by Raylan Kane
An FBI Agent, seated close to one end of the table, addressed Marsh. “I'd like to go back to this point about the cave you said you'd found.”
Marsh frowned at the woman. They'd been over this. “I don't get you. Any of you, really. We have been here for nearly four hours. How many different ways can I tell you the exact same story?”
A woman at the opposite end of the table cleared her throat before speaking. It was the District Attorney for the area, Fiona Townsend. “Deputy Marsh, try and see it from our point of view.”
Marsh spun on her heels to face the woman and she glared her, nostrils flared. She could feel her heart beat more rapidly. Townsend glared back at her and then motioned towards an empty chair adjacent to the table. “Please sit,” Townsend said.
The Deputy folded her arms as she glanced at the empty chair.
“Please,” the D.A. said.
Marsh rolled her eyes and sat down.
“Now,” D.A. Townsend said, “you freely admit to having blown up the caves with dynamite, and you'd discharged your service weapon out in the woods around Hiller Canyon, multiple times in fact. Not to mention the destroyed police vehicles that had been in your care.”
The FBI Agent raised her hand before speaking, “that's thousands of dollars in damage, by the way, just for that part.”
D.A. Townsend continued, “we have the flight recorder from Sheriff Lake's helicopter communications. Admittedly, it corroborates certain aspects of your account, in that, for reasons unknown, the forests out there were indeed fully ablaze. Dynamite and firing off rounds from your pistol indiscriminately in a dry forest environment seems a good explanation, but what we're trying to understand is, why would you set a fire like that? Knowing the dryness of the conditions, knowing you'd be endangering potentially thousands of innocent lives. Yet, Deputy, you didn't appear to take any of this into account while firing off all of this weaponry in a vulnerable tract of forest.”
All eyes in the court room turned to Marsh. Eyes of skepticism, eyes that demanded answers.
Marsh drew in a deep breath. She wasn't certain her constant mantra to keep calm was doing the trick. She looked up from the table and back at the District Attorney. “That fire was never my intention,” she said. “I didn't set those fires. I told you, we had orders to rescue everyone we could from the canyon. But it wasn't because of the fires. Something was out there killing people and destroying all of that expensive equipment you've mentioned, including my truck. That was all part of it. Those animals, those things, they destroy everything in their path.”
The gallery murmured nervously upon hearing those words. D.A. Townsend rapped her gavel to bring the room back to silence.
“Our analysis team,” Townsend said, “our experts, which went over the area through and surrounding Hiller Canyon, I'm talking tree by tree, found no physical evidence of any kind to match these typed of grizzlies that you've described.”
“Fantastic!” Marsh shouted with a mixture of anger and sarcasm. She jumped up from her chair. “That's because I blew them straight to hell!”
The gallery erupted with chatter.
“Order!” Townsend barked.
“I've told you repeatedly,” Marsh said, “I blew them up! Now, if there were more, I don't know why you didn't find them. But tell you the truth I think there are more. They're out there right now.”
The comment once again riled the gallery, but the suits at the table looked at one another with skepticism.
A male FBI Agent looked to one of the biologists seated nearby. “Are there any species like this giant bear that she describes anywhere in the world, let alone right here in Alaska?”
The biologist sat forward in her chair, no emotion on her face. “No,” she said, “there's been no evidence of that.”
Marsh sighed so loud the entire room could hear it. “Am I really the one with the head injury here? People, I've already told you what I saw. I remember it very clearly. I don't think I'll ever close my eyes again without seeing it. A fifty foot tall grizzly bear. As real as this stupid table! I don't know who she is,” Marsh said pointing at the biologist who'd just spoken, “but it was verified by other biologists. It was witnessed by others who'd been in that canyon. What is it that none of you are getting? I know what I saw.”
The biologist, annoyed, frowned at Marsh. “You saw something never recorded once in centuries of scientific endeavor and discovery. Never once in human history. An animal the size of a dinosaur that also happens to look exactly like a grizzly bear.”
“Yes,” Marsh said, “that's right.”
“This is really what you want to put on the record?” The biologist said, “In your name?”
Marsh pursed her lips and glanced at the gallery, seeing everyone's rapt attention cast towards her. “That's right. In my name,” she said. “Look, I can see what you're trying to do. You would rather have me confused, or that I would confuse myself. You want to discredit me, I get it.” She walked back to her chair and sat down. Her voice lowered and she plunked the end of her finger into the table. “But I'm telling you, all of you, those things exist.” She sat back and folded her arms across her chest, a look of defiance on her face.
“Thank you, Deputy,” D.A. Townsend said, “I think we've heard enough.”
“Really?” Marsh said, her tone heated, “because I don't think you're hearing me at all. Cain, my friend, remember him? Cain, the renowned hunter. Would you have believed him? He saw it. What about Sheriff Lake? What about what he saw? What about those loggers, huh? Or the biologists I've already mentioned, from the university. The ones that brought up those bones? They're all liars then? Is that it?”
“Thank you,” Townsend repeated, “that'll be enough.”
