Voracious

by ALICE HENDERSON

  “Where?” Suzanne asked.

  Steve motioned for them to sit down on the couch. He took the hard metal chair next to it.

  “In the backcountry,” Madeline continued, once seated. “At the Glacier Point backcountry station. Mike Z something.”

  “Mike Zuwalski,” the two rangers chorused.

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  The naturalist swallowed. “And you’re sure he’s dead?”

  Madeline pictured the man’s body draped over the beam in the vaulted toilet, the blood everywhere, his sightless eyes staring. “Yes.”

  “At the station itself?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to radio up there,” the naturalist said, and left the room, the chair’s feet squeaking on the cheap linoleum floor.

  For a long tense moment the officer stared at her. “Did you see who killed him?”

  She paused, uncomfortable. “Not who … what.”

  “An animal attack? You mean like a bear?”

  Madeline shook her head. “No. Nothing like that.” Madeline felt herself pulled back to those dreaded hours on the mountain when it had pursued her. “It was almost human. Incredibly smart.” She thought of how it cut her off at the ranger station.

  The officer looked at her closely. “Almost human?”

  “Yes. But not quite. It had claws, and these enormous eyes …”

  Now the officer looked at her, brow creased. “You know,” she said again, “sometimes it’s hard to identify wildlife correctly.”

  Madeline sighed. What was this, a practiced ranger speech? But she herself had overheard enough conversations between park visitors to know the officer told the truth. How many times had Madeline heard people call a pronghorn antelope a deer? Or call a hoary marmot a weasel or a groundhog? Sure, you could mix up a black bear with a grizzly bear, or a coyote with a wolf, but this creature had been no wolf or bear.

  “Bears can walk upright,” Suzanne continued, “and in intense situations, people might confuse them with—”

  The naturalist came back into the room, a huge grin on his face. “Just raised Mike on the radio,” he said, the look of relief evident on his face. “He says everything’s fine up there.”

  “What?” Madeline cried. Bewilderment swept over her, and she looked at them in astonishment.

  “You’re sure it was the Glacier Point ranger station,” asked the officer, “and not another one?”

  “Positive!” Madeline insisted. “I had a map, and—” Madeline stopped short, suddenly realizing what was happening. It wasn’t Mike the naturalist had talked to. Just as she had never talked to Mike. “You were talking to the creature!” she blurted. “It was the creature on the radio!” So it truly wasn’t dead.

  “Creature?” Steve looked at Suzanne in confusion. “It can talk?”

  She waved a dismissive hand, as if she would tell him later.

  “It was him, don’t you see?” Madeline said desperately.

  Suzanne patted her on the shoulder. “Now just calm down. We’ll work this out.”

  Steve returned to his seat and said softly and reassuringly, “I’ve known Mike Zuwalski for four years, and I know his voice. It was definitely him on the radio.”

  “No! Listen!” Madeline pleaded, shrugging off Suzanne’s hand. “The creature, this thing that killed him, it can appear just like him! I thought it was really the ranger, too, but it wasn’t. Don’t you see?”

  Suzanne frowned at Madeline, then stuck her chin out in puzzlement. “What exactly did you see?” She pulled out a notebook and readied to jot down notes.

  Madeline took a breath. “I went into the ranger’s station. I talked to the ranger there, Mike, or so I thought. He went into a back room to investigate a strange thumping noise. I went to the bathroom, and when I entered, Mike’s body was hanging from a rafter, and this thing was eating him.”

  “Why do you say, ‘Or so I thought’? ” Suzanne pressed, making a note.

  “Because the ranger in the bathroom had been dead for some time. The creature eating him was wearing his uniform. It had changed to look like the ranger.”

  Suzanne stared at her, then stopped taking notes. “Did you have anyone look at her head wound?” the officer asked Steve, suddenly speaking as if Madeline wasn’t in the room at all.

  “No, not yet …”

  “I think we need to call Bill out stat.”

