Alosha

by Christopher Pike

  “We’ll see.” That meant no.

  “I’ll have dinner ready for you,” she said.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to do it, Daddy. Just drive safe.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Hunny Bunny.”

  Three hours—that gave her time to shop for a special dinner for her father. Of course what was special to him was always the same thing: T-bone steak, a baked potato, and fried onions. Although she disliked steak and hated onions, she always ate with him. It made them both feel good to sit together for a meal. Then they could pretend they were still a normal family.

  “We’re still a family,” she said as she hurried into the shower. Besides her cuts and bruises, she was covered with dirt.

  Thirty minutes later she was outside and walking to the market. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but she had her green umbrella with her, and let it twirl overhead like a leaf. She was going to miss the sweater she had lost, and the pants she’d ruined in the avalanche. She did not have many clothes that fit. She had grown six inches in the last six months, and her father was not in the habit of buying her clothes. Not because he didn’t care, he just never thought about it, and she never brought up the subject. On the other hand, now that she was a full-fledged teen—now that boys were sort of looking at her—she found herself thinking about clothes more. What she wanted more than anything was a black leather coat, but because the leather was cut off the backs of dead cows—or poor dead sheep—she felt guilty every time she fantasized about it.

  The market was fairly deserted. Ali was able to get a nice steak for half price. The man behind the counter said the store was having a special that day. She knew he was just being nice. He had gone to school with her mother as well.

  Back home, Ali got busy. Besides preparing the steak and potato, she whipped up a batch of brownies for her dad. He had a sweet tooth; he could eat an entire pint of ice cream while watching TV late at night. Often he fell asleep in the chair with the TV on.

  Her father came home an hour later. A big man with strong arms and a thick head of dark hair, he had a face that never seemed to age. Ali had heard the girls at school talk about how cute he was, and in fact he had powerful features; the firm line of his jaw almost looked chiseled. He had married her mother straight out of high school.

  He picked her up from behind and kissed her on the back of the head. “I was going to take you out to eat,” he said.

  “Where were you going to take me?” she asked, not taking his remark seriously. Since her mother had died, they had eaten out maybe three times.

  Her father sat down as she continued to fuss with the brownie batter. She still had to get it in the oven.

  “Wherever you wanted to go,” he said quietly. One look at him and she knew he was exhausted. The bags under his eyes looked like bruises. She put down the batter and reached for the phone.

  “I’m calling Jerry. There’s no way you’re driving all night.”

  He stopped her. “It’s my job, Ali. I’ll be all right after I eat.”

  She argued but it was useless. He took pride in burning himself out to support them. She wished she could explain that he didn’t have to prove anything to her. They were close, yet there were still things she couldn’t talk to him about.

  Like the night her mother had died. They never discussed it. To this day she didn’t know exactly what had happened. The accident had knocked her out, thrown her clear of the car.

  Yet over dinner she brought up the subject of bigfoot monsters, the mythical creatures that were supposed to haunt the forests of the Northwest.

  “Why do you ask?” he said. “Did you see one?”

  “People in town talk about them. I was just wondering if they’re real.”

  “Most people will tell you they’re only legends. But bigfoots have been reported all over the world, even in places as far away as China and Mongolia. Up north, where the Eskimos live, the tales of the abominable snowmen are probably the same as our bigfoots. With so many stories going around, I think there’s got to be something to it.” He added, “But I wouldn’t call them monsters. Most people who’ve seen them say they’re incredibly shy.”

  “But couldn’t bigfoots be like people?” she asked. “You could have nice ones and rotten ones?”

  “I never thought about it. I suppose you could.”

  They finished dinner and she helped him pack. On the way out he made her promise to get to Cindy’s house by nine o’clock. Kissing him goodbye, she told him to drive carefully.

  When he was gone, she cleaned up the kitchen and sat down to read for an hour before going over to Cindy’s. She had already called her friend; she was expected.

  But the house felt so empty. Outside the wind howled with a lonely ache. Inside the walls trembled with too many memories. Ali ended up packing her own bag and going over early.

  Cindy met her at the door and led her to her room. Her parents had friends over for a video; they didn’t want to be disturbed. Cindy’s mother and father were nice people. They had let her sleep over many times since her mother had died.

  Cindy was on to her the moment they were alone in her room.

  “What happened to your leg?” she asked.

  “My leg?” Ali asked.

  “You’re limping. What happened to it?”

  Ted had seen her cuts but had not noticed her limp, nor had her father. “I fell.”

  “Did you go up to hassle the lumberjacks today?”

  “Well . . .”

  “Where did you fall? Let me see your leg.”

  “You can’t see my leg.”

  “You’re suddenly shy about your body? You’re sleeping here tonight. I’ll see it when you put on your pajamas.”

  “I’m putting them on in the bathroom.”

  “Why can’t I see your leg?” Cindy insisted.

  “I cut it. It’s gross.”

  “I’m a gross-out kind of girl. How bad did you cut it?”

  Ali realized Cindy was not going to let up until she saw her leg. Sitting on the edge of Cindy’s bed—Ali slept on a foam mat on the floor—she rolled up her pants. The size of the bandage impressed Cindy.

