by Paul Sating
McCoy pinched her lip under a row of straight, pearls of teeth. "I know. Sorry," she said before drawing a big breath and getting out of the chair and moving over in front of a side window. A grassy area stood guard between the ranger building and the thick tree line of the Olympic forest that delineated the untamed world from the tamed. Jared watched her. Whatever exuberance that was there when he first met her was now gone. "A couple of us have had stones, like big rocks, thrown at us. One of our trucks had its hood caved in. The ranger who brought it in, Scott, kept the rock. It was as big as a basketball. The hood on his truck was crushed, like five inches! He would have gotten in trouble over it but so much weird stuff has been happening, I guess we're all expecting things like this now. It's crazy. And then, the howls ..."
Jared watched as McCoy toyed with the windows blinds, plucking them one by one as if she were playing a cello, each one popping against the window frame. "We started noticing them, I mean, we started documenting them, about six months ago but we've been hearing them for longer," she continued. "I can't speak for the other rangers, but I figured they were wolves, which is stupid because wolves don't live out here and they don't sound like that. The first few times I heard them ... I've never heard anything so chilling. Then, one time, a few months ago, I heard one howl and then another, in a completely different direction, a few seconds later. There's no way whatever howled like that could have moved the distance it would have needed to in order to pull that off. No joke, I started crying a little." Her fingers continued to pop those blinds.
Jared winced more than once, worried she was going to snap one of them. "You heard a call and response."
She turned but kept a finger on one of the blinds, ready to pop it. "Is that what they're called? Yeah, then. I guess so. I started keeping my weapon close to me after that."
"I don't blame you."
"Are they dangerous?"
"I thought you didn't think they existed?" Jared tried to lighten the mood.
And failed.
"I—" her brow wrinkled and he was only about to add to her worry.
"Yeah, they can be dangerous, very dangerous."
She continued to pluck at the blinds. Jared realized McCoy was lost in thought. He’d gotten what he needed from her so there was no reason to draw out torturing her by asking her to recall everything. So, instead, Jared thanked her for her time. McCoy turned away from the window long enough to give him a brief smile. "You're welcome," was all she said before returning her attention to the outside world and the tree line that stared back at her.
Jared pulled the door station closed, careful to not abuse it this time. He didn't want to disturb her and actually felt culpable; there was a lot going on in her head. The guilt of pursuing answers, answers she'd been willing to provide, was enough to deal with, he didn't need any more weight on his shoulders for disturbing whatever she needed to do to process the impact of those memories.
One thing was obvious; Sasquatch was there, right in the virtual middle of the Olympic National Forest. Roaming, but that was common among most species. What bothered Jared the most were the varying levels of aggression. Curiosity, hunger? That was one thing. But what McCoy described was something entirely different. The Bigfoot in Forks that Frank Hollenbeck saw ran away from him, as did the one on Mount Rainier. The pair that scouted Jared left him undisturbed. And even when he and Lucas were scouted, the rock throwing had been nothing more than a warning. Nothing more. What McCoy reported was tainted with aggressive behavior on the animal’s part. But maybe it was McCoy's memory that was tainted with hyperbole based on trauma? It wasn't beyond the scope of possibilities.
Here was someone with no experience with Sasquatch, isolated by thousands of acres of mountainous forest, hearing things she had no foundation to understand. It was easy to see where fear and anxiety would take root and then start forming the narrative around every other experience to follow. He had thousands of hours in these mountains, putting himself in harm's way, and still got rattled. Someone in her position could be forgiven for adding a little dramatic flair to experiences. There was nothing in her presentation that pinged the radar that she was fraudulent. So the question remained: was the Sasquatch population here aggressive or was their territory being invaded more and more by their human cousins and they were done tolerating it? Punching back?
Jared pulled out of the ranger station parking lot and headed deeper into the mountains, quickly moving out of cell phone range, cutting himself off from the world with each mile. Was it the uneasy conversation with McCoy, watching her deteriorate before his eyes, that instigated the morose thought or was it the reality of the situation finally striking him?
That this was it. The end?
He was headed into the mountains and wasn't coming out until he'd found Bigfoot.
Jared grabbed the recorder. It was always good to put voice to his thoughts. There weren't many people who could handle his need to talk about his passion, he had a failed marriage to prove that, and getting his thoughts down was cathartic; it was what spawned the idea to start a podcast about his work in the first place. How many thousands of hours of notes did he have in various files back at the house? The idea had come to him like an unexpected punch to the chops; there were millions of podcasts listeners around the world. Tens of thousands of people interested in the topic of a large, upright primate. But no one reliable was talking about it, being open with their evidence, and sharing all the behind the scenes stuff that polished television shows refused to expose. Initially, he'd wanted to post episodes as he went along but didn't realize how much work podcasting was, work that would keep him chained to his computer at the house. With Maria gone, that was pointless torture.
But then everything started to happen. Pieces fell together. Phone calls from anonymous people. More and more information was passed to him. Word spread. Momentum grew. Threats did too.
