All he could think of were the Grizzlies—the bears whose freedom had been stolen from them.
Don’t worry, my friends. Help is on the way.
Ralf lost all sense of time as he fought his way to his Jeep, which he’d parked at the edge of a nearby forest road. He didn’t remember getting into the car, didn’t remember driving down the ice-covered mountain road.
Every time he glanced in the Jeep’s mirrors, he saw the image the telescope had shown him. The Grizzlies needed him. Shadows of their former glory, they studied him in grim silence as he floored the accelerator.
About an hour later, he pulled into the parking lot of the Big Bear Alpine Zoo.
A big sign up ahead summed up the zoo’s mission statement: We will provide a safe “home for life.”
What a crock of shit. There was only one home for life for wild animals, and that was the wilderness.
Ralf parked his Jeep, paid his admission, and made his way through the zoo at a fast clip.
As he strode past the various habitats—no, they were prison cells—the hatred in his heart grew. He passed foxes, coyotes, owls, eagles, and bobcats, to mention only a few. These fantastic creatures deserved to be set free and return to the wilderness. The coyote's curious glances followed him, eying him in anticipation almost as if they sensed what he planned to do.
He couldn’t save them all. It was impossible. He was only one man. He would start with the Grizzlies and go from there.
One of the zoo’s staff approached him. “Hey mister, we’re about to close shortly.”
Ralf ignored the pimply teen, a creature far more deserving of being locked up than any of these magnificent animals. Then he paused in mid-step and demanded, “Where are the bears?”
“Oh, sure, we’ve got all kind of bears. American Black Bears, and—”
“The Grizzlies!”
The zoo employee raised a shaky finger and pointed. “That way. But we’re closing in—”
Ralf was already walking away. Time was running out. He didn’t know why he knew this; he just did. He had to find the Grizzlies before it was too late. But he had to move without drawing too much attention. The pimply little teenager was already too suspicious.
At last, the Grizzly habitat loomed before him. The creatures were only visible in silhouette in the fading sunlight. They lurked near the manmade caves, too lethargic to do much more than eat and sleep, but that was about to change.
The pimply zoo employee was briskly walking towards him. The helpful smile was gone now, replaced by an irritated expression.
Ralf's hands closed around the steel fence.
Despite being in his mid-forties, Ralf was in great shape and started his mornings with a punishing regimen of bodyweight exercises. His face contorted with effort as he gripped the steel and began to pull himself up and over.
The zoo employee’s panicked voice rang out. “Hey mister, what do you think you’re doing. Stop that!”
Ralf paid no mind to the kid’s meaningless chatter. All sounds grew distant. The world reduced to the bears Ralf was going to save.
Inch by strenuous inch, he scaled the twelve-foot fence, driven by a combination of sheer will and physical effort. And then he was at the top, swinging his body over the wall. Instead of climbing down, he just let go and landed in the habitat below.
As his feet touched down heavily in the enclosure, a sharp jolt traveled up his knees, but he never lost his balance. Blood roared in his ears as he turned toward the caves. He sensed the shadowy movement within.
That’s right. You can come out now. You’re safe.
Somewhere in the distance, the fucking kid was losing it, but to Ralf, the zoo employee’s panicked screams felt like a million miles away.
As the first of the three Grizzlies lurched out of the manmade cave, Ralf reached for his camera, lining up the first shot. He needed to capture this moment for the world to see
The Grizzly reared up on his hind legs and unleashed a low growl.
Ralf smiled.
As had happened so many times before, his patience was about to be rewarded.
Chapter Six
Vesper and I sat in the back of Sheriff Delgado’s cruiser as we tore down icy roads at speeds that made us trade nervous glances. The sheriff looked like he knew what he was doing as he took the winding turns with the confidence of a kamikaze. I guess he got his fair share of practice navigating these treacherous mountain roads living out here. Back in Los Angeles, where simple rain showers could spike traffic accidents and create gridlock, driving in the snow was beyond the imagination of most drivers.
