Monster in the Mountains

by Peacock, Shane;

  She had stepped out onto the street so I could see her. Then she moved back into the shadows. As I approached, I detected her glued against the outside wall of Walter’s building, dressed in dark clothes. Before we could even say hello, a glow flashed out over the street, four storeys up.

  Uncle Walter’s lights were coming on!

  “You see!” whispered Alice excitedly.

  Fifteen minutes later we heard a nearby garage door rise and a weird-looking vehicle lumbered out. I learned later that it was called a Hummer. They’re these Jeeps that almost look like tanks, very wide and able to go just about anywhere. But, as I would soon find out, this one could go places even your average Hummer couldn’t.

  Most of these things are apparently green, sometimes even camouflage colours. This model was black and white…painted up like a chessboard. My mouth dropped open. Only someone with a pretty wild imagination would drive something like this.

  Its door opened and out stepped Uncle Walter. He had his hiking boots on. He opened the rear door of the vehicle and peered in for a while, rummaging around in a huge trunk that covered the whole length of the back seat. Something must have been missing, because after a while he stepped back, moved quickly up the walkway, and disappeared through the front door of the condo. We were still pinned against the wall. We could see the trunk sitting in the Hummer, the rear door wide open.

  Suddenly, Alice made for it. I dashed after her. We leapt up. The trunk had no lid on it, so we just ducked inside and made ourselves as small and quiet as possible. There were all kinds of tools under us and I was trying not to be too cozy with Alice, so it was pretty uncomfortable. She didn’t seem nearly as worried about getting close. A minute later we heard Walter walking back to the street. As he came towards us we flattened ourselves against each other, but he didn’t see us. He threw something into the trunk without looking. It landed on my gut and nearly knocked the wind out of me: his binoculars. He slammed the door shut, shuffled around to the driver’s seat, got in and pulled away.

  Going against parental-unit advice was always a bad idea, and here I was doing it as big time as I possibly could. But I was taking on something exciting again too, something a bit scary—and actually enjoying it.

  I kept my eyes and ears wide open. Walter plugged his iPod in and cranked up the volume. It was that band, Jefferson Airplane, again, and that weird song “White Rabbit.” I could make out more of the words: about chasing something through a strange land and a giant caterpillar that smoked. Now that sounded druggie to me.

  We headed off down the Esplanade, going the opposite direction from the resort. Every now and then Alice or I would cautiously peek out over the top of the trunk and look out through the rear windows. The Hummer zoomed past the Bungalow Motel and its cabins at the far end of town and sped along the road by the lake that led into Sasquatch Provincial Park. Why was Walter going there?

  At first the road was paved, winding its way along the east end of the water and slowly climbing. Then it curved directly into the camping areas. It turned to gravel, then to dirt, and became snakelike and narrow. We seemed to go past every possible entrance to picnic areas and the park’s two lakes, Hicks and Deer. Finally, we came to a dead end. Walter brought his vehicle to a stop. There was no one around.

  He got out.

  We scrunched down as low as we could. We could hear his feet crunching pine needles and leaves on the ground. A couple of times, I caught sight of his eyes as he moved around the Hummer. He looked happier than usual. The cool morning air was damp and thick, the sun was rising, and you could hear all sorts of birds. One sounded like a crow, a big one. It was louder than all the rest. When it cawed, Uncle Walter stopped what he was doing, looked up, and waved. Was he motioning to a bird? This was getting weird. Walter moved around the vehicle again, and leaned way down. It sounded like he was pressing buttons or something near the wheels. The whole thing kind of shuddered like an airplane does when its landing gear comes up. Then it really shook. We were thrown around inside the trunk, the tools shifting beneath us like we were lying on marbles. What was he doing? What in the world was he doing?

