by Raylan Kane
“We're gonna need a closer look to confirm,” Jones said. She yanked the lever for the parking brake and shut off the engine. “Race you there.” She laughed, grabbing supplies from beneath her seat.
“Hang on,” Turner said. “Shouldn't we call Zita first? Let her know what we've got?”
Jones frowned. “No,” she said. “I don't think that's necessary at this point. Let's see what we have before we do anything.”
“I'm down,” Wilmer said. He looked back at the other two. “Pass me a flashlight, will ya?”
Jin handed Wilmer a flashlight. Wilmer stepped out into the rain shower. Jones shoved her flashlight into her pocket and hopped out of the vehicle as well. Jin reached down to his feet and pulled a nylon bag from the floor.
“What are you doing?” Jones said to him. “You coming or what?”
“Nah,” Jin said, “you guys go ahead. I'm gonna eat. I'm starving.”
“Mason,” Jones said, “what about you?”
“I'm with Jin,” Turner said, “I'm gonna have some lunch as well. Let us know what you guys find. I'm sure you will.”
Jones smirked. “Some scientists you guys are. Come on, Torres.”
Wilmer and Jones left the jeep and walked to the dirt slope, their hiking boots dug into the soaked earth and they climbed slowly up the rise toward the dark opening. Turner and Jin bit into their sandwiches and watched the others grow smaller as they walked away. Sully drooled over the two men's shoulders while they ate.
“You think there's anything up there?” Turner said.
Jin shrugged. “We've been out here how long now? If there was anything to that lady's story we'd have found it by now.”
The rain intensified as Jones neared the cave's entrance with Wilmer a few yards behind. “This was a bit steeper than it looked,” Jones said. “Look at the size of this thing.”
“Yeah,” Wilmer said, “a lot bigger than it looked from the road.” He glanced back down the slope to the jeep that looked almost as small as a toy in the distance.
Jones reached the opening first and pulled her flashlight from her pocket. The roof of the entrance was more than double her height. She sent a beam of light down the center of the cave and noted a hard-beaten dirt floor that descended steeply from where they stood. “What do you think?” She glanced behind to her colleague. “Should we go in?”
Wilmer shrugged. “Your call.”
Back in the jeep the two men struggled to keep an eye on the other two through the fat rain drops covering the side window.
“What are they doing?” Jin said.
“I think they're just standing there,” Turner said. “Geez, the size of that opening.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, it's a lot taller than they are.”
“Interesting.” Jin dug around in his lunch bag for a granola bar.
“Whoa,” Turner said, alarm in his voice.
“What?” Jin looked up, squinting. “What's up?”
“They're gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“They just went inside the cave.”
“Oh,” Jin said, “I didn't think they'd do that. Thought maybe they'd go check out the opening and we could bring back a larger team later.”
“Yeah,” Turner said, “I don't think they should be doing that at this point. I don't know why, and maybe this is completely silly on my part, but I have a really bad feeling about this.”
“Yeah, man, I'm with you on that.”
7
Thirty-five mile an hour winds blustered through the canyon and rocked the green jeep gently side to side. Thunder echoed above and rain fell in sheets. The torrent of water clanged on the vehicle's roof in hypnotic rhythm. Turner kept a worried eye on the black hole in the slope above. Jin sipped from his water bottle while his dog slept in the back.
“How long we gonna sit here?” Jin said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, we've been sitting here for quite a while. They should've come back by now.”
“We don't know how deep that cave is.”
“That's what worries me.”
“Whoa, look!” Turner shouted, and pointed up the hill.
Linnea Jones jumped and landed on her heels and they sunk deep into the soft dirt three-quarters up the slope. She lost her balance and tumbled twenty feet before she stood upright again, her face scratched, her clothes tattered. Jones breathed in and out fast. She ran down the hill, barely able to keep her legs under her. She fell again and slid on loose rocks.
“Holy crap,” Jin said, “what is going on?”
