“Oh,” came the reply. A lock disengaged, and the door swung open. Steve’s sleepy face came into view, his eyelids drooping as he focused on her. “Sorry about that. Some drunk guy keeps coming by, asking me if I have beer. He’s been driving me crazy all night.” He rubbed some sleep out of his eye. “This park’s not nearly as bad as the state park I used to work at. But, man, do I get the unpleasant ones.” He leaned against the door. “So what’s up?”
“Well, actually, I was hoping …” Her voice trailed off. It was the middle of the night, and he didn’t even know her. But she had to get away. Her life might depend on it. “I was hoping you could drive me to my car.”
“What, now?” He squinted at his watch.
“Yes.”
He looked back up. “What’s the hurry?”
“I’m just … freaked out, I guess. I just want to go home.”
He scratched his head, his already mussed hair now standing up where he’d ruffled it. “Well, where is it?”
“It’s at the Loop trailhead.” The Loop was a section of the Going-to-the-Sun Road east of there that made a sharp, hairpin turn. A small parking area lay up there, along with a trailhead that started off some fantastic hikes, including the Granite Park Chalet and Swiftcurrent Pass trails.
He scratched his head again, then ran a hand over his whiskers. “You’re freaked?”
She nodded emphatically.
“What, you think the murderer is going to come after you? We did talk to Mike up there, you know. There was no murder.”
She looked down, feeling awkward. They already thought she was crazy for what she had seen and didn’t believe her at all. “I just feel unsafe,” she said finally. “I know you don’t think that thing was real.” She gently felt the bandage on her head. “But regardless, I just want to go home.”
Steve studied her face for a long time. “I don’t know if you should drive with that head wound.”
Madeline looked at him pleadingly.
His face remained concerned. Finally he exhaled. “What the hell. I’m not getting any sleep here anyway. Besides, I have to see about my winter job in Missoula tomorrow, so I do have to head out of the park. Driving up to the Loop first won’t take me too far out of the way.”
Madeline felt a little guilty. If she waited until morning, she could get Noah to drive her or take one of the red historic touring cars that had been recommissioned to take tourists from location to location inside the park.
Steve looked at his watch. “I guess if I left now, I would just get there super early. Could even squeeze in a visit with my sister.” He dropped his hand to his side, then pushed the door open wider. “Sure. C’mon in. I’ll just get changed. Then we can be off.”
“Really?”
“Sure.” He gestured for her to come inside.
As she entered she said, “Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said, still groggy. He closed the door behind her and turned on a table lamp next to the door. “Make yourself at home. I’ll just be a minute.”
Sighing with relief, she watched as he walked off toward the back bedroom. Hope simmered within her at the thought of going home. She felt almost giddy. She was getting out of there!
Turning where she stood, she took in the meager possessions of the ranger: a small wooden table where he ate; two wooden chairs, the finish worn off on the seats and backs; a small bookshelf overcrammed with books. She approached the latter, taking in some of the titles. Many were field guides, the Golden Guide to Birds, the Audubon Society Field Guide to the Night Sky. But a lot were fiction, mostly mysteries and thrillers. So many books sat on the bookshelf that they were crammed four-deep in some places. On top of the bookshelf, next to a painted, wooden katydid, books teetered and loomed in precarious stacks, readying to topple at the slightest movement of the bookcase.
“You like reading?” she called into the other room, trying to make polite conversation.
“How’d you know? I love it.”
She smiled at the teetering books. “Just a guess.”
“Just about ready.”
“Okay.”
A minute later, Steve appeared, threw a backpack down on one of the wooden chairs, and then disappeared into the bathroom.
As she listened to him brushing his teeth, an unsettling feeling crept up on her. She started pacing. Suddenly the windows felt too close, like the creature was out there, peering in through the gauzy curtains, and only had to stretch its hand through the screen—
In the center of the room she stopped, staring at the windows. Part of her wanted to open the curtains and stare out, but she feared that as soon as she pushed one aside, she’d find a hideous dark face with red saucer eyes staring back. But she remained transfixed, as if it were calling her to the window, daring her to see if she was right. The room continued to creep in on her, the windows growing closer.