  Walter got back up into his driver’s seat. I peeked over the edge of the trunk again. We were off the road and at the very edge of the forest. I lifted my head higher, stuck it slightly out the lowered window, and quickly glanced down at the wheels. They were gone! Replaced by bulldozer tracks! I tucked my head back in and tried to mouth the words to Alice, but she looked at me in confusion, like I was either speaking Vulcan or she couldn’t believe what I was trying to say. Walter stepped on the gas.

  He drove right into the woods!

  It was amazing. He just gunned the engine and we went right in, almost through the trees it seemed. In seconds it felt like we were inside some sort of massive room, with a floor of thick moss and stumps. Trees were everywhere, practically blurring together as they rose straight up into a huge, cathedral ceiling of green leaves and pine needles. Walter roared the Hummer forward, bounding up and down along an invisible road. We held on, our palms pressed against the walls of the trunk, our faces grimacing as we stared up at the giant British Columbia wooded wonderland. Light shone through our forest ceiling in shafts like laser beams from outer space.

  Every now and then I peeked out. I kept seeing things in the maze of trees: rabbits rushing by as if late for something, brightly coloured birds swooping past, furry animals that looked like beavers and bigger ones that might have even been bear cubs. And every now and then I could have sworn I saw things that were taller and on two legs like human beings running through the green lit trees. We were in some other reality.

  After about fifteen minutes of crashing forward we were deep into the forest, far away from civilization. Then, suddenly, we stopped. It didn’t seem any different here than any other spot we’d passed since entering the forest, but Walter jumped out like he had arrived at something. Alice and I shifted uncomfortably in the trunk. Seconds later he came around to the back of the vehicle. Then he opened the door. He reached into the trunk. Glancing up, I saw his face, but it was turned away, looking up into the sky for something. I gently handed him the binoculars. He grabbed them absent-mindedly and shut the back door.

  We heard him trudging away from us, his footsteps getting fainter. We sat up, our eyes just over the lip of the trunk, and saw how deep in the forest we really were, among a million trees. Then we caught sight of Walter about thirty metres away, bending over a big stump. As we watched, he pulled it up by the roots with a grunt…and disappeared under the ground.

  Then the stump seemed to move back into place like magic.

  We looked at each other. What had just happened? Slowly we got out of the trunk, jumped down, and tiptoed over to the spot where Walter had vanished.

  Alice pulled on the stump. It lifted up in her hands with ease. She peered down into the black hole underneath, so dark we couldn’t see more than a metre into it. We both kept staring, speechless. We couldn’t believe it. But when I lifted my eyes to meet Alice’s, a determined expression was beginning to spread across her face. “Ready or not,” she said and stepped into the hole. Instantly she vanished downward. Dazed, I felt around near the opening. Then I stuck my head partway inside. I could smell the earth. But Alice was gone!

  So. I could either stay here alone, deep in the woods with the bears and the wolves and the sasquatch, or I could follow Walter and Alice down this stump hole. I listened to the sounds of the forest for a second. Now they were eerie. I sat down on the edge of the hole, dangling my feet in. Then I let myself drop.

  It felt like I fell for about half an hour, but it was probably a few seconds. It went from darkness and dirt-dampness to light and I made an abrupt but soft landing. I was sitting on a thick air bag, like a stuntperson might use to break a fall off a building; like the human cannonball uses in the circus. Alice was right beside me, gaping at her surroundings as if her eyes might
pop out of her head. Then I saw Uncle Walter. He was standing above us, staring at me, his mouth wide open.

  “You…you followed me?” he said, looking betrayed.

  “What is this?” I gasped, getting to my feet, stunned, looking around. I felt like shaking my head to wake myself up. It was as if I’d fallen into a dream.

  Right beside us was an underground room. It was a rough rectangle, nearly five metres long, with a ceiling almost three metres high. Someone had put up dry wall and painted it. There was a stove, a sink…and a TV, with an aerial that went straight up into the ground above. In the cupboards I could see chips and soft drinks and candies. I saw an electrical cord on the wooden floor, heading off down a narrow hallway. On the walls were pictures from Walter’s circus days and one of the sasquatch.