“She's in trouble,” Turner said. “And where's Wilmer?”
Sully sat up in the back, alerted by the two men's alarmed tone. He saw the panicked figure flail downward on the hill and barked.
“Sully stop!” Jin said.
Turner jumped out of the jeep and watched Jones pick herself up at the bottom of the hill. His eyes popped wide as he heard her cry and could see a gaping wound on her thigh, blood gushing out.
“Geez, Jones,” Turner said as she ran towards him, “are you alright?”
She breathed so heavily she could barely speak. Her eyes were wild, her movements spastic. She ran to the driver's side door, flung it open and grabbed the two-way radio off the dash.
“Mayday! Mayday! SOS!” Jones said, “this is not a drill. This is Linnea Jones, over! We need help, over! Again, this is Jones, come in, please!”
Turner and Jin shared a frightened look as they observed Jones, covered in sweat, blood flowing down her leg, her clothing torn.
“What the hell happened up there?” Jin said to her. “Where's Wilmer?”
“There's no time!” Jones shouted at him, her eyes large as medallions. “We've gotta get out of here, you understand? Fast!”
8
Jen Marsh sat on her couch in a trance. She stared at the wall across the room with a blank expression. The bottle of whiskey had grown warm in her hand. Only two swallows of the brown liquid remained. Reese gave up trying to get her attention by nudging her arm with his nose. Instead, he laid at her feet and whimpered.
Outside Marsh's townhouse, FBI Special Agent Zack Winters exited a black government sedan, accompanied by an older man in a hunter's jacket and a high-and-tight haircut, a stern expression on his face. Winters approached the door and rang the bell. Reese's shrill bark snapped Marsh back to reality, she plunked the bottle on the counter, and she shuffled from the living room to the front door. Winters and his companion noted the woman's disheveled appearance and picked up the scent of booze.
“Hi, Ms. Marsh,” Winters said, he caught himself before he referred to her as 'Deputy'. “Is this a bad time?”
“Nope.” Marsh looked the two men up and down, unimpressed.
Winters motioned to his left with his thumb. “This is Wally Simpson, he wanted to come.”
“I know who he is,” Marsh said. “Seen him around town. We've met before. How you doing, Wally? What are you doing wasting your time with this jerk?”
“Deputy,” Wally said with a nod. “We need you.”
“On second thought,” Marsh said, and proceeded to close the door in their face.
Winters frowned and banged his fist on her door. “Marsh, come on! I've been trying to get a hold of you for days. Apparently, you don't watch the news.”
Silence on the other side of the door.
“Look,” Winters said, believing she was still within earshot, “can we talk? We've been having some problems out in Hiller Canyon.”
Marsh swung the door open, her jaw dropped as though Winters confirmed something she already believed.
9
You're not as drunk as you think you are, Marsh said to herself. For hours she tried to will herself into a stupor, but her tolerance for whiskey had other ideas. Still, she recognized she wasn't completely sober, though the looks on the faces of her visitors was the closest thing to a cold shower she'd seen in a while. She shoved a stack of dirty plates aside and p
lugged in her coffee maker. Black coffee was just what the doctor ordered, plus it was enough of a distraction to take her mind off of what Winters had been saying the entire time he and Wally had been sitting on her sofa.
“Are you even listening to me?” Winters said to her.
“It's unbelievable, actually. You, D.A. Townsend, and pretty much everyone else treat me like dirt. You treat me like I'm crazy or something and now you want my help? Honestly, where the hell do you get off?”
“Marsh, can I finish what I was saying or what? Can you let me talk?”
Wally sat in silent observance of the back and forth. His quiet yet serious demeanor caused Marsh some apprehension. She glared at the man for a moment and then back at the Special Agent. “You're something else, Winters. You know that?” Marsh said. “You must really think I'm out of my mind if you think I'm going to help you.”
