He also made a note to call Sheriff Collins. One of Collins’s deputies was stepping out of line.
In the corner, enjoying some quiet time with his wife and children after a Sunday church service, Reverend Ron Woods couldn’t help overhearing most of the heated conversation. Things were getting stirred up, all right, and would soon be out of control. It was time to get involved.
CLAYTON GENTRY was a man in his early thirties with a young wife and two small children. He and his brother ran a small logging company, and he lived in a homestead he’d built on some river frontage not far from Backup. His place wasn’t hard to find, just a turn off the Hyde River Road and a short trip up his driveway. When Tracy called him, he seemed a little hesitant, but finally he agreed to meet with her and Steve if they could keep it low-profile.
Now Tracy and Steve sat on the Gentry front porch with Clayton and his wife Jessie while the two little girls played in and around a plastic swimming pool in the front yard.
“Some people are really crazy around here,” he said. “Here you are talking to me, you oughta be talking to them.”
“But they don’t talk,” Tracy said.
He laughed. “And they don’t like people who do. I found that out the hard way.”
“What happened?”
“I saw something and I talked about it, and they didn’t like it.”
“Tell us about what you saw,” Steve said.
Clayton looked north, up the valley toward Hyde River and Saddlehorse Mountain. “My brother and I were doing some logging on private land up past Saddlehorse—”
Jessie interrupted. “Clay, don’t talk too loud. I don’t want the girls to hear this.”
Clayton shot a glance at his two little girls, still totally involved in playing around the little pool, and lowered his voice. Steve and Tracy had to lean close to hear him. “Anyway, one afternoon I was up there by myself, just cleaning up some slash and drawing in the cable. We were finished, you know.” He was silent a moment, then said, “Listen, I’ve done a lot of hunting; I go out every year, so I’m not new to the woods. I know how to spot game; I know what it looks like. Anyway I was standing by the rig, pulling in cable, when I heard a noise and I froze. You know, when you’re used to hunting you do that ’cause it might be game.” His expression grew troubled, and he looked upward, as if trying to find the exact words he needed. “I looked up the mountain some hundred yards or so,” he continued, “and I saw something up there, something moving, but it wasn’t a deer or an elk—you know, I expected I’d see a brown or black or tan color—and it wasn’t a bear or a moose. But it was big, whatever it was. I mean—” He sighed heavily. “It’s hard to describe it.” He turned to his wife. “Jessie, you got your little mirror around, the one you use in the bathroom?”
Tracy and Steve looked at each other, puzzled.
While Jessie went inside, Clayton rubbed his chin, thinking. Finally he said, “It was kind of like looking at a mirage or something. It didn’t seem real, you know?”
Steve nodded. He knew.
“You see it, but then you wonder if you’re really seeing it.”
“You say it was big,” Steve said. “How big?”
He thought it over. “Well, what I saw was at least thirty feet long, maybe longer. I mean, I was trying to see where the ends of it were, and it never seemed to quit.”
Jessie brought the mirror, just a small rectangle.
“Okay, look at this.”
Clayton put the edge of the mirror against the side of the house and tilted it back and forth. “You see here, how if you put the mirror at the right angle, it kind of looks like the siding on the house just goes right on through, like the mirror isn’t there? Then you move the mirror just a little and then you know it’s a reflection ’cause the siding on the house bends, it breaks in the middle.”
Steve recognized the effect and tried not to show the chill it gave him. He’d seen it himself, across the river from Old Town, and maybe on the other side of Lake Pauline. Gentry’s description was quite accurate.
Gentry continued, “Pretend the thing was like a mirror. You couldn’t really see it—it was more like you were seeing where it was, like you were seeing the reflection of other stuff on it.”
Only a few days earlier, Steve and Tracy would have scoffed. Now they were spellbound—especially Steve.
“How long did this go on?” Steve asked.
“Not long. Maybe ten seconds or so. I was thinking of getting my gun out of the truck, but the thing was gone before I could move.”
Steve nodded. Gentry’s experience nearly matched his own.
“It didn’t scare me too much,” Clayton continued. “I guess it was so weird I didn’t know what to think.” He smiled grimly. “If I’d known what it was, maybe I would’ve been a little more nervous about it.” He laughed. “The scarier part was when I stopped in Hyde River for a beer and told somebody about it. Now that’s when things got scary!”
“You said the wrong thing,” Tracy volunteered.
He nodded emphatically. “That was quite an experience, being surrounded by all those tough miners and being told, number one, I didn’t really see anything, and number two, I’d better not talk about it, and number three, they didn’t want me around there anymore. Like I said, some people can really be crazy around here.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Two summers ago.”
Steve prompted, “But there was one other time you saw it?”
“Yeah. I was doing some dozer work just a little south of Hyde River, and believe it or not I saw it flying. It was still kind of like that mirror thing I showed you, but—” He wiggled his hands, trying to come up with a description. “—it’s kind of like the light was hitting it wrong ’cause I could see the outline pretty good.”
“What time of day was that?”
“Right about sunset. I was getting ready to quit for the day.”
So it’s not strictly nocturnal, Steve thought. Then he asked, “What were the sky conditions?”
