Forsaken - An American Sasquatch Tale

by Christine Conder

  “Ray!” the other one shouted, “It’s over here!”

  A crash in the woods, like a tree had fallen in the distance, and then footfalls thundered to the right of the dugout. She maneuvered, trying to get a good angle to see up above. See anything at all. A moment later, pounding steps came from the opposite direction. Had they turned back? A man’s voice hollered out, “Which way did they go? Sam?”

  Sam. Now she knew the names of both the men who had caused her mother to leave.

  “Left! Left! Off the trail,” Sam answered.

  “I’ll head ‘em off this way,” Ray said.

  She stood on tiptoes and glimpsed a beam of light as it bobbed and bounced off the spruce. Heard the men’s excited voices as they talked over each other. And the unmistakable sound of gunshots and a brief wail. She dropped down to her knees and in a frenzy, pulled the rock free.

  “Whoa! Did you see that? I hit it,” the Sam person called out. “Point your light over here.”

  They couldn’t have been more than fifty paces away. How far had her mother gotten? Liberty refused to accept the cry had come from Sarah because she’d gone for help minutes ago. She couldn’t be the ‘it’ they’d hit. Liberty picked the rock up, balanced it in her hands near her small shoulders, and prepared to heave it toward anyone who looked into the pit.

  The footsteps stopped. The air was still and the woods grew silent. Liberty waited, finally peered up at the opening, curiosity getting the best of her. “Holy shit, man. Oh man,” Ray said.

  Liberty didn’t understand, but the terror in his voice was clear. His fear fed hers. She put the rock down, sat on top of it, and hugged her knees.

  “I swear to God, brother, that isn’t what I shot at.”

  “How the hell did she get out here?”

  She. The word resonated in Liberty’s head.

  Sam started to whimper and babble nonsense.

  “Knock it off, dumbass. We gotta hold our shit together,” Ray said.

  Liberty heard a grunt. It sounded like one of them fell.

  “What the hell you do that for?”

  Ray ignored Sam’s question. “You drop anything out here?”

  After a few seconds, “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “You better know so, because we’re going back to camp, packing our crap up, and getting out of here. We ain’t coming back because you realized you lost your fucking hat full of hair samples in these woods,” Ray’s voice grew louder.

  “So we’re just gonna leave?”

  “You wanna stick around, pray or something?”

  “I just thought—”

  “You think whatever you want. I’m going to the truck.”

  Leaves crunched and Sam hollered, “Ray! Wait up, Ray, I’m coming.”

  Their voices reached Liberty as they walked, but she didn’t listen. She continued to sway back and forth inside the pit, knowing two things for sure.

  One, her mother’s body lay out there in the woods.

  Two, she was dead.

  * * *

  She didn’t know how long she’d lain there, but early dawn hinted the night had passed. When her father finally came, he found her in the shadows of a black cherry tree, curled up on a bed of blood-soaked leaves next to Sarah’s dead, human body. Death had broken the curse. It always did.

  He touched Liberty's shoulder, tried to pull a little. Nothing moved her. He let out a deep growl and yanked her arm. She let go, kicking him in the leg on instinct. He turned and raised a fist to her. Unable to communicate in words, it was common for the Sasquatch to lash out physically, but she didn’t care. She flinched, but an image of her mother appeared in her mind, and she didn’t cower an inch.

  They stared at one another for a long moment, her pale green eyes into his dark brown, as she willed him to do it. Grief filled her, but frustration had, too. She hated him then. He’d allowed the others to mock his wife. Her mother. Hadn’t protected Sarah against the taunts and ridicule. And now he’d arrived too late and looked no different than when he showed up late for dinner. Liberty met his gaze with indifference, like he’d looked at Sarah. He lowered his hand slowly, not striking her.

  Liberty watched as her father, bending down, lifted Sarah up over his shoulder and started off. Her mother looked so small and pale, like a child. Liberty hurried to his side so she could hold Sarah’s hand, maybe offer some comfort to her in a spiritual way.

  When they reached the dugout, he lowered Sarah into it and stood still a moment, looking at his wife. Liberty studied his aura, but it remained a guarded dark gray. What did he feel? Was it pity? Relief? She didn’t believe it could be love the way he handled her like a deer carcass. Unable to bring herself to assist in the ceremony, she sat nearby and watched as her father filled in the hole.

