Two days later, I hadn't found much except hungry bears, a few lost hikers, and some strands of hair left on a broken branch that could have belonged to a sasquatch… or maybe a wolf. I snapped pictures of some tracks around an icy pond and marked the location so I could launch a drone later to evaluate the path and see how it matched up the migratory patterns I’d already documented. I scooped samples from the pond, sealing them away to send off for DNA testing. The cryptids had to drink from somewhere, and inevitably their saliva mixed with the remaining pond water. Occasionally an unidentified strand of DNA could be identified, ruling out the wild animals in the area, and pointed toward something else moving among the trees. The best evidence was a shadowy figure I captured on a motion-activated camera I’d placed months earlier; I spent two nights doing measurements and evaluations to determine the height of the creature and its stride length. I muttered most of what I did to the camera so the production company would get a good feel for how I worked.
And still I clicked the GPS logger and sent updates to the rangers as I hiked, and counted birds so I could make some extra cash on the way. No reason to put all my eggs in that television basket when a few more dollars from the Park Service might get me closer to my dream centrifuge.
I pushed harder and faster as time ticked away, going deeper into the mountains and away from any of the trails other hikers would use. My supplies dwindled and I supplemented with berries and fish from a few streams to placate my grumbling stomach, but I couldn’t head back until I had something spectacular. Even if the time left to overnight the footage to the production company before Saturday ticked away faster than my supplies and lent urgency to everything I did.
I didn’t sleep well at night, listening to the whisper of wind through the trees and the prowling of hungry predators, and kept a hand on my rifle whenever I dozed. The night-vision motion capture cameras I’d set up on an earlier trip gave me a few clues to large animals moving around and using the trails, and caught a blurry image of something moving around on two legs. Upright but moving inhumanly fast. My heart pounded for a solid twelve hours after finding that, and I reviewed it over and over until my battery nearly died. Excellent.
Yet it also left me with the creeping feeling I definitely wasn’t alone, and I probably wasn’t the most dangerous thing out there even with my rifle. Every cracked branch and rustling leaves sounded like a threat, like the last noise I’d hear before my death. I jumped and twitched constantly, even as I told myself I was being stupid and juvenile for believing in boogeymonsters. A bear posed a real threat, but a mysterious shadow certainly did not.
I kept my head on straight, since panic was deadly in the mountains. I knew it. I’d seen it happen. I’d found enough lost hikers — and dead ones, too — to know keeping your shit together was the difference between life and death up there. One fall, one flash storm, one dropped compass or torn map… that was all it took sometimes.
I shook away the dark thoughts and focused on the next campsite. It was still a mile off and the sun started to set far over the mountains, casting deep, night-dark shadows on the trails. My headlamp didn't project as much light as I needed, and I had to concentrate to keep from slipping off the narrow trail and rolling down a steep decline into a rocky gorge with a hint of water at the very bottom.
As soon as I made camp, I'd send a message to Betsy to see about having her husband or one of his cousins meet me on the edge of the park in their truck so I wouldn't have to hike all the way back to where I'd parked. I still had time to get back and overnight the footage — once I got what I needed, edited it, and packaged it up. I climbed still higher despite the ache in my thighs and shoulders. My maps would get me to a road. Betsy would pick me up. No problem. I just needed to find the right place to get the last pieces of film, chat a bit to the camera, and I’d be in good shape.
Something big moved through the trees off to my left and I slowed, adjusting my grip on the rifle as my heart jumped to my throat. The headlamp followed as I scanned the woods, searching for whatever it was, but no eyes gleamed back at me. Probably just the wind or a falling tree. Happened all the time out there.
The sound didn't come again, so I started off with a great deal of motivation. Dusk settled through the trees, transitioning the gray light into full-dark faster than I'd hoped. A breeze whispered through the branches, shaking leaves and sending them drifting to the ground until things moved in my peripheral vision.
I glanced up at the sky where the first few stars grew visible against the blue-black velvet of space. Scientist. I was a scientist. There was no reason to panic just because the earth turned and took us out of the sun's direct light. I didn't believe in ghosts. That was absurd.
I tightened my grip on the backpack and shook my head as I imagined Betsy's response to me saying such a thing — Bigfoot existed but ghosts were going too far? It was perfectly reasonable to believe unique creatures evolved and existed in the deep woods. After all, there were still uncontacted tribes in the Amazon, and undiscovered species in various remote locations. Appalachia might have been more studied and inhabited than many other forests and mountains, but that didn't mean an intelligent creature like a sasquatch was guaranteed to have been discovered. Well, there were a bunch of mountain folk living in the Appalachia valleys who thought we were still at war with England. Sasquatches blended in much better, all things considered.
Something flashed far ahead and on my right, and I slowed. A mirror or a light. Definitely not an animal. Maybe it was a human, tracking me as I tracked the Sasquatch.
Probably just a lost hiker or a moonshiner.
But my heart beat a little faster as I flipped the safety off my rifle. Just in case. It was only prudent. Totally logical to anticipate danger and prepare for unexpected results.
I kept moving, though; I could probably make it to a cave I vaguely remembered. It would give me a better place to make camp, too, with the mountain at my back and only a few directions to look for trouble. I could make it.
My legs grew leaden as I forced myself to move faster, not wanting to run in case a predator tracked me that would get excited by a chase, and I kept the rifle half-raised to react faster. Fear chased down my spine in cold fingers and prickles. Something moved behind me but I didn't dare look, not wanting to slip or turn my ankle. The air turned frozen in an unnatural rush and burned my lungs until I strained to breathe without gasping and panting.
A dry chuckle whispered behind me, dropping my heart to my boots with dread.
I ran. I bolted like a rabbit with dogs on its heels, the pack bouncing against my shoulders and throwing me off-balance as I sobbed for breath and tears blurred my vision and that unnatural frigid wind left all of me numb.
It laughed louder and then a dark shape exploded out of the trees ahead of me and landed on the trail. My headlamp illuminated a grinning man, hair wild and unkempt, wearing tattered rags. I grunted with the force of the collision as he blocked the path. He wrenched me closer and twisted my wrist until my bones screamed, but I held onto the rifle with all my strength.
He lunged and yellowed teeth flashed in the light from my headlamp as he tried to bite my arm. His thick, dirty nails clawed at my arms as the man growled and snarled like a wild animal. I screamed and kicked back, terrified of getting rabies or something worse if he managed to scratch or bite me. More snapping of teeth, more slavering and spit flying everywhere, more desperation in yellowed eyes as he fought to get closer as I fought to get away.
I swung the rifle and turned my shoulder, trying to smack him out of the way with the heavy pack, but he threw me to the side instead and the trail slipped out from under me. I stared up into the night and the brief glimpse of waving tree branches before I bounced and started rolling. The pack flung me about but the waist strap kept it locked to me. I cried out as I tried to set my heels or hold on to something. But I kept falling into the darkness.
Someone laughed, far above me, and I wondered if anyone would look for me the way I looked for Jamie. Something hard and sharp smashed into my ribs and I flew into a tree.