He thought for a moment, then said, “High clouds. They were turning pink from the sunset and, yeah, when I saw it, it was passing in front of a pink cloud, but it was still blue like the sky. That’s how I saw it.”
“What did it look like?” Steve was finding it hard to contain his excitement. Finally they were getting somewhere!
“At first I thought it was the biggest goose I’d ever seen,” Clayton said. “Well here, you want me to try and draw it for you? I’m no artist, but it’s easier than trying to describe the thing.” Steve handed Clayton his pen and writing pad. Clayton drew it as he described it. “It had a long, slender neck, slender body, big wings, kind of like a heron—wide wingspan.” He looked up from his drawing. “I thought at first maybe it was one of those home-built airplanes that look kind of funny, like they’re built backward? But it was flying like a bird, you know, the wings were moving like an eagle does, but in slow motion.” He moved his arms slowly up and down to recreate the effect, the pen in one hand, the writing pad in the other. Then he went back to the drawing. “Oh, and it had a long tail too, as long as the neck.” He finished the drawing and handed it to Steve. “You know how those flying dinosaurs looked? It looked kind of like that.”
Clayton had drawn what looked like a long-necked lizard with wings.
“Like a reptile, then?”
“Right,” Clayton said. He turned and pointed north, toward Saddlehorse Mountain. It came out from behind Saddlehorse and then moved south across the valley and then went down behind those hills over there to the east. I watched it the whole time.”
Steve and Tracy peered toward the mountains as if the thing might appear again. Right now, the sky looked slightly cloudy and quite uneventful.
“When was this?” Steve asked.
“Just a couple months ago.” Then he gave Steve a direct look. “And you’re the first person I’ve told other than Jessie.”
Tracy asked Jessie, “Have you
ever seen it?”
Jessie only gave a little shiver. “No, and I don’t want to. It scares me just hearing about it.”
“You’ve no guess as to what it is?” Steve asked Clayton.
“No idea,” Clayton said. “And I’ve learned better than to ask.” Then he added, “And I’m sure some other people have seen it too; don’t let them kid you. They’ve seen it. They just don’t talk about it.”
Steve kept looking toward Saddlehorse. That beast had to have a lair, a nest, somewhere. Up on that craggy peak, perhaps?
“Some rumors have gotten around, though,” Clayton volunteered. “I’ve heard it’s a dragon—you know, like it breathes fire and everything. And then there’s the legend that it’s the devil, like a hundred years ago the early settlers made a pact with the devil and the devil became the patron saint of Hyde River. You hear wild stuff like that.”
“So how could a thing that size hide itself for so long?” Tracy asked.
“Maybe it wasn’t always that size,” Clayton responded. “And anyway,” he continued, “I don’t think it would have any problem hiding. First of all, nobody’ll talk about it. Second, you can hardly see it anyway, even when it’s right in front of you. And third, those mountains up there are full of caves and old mines, and some of them go really deep. It could find a place to hide, all right, and if it never came out except at night, it could go for years without being seen.”
“I never thought about the caves,” Tracy said. “But you’re right. That’s where Benjamin Hyde first found gold and silver. Some of the mines were started in the caves. They’ve been dug out and scoured so deeply—some of them go for miles.”
“So have you ever heard of it killing anyone?” Steve asked Clayton.
“Well, you must know about that guy who got killed up on Wells Peak a week or so ago. The rumors going around are that the creature did it.”
“Clay—” Jessie cautioned.
Clayton lowered his voice again, but countered, “Jessie, don’t worry so much.” He turned to Tracy and Steve. “There’s another legend that it only eats wicked people.” He chuckled and put his feet up on the porch railing. “Guess that gets me off the hook. I’m a pretty good person. I’ll probably do all right.”
Tracy and Steve stood and thanked Clayton for talking to them. As he walked to Tracy’s Ranger, Steve found himself hoping that Clayton was right—that he was off the hook. But Steve was convinced there were no guarantees.
“ DEPUTY ELLIS, I’ll see you in my office.”
Collins was sharp, abrupt, and didn’t even look at her as he marched into his office. Tracy, just returned from her Sunday shift, followed him, knowing her rear end was about to get fried.
“Close the door.”
Yep. Fried.
She closed the door and stood silently before him while he gathered his thoughts and his papers and arranged his desk. Finally he said, “So how was your day and how did you spend it?”
“Largely uneventful, sir. I spent a lot of time with Professor Benson, helping him to resolve some issues so he could be on his way.”
Collins looked up. Perhaps he wasn’t expecting such a direct answer. “On the department’s time?”
“It was my regular shift, yes. I did my rounds, and he basically tagged along. I covered Hyde River, the upper Hatchet Creek draw, I stopped in to check a complaint regarding Charlie Mack—”
“What complaint?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t say complaint. It was more of a concern, actually. He hadn’t shown up at the tavern for a few days, so I stopped in at Charlie’s home to make sure he was okay.”
“And you had the professor with you?”
“Yes.”
“And why were you not driving your patrol car?”
“Sir?”
“Is something wrong with it?”
“No sir.”
“Then why were you driving your own private vehicle when you visited Charlie Mack?”
