Legend of Spiralling Cedars

by Natasza Waters

  Lacy shook her head. “You’re putting our visitors in danger.”

  “Why is that?” Constable Bitton asked in a harsh tone.

  “Because for some reason, Harry’s pissed off and killing people. He knows these forests better than any of us and he can use them to run circles around you. Herding our visitors into one place is irresponsible.”

  All four officers stared at Lacy.

  Sergeant Clancy swung his gaze to Rachel. “And who is Harry?”

  Rachel let out a sigh. “Harry is a legend.” She lowered her voice, a warning to Lacy not to say anything more.

  “I asked you a question, Ranger Crossing.” He leaned forward. “Unless you’d like to be detained here in your office, you’ll answer it.”

  Garrett’s hand swept against the hollow of her back and settled on her hip. “We saw someone hiding in a cave, a quarter mile west of the site. Instead of engaging, we returned here to wait for your arrival.”

  Clancy’s frown deepened. “Is Harry the squatter you mentioned?”

  The cops wouldn’t take her seriously if she explained Harry was the elusive Sasquatch. A name they’d coined from the movie Harry and the Hendersons. Her instincts told her that’s what she’d seen at the entrance to the cave, but her common sense wanted to side with Garrett. This had to be a hoax. A dark one. “No. I have work to do, Sergeant. Unless you intend to arrest me for murder, I have a park filled with people to protect that you’ve just put in danger.”

  Rachel stepped around the sergeant and made her way to the door. Lacy opened it for her.

  “Don’t leave the park, Crossing,” Sergeant Clancy warned.

  She stopped at the doorway, taking in four of Canada’s finest with a sweeping gaze. “I hope you do. Alive.”

  Garrett waited by the truck, and she flung her pack next to his behind the front seat.

  “You sure about this?” he asked.

  “Old man Conch is out there by himself.”

  He surveyed her with concern in his gorgeous blue eyes. “Rachel, if no one has come forward about a missing person, it might be Conch in that tree.”

  “I know.” She stared at the broad-shouldered warrior. Garrett had no reason to help her, but inserted himself into the fray of madness, regardless. “You should leave the park like the rest of the visitors.”

  Garrett stepped into the truck and closed his door. “Get in, Ranger Crossing. We have a murder to solve.

  Chapter Three

  It took five minutes to reach the start of Beaver Trail. Hikers loved the narrow path running through the lush depth of the park, ending at Ruby Waterfall. When Rachel stopped the truck, Garrett jumped out to investigate a red Volkswagen and a Nissan Pathfinder parked at the end of the road. She watched as he placed his hand on each hood.

  “They’re cold.”

  “They’re walk-ins. No one is supposed to camp outside of the sites. I don’t come down heavy this time of year because the risk of forest fire is low.” She muscled the backpack onto her shoulders. “We walk from here.”

  Garrett nodded, but his eyes scanned the landscape before joining her. “Guess you don’t have a GPS position of the old man’s cabin?”

  “I do. Why?”

  “I could check on him, and you could head back to headquarters.”

  “I’m going. Old man Conch doesn’t trust strangers. It took two years before he’d talk to me. He’s made friends with some of the Squamish Nation band members. Other than that, he lives a solitary life.”

  Garrett joined her on the beaten down trail leading into the forest. “What’s his story?”

  “Archibald Conch came to Canada in the early seventies. Fell in love, but something happened to his wife and child, and he withdrew from society. Conch isn’t a big talker when it comes to his past. He spends his time hunting and surviving. During winter, he carves miniature native masks from yellow cedar. They’re beautiful. The local band members sell his work and bring him a few supplies.”

  “Does he ever come out of the forest?”

  “Not that I know of.” Rachel adjusted the pack on her back. “I’ve never seen him in town. Mary Charlie visits him. She’s a tribal healer from the local band.”

  Rachel stopped. The absence of bird song quickened her pulse. The sun, long past high noon, filtered through the trees, setting a golden glow on the forest floor, igniting the residual drops of rain on the leaves.

  Garrett listened as well. “Do we leave the trail?” he asked, as if in tune with her thoughts.