“Deputy Marsh,” Wally said, “if I may-”
“Oh,” Marsh said, “look at that. He speaks.” She turned her back to attend to the coffee maker.
“Deputy,” Wally said.
“Haven't you heard, Wally? I'm not a Deputy anymore. Your friend here and all his cronies saw to that.”
“Marsh,” Winters said in a low tone, “you know I had nothing to do with that.”
“Do I?”
“Deputy Marsh,” Wally said, “we're not asking you to go out to the canyon for no reason. We need you. This town needs you.”
“Yeah, well, maybe this town shoulda thought of that when they railroaded me back in that court room.”
Winters sighed at the comment and looked down at his hands. “So, what do you want us to do? I'm here, we're here because Branson could be in trouble.”
“I said as much a long time ago,” Marsh said. “You're just now coming around?”
“Maybe,” Winters said, “but I am. So are others. We've got people missing in the canyon. We're putting together a team, albeit a small one as not everyone agrees on the next course of action. We're talking about some locals, hunters, outdoors people, that kind of thing,” Winters said. “And you.”
“And me,” Marsh said. She poured herself a cup of coffee.
“You know some of the folks in town here know their way around the canyon,” Winters said. “They know what they're doing.”
“It's true,” Wally said. “We aren't going out there unprepared. Just the opposite, in fact. We got me and Bill Brothers, Sal Kurtz, Lindsay Watts. You know Lindsay, right?”
“Yeah, I know her.”
“Then you know she's one of the best hunters around. And Bill can track like nobody's business. Plus we got the Special Agent here. That's six of us, and that ain't bad.”
Marsh sipped her coffee and took a moment to contemplate the man's words. “No offense, Wally,” she said to him, “but I don't think you understand what we're really dealing with here. These aren't the normal brown bears you've dealt with out on the trails. This is something else entirely. There's more than enough trouble out there for anyone.”
“It's true,” Winters said, “we don't know what's really out there. We've received conflicting reports. But the thing is, Marsh, you do know. You've seen them, up close.”
“And you're asking me to do it again. It's a suicide mission. And what are you talking about, 'conflicting reports'?
“We've lost contact with our people, we know that much.”
“Of course you have,” Marsh said. “I could've screamed at you at the inquiry. At all of you. I knew sending people out there was a bad idea, but you and the D.A. and everyone else would rather get up on your high horses and be right.”
“Marsh, I'm here falling on my sword to some extent,” Winters said. “Can't you see that?”
Marsh glared at him and paused before responding. “Fine, Winters, fine.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, fine, I recognize you're expressing some regret over what happened.”
“If it were up to me, Marsh, they never would've stripped you of your position and removed you from the Sheriff's Department. As is it right now, we've got the Bureau covering the town from an enforcement stand point. God knows we've lost enough people out there.”
“That's right. And now you and your government bureaucrats have already sent how many others out to that canyon to die?”
“And that's why we need you,” Wally said. “I'm talkin' for the townsfolk here, Deputy, not Agent Winters here nor anyone else.”
“People are missing, Marsh,” Winters said. “Now, you know the lay of the land out there.”
“So, does Bill,” Marsh said, “so does Wally. Same for Lindsay. These are serious hunters.”
“Yes,” Winters said, “I get that, and I also get that the Bureau isn't sending the personnel I've requested. This isn't deemed a high priority as of yet.”
“The infinite wisdom of our government,” Marsh said scoffing.
“That's why I'm asking for your help,” Winters said. “We've got people out there in trouble. Help us find them.”
Marsh cradled the warm mug in her hands. She shuddered a little thinking of all she'd gone through out in Hiller Canyon. She thought of the fires. The bears of course, and then Cain's face. “You're FBI,” she said. “But you didn't send FBI out there, did you?”
Winters shook his head.
“It was naturalists, right?” Marsh said. “Scientists?”
