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With Mt. Saint Helens in the background, Lauren filmed her first piece in months. “It has been over sixteen weeks since I was abducted by an unknown person or persons. Despite what the tabloids would have you believe, we are certain that my abductors were hoax-mongers in a Bigfoot suit. We don’t know what their motives were or why they targeted our team. This is why we are working with the FBI on the investigation. We’re joined by Special Agent Andrew Miller and Special Agent Joshua Morrison.”
Rowan picked up the narration there. “We also have National Park Service Rangers Katie Jonas and Derry Kent. They are with us to aid in the investigation and provide security for the team. We’ve restricted our crew to four members: Lauren, myself, our Director of Photography, Jean-René Toussaint and assistant researcher, Bahati Yseri. No other camera or audio techs are with us. We are also joined by local Bigfoot researcher Pauline Jamison, who works for the National Park Service. She will be our guide.”
“After a couple of months of rehabilitation, I am ready to find the truth about what happened to me, and the truth about the legendary Bigfoot.”
Rowan took over the narration. “Since our initial visit to the area, there have been numerous sightings of an unidentified creature raiding camp sites, smashing trash bins. It can be heard howling in the night. At least one witness reports seeing a large bipedal animal crossing the road in front of his car.” He wasn’t surprised how easily they fell back into their routine of playing off each other in their narrations. None of this had been scripted in advance. They each knew what to say. “Based on the evidence we found during our last visit, we believe that while there may well be some hoax-mongers at play in the area, we cannot discount the evidence that suggests we may have found proof of a real Bigfoot living in these mountains. Our goal is to expose the hoax, find the beast, and answer the question—What happened to Lauren?”
* * *
“Okay, perimeter alarms are set.” Bahati came into camp as Jean-René clicked off the recorder. “I’ve set trap cams and we’re ready to go dark.”
Lauren yawned. She stretched gingerly. Travel days were always exhausting, but more so today than ever. They’d left the house and caught a red-eye flight to SEA-TAC the night before, renting an SUV for the team, their equipment and supplies.
The heavy load on her back was made even more difficult in the thin mountain air. The team had hiked until near dark, finally making it to a place to set up base camp for the night. Now that camp was set, all that was left to do was have dinner and then hit the sack.
They had the cameras and alarms set up as a passive control. If they caught anything, it would be a bonus. Tonight, they would take turns on watch and use the opportunity to rest. Tomorrow they had another long hike into an area where few hikers dared venture, and even the logging crews hadn’t been there in the past twenty years. It was closer to the clearing where Lauren had been found, and an area where several of the recent sightings had been reported.
Chores had been decided by lottery. Derry and Katie were in charge of dinner, Rowan and Bahati had first watch, and Jean-René and Pauline had the second. Miller and Morrison had drawn the last watch of the night and would also be responsible for breakfast. Lauren would be allowed to rest tonight and she couldn’t wait for dinner to be over with so she could go lie down. The first day’s hike had been hard on her, and she was exhausted. With three rotations, each team would only have to sit watch for a few hours.
“How’s the shoulder?” Morrison came over and sat down beside her. She had her laptop open and was checking on weather conditions, just in case. Earlier, rain and thunderstorms had passed through the area and a humid pallor hung over the mountain; the air was still. The skies were starting to clear, and it was starting to cool off just a bit.
“A little sore,” Lauren admitted. “Not used to carrying a backpack.”
“I can imagine. You look better than you did the last time we talked.”
“Oh, believe me. I feel better.”
“Still no memories of what happened?”
“No,” she admitted. “Rowan says I’ve been having nightmares, but I don’t remember those either.”
“He mentioned that,” he said. “It’s not uncommon, you know?”
“What’s that?”
“The mind is an amazing thing. It’s programmed to protect its owner. It can remember certain things with such vivid clarity... the taste of chocolate, the smell of your grandmother’s perfume, the day you get married, your first born child, the smell of baby shampoo and powder, but not the smell of the diapers,” he leaned back on one of the cases. He wore a plaid shirt and cargo pants — a distant departure from the black suit and Ray Ban sunglasses. “How easily we forget the pain of a scraped knee, the pain of childbirth, the heartbreak of our first love.”
Lauren crossed her ankles and hugged her knees. “It’s more frustrating than anything to me.”
“I can imagine.”
“I am a scientist. I’m trained to collect and analyze data. I thrive on data. Yet, this time I feel like the data is there, but somehow... corrupted.”
An amused expression crossed his chiseled face. “You would have made a great FBI agent,” he chuckled.
“Why do you say that?”
“We collect data too,” he said. “Once we have the evidence, we analyze it, and work to come to conclusions.”
“There’s one difference between a researcher and an FBI agent.”
“What’s that?”
“You arrest your subject once you analyze them. Me, I just take video and turn it into good television.”
“Good point, but there are those out there who think what I do is good entertainment.”
“My second favorite show is Criminal Minds,” she grinned. “So, maybe we’re not so different after all.”
“I like that one too,” he admitted, blushing.
* * *
Lauren sat with her face on her palm, her elbow resting on her knee. She’d been writing in her journal but had nodded off, waiting for dinner. She nearly bolted out of her skin when Rowan sat down beside her. His leg bumped hers, unseating her elbow from her knee. “Here.” He handed her a tin plate of food. It was some kind of Mexican hot dish. It smelled spicy and her mouth watered as she took the warm plate in her hand.
“You look tired,” he commented. He dug into his own food.
“Yeah, I’m beat,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t draw watch tonight, but I could sure use the sleep.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She didn’t need to know he hadn’t even put her name in the hat.
“Besides, I like to watch the stars in the mountains at night. I kind of like the midnight watch.”
“I’d worry about you,” Rowan said.
“I’d have my dart gun.” She put a hand reassuringly on the dart gun on her belt.
“Damned lot of good the dart guns did us last time. The only thing that even makes me feel halfway safe is the presence of all these trained federal agents.”
The Park Service rangers and the FBI agents packed real guns with real bullets. Regulations restricted anyone else from discharging a firearm in the National Park. Rowan had to negotiate a deal for the dart guns. He didn’t mention they’d brought them with them before. If Rowan had known it was against the rules, he wouldn’t say.
“Does it look like the weather’s going to hold?” Rowan changed the subject.
“Yeah,” she said, between bites. She still had the radar pulled up on her laptop. “There’s some rain to the north, but it’s moving to the east.”
He nodded, taking up his plate. “Good. It’ll be a beautiful night then.”
“I’ve missed the stars,” she glanced up at the sky, the last rays of daylight slipping below the timberline and behind the mountains.
“Sure to be plenty of them tonight,” he said.
She yawned. As soon as her plate was mostly empty, she set it aside, and rested her head in her hand again. Rowan nudged her. “You have to eat it all.”
“I’m too tired.”
“Sooner it’s done, the sooner you can go lie down.”