Faithful Shadow

by Howard, Kevin J.

  Dale and Fred watched the light dance about below them like a firefly. Dale guessed the drop to be anywhere from twenty to twenty-five feet. A long way down for an unsuspecting person. It’d be so very easy to shatter a bone…or a skull. Dale followed the progress of Bob’s flashlight, cursing as he stepped out of view. Every moment felt like an hour. Sweat began rolling down his back.

  “It’s so cold down here,” Bob said to himself as he stepped cautiously. The ground was covered with about three inches of water, beneath that, it was very unsteady. Like walking across a floor covered with uneven children’s toys. He lifted his hand slightly and saw Cameron lying on his back a few feet in front of him. “I found him,” Bob yelled as he hurried over, his feet splashing water. “I’m going to secure a line around your waist. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  Cameron lay on his back with his eyes closed, moaning as he turned his head from side to side. He resembled a man having a bad dream, one he couldn’t wake from. Bob took the heavy glove off his right hand and snapped his fingers before Cameron’s face, but there was no response. Bob tapped Cameron’s face, causing his comrade to withdraw as if he’d been stung. His cheeks were freezing to the touch. Bob set aside his squeamishness and took hold of Cameron’s hands, lifting him up into a seated position.

  “Damn, you’re heavy.” Bob grunted from the strain, shocked it was such a chore. He had a good forty pounds on this kid, most of it muscle.

  “…dark.” Cameron moaned, resting his head on Bob’s shoulder like a little boy being carried off to bed.

  “Stay with me.” Bob lifted himself into a standing position using his knees. He pulled Cameron beneath the light of the hole above. “He’s tied off. Begin pulling,” Bob yelled up, a bit creeped out by his echo moving through this dark hole. Bob shined his light out into the darkness and saw only that; more darkness. This hole was much larger than he could have ever thought. “What the hell?”

  Bob walked away from Cameron as they began lifting him up. He shined his light straight ahead of him, down across the water into the cavernous unknown. The earth above hung down in long vines and spiraling roots dripping water. Looking up, it felt as if the forest were reaching down into the ground, not quite able to catch him. Bob laughed it off and turned back toward Cameron, pausing as his light swung over something bright and unnatural. He swung the light back around and saw a perfectly white skeleton of a full-grown moose. Then he started to pay more attention to the walls and water in which he now stood. The uneven surface beneath his boots was not caused by rocks or sticks. It was bones; thousands of them, pieces from every type of animal across the park. Suddenly it felt too dark, the enormous cave too small. Bob backed up toward the hole and looked up as Cameron’s feet disappeared in the light.

  “Cameron’s up. Now we’re sending the rope back down,” Dale called down from above. As promised, a moment later the rope slapped down on the ground.

  Bob turned and grabbed the rope in a death grip, pulling himself up hand over hand without hesitation. In less than two minutes he pulled himself up and out of the hole, rolling onto his back to look up at the dark clouds above.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Fred asked, looking down at Cameron with concern. Cameron’s normal healthy copper skin tone had gone a ghostly white. “If he’s suffered some kind of injury he might be going into shock.” Fred got down on his knees and placed a hand to Cameron’s forehead. His skin was ice cold, clammy. “Well, he doesn’t have a fever.”

  “Are you injured?” Dale asked, getting on one knee.

  “No….no.” Cameron was winded, wheezing with every breath. “Nothing broken.” Cameron closed his eyes and swallowed, letting out a long breath with a shudder. “I’m just so damn tired.”

  “Are you feeling sick?”

  “Get me out of the dark!” Cameron opened his eyes and screamed, flailing his arms about his face. He began slapping his body, hitting his chest and arms as if swatting flies. “Get it off me!”