  “It’s…it’s my place…” said Walter. “You…forgot to close the door.”

  He picked up a big pole with a hook on the end that was lying on the ground next to the air bag. Then he stuck it up the hole, telescoped it upward, hooked onto something, and pulled the lid, or the stump, back on top. Immediately, the sounds of the forest, a bit distant anyway, were totally shut out. It was perfectly silent inside.

  “You learn to be inventive in the circus. I used to build all sorts of things. This is all I have left of my past,” said Walter. “Everything about my life is normal now, except this. This is where I come to get away. I wish you hadn’t followed me.” He paused, looking upset. “What will your parents think? They’ll be worried sick.”

  There was a sudden sound up above us in the direction of the stump. Someone, or something, was rapping on the “door.” Alice and I both sat bolt upright. How could anyone have followed us?

  Uncle Walter looked remarkably calm. In fact, he actually smiled.

  “Just a minute. Just a minute!” he cackled. With that, he shoved the pole back up the hole and forced open the hatch. Instantly we heard a raspy cawing and the sound of big wings flapping, and down into the space came a huge, black bird. Alice and I ducked and held our arms over our scalps, foreheads down on the air bag. But all we heard were more swooping wings, strange bird words, and Uncle Walter’s fatherly voice. I peeked out through my fingers with one eye.

  “Yes, yes, baby, I forgot you, didn’t I?” he cooed, his head bobbing up and down as he followed the dark, flying wonder. “‘Grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore’…come here.”

  He held out his arm and the big raven landed lightly. “Lady and gentleman, may I present the ultimate trickster, Mr. Poe.” It was larger than Uncle Walter’s head.

  “Poe!” said the raven.

  “He comes from the Queen Charlotte Islands. My last wife, my dear late wife, bought him years ago just before I retired, from a Haida gentleman who had trained him. He would have been wonderful for the circus, but I like him better the way he is. Wild.”

  “Wild!” said the raven.

  “Do you know that ravens are the smartest birds in existence? They can be taught to talk better than any parrot. Black and tricky and smart and legendary: that’s the way I like my little flying machines. One can never have too many clever friends when one is looking around out here.”

  “Sassss—squash!” cried the raven.

  “That’s sas-squatch, Poe. Sas-squatch!”

  “Sassss—squash! ”

  “He’s such a comedian.”

  I glanced down the narrow hallway, wondering where it led. Uncle Walter noticed.

  “You’re right, Dylan. It leads that way. Want to see it?” And with that he turned towards the passageway and began walking down it, with more spring in his step than I’d ever seen. Alice leapt to her feet and followed. She was loving everything she was seeing. Her eyes were shining. I scrambled after them. Poe jumped up onto one of Walter’s shoulders and expertly turned around. From there, he watched us. His eyeballs turned white and then back to black. He seemed to smile.

  “Ki-ids!” he cried.

  There was lots of light in the hallway at first and I could see the electrical cord running along on the floor. But we hadn’t gone very far before our passage got darker and much narrower. We were crouching as we walked…and I was starting to freak out: tunnels give me the creeps—they make me feel like I can’t breathe. But soon, things got lighter and I could hear footsteps on wood up ahead, as if Walter was climbing stairs. In seconds, I reached them too. They went straight up, in a steep, narrow, spiral staircase.

  I started climbing, Walter’s and Alice’s steps sounding directly above me. As the stairs wound around, we just kept going up and up. We were in some sort of tube, lit by thousands of little holes. It seemed as if we were above ground again. I noticed the electrical cord taped to the boards and going upward with us. Then I saw a bigger hole up ahead, with more light shining through. When I reached it, I pressed my face to it and looked out. We weren’t just above ground: we were way above it! I almost fell back down the stairs. It was like peering over the edge of a tall building. I could smell something like pine needles. Looking out and straight down, I saw bark and more bark. We were in a huge tree! And we were climbing to the top of it, from the inside!

  Maybe Walter had built a fake tree tower around a staircase? Maybe I was really losing my mind?