  “Cool,” she said. “Did you have to go to the hospital?”

  “Ted, Sharla’s dad, bandaged it.”

  “So did you hassle the lumberjacks or what?”

  “Not exactly.” Ali stared down at her sore leg. The cut on her head hurt as well. While she had showered, it had begun to bleed again. But she had not put anything on it because then her father would have freaked out.

  The trauma of the day’s events came back to her right then. She felt like crying. Turning away, she stared at the wall. Cindy was a loudmouth, but she was sensitive. She came and knelt in front of Ali.

  “What happened up there today?” she asked gently.

  “I got attacked by bigfoot and his family.”

  “What?”

  Ali told her the story. It took half an hour to explain. To her credit, Cindy listened without interrupting. When Ali was done, Cindy shook her head in amazement.

  “You were lucky you found that bamboo stick,” she said. “I would be picking out a coffin for you right now.”

  “That makes me feel a whole lot better,” Ali said.

  “Sorry. Actually, I’m amazed the way you kept your head.”

  “You believe me, don’t you? Everything I just said?”

  “Sure. That’s too weird a story to make up.”

  “What do you think of the bamboo? Why was it there?”

  “Forget the bamboo. What were the bigfoots doing there? They’re not supposed to exist. If we could catch one, or even find a footprint, we’d be famous.” Cindy got excited at the idea. “Hey, let’s do that! Let’s go back up, see if they left any prints. It rained today, the ground will be soft. I bet we can find something. We can photograph them, show the pictures to the police. We could get on TV!”

  “Cindy. These bigfoots are big. They trie
d to kill me. We go back up there tomorrow, they might succeed.”

  “Nah. They were probably passing through. They do that.”

  “Up until an hour ago, you didn’t even believe they existed. Now you’re an expert on their migration habits.”

  “If you’re afraid, I can swipe my father’s gun.”

  “No guns. We’re kids.”

  “Teenagers!”

  Ali shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “Better to be living kids than dead kids.”

  “No. I hate guns. Your father shouldn’t even have one in the house. And we can’t just shoot them if we see them. It’s their forest as much as ours.”

  “We won’t shoot them unless they try to eat us. Look, you’re the one who’s talking about how dangerous they are. I’m not afraid of them.”

  “You’re not the one they tried to bury alive.”

  “That must have been scary in the dark.”

  “It was—real scary,” she said.

  Cindy patted her shoulder. “You poor dear.”

  Ali thought further about what Cindy was saying. There was no bigger mystery in the Northwest than bigfoot, and they could be the ones to solve it. The possibility excited her as well.

  “I wonder,” Ali said finally.

  “What?”

  “I left my sweater up there, the one my mother knitted for me. You know, the white one?”

  Cindy nodded. “I love that sweater. You don’t want to lose it.”

  Ali considered further. “You might be right. If we could find the exact spot where they started chasing me, we should find footprints.”

  “Let’s do it!” Cindy said.

  “Maybe. But we shouldn’t go alone.”

  “You want to take Karl?”

  “Don’t start that again.” Ali paused. “Let’s take Steve with us.”

  “Steve is a weenie. Bigfoot attacks and he’ll run the other way.”

  “If they attack, believe me, we’ll all run. But Steve is braver than he acts. I know him.”

  “Why don’t the four of us go? Safety in numbers.”

  Ali yawned. “That’s an idea. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

  “You want to sleep now?”

  “Yeah. It’s been a long day. Do you mind?”

  Cindy did not mind. They got ready for bed and turned out the lights. As Ali snuggled in her blankets on the floor, she thought again of the bamboo stick. Of all the places it could have been, it had been right there to save her life. It was almost as if someone who could predict the future had placed it there.

  But that was impossible.

  Of course, so were monsters.

  Sometime during the night, she dreamed.

  She was in another world where there were no buildings or roads, no signs of civilization. And all the trees and grass and streams glowed with faint green radiance, as if filled with a magical light. Simply to open her eyes and bask in the light made her happy.

  The most amazing part, however, was a group of floating islands in the sky. There were three or four straight overhead, and she could see dozens in the distance. They were inverted mountains: flat on the top, long and narrow on the bottom, covered with massive sheets of white snow. They drifted with the wind; solid clouds that never faded with the seasons.

  Just by willing it she was able to lift off the ground and fly up to these islands. A movement of her hand one way, a bending of her fingers another, and she could change course and speed. The feeling of freedom filled her with joy. She was a bird, she was a human, and she was greater than both put together. More an immortal angel possessed of power and wisdom, with all the world and heavens to play in.

  Yet on the horizon, far away, even in this enchanted realm, she saw a shadow. A growing shape of disease that could spread if not stopped, and consume all in its path. That darkness had a name—Shaktra.

  It seemed to mock her as she flew above the world, higher even than the floating islands. It challenged her to not leave, but to remain and fight. To die if necessary, so that the magical realm could live and prosper. The Shaktra welcomed the battle with her, for it believed it could not be defeated.

