either."

  Jared let sarcasm taint his words even as he spoke them. "Oh, you didn't know that? Oh yeah, in Aberdeen it was murder, not a suicide. For those of you who enjoy a good conspiracy story, you'd love the atmosphere here. Aberdeen is an interesting city. With sixteen thousand people, living off pretty low annual incomes, it hugs the eastern-most inlet of the North Bay that stretches all the way out to the Pacific Ocean. It's a city struggling to stand up, like a toddler learning to walk and constantly tumbling over. A quick drive through it will show you a city trying to breathe life into itself and hyperventilating. But there's a certain charm to this foundation of grayness. There's a toughness to her people, a determined nature if you will, and I respect that.

  "I'm here today to meet an old friend. We go way back," he continued. "To high school, in fact. His name is Lucas Thomson and he's a video analyst and a freelancer to a few of the sports teams in Seattle and some corporate lackeys there too. He's a remote worker so he's earning Seattle wages while living on Aberdeen costs; the man is pretty smart, I will admit, though it pains me to do so. We sort of have had this testosterone-friendly rivalry thing going on since we were kids."

  He clicked off the recorder as he pulled into the city limits, meeting her traffic. There weren't many places in Aberdeen to find things to do, and every place that was somewhat interesting was shoehorned right in the same part of town, stifling traffic flow. The vast majority of the city was a sleepy hollow, with half-century old homes silently decaying under gray skies while all the action happened on one, winding strip of gray blacktop where traffic went to die.

  Lucas' house was set in one such corner of the sleepier part of town. Jared shook his head as he pulled into the narrow driveway, which was nothing more than two ruts of tire tracks carved out of the lush, green lawn. The ranch home was one story, yellow. Two large windows set low on the front wall exposed the top of his couch. White curtains, laced with flowery design from the previous owner, were parted but not fully pulled to the sides, looping over the top of the couch. A single green, plastic chair, and small hibachi grill sat atop the concrete slab that served as a deck. Lucas made so much money and chose to live like this. Jared was sure he’d never understand his friend's motivations. But the way Lucas chose to live was simple, uncluttered by complications and obligations.

  Maybe he is the smart one after all?

  He knocked on the screen door, which rattled in its hinges. Within seconds it was flung open by the short, stout man who called Aberdeen home. "Hey, bud!" Lucas exclaimed. "Bring it in! How the hell are you doing?"

  "Great, man. Great. How about you?"

  "Most excellent. I'm living in heaven. How could I not be? Come on, let's get inside. It's hot out here."

  Jared laughed and stepped into the small home. "It's 72 degrees."

  Lucas waved off his comment, reaching into the refrigerator. "Beer?"

  "One. I'm on the clock."

  Lucas stood back up, two cans in hand. Cheap beers, Jared noted. He leaned on the top edge of the lower refrigerator door. "When are you not?"

  "I'm working on that." It was an honest answer.

  "How are things? You okay?" Lucas' tone switched to serious, as serious as the maze of thousands of dollars’ worth of video and computing equipment in the adjoining room. In a normal family, that room would serve as the gathering place to sit and talk, to watch television, or to just spend time together. Not so much with Lucas. For him, it was an office where magic was done. Video might be his first love, but Lucas wasn't oblivious to normal human priorities. His friend knew the toll this separation had taken. Lucas was like that. He didn't have a family of his own so he seemed extra sensitive to the lives of his friends. Jared appreciated that. He appreciated a lot of things about Lucas. Whereas Peter could be compassionate but dry, Lucas wore his emotions on his sleeve. You always knew where you stood with him and him with you. There weren't enough people in the world like that.

  "We're actually trying to reconcile," Jared answered.

  "No shit?" Lucas knocked the cheap beer cans together, slammed the refrigerator and made his way to the table, sliding one of the cans over to Jared. "Nice, man. When did that happen?"

  "Last few weeks; real recent," Jared admitted. "I finally pulled my head out of my ass and realized how much she gave up for me so I could do this. I've been pretty selfish."

  "You have."

  "Gee, thanks."

  Lucas shrugged, wincing as he pried open the beer and was splashed with small, white foam flecks of cheap booze. Jared laughed at the fate his friend created for himself. "That's what friends are for. True friends will tell you how much you suck. Plus, I thought you were above receiving platitudes for the sake of your ego?"

  "You're an ass," Jared laughed as they silently toasted each other.

  Lucas took a long swig and rolled his lips inward after setting the beer down. "I try," he smiled. "So, this video you sent me. From Shelton, huh?"

  "Yeah, a father took it at his kid's game," Jared said. "He didn't see it until weeks later when his wife pointed it out. What do you think?"

  "It's an interesting video," Lucas conceded.

  "Interesting? That doesn't sound promising."