Winters sat forward from the back of the couch and put his elbows in his knees. “Yes,” he said, “it's scientists. Biologists mainly. Government people. You knew this. Now we're involved from a law enforcement angle. We've been involved. It's come down to investigating the deaths, the missing people. But I'll admit, there's something else. Search and rescue. Now, I know that you know about that. That was part of your job description, right? The Sheriff's Department plays a role in search and rescue. Don't you want to do that again? I'm talking about helping people here. Isn't that why you got into policing in the first place?”
“All of a sudden I'm in a damned recruiting commercial,” Marsh said. She sat her coffee mug down. A part of her wanted to scream out that of course she was interested, but something else nagged at her. Fear. “Look,” she said, “I don't have time for this. I'm sorry, I just don't.” She glanced at the clock on the stove. “I've gotta get to work.”
Winters sighed, his lips flattened in a straight line and he looked at the floor before standing up. Wally stood up as well. “I understand,” he said. “I hear you're working at the diner now.”
“You heard right.”
“Pouring tea for seniors. Serving pancakes to lumberjacks?”
“The bills don't pay themselves,” Marsh said.
Winters nodded slowly. “Sounds like you've got it all figured out then. A nice little life you've managed to carve out of the mess from the inquiry.” He stepped over to Marsh and touched her hand before looking her dead in the eye. “Marsh, you were a Sheriff's Deputy, and now you're a waitress.”
“Let go of me,” she said.
“Hey, life happens, right?” Winters said. “There's no shame in it.”
“Let go,” she pulled her hand away.
“But what if I could get you reinstated?” Winters said. “What if I could get you your job back? I know the FBI would definitely show some appreciation in light of your assisting us.”
Marsh frowned at him. “Don't toy with me.”
“Who's toying?”
“You're saying, I agree to go with you, I could get my job back?”
“Yes,” Winters said. “The chance you've been waiting for. A chance you never thought would come. Mentally, what a boost that would be, right? Your career, back in your hands. Paying your bills? Think of the increase in pay. A big increase I should think.”
“Money's one thing,” Marsh said. “There's more to it than that.”
“I know,” Winters said, “I know. That's what I mean by a mental boost.”
“All of sudden you're a psychiatrist
too?”
“I know about the nightmares, Marsh. The fear. I was in that hospital room with you.”
The two of them stood staring at one another for a few seconds. “You don't know as much as you think you do,” Marsh said.
“Oh, I think I do,” Winters said. “Tell me, how do you think any of us get over our fears, huh? How do you think we combat those phobias? I think you know what you need to do.”
Marsh turned her back to him. “Not this way.”
“That's your answer?” Winters said, frowning.
“That's my answer.”
Winters sighed again, and shook his head. “Alright.”
“Please, go,” Marsh said. “Both of you, go. I can't go back out there. To Hiller Canyon. Thinking about it now is too much. Even if I did go back, I'd be completely useless.”
“It's fine,” Winters said, “hey, I get it.” Then he placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned to face him again. “But would you do me a favor, Marsh?”
She looked at him, confused.
“You have my number, right?”
She nodded.
“Will you do me a favor and at least think about it? Marsh, we need you. You know that area just as good as anyone in Branson. Anyone that's still alive or who isn't listed as missing, that is.”
Marsh glanced down, she couldn't look him in the eye any longer. Winters, disappointed, turned to walk towards the front door. Wally looked at her, but she didn't look up. “Thank you for seeing us,” he said before following Winters out. “I hope you change your mind.”
She heard the front door close behind them and she sat in the armchair next to the couch. Reese sat next her and she leaned forward to stroke his fur, running the conversation over in her mind. She exhaled loudly and the dog looked up at her.
“I don't know, Reese,” she said, “I really don't know.”
10
An old driver named Clive mashed the gas, pushing the bus past 50. Branches slapped the sides. 23 loggers tossed about the vessel like clothes in a dryer.
“Hang on!”
The crew chief, Denby, clung to a strap. “Slow down! You're gonna bust this thing!”