  “Hold him.” Dale gripped Cameron around the shoulders while Fred and Bob held down his legs. “Calm down, Cameron.” Dale pulled his head up onto his knee, holding him steady. “Shush, calm down. You’re safe now.” Dale felt as if he were comforting a child awaking from a nightmare in the dead of night. His concern was slightly muted by the urgency of the fire to the south and the fact that at least Cameron had been found. Whatever happened from here on out with any injuries could be monitored and accepted. “Hey Bob?” Dale looked up and saw Bob standing off a bit, leaning against a tree with his back to them. “Bob?”

  “Yeah, sorry.” Bob spun around and took a knee, his eyes looking distant, troubled.

  “I need you to help Cameron back to the Inn. Once he’s resting I want a doctor called in from Old Faithful, if not, then Lake. Is that okay?” Dale tilted his head, concerned that Bob’s normally sharp focus had been slowed. “Hey.” Dale snapped his fingers before his face, startling him back to reality. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, fine.” Bob took hold of Cameron’s arm and pulled, struggling to get him to his feet. “I’ll take him back and call the doctor.” Bob hesitated, looking off into the woods with a distant expression. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Dale stood and watched them go, their progress very slow. Cameron was attempting to make it easier on Bob, stepping out with his legs shaking, barely able to support his own weight. Dale couldn’t tell if Cameron was walking hunched over or if his uniform had gotten bunched up or what. Either way, it looked as if Cameron’s coat was being worn by a turtle. Dale shook it off, turning back to his men to get them moving. He decided to leave the rope tied to the tree while the other end dangled into the hole to mark where it was; or in case they needed that rope again. Hopefully not. Two accidents were well beyond his unit’s quota and he was ready to call it a day. Dale shook his head, thinking back to what Cameron had screamed; something about being in the dark. What the hell had that meant? Was he always afraid of the dark, something he kept hidden from the rest of them despite the many nights they’d already spent in the darkness of the woods? Not to mention that weird seizure he’d had, slapping himself like a heroin junky slipping into hallucinations. Cameron was not the kind of man to take drugs. He was all about clean living and eating well. He was a vegetarian for Christ’s sake.

  Dale shrugged it off, telling himself they’d gotten pretty damn lucky, all things considered. Cameron had just suffered a fright from the fall and the prospect of being left alone in some dark hole. At least he’d been found before any real harm could befall him. At least he was now safe.

  22

  Why the hell was he stuck with such a duty? Bob knew he and Dale hadn’t always been on the best terms, but they weren’t enemies. Today had to just be one of those “Why don’t we make Bob do it all” days. Bob, get in the hole and save Cameron. Bob, carry Cameron’s unusually heavy ass back to the Inn. Bob, build me a mansion out of matches. The last one had thankfully not been requested, but he was beginning to wonder. He had been a fireman since he was twenty-one and for the first twenty years of his career he’d worked in San Diego. Then he and his wife had packed up and moved to Billings, Montana just two years ago. It felt like starting over, as if his techniques and attitude were all wrong. He wasn’t a freaking rookie, not at the age of forty-three. But Dale was always using him for the little jobs, things you’d order a probie to do. But maybe if he’d stop doing them…Bob shrugged it off. He knew Cameron needed some help and he was a member of his unit.

  “Don’t…” Cameron muttered, dragging his feet with his head down. “Don’t let the dark…”

  Bob had been listening to him prattle on for the past ten minutes, the same odd shit over and over again. None of it really made any sense; unless he was referring to the darkness of the hole? It had been unusually dark, but it wasn’t the dark that kept his mind occupied. What kind of hole
had so many bones scattered about? Not just little pieces either, but complete animals. More intriguing and yet terrifying was wondering what creature called that cave home. Bob considered them lucky for hightailing it out of there before whatever it was had decided to try them for a snack, adding their bones to its already impressive collection. Something Bob would never admit to anyone, even himself, was that he’d never been so afraid. In the few minutes he’d been stuck down in that hole, he felt a fear he’d never experienced before, an irrational fear. It felt tight, closed in, and overpowering—like having your body buried in the sand with only your head exposed, completely helpless. This had been the real root of the terror; being left in the dark, eight or nine feet below the ground with nowhere to run, stuck in the den of something he’d never heard of. Yellowstone documentaries conveniently left out the part about the underground caves stuffed with rotting creatures. Bob hadn’t realized how spooked he’d been until he was pulled topside and the sun touched his face, welcoming him back to reality, as it were. But then what had happened to Cameron? He’d only been down there a minute or two longer.