  “I’ll phone him now,” the naturalist said, and rose from the chair.

  “How did you get hurt?” Suzanne asked.

  “I was caught in that flash flood, but look, that’s really not the important issue here.”

  “Looks like she got hit pretty bad,” Steve put in.

  “No!” Madeline practically yelled. “It’s not my head! That thing’s still out there!”

  “Now, honey,” the officer said, her tone gentle. “Why don’t you just sit there on the couch and wait for our medical technician? Would you like a cup of tea or a bite to eat?”

  Madeline threw up her hands in frustration. “I can’t believe this!” But even as she said it, she knew how crazy her story sounded, especially to people who hadn’t seen the thing, didn’t know what it was capable of.

  “We’ll get this all straightened out,” the naturalist said kindly.

  Madeline shook her head in disbelief. “You’ve got to send someone up there! No—send a bunch of people up there. Armed people. And ask that thing pretending to be your friend Mike a lot of personal questions. I guarantee you it won’t be able to answer them.”

  “We’ll do that tomorrow,” Suzanne told her. “But first we need to get you better.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll go myself,” the naturalist offered.

  Madeline couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. “Don’t go alone,” she told him. She was so exhausted, and it felt like someone had jabbed a shish kebab skewer directly through her temple. She sighed, wanting the pain to ease. Bringing her fingers to her head, she massaged gently. She had done her part. She had reported the murder. Now she had to protect herself. And if the rangers weren’t going to help her, if the thing came back, she would just have to face it alone. Or hopefully with Noah, she thought, suddenly wondering where he was, if he’d found a place to stay. Preferably a place with five bolts on the door and no rafters.

  “I’m going to call Bill now,” the naturalist said. Suzanne nodded, and he left the room.

  “Do you have a place to stay tonight, honey?” asked the officer.

  Madeline nodded. “My friend Noah is finding a place. He should be back any minute.” She sighed. “Did anyone else get caught in the flash flood?”

  The ranger’s mouth fell into a grim, gray line. “Three that we know of, aside from you.” She paused. “They, uh … they didn’t make it.”

  Madeline’s eyes widened as she thought of the freezing water robbing muscles of strength, filling lungs, tossing bodies into jagged rocks and lethal branches.

  “But, everything’s going to be all right for you,” Suzanne added quickly, seeing her response. “You’ll see.”

  But her reassurance felt hollow and empty, and despite the rangers around her, symbols of law and safety, Madeline had never felt so alone and scared in her life.

  After the medical technician had come and rebandaged her head, he determined she didn’t have a concussion and that she should just get some rest. He gave her some acetaminophen, extra bandages, and first aid tape, and left.

  Shortly afterward, as she sat alone with the two rangers again, a rap brought their attention back to the door. In a moment Steve was up and opening it. Noah stood there. She was so glad to see him she almost leapt up and hugged him.

  “Noah!” she said, about to launch into the story about how they wouldn’t listen to her, how the creature had convinced them it hadn’t killed their friend.

  “I found us a place to stay,” he said before she could get a word out.

  She realized he was nervous and didn’t want to talk to the ranger
s.

  “Thanks for your help,” he told the rangers.

  “The ranger in question is fine … I radioed him myself,” Steve said to Noah.

  “Yes,” Noah said quietly. “It’s just been a long couple of days, and my friend here was really spooked by the flash flood.”

  Both rangers nodded, and after thanking them again, Noah led her out and shut the door behind them.

  “They wouldn’t listen to me,” Madeline said when they stood alone on the porch.

  “It’s just as well.”

  “Just as well?” Madeline said incredulously.

  He looked every bit as exhausted as she felt. But his bruises looked a little better. Not so dark.

  “They would get killed if they went after him. You must see that by now.”

  Madeline fell silent. At last she nodded. She looked at him intently. “And you won’t?”

  Noah sighed and looked out into the night. “Not if I can help it,” he said softly, more, Madeline thought, to himself than to her.

