Two Ravens lifted his gauge to check his air supply. Distracted from his course, he strayed out from the circle and felt the tug of his line reel beckoning him back to the center. He dropped the gauge, letting it float slowly to his side, and turned to correct his course. Concentrating to get his bearings straight, he looked into the grassy bottom… and sucked water.
Mother of God, he saw a face. Or was it an animal? It was both. He was seeing a bear's head with the face of an old man, an Indian, jutting from beneath its ferocious jaws as if eaten whole and feet first. He had steel-gray eyes; wide open and staring through Two Ravens to the back of his brain. The diver jerked back violently, off balance in the weightless environment, and choked on inhaled water. He stumbled backward, flailing his arms and legs, trying to recover. The bubbles from his regulator circled his head like a swarm of angry hornets. Panic had taken charge. Two Ravens was the victim of vertigo, losing all sense of up or down. He struck out in all directions to find his way. Slamming his heel into the bottom of the lake, his instincts took over. His legs folded then sprung, propelling him off the bottom of the lake and jetting him toward the surface.
To J.D. and the startled rangers on the shoreline it looked like a warhead had been launched from a submarine. The calm surface of the dead lake erupted with a mighty explosion of water and Two Ravens cleared the surface, breaching like a humpback whale. His regulator shot from his mouth, propelled by a horrendous scream that was suddenly muffled as he hit the surface again and sank briefly out of sight.
Nobody in the crowd behind the barricades knew what had occurred. They only knew that, finally, something had happened. At both ends of the restricted area cheers and applause rang out.
*
The grizzly smashed through the brush like a runaway bulldozer. Limbs fell crashing to the ground, brush was torn away. James was frozen, terrified by the explosive charge. Even at his tender age, he recognized death and knew it was upon him.
The charging bruin seemed almost airborne as he closed the gap. Its steel-gray eyes burned into the depths of James' heart. The boy found his legs, turned to run, and fell over a fallen log. He rolled onto his back as the animal's lunge brought him directly over top of the young scout. James stiffened for the crushing weight of the final pounce and let out an involuntary scream.
The monstrous bear passed over him.
The creature landed beyond his head with a thud that shook the earth. And, without slowing, charged straight toward the poachers. At the scream, Meeks spun around, sending his cowboy hat flying, and saw the gargantuan bear closing fast. Donnelly had seen it, too, and was already vaulting over the log he'd been using for cover. He passed Meeks at a dead run away from the bear and straight at the rangers. Meeks dropped his handgun, grabbed the rifle at his side, leveled it at the animal and fired. Though the fur parted and blood spurted from its chest, the grizzly showed no other sign of being shot. It came on without slowing and swatted the old man as if he was a fly. Meeks cartwheeled in his own shower of blood and landed in an unmoving heap.
Donnelly turned over his shoulder just in time to see Meeks smash into the dirt. Already in a panic, he completely freaked, threw his gun into the air, and threw his hands over his head like a groupie at a Stones concert. Screaming his lungs out, he ran toward the rangers that a moment before had been his targets.
What could Glenn do but provide cover? The chief ranger stood, pumped his shotgun, and unloaded a blast. Like Meeks' rifle shot, the shotgun shell exploded as it passed through the bear's side and sent fur, meat, and blood flying in an arc; all to no apparent effect. Showing no sign of the clearly visible injury, the grizzly turned on Glenn. It rose on its hind legs, opened wide its gaping maw, and snarled.
Screaming and crying, Donnelly leapt to the ground behind Franklin's horse. The enraged ranger saw him, jumped on top of him, and shoved his handgun into the back of the poacher's head. “Don't move,” Franklin shouted. “Don't you dare move!”
The massive bear was still there, towering over Glenn, roaring like thunder. He pumped the shotgun again. Ignoring his rolling stomach, forcing the terror from his mind, he raised the weapon and aimed.