She thought for a moment, but didn’t lie. “Quite frankly, sir, I didn’t think it would look good for people to see a sheriff’s deputy with a man sharing her patrol car.”
Collins leapt to his feet. “But that was exactly the case, wasn’t it, Deputy? You were seen, in uniform, on duty, in the company of a man—a man, I might add, who is not popular out there in Hyde River, am I right?”
“You’re right, sir.”
“That was foolish, Deputy! Foolish and stupid!” He came around his desk and approached closely enough to yell directly into her face like a drill sergeant. It was an intimidation tactic, and it worked. She tried not to cringe, but couldn’t help it. “When you are in this uniform you shall conduct yourself like a deputy sheriff’s officer, and any personal interests you may have will be put aside, is that clear?”
“Sir—I was not acting out of personal interests.”
He smiled cruelly. “That’s perfume you’re wearing, isn’t it?”
“Why do you ask, sir?”
“You know good and well why I’m asking.”
“You wear aftershave; I wear perfume. Are you discriminating between the two, sir?”
He backed off. “Deputy—Tracy—let’s play it straight with each other. Your personal life is your business, and I won’t tell you what to do. But you’ve been spending time with this guy from Colorado while in uniform, and the folks in Hyde River are whining about it.”
She thought before responding. “I understand, sir.”
He locked eyes with her. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I’ll be careful about appearances from now on.”
Her answer didn’t quite satisfy him. “Keep going.”
“I won’t let it interfere with my police work, sir.”
“So I won’t hear anything further about this, will I?”
“No sir.”
“All right. I’ll hold you to that.”
“Sir?”
“Yes.”
“Who told you about all this?”
He scowled at her, his hands on his hips, his head cocked sideways. “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”
“And yet these people feel it’s their place to spy on me and question my actions right down to which vehicle I’m driving, as if I’m not allowed one inch of discretion? I’m not comfortable with that.”
“I don’t care a whole lot about your comfort level, Deputy. It’s my job to make sure you effectively do yours; that’s what it really comes down to.”
“Was it Harold Bly?”
He was about to snap at her, but let it go. “Good guess.”
She made no effort to hide her disgust. “I guess there’s nothing I can say to that.”
“No, there isn’t. We work for him. We work for all the people of this county. When they call, we answer.”
“Will that be all?” she asked, hoping her anger wasn’t evident in her voice.
“One more thing.”
“Yes sir?”
“How’s Evelyn Benson doing? Has Benson said anything about her condition?”
“I understand she’s doing well, sir.”
“Has she remembered anything she may have seen up on Wells Peak?”
“I haven’t heard. Who’s asking?”
“Oh—I was just wondering.”
Oh, I bet, she thought.
SUNDAY EVENING Harold Bly arrived home with the pretty redhead Rosie Carson on his arm, not at all ready to find Phil Garrett waiting on his front steps.
“What do you want?”
“Boss, can I talk to you a minute?”
Harold said to Rosie, “Go on inside.”
She hurried past Phil and went into the house.
“All right, Phil, what is it?”
“What you said back at the tavern, I mean—”
“What?”
“Boss, you can’t just sit back and do nothing. You know we’ve got a problem here!”
Harold smiled a cunning smile. “Phil, you’re the one who has a problem, not me.”
Phil didn’t argue.
“What’s wrong with your chest, Phil?”
Phil jerked his hand away from his heart. He hadn’t even realized he was rubbing it. “Huh?”
“What’ve you got there, a mosquito bite or something?”
“Uh, yeah. Bad bite, Harold, that’s all.”
Harold bent close and spoke softly into Phil’s good ear. “You afraid of the dragon, Phil? Is that it?”
Phil struggled to get an answer out, then finally nodded.
“Phil, you’re the only one who can do anything about that.”
“But, boss, can’t you—”
“If you think the dragon’s after you, then, hey, if I were you, I’d be thinking of a way to appease the dragon, you follow me?”
“Appease him?”
“Sure. Make him happy, show him you’re on his side, do him a favor, you follow me?”
“But what can I do?”
Harold straightened up. “We’ve already talked about it, Phil. There’s somebody out there who’s seen the dragon. She could tell people about it—unless somebody does something to stop her.” He crossed the porch to his front door, then turned. “Let me know when you get it done. Once you get it done . . . I’ll see what I can do.”
And with that, he disappeared inside his house.
CLAYTON AND JESSIE GENTRY were sitting in their living room watching television, and their two girls were in bed asleep. Clayton was in sweats, Jessie in pajamas and a robe. There was a bowl of popcorn between them on the couch, half-eaten. It was a very typical evening, and they weren’t expecting company, so when they heard a firm knock on the door, they looked at each other in surprise. Jessie, being closest, rose to answer it.
She opened the door and saw six men in black hoods standing on the porch. She gasped, then screamed. Clayton came on the run, and they both tried to slam the door shut, but a huge arm and a foot blocked the door, holding it open.
Jessie’s scream had awakened their daughters, who began to cry.
“Clayton,” came a rough-sounding voice, “this has got nothing to do with your wife and kids. Figure it out.”
The Frank Peretti Collection Page 26