  “Oh my God,” Bob said under his breath, not wanting Cameron to hear but still unable to keep his mouth quiet. He pulled his face away from Cameron and thanked God for the heavy smoke in the air. The stink of ash filled his nostrils, burning his eyes. But even that was better than the foul, putrid stench coming off Cameron.

  Bob wanted to pull his arm away from Cameron’s waist and just let him either walk on his own or crawl. Another few minutes of inhaling such a stink and he’d be throwing up. He couldn’t take it. It was like setting his arm around a barrel full of dead fish that had been left in the hot sun for over a month. What could cause such a wretched stench in just a few minutes? Had he fallen into a pile of decaying animals? Quite possible considering the bone museum going on down there, but it still didn’t seem right. The smell was becoming unbearable; crawling out of Cameron’s suit like a living entity, creeping along his shoulder and up on Bob’s arm, moving slowly like a stealth spider. It clawed at his face, stung his eyes and pried on his lips to enter into him, but Bob held his breath. He turned his head and released an explosion of air, only to suck some more in its place. Was it possible for an odor to be so disgusting and potent that it became a living thing? Bob shuddered at the thought, pausing a moment to hoist Cameron’s right arm back over his shoulders.

  “We’re almost there,” Bob said aloud, speaking mostly to himself. They came out of the trees and began walking through the cabins across the parking lot from the Inn.

  Bob picked up the pace, moving with purpose despite the pain in the small of his back and the strain on his shoulder. He could bear the mysterious odor no longer. He pushed himself with mental pep talks about how he could do it, how close he was. The last few minutes through the woods had felt like an eternity, like crossing a desert while having your leg tied to a dead horse. They’d made it so far and now they were waiting on the shoulder of the main road to cross. Bob shook his head, finding it so typical that the park was deserted of tourists except for the moment he needed to cross the road. A lumbering dinosaur of a motor home made its way past the Inn, slowing down to look at the Old Faithful Geyser as it erupted in the distance.

  “Move it, you big-ass behemoth,” Bob snapped as the driver all but stopped in the middle of the road.

  Bob gripped the fingers on Cameron’s right hand and hurried across the road, dragging Cameron’s legs behind him. He pulled him along until he got to the Inn’s front steps. A thought of setting him down on the first step for a good rest came and went. The faster he pulled his stinky ass inside and laid him down, the faster he could get back to the front line and do his job. Bob tightened his hold and went up the steps, moving one at a time with a deep breath in between. With a final lurch, he got Cameron’s boots up and over the lip of the final stair and pulled him into the dark interior of the Inn.

  “We need a room.” Bob blurted out before he’d come into view of the front desk, not caring if they were busy.

  “Oh, of course. Ah, just a minute.” Jessie looked the fireman in the eye and lingered a moment, trying to remember the instructions her manager had given on what to do when a fireman needed a rest. Which room was it?

  “Please,” Bob said, more for himself than Cameron’s sake. “I need to get him into a bed.”

  Jessie ducked down, leaning far to the right to look beneath the counter. She held a key in her hand when she stood back up, holding it out to Bob. Jessie shook her head and felt like a complete moron, seeing this poor guy had no way of holding the key or operating the lock while toting his friend around. Jessie came around the counter and turned down the hallway to her right, stopping at the first room on the right. She unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing Bob to drag his friend inside. Jessie took a step back as they passed, covering her nose as something struck her, hitting her hard like an aroma slap to her face. She left them to their room and hurried back to the counter, thankful to be standing by the front door and the slight breeze that wafted in. Another moment beside them, beside that smell, and she would have surely lost her breakfast of three eggs and French toast.

