by Forthright
Josheb was wide awake now. And annoyed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because … it was weird.”
“I live for weird!” He crowded next to Caleb on the lichen-encrusted stone that had been his choice of seating for breakfast. Zooming in, studying details, he asked, “Could you find it again?”
“Probably. It was glowing.”
Josheb dropped his scowl. “Where? Which part?”
“Camera didn’t pick it up. There were glowing lines all along the column.”
His brother lit up in his own way. “Damn. There really is something here!”
Caleb didn’t like to point out that mystic columns weren’t part of bigfoot’s aesthetic, so he only offered a vague, “Maybe. Be careful, in any event.”
“And take more pictures. Tag them, date and time. Starting today.” Tossing back the last of his coffee, he added, “Be thorough. It’ll be important. I can feel it in my bones!”
Blue Blazes
The next two days were almost fun. Yes, Caleb was still trudging through the middle of nowhere, but with intent. Instead of just marching far enough to meet Josheb’s milage quota for the day, Caleb was looking for landmarks. He snapped unusual trees, rotting logs, rocky outcroppings, and every one of the blue trail blazes that confirmed their course.
Documentation. He was good at this stuff.
“Why did those war games guys bother to go this far?” Caleb asked. “Plenty of woods between here and Aspen Hollow.”
“We’re moving slower than they did.” Josheb had taken charge of Nessie. “You know how it is. Buncha guys trying to outdo each other. They probably double-timed it the whole way—hut, hut, hut.”
They were taking it slow, and not just for Nessie’s sake. Rain had hampered progress the first day, and they were further delayed by Josheb’s on-the-spot decision to keep careful records. Caleb created a field journal, logging date and time, location and direction. At each waterway, Josheb held up scraps of paper with creek names while cheesing for the camera.
Caleb was confident that his charts were so thorough, anyone could retrace their steps.
Josheb insisted that he not hide behind the camera the whole time. After some convincing, Caleb posed with Nessie. And they took a few duo selfies. Mostly to send to their parents once they returned to civilization.
“Anybody else queuing up to get their picture taken?” asked Josheb.
The figments. Caleb shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve noticed.”
“Nothing to lose, right?”
“Maybe with a digital camera, since we can delete duds.” He cradled an old-school camera protectively.
“What if they only show up on actual film?”
Caleb hadn’t considered that. Was he being too stingy because their supplies were limited?
Josheb suggested, “Wait to take a shot you’ve already lined up until something slides into the frame. We can check later. See if anything develops.”
He snorted. But he also lifted his phone and snapped a picture of Josheb.
His brother threw his arms wide. “I’m hardly a figment.”
“Josheb Dare, my imaginary younger brother?” Caleb suggested blandly. “I’m not that crazy. But you must have crumbs in your beard.”
Eyes crossing as he looked down, Josheb mock-whispered, “Tell me I don’t have one of those baby krakens on me.”
Josheb had taken exception to the tiny airborne figments with tentacles. Caleb was fairly sure the miniature jellyfish were harmless, but they gave Josheb a case of the shudders.
“Birds,” he quickly assured, wanting to put him at ease.
Josheb glanced around. There were birds everywhere. “How do you know they’re figments?”
“You can’t see them,” Caleb reasoned. “And they’re too tiny to be anything but figments.”
“How tiny?”
He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. “And they’re purple.”
“No way.”
Caleb rolled his eyes. Then checked his phone. With a crooked smile, he said, “See for yourself.”
Josheb squinted at the display, zoomed in, and muttered, “What in …? How are those birds? They look like tiny pom-poms.”
“Easier to tell when they’re flying.” It was silly, defending the goofy little puffballs. But they were one kind he didn’t mind so much, possibly because they weren’t an amalgam of anything.
“It’s out-of-focus, but I definitely see something.” Brushing idly at his beard, Josheb ordered, “Keep trying.”
Easy Pace
Although Caleb had initially focused on the downsides of camping, he was remembering parts he did like.
The quiet.
The simplicity.
The pace.
And in a way, he liked having Josheb to himself. With little else to do but talk, they were slowly but surely catching up. Filling in the gaps left by months apart. Reminiscing about camping trips past. And speculating about what they’d find tomorrow, when they reached the previous group’s base camp.
Caleb asked, “When you say the last people up here were spooked, what do you mean?”
“Something scared them off.”
“But … what exactly? Are we talking giant footprints or actual sightings? Strange sounds, strange spoor?” Caleb tried to come up with plausible explanations. “Could a rival group have been messing with them? Or is there some chance they encountered someone with reasons to run them off?”
“Interesting theories.” Josheb flashed a smile. “You’re taking this seriously.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I mean, come on. Bigfoot?”
Josheb lifted a finger and wisely said, “Every legend has some truth to it.”
“Says who?”
“Me.” As if that’s all it took to make myths materialize. “Can you make it six more miles?”
Caleb snorted. “I have nothing better to do.”
“Not true!” Twirling a finger at the camera, Josheb said, “Take more pictures. Catch a figment on film.”