  With every push of soil Liberty said goodbye to a memory. Push--Sarah’s laugh. The hollow thump of dirt as it landed on the body--gone was the mischief in her mother’s eyes. Another--Sarah’s hands in her hair. All the things Liberty cherished were gone, one excruciating thud at a time.

  After a while, she imagined when he could no longer see skin, her father stood, gathering bundles of twigs and in the pit they went. Boughs of pine on top of the twigs, and Sarah’s big dreams for her children were gone. As he neared the top he added large rocks, followed by a last layer of soil. In the end, the only thing left for Liberty to add were the lessons Sarah had taught her, and those she wanted to keep. Intertwined so completely within herself, burying one of those would be like gouging out an eye or cutting off a limb.

  And self-mutilation would make her unstable.

  Once he tamped the ground a few times, satisfied with his work, her father moved to the base of the hemlock tree and stripped the bark in three places. A signal to end the ceremony. Without another glance at his daughter or the grave, he started back toward Proem. She got up to trail behind, but stopped and traced the tree’s fresh wounds. No name. No heart. Just the strikes. The tree, once a symbol of safety, became Sarah Fleming’s grave marker.

  * * *

  The following weeks and months, Liberty caught snips of the colonists’ conversations. A few were affected by her loss, offered tears and wordless hugs in sympathy. Others relaxed and let down their guard, feeling somehow safer with her gone.

  But the majority agreed a mother’s instinct was a distraction. It compromised the skills needed to survive. The poor thing may have been able to bustle more effectively if she hadn’t had her daughter with her.

  She stayed until she reached the age of pardon, twenty-one, which her father granted without argument.

  And soon she saw the white auras.

  Chapter One

  Present Day.

  The seasons in northern Pennsylvania fluctuated between raging hot and bitter cold, but the cavern in Montgomery Woods stayed comfortable all year long.

  Well, comfortable unless you were petite, like Liberty’s sister-in-law, Katie, then your toes turned into tiny snowdrops after walking around on the limestone longer than five minutes.

  Liberty handed Katie a pair of fuzzy socks she’d retrieved from her chamber. “These should help.”

  Katie took them, and nodded, looking at her with a pair of almond shaped eyes that tipped up at the corners. Liberty had decided long ago they looked feline, though all the cats she’d met were much less aloof. At most, her thanks was the straight pin smile Katie offered.

  Fair enough. Katie still hadn’t forgiven her and Liberty still didn’t care.

  “Anything else I can get you?”

  “No thanks, the socks are enough.”

  Liberty grit her teeth, turned away, and crossed the room to sit next to her husband, Nathaniel. They locked eyes. He winked, patting the cushion next to him, pleased with her cordial behavior. She shrugged. It was a small gesture, all things considered.

  Gathered in the largest of the five chambers of the cavern, the sitting room, they sat on furniture Nathaniel had constructed from scraps of pressure-treated w
ood. Liberty thieved as little as possible, so she thanked Mother Nature for the cushions, having been retrieved after a windstorm.

  She noticed Adrian had entered their unofficial meeting, and found a seat at her small desk near the doorway. The lanterns in the sitting chamber softly lit the center of the space, but Adrian sat on the edge, in the shadows. She imagined if she lived in a real house, she’d place her desk in a corner. Then he could sit facing it for eternity.

  “So, Gabe,” Nathaniel said, hands laced together and elbows propped on his knees like a man without a care in the world, “out with it, already. What’s the big news?”

  Katie and her husband, Gabriel, had arrived the previous night with their son, Adrian, in tow. The spontaneous visit unsettled Liberty, and with a sick anticipation gnawing in her stomach, she’d tossed and turned, unable to sleep at all.

  “Yes,” Liberty said, hoping for something benign like a baby announcement, though doubtful with Katie as big as a willow branch. “Please share.”

  “Well actually, Nathaniel.” Gabriel made it a point to direct his words to her husband. “Cutler sent us with a message for you.”

  Liberty stared at the smiling couple, kept a straight face, and didn’t bat an eyelash. Cutler, her sister Patience’s mate, had a message for Liberty’s. She could tell this news was fantastic already.