  Bob, too, was reaching his breaking point, his stomach rolling like the sea during a storm. He ducked under Cameron’s arm and let him fall to the bed, landing flat on his stomach with his feet hanging off the edge. Bob grabbed his boots and swung his legs onto the bed, making it a little more comfortable for him. He stood back and debated a moment, asking himself if he really wanted to get close enough to remove his coat and pants. Sure it would probably be a hell of a lot more comfortable for him, but that kind of proximity would more than likely put him over the edge. Throwing up his small breakfast of oatmeal and bananas was not on his to-do list. Bob pulled back to stand in the doorway, looking down at his colleague as he lay on his stomach, soundly as if he was struggling to breathe. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the sheets.

  “I’m going to head back now,” Bob told him, waiting for any kind of response; a nod of the head, a shake of the foot, anything to at least acknowledge his presence. “Do you need anything before I go?”

  Cameron parted his lips, releasing a long gasp of air. He hitched in a breath and then fell silent. Bob took two steps into the room, reached out and pulled off his boots. The least he could do was make him a little more comfortable. He pulled off his socks and set them neatly beside the bed. He thought Cameron looked hot, but there was no way he was touching that jacket. But it was the jacket that made him linger a moment longer. As he’d turned to leave, feeling less guilty after removing the boots and socks, he’d noticed something; a slight shift in movement when Cameron had remained perfectly still. The back of his jacket had looked like a yellow tortoise shell earlier, but now it had shifted up to the shoulders, looking like a humpback on both sides. The urge to walk over and touch it became all too strong. But the lingering smell had begun filling the room. Bob stepped out into the hall and quickly shut the door, moving as if the smell were a wild animal that might try to dart out if he wasn’t fast enough.

  “Holy shit, that was rank.” Bob let out a long breath and leaned against the wall, wanting to wash everywhere that had touched Cameron. He pushed off from the wall and walked across the vast openness of the lobby, taking a few seconds to look up at what felt like miles of timber stretched out all above him in multiple stairs and walkways, and headed to the front desk. “Here’s your key back. I left it unlocked anyway.”

  “Oh, okay.” Jessie took the key and offered a nervous smile, her eyebrows raised. “I hope your friend feels better.”

  Bob nodded, taking a moment from the odd situation to feel sorry for this young lady. Everything about her screamed the word ‘awkward.’ Her arms were long and thin, as was her body. She was even a few inches taller than he was. Bob shook his head.

  “Do you mind if I use the phone?” Bob took the p
hone and paused, thinking over the number and coming up completely blank. “You don’t happen to know the number for the hospital here, do you?”

  “Oh…no. But I think it’s in this black book here.” Jessie bent down, finally getting on her knees to reach beneath the register. She stood with a thin address book and handed it over to Bob.

  “Thanks.” He took the book and thumbed through the pages, looking past locations all around the park such as the Canyon Lodge, the Mammoth Hotel, the Mammoth post office, etc. He found the number for the Lake hospital and the Old Faithful medical facility. He tried Old Faithful first, waiting for what felt like forever, finally getting through. The front desk person told him the doctor would be in later, as they were short staffed. Soon Cameron would be someone else’s problem.

  23

  Natasha Grabowski had been working in Yellowstone for the past three months, the same length of time she’d been in the United States. She had signed up with an employment abroad company to come over from her home in Poland to work for the park for five months. At first she’d thought it might be a mistake to take such a risk, to journey all the way to America, but it sounded fun. Her home life in Poland was nothing short of fantastic; a loving family, a nice house in the countryside right outside of Kalisz. She loved her home, staying up at night to hear the creek at the edge of their property, the way the bugs made their music, spending days riding her horse through the nearby wooded trails. She missed that all so very much, sometimes so much she felt ill. But her mother had pulled her aside one morning, asking her for a walk. Natasha knew why she’d wanted to speak with her. Three weeks prior, Natasha’s boyfriend of two years had asked for her hand in marriage. She’d said yes. Gerik, her boyfriend and now fiancé, had been so very thrilled.