“Well, I’m ready to go,” Steve said, appearing from the other room.
“Great.” She was already moving toward the door. The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet as she moved. Glancing back, she scanned over Steve’s outfit to see if he wore a gun. He didn’t.
“Don’t you have a gun?” she asked.
Steve shook his head. “I’m not a law enforcement officer. I’m an interpretive ranger. I don’t have professional weapons training. But I do have my own shotgun in the car. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. About different ranger categories,” she fumbled, lying. She knew the shotgun wouldn’t kill the creature, but if it came down to it, the fiery pellets probably wouldn’t feel too good. At the very least it might slow the creature down.
She paused before the door as Steve grabbed up his bag from the chair. Reaching out to turn the knob, she felt reluctance wash over her. And then Steve was opening the door, and they were outside, the cold of night sneaking in through the collar of Noah’s fleece jacket. She zipped it all the way up, turning while Steve locked the cabin. She scanned the shadows clustered at the bases of trees.
“My Jeep’s in the lot down the drive here,” he said.
Together they walked toward the vehicle, Madeline rushing slightly ahead, starting at every night bird rustling in the bushes, and each laugh or shout from loud campers. She wondered if she should tell Steve about the four guys who tried to attack her. There were no bodies, and nothing Steve could do except notify the families. She decided that when she got home, she’d write an anonymous note describing the incident. At least then the families would know. She wondered how many missing people had disappeared without a trace at the hands of the creature.
“You okay?” Steve asked.
Madeline nodded. “Just anxious to get to my car. I really appreciate your taking me.”
He smiled, a kind smile. “No problem.”
Soon they reached the parking area, and Steve pointed out his vehicle, a green Jeep Cherokee, which waited among five other park service vehicles. He unlocked the door for her and went around the other side. Carefully she opened the door and peered into the cab, then into the back of the vehicle. It was clear. Exhaling sharply, she climbed in, closing and locking the door after herself. Steve got in the other side, fired up the car, and they were off.
“So, the Loop trailhead?” he asked, pulling out of the parking spot.
She nodded.
“Okay.” He straightened the car out and exited the parking lot, Madeline still searching the dark outside for any sign of the creature. When he pulled onto the main road, she watched with relief as the speedometer needle climbed, hopefully faster than even the creature could run.
They rode in silence, Madeline letting her head lean back on the headrest, Steve still looking a little sleepy. “I should have made a cup of coffee,” he said, rubbing more sleep out of his eye.
“Sorry for the rush. I guess it was just getting to me.” She felt safer in the Jeep now, freer. She couldn’t wait to be in her own car, speeding toward home. Once in Mothershead, she would talk to the local pol
ice. Ever since she’d played a part in catching the Sickle Moon Killer, they’d been kind to her and kept a helpful eye on her, even if as individuals they kept their distance. His capture had meant kudos for the tiny precinct, as they had solved a case that had baffled even the FBI. If the creature came after her, she could rely on them to help her.
They drove on, the headlights playing over the shadowed branches of overhanging pines, the yellow center line glowing reflectively. A pair of headlights appeared over the crest of a hill and another car sped by them, traveling too fast.
“Jerk,” Steve said. “So many people speed on these roads. Did you know that vehicle accidents are the number one killer of bears out here?”
Madeline raised her eyebrows. “No, I didn’t know that.”
“I hate it when people speed here. And I’m just a naturalist ranger. I can’t pull them over and give them a ticket, though I’d really like to.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said sincerely.
“Okay. Tirade over.”
She laughed.
