Portal to the Forgotten

by John Gschwend

  Luke pulled the badge from his shirt and dropped it into his pocket. “I need to talk to my cousin.”

  A wry smile grew on the sheriff’s face. He stood there for a long minute saying nothing, then yelled for someone named Rocky.

  A skinny deputy came from a small side office. “Yeah, Sheriff?”

  “Take Luke Morgan up to see his cousin.” The sheriff went into his office, but called out, “Pat him down before he goes in. Arrest him if he has a gun.”

  Luke thought to himself, The arrogant ape thinks he is insulting me, but all I want is to see Tyler.

  The deputy let Luke in after a sorry attempt at a pat-down, then locked the door behind him and disappeared down the hall.

  Tyler bear-hugged Luke. “Where have you been? They think I killed Grace!”

  They sat on the bed. “I was camping in the mountains, deer hunting.”

  “Luke, she freakin’ disappeared. You hear me? Disappeared!”

  Luke scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t know how to interrogate, but he’d watched enough reruns of Columbo to get a general idea. “Start from the top.”

  Tyler told him the story and Luke just sat there for a time trying to let it register. “You sure she didn’t fall or something?”

  Tyler stood. “Luke, I’ve been hunting all my life, just like you. I know my way around the woods almost as good as you do.” He walked across the room and turned. “She disappeared. Poof! We heard drumming, and she ran toward it and vanished. I never took my eyes off her. She was there one instant, and the next, she was gone.”

  “What about the blood, Tyler.”

  “She had scratched her arm, and I wiped it with my shirttail.”

  Luke closed his eyes. The story was so far out there. He didn't know what to do. Tyler was as close to him as any brother could be, and he had never been a liar.

  Tyler sat back on the bed beside Luke. “Luke, I know how this sounds, but I can only tell the truth.” He squeezed Luke’s arm. “I’ve always only told the truth. You know that.”

  Luke looked squarely in Tyler’s face. “I believe you. There has to be an explanation. I’m going up to Gentry Knob when I leave here. What about this drumming?”

  Tyler got back up from the bed and paced the small cell. “Yeah. It was weird. Bum-bum, bum-bum and horns too. And there was this strange charge in the air. Our hairs stood out like when you rub a balloon to your head. Leaves seemed to be sucked to the place where she disappeared at. Hell, Luke, it’s like she stepped through an invisible crack and disappeared. I was so scared I couldn’t get my feet to work. Then, almost immediately the static and drumming was gone.”

  “And so was Grace,” Luke said.

  Luke stood, and Tyler buried his face in his shoulder and cried.

  When Luke walked by Sarah’s desk, she whispered, “I’ll watch out for him the best I can.”

  Luke whispered back, “Thanks, Sarah.”

  “You bet.” She winked. “Don’t forget, Luke. I’m available. I don’t care if that trashy Chris is my friend. She was so mean to you. It was such a waste of a good man.”

  Luke felt his face burn red, nodded, and started for the door. The red-haired woman, still in the chair, smiled.

  The pickup rocked and jerked as he climbed the narrow mountain road. He did not know the area that well, not a lot of deer up there. Tyler had not known it well, either. That Grace could lead him anywhere—she was always high on adventure. He parked the truck at the trailhead. There was never a lot of traffic there. No one wanted to hike the steep and rugged trail.

  He threw his backpack on and headed up. The afternoon sun had warmed up the October day, and spider webs hung across the trail, a sign nothing had used the trail recently. His lungs and legs were thankful he was in good shape because the trail was not for the weak.