  “Cutler?” Nathaniel repeated, not bothering to hide his surprise.

  Katie nodded and grabbed Gabriel’s hand, a genuine grin plastered on her face. “Yes, it’s very exciting.”

  Liberty paid close attention to her own posture, her expression. No need for word to get back to Proem concerning poor Liberty Brewster, perched on the edge of sanity ever since she’d lost her daughter. Nope. She took a shallow breath. She wouldn’t give it to them.

  Nathaniel sat and waited for more, and Gabriel spoke up, “Cutler would like you.” He looked at her, added, “And Liberty, to consider moving back to Proem.”

  Katie squirmed, couldn’t stand not being the one to tell the story, and took over for Gabriel. “Not just move back, Nate, he wants you to be on his Council.” She clasped her hands to her chest, said it like Nathaniel would be King. Liberty wanted to choke her. She and Patience really were two of a kind. Upper hierarchy turned them on.

  “Oh, no, thank you,” Liberty said before Nathaniel had a chance to answer, her voice as serene as a lake in Pleasantville. “We won’t be moving back.”

  “I can understand your hesitation.” Gabriel nodded. “But—”

  “I don’t.” Katie glared and raised her voice, “And excuse me, this offer is posed to Nathaniel. I think he can answer—”

  Gabriel patted Katie’s shoulder and Nathaniel put his hands up, and waved. “Hey, hey, I think we’ve gotten ahead of ourselves.”

  Liberty leaned back, waited to hear the rest, and hoped for her mate’s sake it was good. In the shadows, Adrian flipped through the photo book kept on Liberty’s desk. His chin rested on his hand, unaffected by the conversation.

  “We’re happy here.” Nathaniel paused and reconsidered, as if ‘happy’ were the wrong word. “We’ve made a home here and, though I’m honored by Cutler’s proposition, it’s not an option for us.”

  It wasn’t a great response--Liberty would have ended with showing them the exit--but it was acceptable. Diplomatic and right to the point. Pure Nathaniel. And probably why Cutler wanted him.

  Gabriel hadn’t spoken since Katie had interrupted, but his fingers tapped on a bouncing knee and it looked like he was chewing a hole in his cheek. This man was a far cry from the wild boy he had been in his youth. Had used to be, when they’d all been on friendlier terms.

  Even though he and Nathaniel were no relation, Liberty had never registered their strange resemblance before. She studied them. Maybe it was the lighting. Both were tall and muscular, broad shouldered, and had sandy colored hair. Gabriel’s eyes were green, and Nathaniel’s more hazel, but Katie’s mate could definitely pass as her brother from a distance. Liberty wondered if it had been unintentional. She suppressed a shudder.

  “Please, be reasonable.” Katie got up and walked toward Nathaniel. “You’ll need somewhere to go.”

  Mitch Montgomery, the owner of the property Liberty and Nathaniel roamed, was dying. It wouldn’t be long before he passed, and Katie seemed to know it.

  Liberty looked down at her hands, checking to see if she’d disappeared since Katie was acting like she was invisible. Wiggled her fingers. Yep, still solid, so she figured her voice should be heard. She cleared her throat. “Since when is where we live your concern?”

  Katie stopped, a mixture of surprise and disdain on her face.

  “If, and when, we move,” Liberty continued, “it’ll be our decision.” No need to say they’d already found a new dwelling. One even further away from Proem than this one. Liberty stood. “Oh, and Katie? You can pass that little bit of information onto Patien--”

  Before she’d gotten the last syllable out, Nathaniel and Gabriel had shot to their feet.

  “What’s Patience got to do with this?” Katie asked, a hand on her hip, though her tone gave her away. Too innocent, too sweet. Pink flushed high on her cheeks.

  “Please spare me the act. You really expect me to believe she isn’t behind this? Pulling Cutler’s strings? She’ll never change.”

  The perfect example of how a woman should behave, Patience had always gotten her way, obviously taking after her father. More so now that her mate was Governor. She had everything, reverence, respect, and envy. Except when it came to Liberty.