  “Uh, Uncle Walter, where are we now?”

  “You’ll see,” he said. “We’re almost at the peak.” Three minutes later the staircase ascended into what looked like someone’s living room: a very cool living room, at least ten metres long and half of that wide. Alice did a little swirl and sort of floated across the wooden floor in a dance with herself, her head pointed straight up and glowing with excitement. I looked up too and saw a roof filled with glass and beyond it blue sky. I realized that the glass part was a bunch of solar panels—the power source—just like a friend’s house back in Toronto. There were big windows all around. I walked over to one of them and looked out. I couldn’t believe it. We were way up in the air, almost in the sky, at the top of some of the tallest trees in the forest. And the trees here were gigantic. We were in Uncle Walter Middy’s tree fort…his secret hideout.

  It was so amazing that it made me smile. And I didn’t care how he’d done it. I suddenly felt truly happy for the first time since we’d left Alberta. Alice and I just walked around the room staring at the place. There were all kinds of illustrations and posters on the walls. The biggest one was of a guy I recognized. John Lennon, one of The Beatles, from the 1960s. It was a strange picture. He was sitting in a field of big red strawberries beneath a sky of diamonds, and underneath him was the word imagine.

  Uncle Walter had moved over to one of the largest windows and was standing there, looking out into the forest with his binoculars. Poe pushed off from his shoulder, pulled open a latch on a window with his beak, and flew out. We could see him dash straight up into the blue, becoming a speck.

  “Uh, Mr. Middy?” asked Alice.

  He lowered the binoculars. “Yes?”

  “What is this place, really?”

  “You can see for miles and miles from here, can’t you?”

  “Better to see him?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said. “I come here to be alone: to think. We’re out of the park, by the way, a good three or four kilometres beyond the boundary.” He paused. “About twenty years ago someone found footprints right under this tree fort, heading northeast. Big footprints. Or so he said. When I came to investigate the spot, I loved it. So, I built this place. But that was years ago, before I even moved here permanently, when I believed in nonsense, before I started making sense out of my life. It was childish, I guess. I try not to come here too often.”

  “Are we, uh, searching for him today?” I inquired, finding it difficult to believe that I was actually asking that question.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” repeated Walter, gazing through the binoculars again.


  “Why don’t we go into the forest and you can show us where those old footprints were?” Alice asked.

  “That wouldn’t make you a bad person,” I kidded him.

  Walter set the binoculars down abruptly, like he’d had enough. “I have to get you both back. You’re my responsibility.”

  Within minutes he had guided us back down the tree, into the underground room, and back up and out the stump. Then he herded us into the Hummer and roared back through the forest. As we neared the spot where he’d entered the woods, we saw some figures moving towards us through the trees. What was this?

  It was two people, struggling to get their footing as they made their way over the tough undergrowth. From a distance, I thought I recognized the way they walked. A minute later, I knew I did. It was Mom and Dad. And man, were they ticked off.

  How’d they find out where we were?

  “So, you’ve changed, have you!” shouted Dad as Walter climbed down from the Hummer and helped Alice and me out.

  “You have every right to be angry,” said Walter quietly. “I’m sorry.

  “Sorry isn’t good enough. Not when my son’s involved!” cried Mom. “Aren’t there grizzly bears around here?”

  “Yes,” said Walter, “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s a big word with you these days, isn’t it?” Why didn’t he just tell the truth? It was my fault, and Alice’s!

  “Mom, it isn’t his faul—”

  “Quiet, Dylan!” snapped Dad. “Someone saw you, Walter, driving off at an ungodly hour this morning, heading this way. Otherwise, we might never have found you.

  “We were coming back, Dad!”

  “I told you to hold your tongue!”

  I stopped talking. Mom and Dad weren’t being rational.

  “What’s out here, anyway, Walter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? A child’s response! Perfect! What are you looking for…the sasquatch?”

  “No, John. Just experiencing nature.”