  He had always been up for exploring, had been exploring the Ozark Mountains since he was a kid. Luke took pride in knowing his great-grandmother was an Osage Indian. His friends said there was no way he had Indian blood in him, with his blond hair and blue eyes, but he felt her blood in his veins, no matter what they said. He felt a kinship to the land, felt more at home in the wild than with people. The Osage once called these very mountains their mountains. Maybe that explained why he felt the way he did when he was in them. From books he had learned to build ancient tools—bows, arrows, knives. That did not matter; he still felt a connection to the ancients of the mountains, as if they had taught him. When he killed a deer with the weapons he had made himself from nature, he felt connected to the natural world. He could never explain it when people asked him why he hunted with them, especially his ex-wife. But when he took his stone-age tools with him, when he wore his buckskins and leather hat, when he left his cell phone at home, it was truly spiritual to him. When Luke killed his prey this way, he believed he felt the way wild predators felt—it was nature.

  Luke found the spot where Grace had disappeared. There was yellow police tape strung from trees and rocks—ridiculous. Now Luke didn’t feel like such an amateur lawman.

  Luke found the big rock Tyler had described, sat on it and imagined what Tyler saw. The trail ahead where Grace was supposed to have disappeared was narrow, with big rocks on both sides. She could not have fallen or even walked off the trail there; she would have had to climb to get off it, and then, she would have had to have a rope. A flat rock on one side of the trail was large—much taller than a person. The other side of the trail was basically the side of the mountain, and it went straight up for twenty feet. It was like a canyon or funnel that ran for about a hundred feet. She would have had to sprint up the trail for a long way before she could have stepped off it. Tyler had said he had never taken his eyes off her.

  Luke walked up and down the trail several times. There was no way that girl could have gotten out of Tyler’s sight, unless he closed his eyes and counted like he was playing hide-and-go-seek or something.

  Luke went back to the big rock and sat on it again. A shadow moved over him, and he looked up to see a bald eagle—not something you see often there. He watched it ride the thermals, just floating above the world. Luke imagined what it must be like to see the world from up there. Eagles and hawks float around on high, scanning below for movement or any sign of prey. It was a vantage point hunters can never have. The closest thing was climbing a tree or sitting in a tree stand. Luke closed his eyes and floated with the eagle. He could almost feel the wind. He could almost—

  Suddenly, a feeling came over him—the spirit. At least, that is what he believed it was whenever his skin would begin to tingle and all his senses flared. It would happen when an animal or person was near, but he had not seen it, yet. The spirit was on him now like a sixth sense. He opened his eyes, but did not move a muscle. A bobcat was only a few yards from him and walking up the trail to where Grace was last seen. Luke watched the cat as it eased through the narrow draw. But yet, it did not disappear, just kept going until it rounded a curve in the trail and was lost to Luke’s sight.

  He stood up from the rock and looked down at the tracks in the dirt. The bobcat had walked right by Luke and had not noticed him. Luke knew it was because its sense of smell was not as good as many other animals. Bobcats depended on sound and sight, and Luke had not moved.

  Luke noticed bear tracks in the dirt too. He had not noticed them earlier when he was looking around in the draw. He followed them toward the spot where Grace was last scene. It was a big bear. It was easy to follow with such a big print. This would be a good bear to kill. He could use the hide and meat. He could make oil from the fat. He had done this before. He could fashion a coat... The tracks stopped. They stopped right in the middle of the trail. Luke looked up. It was the spot where Tyler had said Grace had disappeared; yellow tape was tied to a nook in the big rock. He felt a strange chill. There was no mistake; the tracks stopped as surely...as surely as if the bear had vanished into thin air. But Luke had walked through the area several times; nothing had happened to him.
Nothing had happened to the bobcat.

  Luke pulled the water bottle from his pack and emptied it in just a few gulps. He was immediately hot—immediately cold. He walked backwards a few steps, then turned and started back toward his truck. He took long strides down the hill, sliding, and almost running. He had the sensation that someone was behind him. He was never afraid in the wild, but he was afraid now. This was not nature. This was not natural. That bear did not fly off that trail.

  When he made it down to his truck, he turned back and looked at the mountain. Usually when he came back to his truck, it meant he was back in the modern world, and he felt a little depressed. Now he felt relief. He also felt shame.