  The only available accommodation in the entire park had been one cabin at the Lake McDonald Alpine Chalets, just a few hundred yards from the Apgar ranger station.

  A small cabin set back away from the lake’s edge, next to a burbling creek and surrounded by trees and a few other cabins, it stood right next to Apgar campground. It was a miracle they even got it: someone had canceled a reservation at the last minute. During the summer, accommodation in the park was booked solid. They stood in front of it in the dark, listening to the sounds of night around them: the rush of the creek, a warbling owl in the woods.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get us each a cabin,” he told her, “but I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  She nodded. “Thanks. But I already figured you for a gentleman.” Secretly she was grateful they only had one cabin available. She hadn’t relished the thought of sleeping alone in a strange place tonight.

  They went inside. It was a small structure with only a main room and a tiny bedroom. In the center of the living room stood a little wooden lacquered table for eating or playing cards. A couple of folding wooden chairs stood on either side. In one corner of the room sulked an old stuffed chair and couch, upholstered in the ever-popular rough orange brown patterned material that almost came to rule the world in 1972.

  They checked the closets and even under the bed at her request. The cabin was small and sparse, built in the ’30s, and the bedroom contained only a bed, desk, and a rickety chair. Bathrooms were in separate buildings, shared by all the guests of the cabins. Madeline had seen one of the structures on the way in, a large, lighted building that looked like it had flush toilets and even hot water. The thought of such luxuries after her ordeal almost made her giddy.

  After Noah checked the cabin, she collapsed into a chair. In the soft glow of a table lamp, she could clearly see the concern on Noah’s face and something else: a profound tiredness. He looked over, caught her staring, and she glanced away toward the windows.

  They didn’t look very secure. What if the creature came scrambling up the stairs, broke a glass pane in the door, reached in with furtive fingers—

  “Will it … come? Here?” she asked at last. “Will it find me?”

  “No.” Noah shook his head. “There’s no reason to think that. His attacks are random …” His voice trailed off, eyes fixing on the darkness beyond the windows.

  Madeline had the distinct feeling he was lying.

  8

  WHILE Noah unloaded his backpack, Madeline walked the short distance to the bathroom with a toothbrush and toothpaste Noah had bought for her at the campground’s general store. She had no money on her whatsoever; no gear to speak of except what she’d been wearing when the water hit. Her clothes lay drying next to the little heater in the cabin. She was still wearing Noah’s warm fleece. Luckily she had money nearby, however; she’d stashed her wallet under the seat of her car. Tomorrow she’d get a ride to where her car waited, miles down the Going-to-the-Sun Road at the Loop Trailhead. And then she’d go home.

  She had done all she could here. She’d notified the rangers, they hadn’t believed her, and Noah was determined to hunt the thing himself. He’d obviously had prior experience with it, and he was still alive, so hopefully he’d be successful. Madeline was lucky she was in one piece, and she felt anxious to go home.

  A nagging feeling preyed on her, and she pushed it away. It loomed back up, though, surfacing repeatedly. She could help. She could use her ability.

  This was exactly what she wanted to avoid: working on murder cases, sacrificing any chance she had of living a normal life and enjoying her youth, relinquishing whatever innocence and happiness was left to murder and violence.

  Loud laughter brought her attention to a cabin a couple doors down from hers. A group of college-age guys sat around a bonfire in front of their cabin, laughing and drinking beer. They looked like they’d come out for a weekend of partying.

  She envied their carefree demeanor. They could afford it. Probably their biggest concern was passing calculus or asking someone out for a date.

  She walked by them and hesitated before the bathroom door. Closing her eyes, Madeline made a brief wish for a safe bathroom: nothing hiding in the stalls or behind the trash cans, or under the sinks, and especially no bodies in the rafters. Her wish done, she pushed the door open. It creaked on rusty hinges, admitting her to a large, brightly lit bathroom with a white tiled floor and white painted walls. Immediately Madeline looked up. No rafters. The ceiling came to a point above her. Nothing was up there.