  She patted a large boulder jutting from the hillside. To their right, tangled growth and spiralling cedars grew from the rich earth. Green moss clung to sharp contours of rock embedded in the ground. “Yes, we head east for two miles. The path is barely distinguishable. It’ll be soft in places. We just had three straight weeks of rain. Watch your step.”

  Garrett reached up and slowly drew a strand of hair away from her cheek. “It’s okay to be scared, Rachel. I won’t leave your side. No matter what we go up against.”

  “I shouldn’t be, we’re packing firearms. This is my home, but it feels foreign all of a sudden.”

  “You live here instead of in the city with your boyfriend?”

  Her stomach hitched with his question. “Is that your smooth way of asking if I’m dating someone?”

  “Obviously not so smooth, if you figured it out that quickly.”

  She chuckled. “Being a Special Ops type, I’d think you’d have that down pat.”

  When a grin crossed Garrett’s lips, her stomach did a handstand and a double backflip.

  “Maybe catching a beautiful woman’s eye, but not keeping her. Our schedule is hectic.”

  “You’re similar to the Navy SEALs, but Canada’s version, right?”

  He cleared his throat.

  “Sorry, is that an insult?”

  “No, a common response. And yes, we’re trained like them and have similar missions.”

  She grinned. “Bet you’ve never had an adversary like this before.”

  “I still believe this is a hoax. But if not and you’re right, a bullet will have the same effect. We’ll be fine. Lead the way, Ranger Crossing.”

  Rachel headed out with Garrett covering her backside. After forty minutes of hiking in silence, they reached an old cedar laying across the path. With a girth of at least ten feet, bark cracked and falling off, it was anyone’s guess as to how long ago it had toppled to the ground. The old tree was the five-minute marker to the cabin and confirmed she hadn’t veered from the trail.

  She scrambled up and over the trunk. Garrett placed his hands on top and leaped over with a side vault. Normally by this time, she’d smell wood smoke from old man Conch’s chimney.

  The hair on her neck tingled with warning, and she crouched down. Garrett joined her, his gaze surveying the area.

  “We’re being watched,” he whispered.

  Her skin tingled. She’d surmised the same thing. “Feels like it.” Call it instinct. Call it fear. It was a five-minute walk, but only a two-minute dash to the cabin. Suddenly, she needed to run.

  She took off without warning. A haunting scream bounced off the trees, and her legs pumped harder. With a quick look over her shoulder, she saw Garrett behind her. He’d swung the rifle into a position to fire. The scream sounded again. Branches cracked to her left. She didn’t dare look.

  When old man Conch’s cabin came into view, she saw Mary Charlie standing on the porch.

  “Get inside, Mary!” she yelled.

  Mary raised her head and turned toward whatever was trying to intercept them.

  “Run, girl!” Mary called. “Faster!”

  Rachel’s lungs burned. She didn’t stop, but Garrett did. He fired into the forest.

  An angry roar ricocheted off the trees. Another shot left the barrel of Garrett’s rifle. Swiftly, he turned and caught up, jumping onto the weather-stained porch in one leap. Harry, if it was him, remained in the shadows of the trees, but he roared at them.
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br />   “Let’s get inside,” Rachel said, urging Mary.

  She locked the door behind them. Stupid idea, after seeing the Meadows’ home. Whatever was out there could simply tear off the door and come in with gnashing teeth and claws.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe, Mary.” She hugged the old woman whose eyes remained bright, even in her seventies. Stepping away, she noted the small cabin vacant of old man Conch. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.” Mary looked warily at Garrett, who peered out the teeny window beside the door.

  “This is Garrett Wesson. He offered to come with me.”

  Mary unwrapped the brightly colored native shawl from her shoulders and walked toward the fireplace. Placing kindling into the blackened alcove, she said, “This is not normal for Sasquatch. They’re gentle creatures by nature.”

  Garrett’s attention broke from the window. “You believe in the legend?”

  “It is no legend, young man. For centuries, our wild people have spoken of the spirits in the forest.”