“Or, wait—here’s another. People who don’t think park signs apply to them. Like there’s always some jerk who thinks the ‘Stay off the meadow—it’s being restored’ sign doesn’t apply to him, you know? So he just steps right over the fence and tramples the damaged area some more. Or the jerk who thinks the ‘Don’t feed the wildlife’ sign doesn’t apply to him, so he feeds a coyote some lunch meat out of the window of his car. Next thing you know, the coyote is hanging around the road all the time, eating unhealthy human food, and then it gets hit by a car. Even worse than that jerk might be the jerks who see him doing this stuff and figure, ‘Hey, if that guy can do it, then I don’t see why I can’t feed wildlife and trample the meadows.’ ” He paused to take a breath. “Man, it pisses me off!”
“I can see why.”
“I’ll say.” He paused. “Okay. That tirade’s over, too, and I don’t think I see any more looming on the horizon anytime soon.”
“No problem,” she said. “We’ve all got to vent sometimes, and it sounds like you’ve got more reasons to complain than the rest of us.”
“Except you,” he said, glancing over at her. “You’ve been through a tough time.”
She assumed he meant the flash flood and the bump on the head, so she said, “Yeah. My head is still giving me grief.”
“Not just that,” he said.
“I thought you didn’t believe me about the rest of the stuff. That I had hallucinated it.”
“I don’t know what you really saw up there, but it’s easy to tell it terrified you. I don’t blame you for wanting to get home. If I’d seen some thing up there, I wouldn’t be too anxious to stay in the woods.”
She turned to face him. “So then you believe that I really saw something?”
He nodded. “Once, when I was eleven, I was out hiking with my dad in Oregon. All of a sudden, I can’t explain why, but we both got this really intense feeling we were being watched. A primal fear washed over me, my hair stood up—everything.”
Madeline thought of her own feeling of being watched, just before the flash flood hit her.
“And then, all of a sudden, stench. I mean, the most god-awful stench you can imagine—like rotten meat and rancid, chunky milk, putrid, decaying flesh. The smell was so bad and so pervasive that I almost threw up, right there on the trail. I ran ahead, trying to get away from it, while my dad kept plodding along. Finally I turned around to see how far back he was. And something was there, on the trail behind him. I only saw it for a second, following along behind him, and then it darted back into the bushes.”
“What was it?”
“Something big. Huge. Way taller than my dad. And covered with hair. He spun around just as it vanished, and then took off down the trail toward me. He asked me if I’d seen anything. I nodded.”
“But what was it?” Madeline asked again.
“I don’t know. Bigfoot, maybe? A homeless guy with a lot of hair? I only saw it that one time, and we’d hiked that trail a bunch of times before and since. So all I’m saying is that there’s some weird stuff out there. And I don’t doubt that you saw something up on the mountain.”
And down here, she thought grimly. “Thanks. That makes me feel a little better.” But then she thought of Mike, the murdered ranger, and how Steve had no idea that his friend was dead, and how the thing had imitated him, even down to his voice. She shivered, feeling cold even in the fleece.
They traveled on in silence, and after twenty miles they saw the sign for the trailhead on the left. Steve slowed and pulled into the parking area. There, like her own version of the Holy Grail, sat her beloved 1980 VW Rabbit, its red paint gleaming in the headlights, the white and gold racing stripe glowing reflectively.
“Yay!” she said aloud, not able to help herself. “Um, that’s my car there, the Rabbit.”
It was the only car parked at the trailhead, as if she was the only person to attempt the hike that day, the only one unfortunate enough to get caught in the flash flood.
Before he’d even fully stopped the car, Madeline opened the door, ready to jump out. Then she turned and hugged him. He looked startled, then returned the hug. “Thank you,” she told him. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem. And now I’ll be able to see my sister, too.”
She climbed out of the car, and he added, “I’ll just wait here till you get the car started.”
“Thanks.” She closed the door and walked over to her car, resisting the urge to throw her arms around it, too. Instead, she said, “Hello, Rabbit!” Lying down on her stomach, she felt around under the car for the magnetic key holder. Her fingers closed around it almost immediately, and she tugged it off. Inside, safe and sound, rested her spare key. Unlocking the door, she swung it open, then sank down into the familiar black bucket seat, breathing in the comfortable smell of her faithful car.