They passed more landmarks—Black Squirrel Spring, Washboard Ford, and an overlook with a view of Turnabout Creek. As the long summer twilight took hold of the woods, Caleb remembered another detail that he liked about camping.
“Hear that?” he asked.
Josheb glanced up and around. “Which part? The leaves? The crickets?”
“They’re birds, I think.”
His brother sat still, ear cocked as he listened. “By any chance, do you hear things as well as see them?”
“Oh.” That hadn’t really occurred to him. It had to be possible. “Maybe?”
Coming to sit next to him, Josheb offered a hand as if to shake. “Put ’er here.”
The clasp must have taken immediate effect because his brother began looking about, trying to pinpoint a new sound. Caleb asked, “Which one couldn’t you hear before?”
“That pip-pip-pipping. Might be birds, but it could just as easily be tree frogs. Or even those little jumping streakers from before.”
Caleb sent up a fervent prayer that it wouldn’t rain. He couldn’t handle another plague. “Why me?” he sighed.
“And why not me?” countered Josheb.
“I’d trade if I could.” Although Caleb wasn’t sure he meant it. At least this way, his brother still included him.
Night Noises
Caleb woke without understanding why his heart was hammering. He listened closely for several moments before he caught an odd snuffling sound. His breath caught when a deep grumble joined the party.
Nessie woke with a snort and set to barking.
Whatever was outside growled with enough authority to shake the very tentpoles, and Nessie immediately switched to fearful baying. Caleb wished for his noise canceling headphones. She was worse than the alarm system in their apartment building, which was murder on anyone’s ears.
Somewhere in the middle of everything, Josheb shucked out of his sleeping bag. “Bear,” he muttered. “I
t’s just a bear. Nothing to worry about.”
As if running into a predator on that scale was no different than a passing thundershower.
Leaving the relative safety of the tent, Josheb soon set up a racket outside, banging their cookware together and shouting. “Go on! Git! Get outta here, ya big mooch! Nothing to see! Move it along!”
Caleb went to peek out the tent flap, and Nessie shot through. “Wait!” he yelped.
But she only went to Josheb, cowering between his legs as she added her own insults.
Bending to catch her collar, Josheb encouraged her. “That’s right. You tell ’em. Make his ears ring.” He dragged her to the end of the leash they’d anchored earlier and clipped her collar.
“Was it a bear?” Caleb asked.
Josheb dragged his hands wearily through his hair. “Definitely a bear.”
“What are we going to do?”
“What do you expect me to do?” He scratched his stomach and looked off in the direction the beast had apparently run. “I’m not really equipped to hunt bear. You’re not that hungry, are you?”
Caleb’s incredulity melted into a weak laugh. “That may have been the farthest thing from my mind.”
Josheb set to work calming Nessie, whose fur stood out in ways Caleb could sympathize with.
“I’m not sure I can sleep,” Caleb admitted. “I don’t feel safe.”
“Want me to set you up with a hammock?” Josheb squinted into the darkness. “Ten feet up ought to do it. Though if you go higher, you’ll have a better view of the stars.”
“So my only options are a bear mauling or plunging to my death?”
Josheb snorted. “I’d strap you in.”
“I am so reassured.” Which was close to true.
Josheb’s confidence was as catching as a cold in season, and Caleb recognized the symptoms. Lack of caution. Baseless optimism. And a niggling suspicion that it was far too late to turn back.
Base Camp
They reached the previous group’s base camp before the sun was high.
“Looks like they left in a hurry,” remarked Josheb.
That was an understatement. Four tents sagged from their poles, and a fifth looked to have been trampled. A heavy pot hung from a tripod over a firepit, and the clearing was strewn with everything from clothing to cooking utensils.
“How many guys were up here?”
“Sixteen.”
“And these were shoot-first, war games types?”
“Tough as nails.” Josheb tipped an open cooler onto its side with his foot. “The critters have been into everything. Probably not much hope I’ll find tracks, but I’ll try.”
“Want me to gather this up? We could bring it back with us. Offer to return it.”
Josheb snapped his fingers. “In exchange for interviews! I like how you think!”
Actually, Caleb had been tallying up the cost of all this gear. Most of it looked expensive. Surely some of those men had to regret the loss.
“Stick to the plan! Before you move anything, take pictures. Map the site on a grid. That sort of thing.”
Caleb paced off one edge of the clearing and started taking notes.
Meanwhile, Josheb began at the firepit and slowly circled his way outward, reporting whenever he found tracks. “Squirrel. Deer. Pheasant. Ah, here’s our friend the bear again.”
“It’s the same one?”
“We’re probably in his territory.”
“Or hers?”
When Josheb didn’t answer right away, Caleb turned from his task. His brother was hunkered down, comparing the length of his hand to something on the ground.
“Don’t know if we’re any closer to finding what I’m looking for, but the squirrels sure do have big feet.”
“How big?”
Josheb tugged at his beard and shook his head. “Must be something else. Can’t think what, but this isn’t right.”
“Why not?” Caleb pressed.
“I mean … if these were squirrel tracks, those suckers would be as big as Nessie. Bigger, even.”
“We’re tracking giant squirrels?”