*
Water rushed… bubbles foamed. Two Ravens and Parker broke the surface of the water with a churning whoosh. An instant later, a Stokes basket bearing the corpse of Silverbear, surfaced between them. The crowd reacted in awe.
From a rowboat J.D. grabbed the basket, controlling it.
Two Ravens ripped off his mask and, treading water, raised his hands skyward. He called out in the language of his people. “Duma Appah created the Earth with the help of the animal nation. In the name of Appah, we ask forgiveness of Silverbear and of Mother Earth. He-agh. He-aghhhh.”
*
Towering over Glenn, the grizzly let out a mighty roar.
The chief ranger looked from the weapon in his hands, up to the bear, and back again. He took a deep breath, clenched his teeth, and threw the gun to the ground. Then he threw back his shoulders and stood before the grizzly unarmed.
The massive silver bear shimmered and, to the echo of its roar, vanished.
Glenn stared in disbelief. He swallowed hard, bunched his hands into fists, and then collapsed to his knees. The feather of a golden eagle suddenly appeared, from nowhere, on the ground before him. The chief ranger began to tremble.
Chapter 26
Below the teeming wonder of the Owl Creek Mountains lay Dry Cottonwood Creek, a silent and lonely place little known and seldom visited. In the early days of the Shoshone it was a sacred site, a keeper of dark secrets, and a door to the afterworld. Its silent, slow-moving waters drained into the Wind River to the east long before there was a dam and a Boysen Reservoir. Though many things had changed over the decades, this was still sacred ground.
The red light of the fading sun set the surrounding cliffs afire in a conflagration of color. In the midst of the reflected glow stood a single, stately cottonwood tree, encircled by a handful of Indians from the reservation. They stood quietly and solemnly, waiting.
The still air soon filled with dust and the noise of approaching vehicles as Johnny Two Ravens pulled his truck up the two-track dirt road toward the gathered people. Parking a discreet distance from the tree, Johnny climbed out of the driver's side and Glenn from the other.
Several government cars arrived immediately after parking behind and further back from the gathering. The latecomers were greeted only with silence and blank stares from the mourners. Glenn spoke momentarily with Two Ravens and then crossed to his companions in the government cars. Michael Stanton shook Glenn's hand somberly. He had aged a great deal in the last few weeks and Glenn would never call him the Boy Superintendent again. At Stanton's side was Nelson Princep. No longer an official observer; for the moment Yellowstone Forever was the furthest thing from his mind. The park still needed changes but Princep's heart told him they would need to start elsewhere. Rangers Franklin and Simpson stood behind, in full dress uniforms, accompanied by two shopkeepers from Gardiner. All were silent.
“You'll have to wait here,” Glenn said waving Stanton, Princep, and the others back toward the vehicles they'd arrived in. He held up his hand, silencing any protests before they began. He looked to the watchers encircling the tree, aware of the importance in their not making a scene, then turned back to the white men. “This cannot be completed by us. It is a Shoshone matter. You can show your respect by honoring their request. You'll have to wait here.”
Glenn returned to the truck as Johnny Two Ravens opened the tailgate. In the bed, the body of Silverbear lay covered by a gray blanket on a stretcher handmade of lodgepole and tanned leather. They eased it out, Glenn backing out with the head, Johnny taking the feet at the front. It was important that Silverbear approach the tree, and the afterlife, walking towards the Great Spirit.
Johnny paused momentarily, turned back over his shoulder, and quietly told Glenn, “J.D. can come.”
Glenn looked to the Feds and called his bi
ologist friend. She stepped reverently to his side. The ranger cast a final look at the group of agents, reaffirming with his glance that they were to remain beyond the sacred ground. Johnny Two Ravens started slowly forward. Glenn followed with his end of the stretcher as they made their way up through the sagebrush and buffalo grasses toward the tree.