  “Wild men?” he asked, laying down his weapon, then joined Mary at the fireplace. He kneeled and lit the kindling for her.

  Mary shuffled to a rocking chair, marred by use, and sat down. “Our shamans live for years in the forest before returning to the tribe. They have all encountered Sasquatch and exist in harmony with the creatures.”

  “Plural.” Garrett glanced at Rachel. “There’s more than one?”

  “Many. They’re protective of their clan. Live in secrecy.”

  Rachel filled the kettle with water and placed it on the two-burner propane stove. They’d made it to the cabin, but how would they make it out, and where was old man Conch?

  “Mary, I don’t ever remember reading about an attack in these parts. Why is this happening?”

  “I do not know. I tried to leave, and he came rushing from the forest, so I remained here. I called for Archie, and the beast called out at the same time.”

  “I think he’s killed someone.”

  Mary stopped her slow forward and back motion on the rocker. “Archie wouldn’t hurt a soul.”

  “Not old man Conch. Sasquatch.”

  “No, they do not kill, other than for food, and never one of us.”

  “Somebody did. The remains are hanging in a tree.” Rachel cleaned three cups and set them on the wood-hewn counter then added some loose tea leaves to each from a rusty tin. “I have to call in and tell my staff we’ve made it here, but might not be making it out as quickly.”

  “Unit One, this is HQ.” William’s voice broke from her radio as if he’d read her mind.

  “Go ahead, William.”

  “We’ve had more trouble. Lacy took the RCMP to the site and returned to HQ. I just dropped by to check on them.”

  “Stand by.” Rachel watched as the elderly woman plucked her cane from the low cedar side table. “Mary, what are you doing?”

  “I must speak with the creature.”

  “No.” Garrett stepped in her way before she walked out the door. “No, you don’t. You can’t trust that thing.”

  She offered him a docile smile. “Sasquatch lives in harmony with the aboriginal people of the forest.”

  “Mary, I agree with Garrett. Maybe one of them is sick, or something’s agitated them. It’s acting irrationally. You can’t trust them.”

  “Trust is all we have offered the creatures. Nothing will break that bond.”

  Garrett looked to Rachel, then back at Mary. “I’ll go with you.”

  The elder shook her head. “No. You’re a white man with a weapon. The last thing Sasquatch will trust is you.”

  Rachel abandoned making tea and gently gripped Mary’s arm. “Please, don’t do this. This could be a hoax involving dangerous people. We’re not sure.”

  “I am a healer. A woman of the earth. Sasquatch will not harm me. I must try to understand him, then speak to my people.”

  Rachel let out a strained breath. She couldn’t physically stop Mary, but she wanted to.

  Mary wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and stepped onto the porch. Rachel barely breathed. Movement in the brush swayed the branches.

  “Oh, God. This is not wise,” she muttered under her breath, watching from the stoop. Garrett retrieved his weapon and raised the rifle into a firing position. She didn’t know whether to put a hand on the barrel and lower it or not.

  Mary walked with the help of her cane and trundled down the path. A grunt came from the trees. She raised her hand and stopped fifty feet from the edge of the forest. Would the creature show itself? Its elusive nature kept it in the realm of make believe.

  Mary spoke to the creature in her native tongue. Rachel’s blood froze in her veins when the creature roared from within the trees, but the brave, elder woman stood her ground. As she continued to chant, it began to grunt.

  “I don’t know what to do.” She hoped Garrett’s calm thinking could guide her because the loud drum of fear in her ears made it hard to hear.

  Mary reached the edge of the forest. From within the dense bush, a sequence of thuds began, as if something powerful banged its fists against a hollow chest. The tribal woman had nerves of steel. Rachel’s knees would have buckled two minutes ago.

  Garrett spoke with the rifle tucked to his cheek. “Say the word, Rachel, and I’ll bring it down.”

  “Can you see it?”

  “No, it’s covered behind those bushes, but it’s standing five feet from Mary.”

