by Watt Key
This whole time I had my back to the female. I hadn’t heard her move. But when I turned she was standing not two feet from me, looking down at my face. I froze, not knowing what was about to happen. She brought her hand up and placed it on top of my head. Then she slid her hand down the side of my face and onto my chest and stopped there, like she was feeling my heart.
31
After a few seconds the creature pulled her hand away and returned to sit at her place near the edge of the trees. I sat down in front of one of the boulders and leaned back against it, facing her and thinking about what had just happened. I believe she was telling me in her own way she was sorry for my loss. I think she also just wanted to touch me out of curiosity. I think she’d been building up the courage for it ever since we’d first met. Then I imagined she was lonely, but I knew I was just trying to give human emotions to something that wasn’t human.
How could anyone feel lonely when they’d always been alone?
These creatures live their entire lives with more challenges than loneliness and sorrow and worrying about what people think of them. I believe they simply live to eat and breed and help each other survive for another generation.
Why does it have to be so complicated for humans?
Maybe it doesn’t have to be.
“I need you to show me how to get out of here,” I said.
I pointed over the trees. “Home.”
She made a single click that meant nothing to me.
“I can’t live out here.”
She didn’t respond. It was like I was stranded on another planet with an alien who didn’t speak my language. Once again I thought back to what Stanley said. It’s like we’re the aliens, and they’ve always been here. And it was true. I was the only alien here.
“Tomorrow,” I said to her.
I shoved the cap into my pack, got my jacket out, and lay down and pulled it over me. Then I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Something woke me in the night. I opened my eyes and saw the creature still sitting against the edge of the palms. She had her head turned, staring off to her left. Then I heard what sounded like the whistle of a bullbat, but something wasn’t right about it. I’d been in the hammock long enough to have the sound of every creature burned into my memory, like a record I’d heard over and over thousands of times. The female made the same whistle in response.
I saw a dark form appear between the palms and stop at the edge of the clearing. It seemed like this one was a little taller than the female but not as big as Andre and Alpha. Then I heard another walking beyond the clearing, near where we’d first entered. The first one made a woofing sound I hadn’t heard before, and the female stood and returned a series of fast clicks. After that I heard a growl coming from what I thought was about fifty yards into the trees. The female looked at me and grunted. I didn’t move. I didn’t know what was happening, and it seemed like the creatures were everywhere around me. The growl came again, closer this time. The creature took one step and then she was right in front of me. She bent over and shoved me in the chest. I don’t think she meant it to be hard, but I fell backward and rolled onto my side. I lay there for a moment, confused. Then I grabbed the pack, scooted farther away from her, and stood with it. I found myself in the center of the clearing, grunts and growling rising around me. I shouldered the pack and spun in a circle, peering into the dark hammock on all sides. The female approached and shoved me again, and I understood she was telling me to leave. But I didn’t know where to go. It sounded like the creatures were everywhere. Suddenly I saw a massive dark body flying through the air like it had come from the trees. It must have been ten feet off the ground. The creature landed between me and the female without a sound. I knew right away it was Andre. And he wasn’t happy.
The beast leaned over me and growled, and I felt the sound vibrating in my chest and the queasiness flowing into me. I looked down and stuck my fingers in my ears and began backstepping until I tripped and fell. Then I rolled over and crawled toward the edge of the clearing. Once I was into the trees, I stood and began walking quickly, trying to remain calm. I heard a scream behind me that sounded like the death cries of an old woman. Then the hammock was alive with whoops and grunts and screams, like a pack of angry chimpanzees. I started running blindly, hearing them from all sides, like they were tracking me. I didn’t know where I was going—I just knew they didn’t want me in that clearing or anywhere close to it.
I didn’t think I could be bombarded with any more chaos. But then I heard a howl overlaying everything. I knew right away it was Alpha. And despite the crashing on all sides, I heard him coming through the trees behind me like a tank.
It felt like I had been hit in the back and lifted off the ground with a log. Then I was flying through the air. I saw stars and trees and felt cool wind in my face. There was no pain, and it seemed like time stood still. I’d always heard people talk about your life flashing before your eyes in the moment before death. It happens. In what could have only been seconds, I was with Dad, walking in the woods, listening to him tell me about poison oak. Then I was with Mom, watching her lay out some new clothes she’d bought me. Then we were all together, riding Space Mountain at Disney World. I heard the kids yelling over me and Gantt wrestling on the floor in the hallway. I saw Uncle John sitting alone in his house, worried about me. I saw crazy Stanley on the porch in his wheelchair, staring out into the darkness. And I wasn’t angry or upset with any of them. Those issues in that world seemed trivial. That was my world and the only place I could really exist. This was not my world. I would never exist here.