What had appeared as dark shadows in the branches were revealed as two young Shoshone braves in the limbs overhead. A bed of wood had been secured between them and they waited to lift Silverbear's body home. Three young braves joined them at the base of the tree and assisted Johnny in lifting the stretcher on high. Glenn stepped back from the immediate circle, taking J.D. to his side, as the men in the tree took hold of the stretcher and lay it to rest on the bed of wood.
Before the ceremony could begin, another vehicle arrived and the mourners turned to the road. William Jones, Fred Black's right hand man, stepped from his truck and silently approached the gathering. Snow on the Mountains left the tree and met Jones at the edge of the sacred ground.
“I'm sorry,” Jones said. He turned his reddened eyes to the ground unable to look at the shaman.
“Perhaps now is the time to heal many things,” Snow on the Mountains said. The young man nodded silently. “Some days I feel too old to learn new things,” the shaman said. “Then the Earth tells me something new, something I did not know about her. She shares her secrets, saying, `Come learn about yourself.' When that happens I feel young again. Do you feel old or young today?”
Jones looked up crying openly. “I feel old.”
“What is the reason you wish to come here?”
Jones thought very deeply. “I want to feel young again.”
“Come,” Snow on the Mountains said, taking the young man by the shoulder. Together, they returned to the foot of the burial tree where the ladies from the reservation stepped forward, lifting ornamental items to the men above. A carved wooden box of herbs, feathered drums and bells, a horsetail and others; things Silverbear would need in the afterlife. From inside his jacket, Glenn removed and opened a packet. He took from it a handful of golden feathers, those found at each scene throughout the park's ordeal, and handed them to the women. They were tied, with the other items, to branches above the body and left to dangle in the still air. All of this was accomplished without sound.
Silverbear had been a powerful medicine man. He had lived and died, and lived and died, in the image of the Spirit Bear. There would be no burial. A covering of earth would, as a covering of water had, separate him from his Creator. He had earned the reverence of the tree burial. As time and the elements of Mother Earth decayed his body, a body that had been denied its return to the Earth in his former life, the holy man would be free to return to that from which he had come.
As the fading rays of the sun took their wishes to the Great Spirit, each of the elements would take back those parts of Silverbear they owned. The holy man's journey had finally ended; the Stinking Country's healing would begin.
This we know: the earth does not belong to man. Man belongs to the earth.
About the Authors
Daniel D. Lamoreux is an outdoor writer and freelance photographer with over 350 articles and columns, and nearly as many photographs, in more than 40 state, regional, and national publications. His online magazine can be found at OnStand.net. Dan is the founder and CEO of Master Hunter Products, MasterHunters.com, and is on a mission to provide information, education, and entertainment products to fishermen, hunters, outdoor enthusiasts and the industry that provides for their needs. His expertise in the wild has been developed during over 40 years of pursuing the outdoor sports. He lives, plays, and works in the mountains of northwest Wyoming.
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Doug Lamoreux is a father of three, a grandfather, a writer, and actor. A former professional fire fighter, he is the author of four novels and a contributor to anthologies and non-fiction works including the Rondo Award nominated Horror 101, and its companion, the Rondo Award winning Hidden Horror. He has been nominated for a Rondo, a Lord Ruthven Award, and is the first-ever recipient of The Horror Society's Igor Award for fiction. Lamoreux starred in the 2006 Peter O'Keefe film, Infidel, and appeared in the Mark Anthony Vadik horror films The Thirsting (aka Lilith) and Hag.
Other books by the Authors:
Daniel D. Lamoreux
The Fireside Collection
Doug Lamoreux
The Devil's Bed
Dracula's Demeter
The Melting Dead
Corpses Say the Darndest Things: A Nod Blake Mystery
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Dear reader,
We hope you enjoyed reading Apparition Lake. If you have a moment, please leave us a review - even if it's a short one. We want to hear from you.
The story continues in Obsidian Tears.
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Daniel D. Lamoreux, Doug Lamoreux and the Creativia Team
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