  Chapter Four

  Rachel’s fingernails cut into her palms watching the bizarre confrontation, or peace talks—she didn’t know which—between Mary and whatever was out there with her. The old woman called it Sasquatch. Did it actually exist? Could she communicate with the creature? This morning when Rachel woke, she’d never imagined the day unfolding like this, and it was only four o’clock.

  Mary continued to speak, and grunts returned from the bush. Rachel uncoiled her hands and took a gulp of clean, forest air to clear her thoughts.

  Standing on the porch, Garrett stiffened beside her. Before she could react, the animal screeched. From the right of where Mary stood, something thrashed through the forest. Rachel’s blood chilled when she saw a furry arm—just an arm—jut from the foliage and yank Mary into the brush. The Sasquatch roared.

  “Shoot it!”

  “I can’t see Mary. I could hit her.”

  Screeches and vicious growls bit into Rachel with fear. She’d witnessed wolves fighting once, and it scared the hell out of her, but this terrified her. From far away, something answered. A mournful howl.

  She darted off the rickety porch, but Garrett caught her within a few steps.

  “Mary!” she screamed. “Answer me!”

  The thrashing in the forest ceased for a moment and Mary stumbled from the brush. Rachel flew across the front yard, jumping stumps, until she reached the old woman’s side, but not before Mary fell to the ground. Kneeling, she propped the old woman against her body. Rachel couldn’t see any injuries. By the way Mary clutched her chest, she realized it was a heart attack.

  “Mary, hang on. We’ll get help.”

  The old woman slowly shook her head, then opened her eyes. “Betrayal.”

  “Never mind. Concentrate on breathing. You’re going to be okay.” Mary’s lids slipped closed. She wrapped her fingers around the healer’s wrist, feeling her pulse weaken.

  “They are not to blame,” Mary whispered.

  “Garrett, help me get her to the cabin.”

  Mary clutched her hand. “Listen, Young Raven. Tell our people we have a skinwalker in our forest. It has killed the gentle beast.”

  Mary’s eyes closed and she breathed her last breath.

  Garrett kept his gaze trained on the trees. “Rachel, we need to get back to the cabin now.”

  “I can’t just leave her here.”

  “Now,” he said sharply. Garrett thrust to his feet, the butt of the weapon tucked in his shoulder.

  “I won’t leav
e her.”

  With lightning-fast movement, her partner gripped the collar of her jacket and plucked her from the ground. More vicious growls emanated from the forest, closing in on them.

  “We need cover. Move, Ranger Crossing.”

  She shrouded Mary’s face with the beautiful native, handwoven shawl, and retreated. When they reached the cabin, Garrett remained on the porch until she was safely inside, then followed her.

  He peered out the tiny front window. “I only have so much ammunition.”

  “For what?”

  “Something answered that holler. They’re coming, Rachel. We might be trapped here.”

  Garrett had hardly stopped speaking when a thump sounded on the roof as if boulders were hurtled at them.

  “They’re attacking from the rear of the cabin.”

  Terrified against an unseen force, she positioned herself by the fireplace. “We didn’t do anything.”

  “Might not be aimed at us.”

  Rachel retrieved her rifle from the table. Garrett pushed the barrel of his weapon through one of the four small panes in the window. Thundering footsteps crossed the porch and a dark mass passed by. Garrett fired. A blood-curdling scream shot fear into every blood cell she had.

  “Did you kill it?”

  “Barely saw it.” Garrett didn’t move, his body tense and waiting. After a prolonged silence, he said, “You’re not going to believe this.”

  “What?”

  Rachel rushed to his side and squinted in the falling afternoon light. A large figure stepped from the bush and kneeled by Mary’s side. Carefully, it picked her body up and then quickly disappeared.

  “Damn it.” She rushed to go after them, but Garrett wouldn’t let her open the door. “What are you doing? I have to stop him.”

  “I’ll go.”

  He hadn’t cracked the door more than a foot and rocks the size of small boulders flew at the cabin. When he slammed it shut, all went silent.

  Rachel lowered the weapon she had trained at the front door, then pulled the radio from its holster. The battery on the handheld showed ten percent power. She might have one call before losing communication with her staff.