I slammed into the ground and tried to cry out that I wanted to live. That I didn’t want to die out here alone. That it was all a mistake, and I should have never come and would never come into their world again. But before I could utter a word, I felt a final blow to the back of my head.
32
I had a dreamy impression of moving swiftly through a swamp at night. There were tree limbs far overhead, and sometimes I caught glimpses of a star-specked sky and a full moon. There was no smell at all. No sound. Only the feeling I was flying, with a cool breeze filtering through my hair.
I woke to full sunlight in my face. I tried to move, and pain shot through my entire body. I tried to call out, but no sound came.
Sometime later I heard voices, and I saw blurred images of people leaning over and staring at me. Then I felt them moving me, and somewhere there was an ambulance and strobing lights, but still no sound.
* * *
Uncle John came into focus, standing over me. I heard the beeping of hospital equipment and the distant murmur of voices.
It was all a dream, I thought. I never even left this place.
“Adam,” he said.
It was strange to hear my name spoken aloud so close and clear. I tried to respond, but no words came.
Then I dreamt about the hammock, and I heard the frogs and the birds and the bubbling of the spring. I saw the female creature sitting against the edge of the trees, watching me.
“Adam,” I heard.
I opened my eyes, and Uncle John was there again.
He put his hand on my shoulder. “Can you talk?”
I tried to speak again. “I don’t know,” I muttered.
Uncle John smiled at me. “How you feeling?”
I tried to detect any pain in my body but felt nothing. Then I tried to move my head, but it wouldn’t work. I blinked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You’re pretty banged up.”
I tried to make sense of everything, but my thoughts moved sluggishly, like my mind was full of syrup.
“What’s wrong with me?”
Uncle John chuckled. “I’m not sure where to start, but you’re going to be okay.”
“I can’t move anything.”
“You’ve got a cast on your right leg and one on your right arm. You’ve got two broken ribs and three broken fingers.”
>
“Why can’t I move my head?”
“The doctor has it stabilized right now, just in case there’s a neck injury. He doesn’t think there is.”
“Am I paralyzed?”
“No, you’re fine. It’s all just a precaution.”
“How did I get here?”
“Some people found you on the roadside outside the Suwannee Refuge. Do you remember what happened?”
I tried, but I wasn’t sure about anything.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“They think maybe you were hit by a car.”
“I don’t know,” I said again.
“Okay, we can talk about it later. I’ll go get the doc. He said he’d take the head brace off after you woke up.”
* * *
I spent three more days recovering in the hospital. The pain medicine made me sleepy and kept my mind vague and blurry. Uncle John brought me some new clothes and continued to visit before and after work. Dr. Ensley checked on me throughout the day. Sergeant Daniels returned with his notebook. They all wanted to know where I’d been for two months.
I told them I didn’t remember anything. But I did. Everything except how I’d gotten out of the Refuge. I suspect the female or Andre carried me, but I’ll never know. I told myself I wouldn’t talk about it again. That I would live the rest of my life trying to forget, trying to make myself believe it never happened, like Stanley had told me I should do.
Keeping the story of the creatures to myself was easy. Especially since I’d lost all proof of their existence. I knew from experience that mentioning anything about them would only lead to more problems for me. It wasn’t so easy when it came to my parents. I knew where their bodies were—at least I had been there. But it would be impossible for me to ever find the place again. And even mentioning that would bring the whole conversation around to Bigfoot.
What was the point in talking about any of it?
Dr. Ensley said I could return to school after a few more days of rest, but it was going to take weeks for my broken bones to heal and all my casts to come off. And I’d probably need a wheelchair for most of that time.
On Thursday Uncle John wheeled me out of the hospital. The late November air was wet and cold and windy, like winter had been holding off, waiting for me to leave the Refuge. But my nose and ears were still too sensitive for city life. The smell of wet asphalt was strong enough to make me gasp. All the smells outside seemed so chemical and intense—rubber and plastics and cooking oils and perfumes. The sounds were metallic and unnatural and made me uneasy.
Uncle John noticed I was acting strange. “You okay?” he asked me.
I nodded.
“You got your teeth clenched.”
I opened my mouth and worked my jaw. “I’m fine,” I said.