Marsh completely lost her cool hearing the District Attorney's condescending tone. “Goddamn you, it's not enough!” She hollered. “You weren't out there! None of you were! And you'd better hope like hell that one of those things doesn't come here. And when that happens you wanna talk about what's 'enough'?”
Everyone in the gallery gawked at her, breathless. The room was completely silent. The officials at the table sat looking at the Deputy with stunned looks on their faces. Marsh reached down to the table and grabbed an empty paper cup. She held it up in front of her face and crumpled it.
“When Branson's under siege from those things I don't think any of you will be quite so smug. When you come face to face with a monster you understand what's what pretty damn quick. When it happens to you you'll realize that none of this, any of this, matters. You think you have answers? You think you know, but you have no idea what's out there. No idea! And when it comes, oh, and it will, where will you be then, huh? What will you be saying then?”
The people at the table refused to look the Deputy in the eye, instead they averted their gaze and Marsh's shouts echoed through the court room and then died in an awkward pregnant pause. District Attorney Townsend coughed to clear her throat and appeared unmoved by Marsh's words. “As chairperson of this preceding I move to conclude,” the D.A. said, “those opposed say 'aye'.”
No one spoke.
“Very well,” Townsend said. She looked at Marsh and then clasped her hands together on the table in front of her while sitting forward in her chair. “It is the finding of this inquiry that Sheriff's Deputy Jennifer Marsh, Badge Number 736, has behaved wantonly, destructively, and has displayed questionable judgment, acting with reckless disregard for both the public's and her own personal safety and also with similar disregard for that of her former colleagues. Deputy Marsh's previous poor decision-making in the field considered, and in light of her recent physical and mental trauma, this panel finds that she is unsafe to serve as a law enforcement officer going forward. Deputy Marsh's badge, her title, and her status are hereby suspended indefinitely.”
Marsh had a thought to jump up in protest, but she recognized the futility of doing so, instead she sat with arms folded, glowering at the District Attorney.
“Deputy Marsh,” Townsend said, “or should I say now, Ms. Marsh, you should know that no criminal charges will be filed against you at this time, and you are free to leave here today. However, you will be placed under a twelve month period of administrative probation under the purview of the state during which time it is required that you undergo a psychiatric assessment and treatment, and that you remain in the state of Alaska for the duration of this time. No exceptions.”
Are you kidding me? Marsh thought to herself. She sighed loudly enough for most to hear and closed her eyes for a moment.
The D.A. pretended not to notice. “This inquiry is adjourned,” she said.
The words “FILE CLOSED” appeared on the projector screen. All of the officials that were seated around the U-shaped table stood up and gathered their documents, pens, phones, and recording devices. The crowd of spectators in the gallery rose from the benches and the room filled with noise as people began to talk and dozens of feet scuffled their way across the wood floor toward the exit.
Special Agent Winters glanced over at Marsh who remained seated, and he walked over to her. “Hi,” he said, “that didn't go so well. You know-”
Marsh cut him off standing up in a quick burst. She rushed to District Attorney Townsend before she was able to leave the court room. Winters chased her. “D.A. Townsend,” Marsh said.
The District Attorney stopped, two other officials stood beside her, all glared at Marsh standing in front of them.
“Why don't you stay in town a while,” Marsh said to the D.A., “check out Hiller Canyon for yourself?”
A smarmy smiled curled Townsend's lips. “Why would I do that?” She said. “We pay experts for a reason. I don't need to go out into the woods, it's what we pay them for, and they've all said the same thing. Deputy, there's no such as a five-story bear.”
Marsh frowned and clenched her jaw. Townsend turned to walk out, but then the Deputy stepped in front of her.
“Hey, Marsh,” Winters said, trying to stop her from doing anything stupid.
“What experts are you talking about?” Marsh said, practically growling at the D.A.. “That bimbo you had in here today?”
Townsend refused to be intimidated. She looked Marsh dead in the eye as she spoke. “Biologists, Ms. Marsh. Naturalists. Rangers. All of them have been out there. Matter of fact, they're still out there.”
Again, the D.A. attempted to walk out, but this time Marsh slammed her hand against the wall next to the woman's head. Townsend's eyes popped wide. “What do you think you're doing?” She said.
“Marsh, enough,” Winters said, but the Deputy refused to hear him.
“You're telling me you have people out there?” Marsh said, incredulous. “You're saying they're in the canyon, right now? How many people? How many of these experts have you paid to be out there?”
“My patience with this is wearing thin, Ms. Marsh.”
“How many?” Marsh's voice grew louder.
“I don't know,” Townsend said, “off the top of my head, maybe 15 or 20.” She gestured towards Marsh's arm in front of her face. “Now, if you don't mind.”
The prospect of that many people in Hiller Canyon shocked the Deputy and she stared off into space in contemplation, and she dropped her arm out of the D.A.'s way. Townsend and her colleagues walked out.
Special Agent Winters stepped in front of her. “What was that, Marsh? Just what are you trying to accomplish doing that?”
Marsh's mouth hung open, she ignored the FBI Agent in front of her, and she continued to stare straight ahead. Fifteen to twenty people? She thought to herself rolling the image of them out there vulnerable in the open wilderness around and around in her mind. She shook her head, fearing the worst. My God, she thought. These people really are crazy.