  What was he going to do? He could not tell the sheriff about the bear disappearing. Hell, he could not tell anyone—they’d think him crazy or a liar...just like Tyler. He got in the truck and laid his head on the steering wheel. He would go home and build a fire outside. This was how he always worked out his problems. He started the truck and wheeled it around. He would need a big fire.

  Chapter 3

  When Luke pulled up at his log cabin, a Ford Focus was there. He didn’t know how the little car had traversed the rough road, but there it sat like a big, blue bug. His cabin door swung open, and a red-haired woman stepped out onto the porch, waved at him as if she were an old friend stopping by for a visit. He recognized her; it was the woman from the jail, the red-haired reporter.

  Luke felt his face burn. Here was a total stranger coming out of his home without being invited into his home. But at the same time, he was curious why she had come and how she had found the place. He drew in a breath to calm himself.

  When Luke stepped out of the truck, she leaned on a porch column. “I’m sorry to go in your home without being invited, but I had to use the little girl’s room.”

  “Did you find it okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  As Luke walked toward the porch, she went out to meet him. Extending her hand, she said, “Hello, I’m Moon.”

  He shook her hand. “Moon?”

  “Yes. Moon Serling.”

  “Like The Twilight Zone Serling?”

  She smiled. “The same spelling.”

  Her smile lit her up, changed her as the tail fan changes a bland peacock. Her dark, rusty hair just touched her shoulders and curled up just a little like That Girl. She was short, maybe five feet, and for some reason, he had always been attracted to short women. Her eyes were as blue as a baby-doll’s eyes. She would have been extremely pretty, except for the stud sticking to the side of her nose like a BB—he was not into that. She had no makeup and he liked that. Luke caught himself. His ex-wife had said all men always judge women by their looks. He had to stop if for nothing else but proving her wrong.

  “Alright, Miss ‘Twilight Zone,’ why are you snooping around my cabin?” Luke opened the door and went into the cabin before she could answer. He scanned around; everything seemed to be in place. He had nothing there of value to anyone, but him.

  She followed him in. “It’s Moon, and I wasn’t snooping around. I told you; I had to use the bathroom.”

  He struck a match, bent, and started a fire in the potbelly, wood stove in the center of the cabin. “Have a seat.” She sat on a bench at the kitchen table.

  He took the blue coffee pot off the stove, lifted the lid and inspected the inside. Then he took it to the sink and placed it under the hand-pump. He poured a little water from a jar down the pump and began working the handle. Soon he had it primed and water spilling out and into the coffee pot.

  “You don’t have running water?”

  He filled the pot, poured coffee in the top of it, and placed it on top of the stove. He turned to her. She sat at the table in the middle of a two-room log cabin and was as out of place as a Cadillac in a cornfield. Everything about her said “city girl.” He shook his head. “No running water.”

  “I can assume, then, your toilet is outside.” She grew sheepish.

  “That would be a correct assumption.” He sat across the table from her.

  She let out a long sigh and sank in her chair.

  “Want to tell me why you’re here and snooping around?”

  “I wasn’t really snooping.” She sat up straight and placed her hands on the table, palms down. “Constable, I saw you at the sheriff’s office. I know you interviewed the man who was with the girl who disappeared.”

  “How did you find out where I live, and what do you want?”

  “That receptionist, Sarah, likes to talk.” She winked. “And she’s hot for you.”

  Luke blushed—he always had a problem with turning red for no reason. “Well, what do you want?”

  “I work for the Arkansas Daily. I’m doing a piece on people vanishing. That mean ole sheriff wouldn’t let me talk to Tyler.”

  “Miss, you talk as if people vanish into thin air every day.”

  “There are more instances of it than you would believe. There was an old man recently in Kentuck—”

  “Look, I’m sure you are a nice enough girl and all, but I have nothing to say on the matter.” Luke didn’t know why it disturbed him so, but he didn’t want to talk about it. He had not come to grips with the disappearing bear tracks, yet—not to mention Grace. Now, here was this strange girl with this ridiculous notion. On top of that, he didn’t believe she was a reporter.