  Three stalls stood on one side of the room. All three doors were open. Cautiously Madeline crept past them, peering inside each one. The last door was partially closed, and she pushed it open with her foot.

  Nothing.

  Just a normal bathroom with normal toilets, two normal sinks, and a couple of shower stalls.

  Outside she could hear the college guys getting rowdier and rowdier. She heard a beer can being crushed, followed by more laughter and drunken shouting. They turned up their radio so loud it overpowered the droning of a nearby RV generator.

  After she’d gone to the bathroom, Madeline took a deep breath and stood before the mirror. Grasping the length of tape, she carefully peeled the bandage aside. Underneath, an inch-long angry-looking gash nestled amid brown and blue bruised flesh. But it wasn’t as bad as it felt, and she replaced the bandage. She brushed her teeth and recapped the toothpaste. Taking another long look at the gaunt, exhausted Madeline in the mirror, she sighed, then walked to the door, where she paused. Originally a source of fear, the bathroom, having proved clear, now felt like a safe haven. The creature could be out there, even now, its approach muffled by the radio and the voices of the drunk guys across the way.

  Noah said the creature killed at random. If that was true, then it was illogical to think it had followed her here. Except that it had intercepted her at the ranger’s station. But now that she was down in civilization, maybe it wouldn’t risk being seen.

  She wished she’d asked Noah if it hunted in more populated places. She wished she’d asked Noah a lot of questions.

  Opening the door, she stepped out into the night. The college guys were now throwing different things into the fire and seeing what effect it had. One of them sprayed something—Bug spray? she wondered—into the fire. It spat out flame in a long, flowing arc.

  When they started talking rudely about a woman one of them had asked out, she slunk by them quietly, hoping they wouldn’t notice her.

  “Hey!” one of them called as she began to pass by. “Hey, baby! Come over here!”

  She just ignored him and kept walking, as if he wasn’t talking to her at all, but to someone else.

  “Don’t just walk by!” slurred another. “We need some company!”

  “Yeah,” a third one laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “We need some company!” The way they said company let Madeline know exactly what kind of “company” they had
in mind.

  Great, she thought, a perfect end to a perfect day.

  Madeline shot them an unfriendly look, which enabled her to see how many there were, and how far away.

  She counted four by the fire. Just as she looked away, she glimpsed one of them get up from his seat and begin walking after her.

  Madeline’s mouth went dry. At community college last semester, she’d taken a self-defense class, and she remembered the teacher saying to look around continuously when you were under threat so no one could sneak up on you. She also remembered the instructor saying, “GET him!” which meant strike at the groin, eyes, and throat.

  Madeline picked up her pace and glanced behind.

  “Shit!” one of the guys said. “Pete’s going after her.”

  “C’mon!” another said. Soon all four guys were up, following her along the road. Her cabin was too far away. She didn’t think she could reach it in time. She made a decision and spun around quickly, shouting in a loud, aggressive voice, “What the hell do you want?”

  This completely surprised them, and the lead guy stopped. The other three caught up with him.

  “Just some company, baby.”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  She waited to see their reaction. They looked unsure. She turned to leave, and then heard one of them start to run after her. She whirled around and came face-to-face with Pete. Hostile brown pig eyes glittered under a crop of blond hair.

  She remembered what her instructor said about the “reaction range” and stepped back so she was too far away to be grabbed. At least she could see where all of them were, she thought, looking for an advantage.

  “You’re a real fucking bitch,” Pete said, “you know that?” He stepped forward, and she echoed his move, striking out with her palm and connecting with his throat. He reeled back, grabbing his neck, a hiss of pain escaping from his lips.

  One of Pete’s cronies lunged out to grab her. She darted to one side, and he missed. They all came closer, and Madeline broke out in a cold sweat. She took an aggressive stance, ready to “GET” as many of them as she had to. Holding her hands up ready to strike, she watched them closely.