Envious people easily became desperate people when they felt threatened. A public podcast that detailed the truth about what it was like to investigate Sasquatch, to find the elusive primate? That would expose the fraudulent behaviors of 'peers' and inform the world about the Sasquatch population, exposing regional authorities as nothing more than fraudsters, and potentially harming commercial interests by educating lawmakers on the natural wonderment that required their protection. His work put too many people, and their money-making careers, in jeopardy.
When he realized that, the decision to build everything first and then release the podcast once it was over was a simple choice. Now, pulling away from the ranger station and leaving Stephanie McCoy to her troubled thoughts, he wondered if he'd done the right thing all along. She represented some of the victims in this, the people who’d fallen subservient to the Sasquatch legend. Employees, friends, coworkers, spouses, neighbors, people who lived in the areas impacted by confirmed sightings and not-so-real claims to such sightings, and the Sasquatch themselves. The tourism industry. The natural environment, protected or otherwise. There were so many victims of ignorance. The lack of reliable information about Sasquatch hurt untold scores, impacted the environment, and allowed bad information to propagate. Each day he delayed releasing the podcast was another day that ignorance and selfishness extended their reach.
And all that damage could be mitigated by accomplishing what he set out to do now: finish this pursuit.
His cell phone rang. No number popped up on his screen, just the ominous word 'UNKNOWN' told him who wanted his attention. "Who the hell is this?" he grumbled, punching the green ACCEPT icon. It could be important and in another few miles he was going to be outside of cell phone range. "Hello?"
The voice on the other end was smooth, rich but unexceptional. "Ah, Jared Strong. So nice to finally get to speak with you."
"Who is this?"
"My name is irrelevant, but you may call me Roger. I was hoping I could catch you before you drove out beyond cell phone range."
"I don't kno—excuse me?" How the hell did he know that
?
Roger sounded humored. "My representatives tell me you're out near Whiskey Bend. Just finished visiting the ranger station near there, I hear. Even after you met one of my men earlier. You're either brave or incredibly stupid."
The surge of rage was instantaneous and overwhelming. He was crushing the phone with his hand. "Who the hell are you and what the hell do you want?"
"A meeting, Mr. Strong," the jovial voice laughed. "That's all. I'd like to sit down with you and see if there isn't an amicable solution to this predicament we find ourselves in. I know you're in a hurry to setup up before it gets late, but I'd like to meet you for a quick meal so we can discuss this ... matter. My treat, of course. What do you say?"
23
"Why would I want to meet with you?" Jared snarled into the phone, trying to still navigate the winding road until he could find a portion of the shoulder wide enough to pull over. All the trouble, the assault, the stress, strain, and threats; this was the voice of the person responsible. In a fair world, Jared would be able to reach through the cellular connection and rip this man's throat out.
"It's in your best interest, Jared," Roger said. The cavalier attitude was enough to make Jared want to do harm. "Peter? Maria? That unfortunate thing that happened to your dog? I'm sure you're more than interested in meeting me face-to-face, are you not?"
"Fuck you! Let me find out who you are, I swear."
Almost talking over top of him, Roger answered in a mocking fashion. "You can. I've already offered to meet you. It's that simple."
"I have no idea who you are, who you work for or why I should trust you. The only reason I'm interested in meeting you is so I can rip your head off and shit down your neck." He meant it. Every. Damn. Word. Everything this man had put him and the people he cared about through, Jared was willing to repay ten-fold. For Molly alone, Jared was more than tempted to do violence. He needed to find out who this man was. That was it. There was no taking the higher road. There was no being the better person, turning the other cheek, or any of that shit. In certain circumstances, humankind resorted to its evolutionary infancy and this was that time for Jared. He yanked the steering wheel, pulling onto a gravel patch and slamming to a stop. A cloud of light brown dust wafted past. He didn't notice, he was transfixed on a singular point of rage in his mind's eye. Nothing else existed at the moment.
"Meet me. I'd love to shake hands with the man who found Bigfoot, if you promise not to harm me."
Jared unlocked his fingers from the steering wheel, balling them into a fist, a fist he wanted to shove down this man's throat. "In case your goons didn't inform you, I'm a little preoccupied making the find of the century." It felt good to tease this asshole.
"I can make it worth all your efforts," Roger continued as if nothing Jared had to say was worth his time. "Those years you've scrimped and saved and barely kept your home. The extra hours Maria worked? All those things she gave up because you needed to go on 'just one more expedition'? All the stress and worry of what you're going to do to make a living after this? All of it. Wiped away. You won't have to work again if you don't want to. Neither will she. I'm offering the chance for a very comfortable life."
The words rolled off Jared's tongue like a poisonous mixture he'd accidentally drank. "In exchange for my silence."
"You hand over your work and walk into a comfortable, early retirement," Roger's trained voice remained even, smooth. Exquisitely smooth. "Doesn't that sound better than another thousand nights sleeping on rocks and chasing a monster that might not even exist?"
"You want to know what sounds better?" Jared pointed out the windshield at nothing in particular. "Me kicking your ass if you ever think to harm me or anyone I love. If you send your goons my way, I can't promise I'll send them back to you. Are we clear?"