  "Listen, you know where I stand on this stuff," Lucas replied. "We've had these conversations before. And I know you trust me enough to check my biases. This video made it hard to do that."

  Whatever he was expecting his friend to say, it wasn't that. It wasn't an encouraging statement and Jared couldn't deny the immediate feeling of regret and disappointment. "What? Why?"

  "Well, the environmental factors in the video don't help," Lucas leaned forward. "There's light pollution from the stadium. Too many occluding objects, namely the players on that side of the field and the fence, and, I could argue, even the backdrop. It doesn't help that we're looking across an illuminated sports field into the darkness. I wish he'd shot this during the day."

  "Well, he doesn’t control the school's football schedule. And, hey, at least there's a video."

  "Don't get me wrong. This is good," Lucas stated. "Not perfect, but good. A lot better than almost 100% of all that crap you see on YouTube that claims to be genuine. I went over and over this. Sorry bud, I love ya, but I'm not putting my name o
n it."

  Goddamn it! With one, swift comment Lucas sent waves of disappointment rolling over him. He tried to not let his disappointment show. He didn't want to put unfair weight on Lucas doing exactly what he'd asked him to do. And, to be truthful, he didn't want Lucas giving him shit about it a few months from now when their schedules matched and they finally caught back up with each other again. "So, it's a fake?"

  "I used my dynamical model. I used a few variations, actually. I ran a segmentation algorithm. Did detection, looked for variance in intensities. I went over and over this. I'm not going to lie. I even reached out to a friend in Phoenix, another analyst. Sort of my mentor. Thing is, I'm struggling with this, Jared."

  Jared leaned back. "Why?"

  "Because," Lucas took another long, slow swallow of his horrible domestic beer, his can leaned to the side so he could keep an eye on Jared as he drank. He set it down but, Jared noted, still gripped it tightly, "It's legitimate."

  "Ha!" Jared exclaimed, standing and accidentally hitting the recorder, almost knocking it the floor. He picked it up and stopped the recording. He wanted to protect his friend, all of his friends, from now on. After what Peter had been through he didn't want to add Lucas to that list. Friends came before Bigfoot. "Fucking fantastic!"

  "You could say that again," Lucas smiled, "and I don't even believe in this shit."

  "Well, do you now?"

  Lucas shook his head. "Man, I don't know. That was ... crazy. I don't know what to make of it. I'm not supposed to think those things are real. This doesn't sit well with me, Jared."

  Now it was Jared's turn to shake his head. "You just can't admit it, can you? You know what that was."

  "No I don't, bud," Lucas replied. "Until I know those things are real, all I know is that I have no godly idea what I saw in that video. Don't—" he held up his hand, "I know what you're going to say. And I know you're going to caveat with flowery, non-committal language to make sure you stay as unbiased as possible. And I know you're going to say that's convincing video, and it is, I swear. I'm struggling here."

  "Struggling, but not enough to convince you those things are out there though?"

  "What things?" he shrugged. "You have to prove to me they exist before you can tell me what I saw in that video, bud. There was something there, no doubt. But I can’t be convinced by large shadows. There are a million options as to what that is. Variations."

  "Variations?" Jared queried. "Men in suits? Bears walking upright?"

  "Could be," Lucas smirked. "I don't know. It freaks me out. I don't know what the fuck those things were and I doubt they were kids or moronic adults trying to get 'YouTube famous'. They're likely to get shot in Shelton walking around in gorilla suits. No, those things were animals. That's all I'm conceding right now. Isn't that enough progress for you?"

  "That's it," Jared lifted his beer, extending a finger at Lucas, "I'm taking your ass on an expedition."

  "No thanks," Lucas waved him away.

  "Why not?"

  "Why in the world would I want to go out there? There's mosquitoes and it gets cold, and all sorts of shit crawls around in the underbrush that can see me but I can't see it. No thanks."

  "You're afraid that if you go out with me and we hear something, you're going to come over to my side of the argument. You're going to become a dirty believer!"

  They shared a laugh and the conversation turned to other things, lighter things. It was good to be with him again. It'd been a long time, too long of a time, but it was always like that with Lucas. Any time that passed between visits felt like ages, even if it was only a month or two. But that was life, wasn't it? As you got older, life tended to become more private. Running with your social circles became less and less important and even dear friends faded away. Lucas had never faded, but Jared was gone so often and Aberdeen was such a pain to get to that they had every excuse real life provided about why they couldn't get together more often. So times like this, even when there was work to be discussed, were valued. Jared treasured every minute of beer drinking and bullshitting. Because he knew there would never be enough and it could all be taken away tomorrow.