Not surprisingly, both Vesper and I clutched our safety belts and kept our peace as we hurtled down the mountain. Neither one of us wanted to break Delgado’s concentration.
As we barreled toward our destination—the Big Bear Lake Zoo—I considered what we might find there. A man had decided to climb into the Grizzly enclosure, which sounded like a sure-fire way of ending up on YouTube for all the wrong reasons.
Ordinarily, a crazy stunt like that wouldn’t have been in my jurisdiction. But as fate would have it, the fool’s name was none other than Ralf Adler, Jeremy Plevins’ hunting buddy— a development that set off all sorts of alarms in my mind. First, Plevins had tried to turn his wife’s art gallery into a shooting gallery, and now his friend was trying to take his passion for wildlife photography to a dangerous level.
I had somehow managed to convince Delgado to let us tag along. I can be persuasive when the situation calls for it. But as the sheriff took another sharp turn, I silently wondered if that had been such a good idea.
Meanwhile, Vesper was studying Adler’s work on her phone and let out an appreciative whistle.
“Wow, I can see why he was considered one of the top guys in his field. These photographs are amazing. Check it out.”
She showed me a few covers of National Geographic on her phone that featured Adler’s stunning work. Adler understood wild animals, that much was obvious from the breath of his work. He was enamored with their beauty but also knew how dangerous they could be. The photos were respectful, not trying to make the beasts look like people or cute cartoons. I’d stalked enough prey of my own to know how much patience it must have taken Adler to snap those photos.
So why would he voluntarily walk into the proverbial lion’s den? Bear cave. Whatever.
Something had turned Plevins into a killer and inspired Adler to engage in a most creative form of suicide.
Was this sudden personality change linked to their most recent hunting trip? And would I find the same eldritch tattoos etched on Adler’s skin?
The answers would have to wait for now. We ground to a halt in the zoo’s parking area, and all of us got out. Outside, the sun was setting, casting a crimson glow over the trees.
“You guys keep your distance and observe from afar,” Delgado ordered us.
You’re not going to get any protest from me, I thought. I had zero interest in getting into an enclosure filled with bears, so I had no problem with Delgado’s request.
We followed Sheriff Delgado and Deputy Wood. A group of concerned zoo employees greeted us at the main entrance. Ironically enough, a fake bear fronted the outdoor Admission area. The bear seemed to be smiling. I doubted very much that the real Grizzlies shared the furry guy’s happy disposition.
Delgado leveled his gaze on one of the employees, a pudgy guy in his mid-thirties who seemed the most likely to be in charge. “How are things looking?”
“The bears are growing increasingly agitated.”
“Have you tried talking to Ralf?”
“Yes. But Mr. Adler’s not responding at all. It’s almost like he’s, you know, on something. I just can’t believe it.”
Delgado cocked an eyebrow at the guy, who looked utterly miserable. “You know him?”
“Know him? The staff thinks he’s a rock star. We all love animals and are fans of his work. He comes out about once a month when he’s not traveling the wor
ld to photograph them in the wild.”
Vesper and I traded a wry glance. The small-town vibe around these parts meant that most people knew each other—if not on a first-name basis, then at least they’d run into each other before. Very different from LA. Then again, most of my neighbors avoided my home like it was an open plague pit, so maybe the problem lay with me.
We moved deeper into the zoo. The red, syrupy light of the sunset gave the various animal habitats a surreal quality as we followed the nervous-looking manager toward the Grizzly enclosure. I spotted Ralf at the center of the enclosure. Three monster bears curiously circled him while he took one picture after another, as if hanging out with killer animals was the normal thing in the world.
Despite Delgado’s earlier instructions, I drew closer to the fence in the hopes of getting a better look at the man.
One of the bears lumbered toward him. Adler refused to back off.
Seemingly unimpressed with the creature’s size and deadly reputation, the photographer took a few more shots with his camera. Only a few feet separated Adler from the Grizzlies. Yet Adler regarded them with the calm of a Buddhist monk.