"You're making a mis—" Roger was saying as Jared pulled the phone away from his ear and punched the red button, cutting off the call.
He made sure he'd disconnected and then immediately called Maria. Regardless of the air temperature outside, the truck seemed to be getting hotter. Jared tried to slow his breathing before she answered but she picked up almost after the second ring.
"Jared? Is everything okay? I thought you were out?"
His throat clenched. His words were rapid, harsh. "I don't know what's going on but I need you to head to your family's camp. Take your parents with you."
The loving, warm tone of her voice was now gone as if it'd never been there. " You're scaring me, Jared. What's going on?"
"I don't have time to explain. You've got to leave. Head to the camp until I can get there."
When she spoke again her voice was icy. "It's those men, isn't it? The men who shot Molly?"
Jared nodded even though she couldn't see him. "I got a call from a man named Roger who doesn't want me to finish. He tried to convince me that giving this up might not be the worst decision I could make. He knows where I've been and where I'm headed now."
"Jesus, Jared! When does it end?"
"Give me two days," he pleaded. Nothing came from the other end of the phone. "Hello? Maria?"
He breathed a sigh of relief when she finally answered. "I heard you."
"Maria, I--"
"It's fine," she said, sounding anything but.
"What?"
"I'll head to the camp," she answered. "I'll take my parents. But, Jared. Two days. Two days! Then I'm going to the police. I'm not kidding. If you won't end this, I will."
"Thank you, babe," he breathed. "I can't tell you how much it means to me to have your support." She hadn't said she was disappearing. She hadn't said she was leaving him for good. She said she would go to the police. Maria was taking care of him. Again. So selfless.
As if reading his thoughts, Maria said, "Jared, I know how much this means to you. What kind of woman, wife, would I be if I refused to stand by you? I know you're close, I hear it in your voice. You've never been like this before. And I know you're ready to walk away and focus on us. I believe in you. And I can't, I won't, ask anything else from you other than your promise that if this is it, if this is the end, that you'll be true to your word that it is time for us."
"I swear it," he promised. "I want us and I want it now. It's hard to even be out here when I just want to be with you."
"I know." The tenderness in her voice was intoxicating. "But you've got one more important job to do. Go finish it."
He nodded, grateful she couldn't see the tears running down his cheeks. "You're right. I'll be east of Whiskey Bend, starting from Wolf Creek. If something happens, that's where they can find me."
"Focus on finding Bigfoot. I love you. Be careful."
And they said goodbye, possibly for the last time.
With that one word, she was gone.
Safe.
Jared held the phone in his hand for another few minutes as he thought about everything that had happened. He'd upped the ante and created a crisis for the people who didn't want him to finish his work. And they'd responded in kind, with the mastermind getting involved. In a way, it could be seen as a compliment, that he was such a threat to them, that his work was so valid they had to deploy their 'Hail Mary' play. One last attack, like an MMA fighter who was getting his ass kicked, knew he was getting his ass kicked, would take one last swing with everything he could, hoping against hope that he would send his opponent crashing to the mat. The man only known as Roger was that knockout punch.
Except that he swung and missed.
Jared put his cell phone back in its cradle, grabbed the recorder, and started the drive deeper into the Olympic Mountains.
24
It was a peaceful night, cool but not cold. The popping firewood was the only sound besides the occasional rustling of nearby tree branches. Jared barely noticed them. He was bundled against the chill, focusing on the dancing flames that kept him warm and any nocturnal friends far, far away.
And he had his thoughts. About Maria and her supportive, almost unconditional love. About
the man named Roger who'd done so much to disrupt this investigation and, more importantly, shatter Jared's world. About his friends who'd supported and helped him. And about the mysterious animal he pursued, who evaded all his attempts to be found.
But it wouldn't. Not any longer. Jared was here to make sure of that.
Life had a funny way of altering, of shifting. When you followed your passions you were supposed to be happy and, for the longest time, he was. He was very happy. Fulfilled. For years he popped out of bed and got on with his day, clueless to the misery that so many of his friends suffered through on a daily basis. He never understood the adage, 'thank God it's Friday' more than on a superficial level. What was it like to suffer for five days, focusing on the draw of two days away from work to reconnect with living life? It was a foreign concept to him, a remnant of his schoolboy years that never transferred over into his adult life. He seemed to be the only one who was inoculated against the disease. Even Maria, Peter, and happy-go-lucky Lucas all dreaded their jobs from time to time.
But now, as he stared into the fire, he understood it all too well.
He hated what he did for a living and he hated himself for allowing it to carry on longer than it ever should have. There was no one else to blame. The passion that provided the zest for living was now nothing more than a dismal obligation. If he wanted to be happy again he was going to have to finish this, once and for all. Once it was all behind him he could figure out how to live a responsible and happy life with the woman he loved.
The cost of pursuing Bigfoot didn't register until Maria was settling in at her parent's house after walking out on their marriage. It took a very long time to stop resisting; to recognize his addiction chased her away. Over and over he'd remind himself until he didn't need to. The old dog was able to learn new tricks. As his determination grew stronger, the need to teach himself dissipated, no longer required.