  And that, she understood, was why she had been born a girl.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next morning, while walking back to her house, Ali ran into Karl Tanner. He had a paper route; he was up early every morning. Occasionally—if she was up herself—she waved to him as he went by. Last week she’d made him hot chocolate, and put it in a paper cup that he’d squeezed into the cup holder on his bike. He seemed to like that.

  She thought he liked her but was not sure. A quiet person, Karl was the smartest guy in the school. Last year he had gone all the way to the National Spelling Bee. Yet he seldom offered an opinion on anything. She liked that about him—the strong silent type thing.

  Except when it came to her.

  He was definitely handsome. Tall, with thick blond hair, he had blue eyes so piercing she imagined they could slice bread. He had muscles—he played on the school football team. Yet his manner attracted her more than his looks. He appeared deep. Of course she hardly knew him; it was possible that nothing of any importance went on inside his head.

  “Hi!” Ali waved to him as he rode by. “Nice morning.”

  She had read that the weather was always a safe topic when it came to guys. Karl halted beside her. He had on a brown coat, and his cheeks were red from the morning air. His blond hair was longer than usual; she imagined that he had not cut it all summer.

  “What are you doing up so early?” he asked.

  “My dad’s out of town and I slept at Cindy’s.” She added, “Her snoring would wake bigfoot!”

  That wasn’t very subtle, she thought.

  Yet bigfoot was on her mind. A few minutes after waking that morning she had decided to try to get proof of his existence. The footprints should be there. The creatures wouldn’t have stopped to brush them away. All she had to do was put together a team and find a decent camera. Why not invite Karl along?

  Karl smiled briefly and offered her a newspaper. “This way you don’t have to dig it out of the bushes,” he said.

  “You never throw it there. You’re a good shot.” If she was going to ask his help, she thought, she needed to hurry. He looked anxious to be on his way. She added, “I sure could have used a good shot yesterday.”

  “What happened yesterday?” he asked.

  She told him the whole story. This guy she liked but didn’t know that well—she poured out her guts to him. He listened closely, no longer in a hurry to leave. Halfway through the story, she realized how much she was trying to impress him, and she hated that about herself, but it didn’t stop her. She went on and on about how calm she stayed while she was buried under the avalanche.

  When she finished, he stood silently.

  “What do you think?” she had to ask.

  “You want to go back up there today and take pictures?”

  “Yes. Cindy and I.” She hesitated to bring up Steve. Karl and Steve were not the best of friends. She added, “Want to come? It could be the story of the century.”

  “Where exactly did you see these creatures?”

  She described the area. “You know where I’m talking about?”

  “Yes. That’s high up. Can you go tomorrow?”

  “We could. But the footprints would be fresh today. Also, it might rain again. I would hate to have them wash away. No one would believe me then.” She wanted to ask: do you believe me? But was too shy. She added, “I guess we could wait for you.”

  “I have to help my dad at the factory right now.” Karl’s father owned a light fixture factory. The Tanners were the only rich family in town. Karl always wore the best clothes. He didn’t need the money from his paper route, his father just wanted him to learn a work ethic. Karl continued, “I’ll be busy until two. That wouldn’t give us enough time to get up there and back. I think you’re right, the footprints might not last. You and Cindy should jus
t go.”

  Ali smiled. “You’re not afraid bigfoot might eat us?”

  “You have to be careful.” His toyed with his bike pedal. “I better get going. Let me know what you decide. Leave a message on my phone. You have my number?”

  “Yes.” She hated to see him go, but supposed she had kept him long enough. “Karl?”

  “Don’t talk about it, I know. I won’t, Ali. You can trust me.”

  “I do trust you. That’s why I told you.”

  Ali went to Steve Fender’s house next. Steve lived on her block, eight houses up. She had met Steve before she had met Cindy. He had stuck out his tongue at her. She had returned the favor. They had been three years old.

  Steve had a difficult home life. His father came and went; it was hard to say which time was better. When he was at home, his dad yelled at Steve’s mother and drank until he couldn’t walk. But when he was away they both missed him.

  Steve was short, slightly round. His idea of a good time was to go for doughnuts. He could eat four at once, with coffee. He was a coffee freak. He would go online and order strange brews from South America. Ali had to admit they were usually tasty.

  Steve was an amateur astronomer. From memory, he could name a thousand stars in the night sky. He had made his own telescope; he had even ground the mirror by hand. He was also a genius with computers. He could hack into almost anybody’s system, even big corporations. But he was not a jerk who secretly wrote virus software and tried to spread havoc. He did not abuse his talents, although he was not above playing games with friends. He once sent Ali an e-mail that loaded a program onto her computer that made everything she typed into the machine translate into Latin. For a while she had actually started to learn the language.

  Ali was not sure if Steve’s father was at home. Because she didn’t want to run into the man, she didn’t knock. Going around the side of the house, she peeked her head in Steve’s bedroom. Like Cindy the day before, he was asleep on his back with his mouth open. She knew he liked her, in a girl-boy sort of way. Not that he would ever admit it.

  “Wake up sleepy boy,” she said gently.