  Patience had been the real reason Liberty requested a Pardon. They’d left Proem after a fourteen-year-old Patience had stooped so low as to make false accusations against her and Nathaniel. Said they were trying to get rid of her, kill her. Years later, Liberty realized it was Patience who wanted rid of her. No loss there.

  Katie gasped and her brown eyes got wide eyed. Good, she’d offended her. Liberty turned to look at Nathaniel. “Sorry, but you know I don’t have time for this.” She nodded at her uninvited guests without meeting their eyes and then looked back to her husband. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  She turned to leave the chamber and noticed the empty desk chair. Adrian had excused himself as quietly as he’d entered.

  Nathaniel followed her out to the corridor. “Wait.” He reached out an arm. “Hold up a minute.”

  She stopped and he drew her to his chest. He leaned down close to her ear and his stubble pricked her cheek. Feigning the appearance they were having a tender moment, he murmured, “Don’t be angry.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “It’s not their fault Cutler made an offer,” he continued.

  She nodded, but he was foolish if he didn’t think his sister took pleasure in her messenger duties.

  “Besides,” he whispered, “I said no.” He pulled away a few inches to look into her eyes. “Didn’t I?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe, but you and I both know this won’t be the end of it.” She looked down the corridor toward the vestibule and sighed. “I have to go.” She gave him a peck on his cheek. “We can talk more later. Okay?”

  He squeezed her shoulder and went back to their guests. Katie’s whispers started echoing like Liberty knew they would. She turned and walked away. Though she hadn’t been back for over a decade, Proem found its way to her time and time again. If she had the choice, she’d cut ties completely, forever. Sadly, they were invisible and it made it impossible. She sighed. It was only a couple of days a year. She just needed to suck it up.

  A sliver of light peeking out from the guest chamber made her stop. Liberty pulled back the curtain. Adrian, propped up on his elbow, lay on the cot.

  His appearance hadn’t changed much in the year since she’d seen him last—his small frame still looked like he could use a few pounds—but his demeanor certainly had. Used to be hard to keep focused on him, he flitted about a room like an energy tempest, told cooking stories to everybody and anybody.
This new Adrian was unrecognizable. She squinted. If she could see his aura now, she bet it would be dark and swirling.

  While Sasquatch, Liberty cold see all auras, human and Sasquatch. But while human, she could only see other human auras, and only when tuned in to them—just like all Sasquatch. Still, she thought she had his pegged.

  The photo book lay on the blanket at his side. His shoulder-length, dark brown hair draped around him. She couldn’t see his eyes, but he seemed captivated. “Adrian?”

  He looked up, swept the strands behind an ear. “Yeah?”

  She pointed to the book on the blanket. “Would you mind putting that back where you found it when you’re through?” Old Adrian had a habit of misplacing things, and the pictures were all she had left of Sage. She wasn’t willing to take the chance on the new Adrian.

  He blinked, but didn’t say a word. She couldn’t tell if he intended to answer her, or maybe he’d gotten the hidden meaning of her question and decided not to. She didn’t wait around, gave him a curt nod and turned away, pretended she hadn’t seen the tears welled up in his eyes. She left for the surface without another word.

  * * *

  Liberty cracked open the wooden hatch a few inches and peered out. Fashioned of thick, pine slabs, draped in thick moss and covered with dead pine needles; the door’s movement went undetected beneath the copse of fir trees. The view from inside the hatch showed her destination, an empty clearing in the distance.

  Second nature forced her to wait, listen, and absorb the scent of the woodland. She remained still for a few moments longer. Detecting nothing amiss, she flipped the hatch fully open and vaulted her body up and out of the shaft.

  The transformations hadn’t affected her since her mother’s death. She knew of worse matters to fear, though bugs still gave her the creeps.

  She closed the hatch, crawled out from under the brush, stood, and looked toward the open space. Right before the clearing, near the edge of the woods, lay another concealed door. That one, covered in loam and field grass, led into a bypass running a few hundred yards in length. Halfway through the tunnel was a ladder the led up to the kennel, but if you went past the kennel entrance, all the way to the end, it led into Mitch and Ellie’s basement. There wasn’t a ladder to enter the house, but rather a door beneath the cellar’s staircase. Mitch put the bypass in himself, right after Liberty and Nathaniel came to live in Montgomery Woods.