5
A ceiling of gray clouds hung above hundreds of square miles of black and white spruce. Strong winds pushed through Hiller Canyon. A storm gathered. Near a wide point in the Ryback River, a metal sign rattled on the breeze, stuck in the ground next to an open-air dining shelter. The sign read: Ryback Creek – Swim at your own risk. A 4x4 jeep rolled toward the shelter on a gravel path. The driver was a biologist, Zita Keller, and she navigated the vehicle up next to a white pick-up truck and parked next to the dining shelter. Zita jumped out of the driver's seat and walked to the picnic table at the center of a concrete pad under the shelter's wooden roof. Five people sat at the table, two women and three men. Two of the men wore Forest Ranger uniforms. Zita smiled at the group, stood behind the Rangers, and lifted a paper cup full of orange juice from the table.
One of the Rangers turned when he noticed Zita's arm reach over him. “Didn't expect to see you here for lunch,” he said.
“I only came by to let you all know I'll be headed for the west side of the canyon,” Zita said. “Plus I needed a fresh battery.” She held up her walkie. “I'll be on channel 2 if you need me.”
A few in the group acknowledged and gave her a nod. Zita took a sniff of the juice before taking a sip and turned up her nose. She tossed the liquid away from the shelter. The juice splashed into the dirt. She turned to walk to the nearby outhouse when the Forest Ranger spun on the picnic bench and called over to her. “Zita?”
“What's up?” She stopped in front of the outhouse door.
“You had Jones and Turner out on the east side this morning, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Jones radioed earlier, said she thought she'd found something. She's worried she won't get credit for the discovery.”
“Credit for what? What discovery? First I'm hearing of it.”
“I don't know,” the Ranger said, “tracks maybe? I'm guessing. Maybe claw marks? Anyway, she's worried because you sent her out there that somehow you'll get the credit.”
“Credit,” Zita muttered, chuckling. “When do I get credit? I find things in the field all the time and if anyone gets the credit it's always someone in a plush office back in the city. Another plaque for them to hang.” She glanced at the ground for a moment. The nerve of that woman, she thought. “If Jones radios again, tell her to talk to me, like I said I'll be on channel 2.”
“Alright,” the Ranger said, “but what do I tell her if she's asking about who gets credit or whatever?”
Zita sighed. “Tell her as far as I'm concerned whatever she finds out there it's hers. It can be in her name, alright? She can have her picture in the paper, she can go on CNN, all of that. Really, I don't care.”
Before stepping inside the outhouse, she happened to look at the group seated at the picnic table. She pointed a finger at the group. “Look,” she said to the Ranger.
“What?” He appeared confused at first then looked over at the group. They were laughing and carrying on and didn't seem to notice garbage and food wrappers as they blew from the table in a gust, landing on the grass next to the Ryback. The Ranger frowned and shouted over to them. “Come on, guys.”
“What?” Came a voice in reply.
“Look at the trash,” he said. “You know we're supposed to be careful out here with that stuff. Is this really something I have to repeat? You know your jobs. We're trying to find evidence of these animals, not meet one up close and personal. You know?”
Zita shook her head and stepped into the outhouse.
6
Light rain sprinkled on the windshield of a green jeep. Four scientists sat inside the vehicle. Two in the front, two in the back. One of the scientists, Jin-Soo Lee had his boxer, Sully, along for the ride. Sully sat in behind the rear seats panting, stressed after hearing a slight rumble of thunder overhead.
Another of the researchers, Mason Turner, touched his compatriot on the shoulder and smiled. “I told you, Jin, green was a bad choice to wear today. With you in that sweater, anytime you walk into the brush I can't tell you from the forest.”
“You're basically admitting you can't see the forest for the trees,” Jin said.
Linnea Jones stared up at the darkening sky from the dri
ver's seat. “Do either of you stop talking? I can't even hear myself think up here.”
Jin chuckled. “All of a sudden I'm on a scientific expedition with my mother.”
Linnea Jones scoffed at the comment. “By the way, Jin,” she said, “your dog stinks.”
“Gee, that's only the five thousandth time you've said that. I get you don't like that he's here, but it's like I told Zita, where I go, he goes.”
“Can't believe she agreed to that.”
“Well, she did. So can we stop talking about it?”
Jones pressed the gas again and the jeep continued rolling forward along the narrow gravel road on Hiller Canyon's east side.
The scientist in the passenger seat next to Jones was Wilmer Torres. He ignored the conversation and continued staring at the wet forest all around. Then something caught his eye. “Whoa,” he said, “hang on. Wait a minute.”
Jones pressed the brake and crouched down.
“Jones,” Wilmer said, “you see that?”
Up a steep slope to their right appeared a large black opening surrounded by tall stalks of yellow grass. Jones's eyes lit up. It appeared to be an opening to a cave.
“I see it,” Jones said. She smiled. “Guys, this could be big. Might really have something here.” She drove the jeep forward another thirty yards and parked it on the edge of the road, directly beneath the gravel rise that led to the opening.
“Is that what I think it is?” Jin said.