  Jared ended up having more than one beer with Lucas, but not so many that he couldn't drive a few hours later. Lucas stood in his driveway, in the drizzle that rolled in off the ocean, watching Jared back out of the path that acted as a driveway, waving like a protective poppa sending his kids off to college. Jared waved back at the figure in the rearview mirror, laughing at the silliness of the shared gesture, and mourning the fact that he knew it might be months before they saw each other again unless something came up.

  Or if he could grow a pair and come out on an expedition.

  It wasn't a fruitless venture though; Lucas warmed to the idea throughout their afternoon beer chat to the point where he almost got Lucas to commit to going. That was saying something. Lucas hated being out in the elements; he hated being wet, hated being cold. Jared was shocked his friend even did yard work, and why he chose to live in Aberdeen, with its perpetual grayness, was something he swore he'd never understand. Lucas was strange like that, and Jared loved his friend's quirkiness.

  He wanted to protect Lucas too. Peter's recent troubles were very real; Jared had no doubt, so he had to be careful about every word, written and spoken, from now on. No one else needed to carry the weight of his troubles.

  None of them.

  Jared scratched his chin. Behind the joy, there was worry, with a little confusion spritz for good measure. His thoughts transferred from his friend to his long-time foe. Why was Sasquatch all the way out in Shelton? Had conditions become that bad in the Olympics? Forks, then Quinault, and now a small city like Shelton? Were they going to start being sighted near Olympia next?

  "It didn't make sense. The town is way too far from the Olympics and way too populated,” Jared reasoned aloud. “It's not a city by any stretch of the definition, but nearly twenty thousand people is still a significant number when you're talking about this species being anywhere in the area. Why in the world would it be this close to town? Especially when it had a youngster with it? What could have made it leave the safety of the mountains?"

  The slow death of the planet aside, what other reasons could these wonderful creatures have to come out of the safety of the mountains? Forks, he could understand. It was still an out-of-the-way destination with sparse human population and, in Forks, Frank Hollenbeck had more gone into their world than they had his.

  Even the Quinault sightings could be rationalized. A hungry animal coming down to the river outside a very small town? He was okay with that too.

  But this? A parent-child pairing in Shelton? Close enough to be caught on video in the background of a high school football game with hundreds of spectators? It didn’t matter that Kevin hadn’t witnessed it during the game or the first few times he watched what he recorded. That was a good thing, in fact, because it was likely everyone at the game missed the sighting. But it also spoke volumes about Sasquatch's comfort. Or desperation. Maybe it was time for him to be equally assertive with his podcast target audience, which would include people like Lucas, who would need to get drunk with one before they'd believe it existed.

  "I guess, as with most things, as soon as one mystery starts to be revealed another takes its place," Jared continued. "Questions leading to more questions. There's so much people don't understand about this creature. So much they don't want to understand. When it comes to Sasquatch, the old adage that ignorance is bliss becomes pertinent.”

  This needed to go into the podcast. Momentum was building. The future audience had to feel this, it was the only way he could suck them in.

  "Why are people so averse to considering the possibility that these creatures might actually exist? From Gigantopithecus blacki forward, there’s so much evidence to consider. To at least think about.” He clutched the recorder, shaking it in front of his face as he spoke. "A giant, upright, bipedal ape existing in North America! We know it lived here. The
fossil record, science, shows that. Something Jeff Meldrum calls the ‘serendipity of paleontology’ when he talked about distinct genetic inter-species identity and what the fossil record shows and doesn't show. So before you get ready to ignore these accounts, take a second to remember the world you see today isn't the world of antiquity. The absence of evidence alone is not evidence of absence.

  "This challenges assertions by those who resist considering giant apes migrating, surviving, and even thriving in this region of the world." The fire burned in him. He was so tired of swimming against the tide of ignorance, so tired of people believing every damn word their favored political party spewed but refusing to even entertain a conversation about a primate. "Yes, a body needs to be found, I get that, but finding fossils will be tough, especially because the Pacific Northwest is especially poor for fossilization due to the moist coniferous forests and volcanic soil. The acidity of the soil here doesn't work well with preservation efforts. Legitimate hair, footprints, and video evidence of something in a very specific region of western Washington State; I'm so damn close to being able to go public with all of this. I'm not sure that right now is the right time. Too early and it might not be taken seriously. I need to have enough to motivate funding for deeper research or all of this was for naught. But I need to do it soon."

  He swallowed back the wave of regret washing over him. The darkness he'd tucked away into an emotional box was cracked open. Maria was forcing it open. Still, it was so, so hard. "I need to bury my demons."

  16

  Jared lay on the couch, the recorder on his chest. He was going to do this, finally.

  After his anthropological rant on the way back from Shelton, he'd stopped recording and started thinking. Not that he ran out of material to cover, there was still so much people needed to hear, but because that rant led him straight into thinking about the very thing that was going to put this all behind him, once and for all.