  “Did you go up there?” she said.

  He got up from the table. “Ma’am, I have nothing else to say.” He reached up on a shelf and retrieved his bow drill kit. “Now, I’m not going to be rude, but I’m going outside and start a fire.”

  She stood. I guess I’m wasting my time here.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She followed him out the door and stood by her car.

  Luke went around to his backyard fire pit. He soon had a fire started with his bow drill. He could have lit a match or brought fire from the stove, but that was not how he started his fires when he wanted to relax and meditate. When he would sit by the fire, he would imagine going back in time. Starting the fire like the ancients primed him for the journey.

  He went back to the house to pour a cup of coffee to drink by the fire. She was sitting on the porch. He wondered why she had not left.

  He stepped up to her. She was wiping tears. She said, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t know what to do.”

  Luke ran his fingers through his hair. “You drink coffee?”

  She wiped her eyes again. “Sure.”

  “I only make it black.”

  “Black is fine.”

  “I’ve started a fire around the back. You go on around there, and I will bring the coffee.”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  He poured the coffee and thought how strange the situation was. Here was a pretty girl at his house and he wanted her to leave. She was here because she wanted a story about people disappearing. It was a very strange day. What was next—Big Foot coming to visit?

  She was sitting on a stick of firewood when he went around there. He handed her the coffee and then sat flat on the ground by the fire. She got off the firewood and sat beside him—a little too close.

  “When I was in your house, I saw you have a lot of primitive weapons,” she said, then blew on the coffee.

  “You mean when you were snooping.”

  She smiled and then slowly nodded.

  “They’re not weapons. They’re tools.” He sipped his coffee. “It’s a passion of mine to live as simple as I can, to make my own tools for hunting and fishing and stuff.”

  “Cool.”

  The more he looked at her, the prettier he found her, BB and all. She smiled at him, and he felt his face turn red and a flutter flared inside like when he was a teenager.

  “You have a great place here, way back by yourself and all.”

  “Moon, what are you doing here? What do you want to know?”

  She perked up. “I just want to know what happened. The sheriff’s department said Tyler said the
girl just disappeared. It’s the making of an interesting story.”

  “Interesting is not the word. I believe tragic is better. I knew Grace. I mean, know Grace.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” She picked up a stick and stuck it in the fire. “Constable, did you go up there?”

  “Luke. The name is Luke.”

  “Okay, Luke, did you go up there?”

  He put his own stick in the fire. “Yeah, I went up there.”

  “Well, what did you find?”

  “Nothing.” He saw no reason to tell her about the bear tracks. In fact, he was starting to believe there had to be an explanation. Maybe the wind blew the tracks away or something. There had to be something. Things just don’t disappear.

  “Will you take me to the place? The sheriff’s department would not even tell me where it is.”

  “Look Moon, people don’t disappear into the blue.” He stirred in the fire with a big stick. “I don’t know what happened, yet, but people just don’t up and disappear.”

  “Yes, they do. They have been disappearing into thin air as long as there has been history.”

  “Bull! It’s just a modern bunch of crap. They show all that UFO stuff on TV, and people will believe anything. It’s all the rage with vampires, werewolves, spacemen; you name it.”

  “It’s not new, Luke.” She pulled a few sheets of paper from her small purse. “In fact, here is the story that got me into this stuff.” She handed him the papers.

  He unfolded them. They were worn from many foldings. “What is it?”

  “Please read it, if you don’t mind.”

  He smoothed the papers and began to read. “One morning in July, 1854, a planter named Orion Williamson, living six miles from Selma, Alabama, was sitting with his wife and a child on the veranda of his dwelling. Immediately in front of the house was a lawn, perhaps fifty yards in extent between the house and public road, or, as it was called, the "pike." Beyond this road lay a close-cropped pasture of some ten acres, level and without a tree, rock, or any natural or artificial object on its surface. At the time there was not even a domestic animal in the field. In another field, beyond the pasture, a dozen slaves were at work under an overseer.