And realized she hadn’t checked the backseat first. Spinning around in her seat, she looked back there. Nothing. Then she got out, walked to the back and peered in through the hatchback window. Nothing. Sighing with relief, she climbed back in the driver’s seat and started up the Rabbit. It roared to life.
She closed the door, locked it, and waved to Steve. He waved back, watched her for a moment, and then pulled his Jeep out, swinging onto the road and driving away.
Madeline leaned back momentarily. She longed to return to her normal life, to the life that made sense. Days ago she’d wanted nothing more than to escape Mothershead. Now she just wanted to escape back into its familiarity, put all of this into perspective. She reached under the passenger seat and pulled out her wallet, grateful she’d stashed it there. Strapping on her seat belt, she thought of Noah, asleep back in the cabin. She hoped he would catch up to the creature soon and end his long, miserable quest. Maybe then he could have a chance at a normal life, get back the future that had been taken from him that night in Vienna.
She backed up and pulled out of the small lot onto the main road toward home. The moon rose behind her, the road glowing when she looked back. She wondered about Noah, and if she was doing the right thing. The sky darkened as a cloud passed over the moon, and Madeline’s lights were the only ones on the road. Dark shadows of pines rose on both sides of her, with the looming black mountains beyond. She felt different, like she never had before: sad and full of a strange kind of regret. But she couldn’t go back. What Noah asked for was too much. She wouldn’t willingly embrace the very lifestyle she’d been avoiding since the capture of the Sickle Moon Killer.
Up ahead, lights broke through the darkness, a flashing sign, she thought at first. But then, as she drew nearer, she realized it was a Jeep, pulled off on the side of the road. A police or ranger’s vehicle, with flashing lights on the roof, identical to the one Steve drove. She slowed as she drew closer. The Jeep was at a strange angle. Almost upon it, she slowed to a near stop. It was off the road, down in a ditch. The engine was still running; she could see the exhaust pl
uming in the cold air. She didn’t see anyone standing around and wondered if someone was still inside, hurt or unconscious. Cautiously she pulled up on the shoulder behind the car. When she got out, she immediately saw that the driver’s side of the Jeep was crumpled in, as if another car had smashed into it and sent the Jeep tumbling into the ditch. But no other cars were in sight.
The smell of gasoline hung heavily in the air, and Madeline could hear the steady trickle of what she presumed was gas leaking out of the damaged tank.
If there was someone in the car, she had to get them out fast. The battery obviously still held a charge, and one little spark could send them up in flames. Quickly she ran to the driver’s door and peered in. Her heart sank. Steve sat slumped over the wheel. Grunting, she tried to wrench the door open, but it was too damaged to budge. The passenger door was locked. She took in Steve’s condition through the window.
He was unconscious, breathing, bleeding from a head wound. The smell of gasoline reeked strongly, making Madeline feel dizzy and sick to her stomach. She scanned over the car. The radio! Of course. He must have a radio. Maybe help was nearby. She reached in through the shattered window, sliding her hand between Steve and the steering wheel, feeling for the radio. The round shape of a CB handset met her fingers, and she pulled it toward her. Instant dismay filled her when she saw it. It was completely crushed.
“Steve?” she said urgently. “Steve!”
The ranger didn’t so much as stir or twitch. He was out cold, and Madeline had to make a decision fast. Already her head was pounding from the noxious fumes. Slowly she reached out to gently touch him. Her fingers brushed his jacket, and suddenly he jerked violently and grabbed her hand. Madeline cried out and reflexively yanked her hand back.
Then he turned slowly to look at her.
And she knew it wasn’t Steve in that body at all.
10
MADELINE staggered back, away from the car.
The creature followed, wrenching open the destroyed door with ease and crawling out. Madeline’s head spun from the fumes as she watched. He looked exactly like Steve; it was uncanny. The tousled, sandy brown hair, the high cheekbones and narrow chin. But the eyes were all wrong; they had a feverish, haunting quality that the real, gentle Steve didn’t have.
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