“Oh shit,” Vesper whispered as she stepped up beside me.
Her long red nails were cutting deeply in the palms of her hand, her tension unmistakable. Like me and everyone else around us, we appeared more worried about Adler’s safety than he was himself. I’d faced many beasts over the years, but Grizzlies were still impressive beasts that could send a shiver down the back of a seasoned monster hunter.
Almost as if the bear was trying to show us who was boss, the beast let out a bloodcurdling roar.
Adler didn’t seem all that impressed. He dropped to one knee to get a better angle of the roaring bear. And that’s when I noticed the second Grizzly approaching from his flank.
Delgado drew his service revolver while I took another tentative step toward the cage, ignoring the growling and roaring to the best of my abilities. I needed to get closer to test a theory.
Almost as if on cue, my Ouroboros tattoo lit up with a wave of pain. Supernatural forces were at work, in case I’d held any doubts.
And that’s when I spotted the tattoos on Ralf’s neck and arms. Three-dimensional geometrical shapes similar to the markings that had covered Plevins’ skin. A quick glance at Delgado showed that his face had turned a shade paler. He'd noticed them too.
Welcome to my crazy reality, buddy, I thought.
I tried attract Alder’s attention, to at least stop him from taking more pictures and further agitating the beasts, but it was like the photographer existed in a different reality from ours. He kept shooting, a manic grin plastered across his face. The sound of his camera wasn’t helping his situation. The constant snap, snap was enough to whip even me into a frenzy.
Over the sound of the camera, I heard Delgado cock his pistol.
Adler finally turned in our direction, as if he’d heard the telltale sound too. His eyes met mine, and I found myself staring into a pair of swirling spirals. Surreal, bottomless pits that twisted into eternity.
And then the first grizzly’s gigantic paw came down.
As the brutal swipe took off half of the man’s face, Delgado fired. The bear staggered to one side, a bullet wound in its shoulder oozing red, but it wasn’t down yet.
In the ordinary way of things, I’d expect the bears to be more scared of the gun than a camera. But they didn’t even flinch as Delgado fired off another round. It was almost like they thought Adler was the biggest threat.
A split second later, the second grizzly closed its giant maw over Adler’s neck. There was a wet crunching sound, and Vesper turned away, pressing herself into my side.
More gunshots followed as Delgado and Wood both opened fire. The volley of bullets took down two of the Grizzles, but the third was still standing.
Another powerful blow from the bear’s paw knocked Adler off his feet. What was left of his face went slack as his head hit the concrete. The twin spirals grew dull and extinguished, almost as if I had imagined them.
Delgado cursed as he fumbled to reload his service weapon. Beside him, Wood didn’t hesitate. She emptied her gun into the bear. The final Grizzly collapsed, the bear’s blood and the dead man’s combining in a single, dark red pool.
And just like that, the only individual who could have told us more about Plevins’ hunting trip was gone.
I swapped a look with Sheriff Delgado. He looked both scared and frustrated, a sentiment I shared with the man. Wood was unsteadily holstering her gun, her face ashen.
We’d lost our only lead.
Or had we?
My eyes locked on the camera that Adler had dropped when the bears tore him apart. You know what they say: a picture is worth more than a thousand words.
Chapter Seven
Back at the Big Bear Lake police station, Vesper was slumped in a chair beside me, chewing her lips. She’d been doing so much better since our battle with Asmadina had forced her out of her shell. I worried about how the recent horrors were impacting her psychological progress. Even the strongest person might feel tempted to hole up at home after witnessing what we just had.
An evil force had descended on this idyllic town, and it was claiming lives at an alarming rate. If I didn’t need Vesper’s help to stop it, I would have considered sending her back to the Malibu.
Instead, I reassuringly squeezed her hand, doing my best to appear a lot calmer than I was. “You’re doing great. Not too much longer and we can head back to the cabin, okay?”