“No. We’re tracking bigfoot.” Josheb grinned. “The squirrels are incidental.”
He was laughing it off. Maybe even dismissing it. But he made Caleb snap some pictures so he could compare the tracks to a field guide later.
Which got Caleb to thinking. How big could a figment get?
Stomping Grounds
“Find anything?”
“Not really. Foraged some things for dinner.” Josheb shook a fistful of greens and patted a bulging pocket. “Just need to see what the creek has to offer in the way of protein.”
“Need me to fish?” offered Caleb.
“That’d be great.” Josheb gestured toward the woods. “There’s a good spot not far. Stone’s throw. You can’t miss it.”
Caleb gathered the gear and checked his compass. Eastward trail. Downhill. It didn’t take long for him to pick up the sound of running water. But he was catching something else, too. A scent.
Sort of sweet, but also sour. A little like flowers, but with a heavy, sticky quality. Honey? Yes, it was possible they were close to a honey tree.
Closing his eyes, Caleb listened for the telltale hum of bees.
He was still standing quietly, sifting through sounds, when Josheb ambled over with his arms stacked with kindling. “Why are you zoning out? The fish don’t catch themselves.”
“Do you smell that?”
“I just got the campfire going.”
“Not smoke. It’s sort of sweet. A ripe smell, I guess?”
Josheb inhaled slowly, took a few steps away and breathed in again. “You’re right. Smells like a distillery to me.”
“Liquor?” Caleb frowned thoughtfully. “As in moonshiners?”
“Well, we’re not on the right continent to score some monkey wine. Which is too bad.”
“You out of beer?”
“Didn’t say that. Just wouldn’t mind sampling something from a wild reserve. But honestly, this could be a combination of a couple of different smells. Some flowers have a special stink for luring in the pollinators, and I’m thinking some of your figments would qualify.”
Stinky flowers. Caleb nodded. “Makes more sense than someone running a microbrewery way out here.”
“If you were serious about studying those things, you could probably chart a whole new ecosystem.”
“Why don’t you do it?”
“Not me.” Josheb waggled his eyebrows. “I’m here for the apex predators. Much more interesting than streaking crickets and boozy bees.”
Caleb couldn’t help being skeptical. His brother wanted bigfoot to be real, so he believed they’d entered his stomping grounds. By the same token, Josheb didn’t find insects and amphibians all that interesting, so their activities were easily dismissed.
But what if boozy bees—or whatever these new figments might be—were the clue they needed to figure out what in the world had happened up here?
Shutter Bug
All of the following morning, Caleb kept busy setting up photographs. His goal was capturing figments on film, but he had to figure out how to get them into the frame. Since he’d spent most of his life ignoring and avoiding them, attracting them was a new concept.
Luring them in wasn’t working, which meant Caleb had to go where they were. So for the first time since his youngest years, he sat back and watched them.
Gradually, patterns emerged.
The whispery tendrils liked drifting through sunlit places, aimless and eerie. Types that mostly looked like rodents or amphibians lurked in shade. He spent twenty minutes on his belly in the moss, waiting for an antlered mouse thingie to decide he wasn’t a threat.
The instant the shutter snapped, it was gone in a flurry of wings.
Cute little weirdo. He almost felt bad for scaring it off.
Near noon, there was a shift in the air. Caleb wasn’t sure what else to call it, but some
thing definitely changed. Suddenly, all the figments were moving toward the north. Was something luring them in that direction? Or were they moving away from some unseen threat?
Caleb sat up and scanned the vicinity.
He stood, brushing off his pants. Yes, they were on the move. But where were they going? He wanted to find out. Because if they were congregating somewhere, he might be able to snap a much better picture.
Taking small, careful steps, Caleb cut through the undergrowth. He paused to check his compass, marking his direction. It would be truly mortifying to lose his way so close to camp.
Wait.
Why was he so certain they weren’t going far?
Although Caleb couldn’t come up with a logical reason for the impression, it stuck. Moving with the mini migration, he waved a hand to discourage passengers while looking for signs that the previous campers had come this way.
Tracking was more Josheb’s thing.
Caleb had a vague idea about footprints, broken twigs, and bent grasses, but that was mostly gleaned from old movies and bore no resemblance to the uninterrupted carpet of leaves and needles that made up the forest floor.
Focused on the movement of airborne figments, Caleb nearly stepped off an embankment.
A river lay below, sliding by with hardly a ripple. And on the opposite bank, shored in by rocks, stood a low plinth. Lines shimmered against stone. A faint note seemed to reach for him, emanating from a pale blue crystal.
He had no idea what to do.
Just then, something rustled in the bushes. Caleb held his breath, deathly afraid that he was about to meet an apex predator. But it was only a deer. The young doe high-stepped through the ferns, her ears swiveling. All very dainty and lovely and harmless.
Except that she wore a collar. Knotted cords hung with beads. No, they were crystals. And her rump was branded by a pattern that gleamed against her pelt.
While he watched, she browsed her way unhurriedly toward the plinth.
Suddenly the air fizzed as if charged by a power source, and a scent wafted his way. The same he’d picked up earlier, but stronger now—thick and ripe and boozy.