Vesper eyed me with surprise. “Oh, okay. Thanks,” she said, tucking her fiery red hair behind her ears.
I shifted my attention to Sheriff Delgado. His face was ashen and drawn, his expression haunted. The craziness he’d encountered in the zoo didn’t quite fit into his rationalist view of the world.
Folks react in different ways when first confronted with the supernatural. Some deny everything, despite the evidence right in front of them. Others assume that it’s all an elaborate joke. All things considered, the sheriff was taking it pretty well.
Adler’s mauled body had joined Plevins’ corpse in the morgue downstairs. There was no question to the cause of death, but the coroner was taking another look at the strange tattoos and analyzing the bodies for other abnormalities. I doubted he would find anything. Magic doesn’t show up on a tox screen.
I planned to join the coroner downstairs to perform my own exam as soon as I finished up with my current project. Delgado had retrieved Adler’s photo camera from the enclosure in the hopes it might offer some insight into what was happening in this quaint little ski community.
The sheriff nodded at his deputy. The woman plugged the camera into a laptop and started scrolling through all photographs taken over the last few days.
First up, Adler’s most recent photoshoot. Images of the fearsome Grizzlies filled the laptop’s screen. The shots were amazing, obviously taken with no regard to personal safety. It was hard to appreciate the bears' savage beauty without flashing back to Adler’s brutal mauling. I couldn’t help seeing those same bears as players in the bloody horror show we’d witnessed, their snouts dripping red.
No wonder the deputy zipped through these pictures and jumped to the beginning of the camera roll instead. Going by the timestamp of the first collection of photos, Adler must’ve recently deleted the camera’s hard drive. We started with a couple shots of Plevins as he geared up for his recent hunting trip. He was showcasing his rifle and other gear, smiling and relaxed. There was even a selfie of Adler.
“Do you see it?” Delgado asked in a dry voice.
I nodded. “Neither Adler nor Plevins had any tattoos.”
According to the time stamp, Adler took these pictures less than twenty-four hours ago.
“There’s no way anyone could get that many tats in such a short period, even if they tried,” Vesper said, tapping the ink on her forearm. “It takes at least two to three weeks for tattoos to heal.”
> Delgado nodded to the deputy to continue our exploration of Adler’s digital camera roll. More shots of the hunting trip flickered onscreen. Stark images of a deserted, frozen forest landscape, massive trees and rocks encased in ice, a few shots of smaller animals like rabbits and birds set against a world of white.
There was power to the images. They held a haunting beauty. Adler’s talent wasn’t hype. His photographs truly captured both the beauty and savagery of the natural world.
The next batch of shots showed a deer. The buck stood in a snowy clearing, majestic antlers peppered with snow. The animal carried itself with a sense of bold confidence—the king of the forest.
And then the shutter captured the explosion of red on the animal’s neck as the first bullet struck.
The next few shots showed the creature’s demise, and I experienced a sudden surge of anger. I felt like I was witnessing a murder. Who gave anyone the right to destroy such a beautiful animal? I wasn’t a vegetarian, but I suddenly felt ashamed for my carnivorous ways. Venison was off the menu, at least.
I almost expected to see Plevins posing alongside his kill in the next series of shots, maybe holding up the head by the antlers and smiling as if he’d done something to be proud of. Instead, the photographs showed the same clearing where the hunter’s bullet had struck the buck. This time the area was deserted, a perfect white landscape once more.
What was the significance of this? Judging by the timestamp, these photos were definitely taken after Plevins had shot the deer. Had the buck somehow survived? And if so, why wasn’t there any blood or tracks?
Strange.
And about to get a lot stranger.
The next photograph showed a giant domed structure looming over the skeletal trees. The deputy paused as we all struggled to make sense of the images on the laptop’s screen.
“Is that an observatory?” Wood asked, giving voice to the question going through all our minds.
“There’s only one observatory around these parts, and that’s the Big Bear Solar Observatory right on the lake,” Delgado said.
The Paranormalist 4: The Unearthly Page 4