* * *
Uncle John’s house looked nicer than I remembered but had a strong antiseptic smell to it. He helped me to my bedroom, and I saw he’d gotten a new bed and desk for me. Against the back wall was a small table with my old television and Xbox.
“Went and got some more of your stuff for you,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said. Then I looked at the corner of the room, where there was a chest of drawers. Sitting on top was something I never expected to see again.
I pulled away from Uncle John and wheeled myself across the room, stopping in front of the stained and tattered backpack. I stared at it, still not believing it was here. I’d thought about a lot of things since I’d woken up in the hospital, but for some reason, I hadn’t thought once about the pack.
“Where did you get this?” I said.
“The people who found you said it was lying on the roadside. They brought it by the house.”
I reached out slowly and grabbed the pack and pulled it down into my lap.
“Not much in it,” he said.
My heart began to race. “The clothes in there look worse than the ones they found you in. Sure wish you could remember something.”
I didn’t answer him.
“Maybe there’s some pictures on that camera that’ll refresh your memory.”
33
I turned the chair and looked at Uncle John. I studied his face, trying to detect any hint that he was joking about the camera.
“Seriously, Adam,” he said. “How can you not know anything about what happened?”
I didn’t answer him.
“Two months. You know what I’ve been doing for two months?”
I shook my head.
“I’ve been driving all over the Florida Panhandle and clear into Alabama putting out missing person signs. I nearly lost my job over it. I think I deserve an explanation.”
“I know,” I said. “Maybe I’ll remember soon.”
He stared at me.
“I think I want to be alone,” I said.
He nodded and sighed. “All right. Get some rest. I’m headed to work in a couple of hours. Call me if you need anything.”
Uncle John left the room and pulled the door closed behind him. I unzipped the pack and reached inside. I felt my cap. My extra shirt. And the camera.
Surely it’s broken.
I pulled it out and looked it over. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with it.
* * *
My hands trembled. It was hard to grasp the enormity of what I held. On the camera was possibly the most convincing proof of Bigfoot ever obtained. Close-up photos from every angle of a young female in the wild. It made me nervous just holding it.
I took the camera to my dresser, opened the top drawer, and shoved it under the clothes. Then I shut the drawer and backed away and stared at it. Now I had everything I’d set out to get and more. And I tried to remember what my original plan had been.
Get evidence of these creatures so people don’t think I’m crazy. So I don’t end up like Stanley.
But it didn’t seem so simple now. I thought back to what Stanley had said about the government cover-up.
What if it were true? Could I afford to risk it?
Surely I couldn’t simply take the camera to Walgreens and have the pictures developed. What if the government was on the lookout for that kind of thing? My old school had a photo lab, but I no longer attended there, and I didn’t even know the photography teacher. On top of all these problems, it was going to be weeks before I could even get around without a wheelchair or crutches.
I didn’t know what to do. So I did nothing.
I just got really quiet. I felt the two secrets, the location of my parents’ bodies and the Bigfoot photos, swollen and lodged inside me, like tumors I would have to feel and carry the rest of my life.
* * *
On Saturday we had Mom and Dad’s memorial service in Perry. Uncle John had been holding off, waiting for me to return. That morning I didn’t take the pain pills because I thought they would make me too sleepy during the ceremony.
It was a small gathering, but a few of my old friends from school showed up with their parents. It was strange seeing them. It was strange seeing anybody from my old life. I didn’t know what to say and had a hard time making conversation. I looked them in the eyes and heard them speaking, but I couldn’t seem to listen to anything they said.
I kept repeating to myself, You don’t even know. You don’t know anything.
They were all so ignorant. Just as I had been. It was impossible for me to see things around me in the same way. Take the Xbox, for instance. If you’d asked me three months before how much I liked playing video games, I would have said it’s about my favorite thing to do. Now, that Xbox seemed like the stupidest waste of time I could imagine.
Everything—all the stuff—was ridiculous. The televisions we stared at, the cars and trucks we climbed inside of and rode around in. The machines we used to mow our grass and the clothes we put on and the flags we pulled up poles and saluted. What’s it all about? Don’t these people know anything? How did everybody get like this?
After the service Uncle John took me home an
d helped me to my room.
“How are you doing?” he asked me.
“Everything hurts. Can you get my medicine for me?”
He left and then I heard the water running in the kitchen sink. A moment later he returned with a glass of water and one of my pain pills.
“Thanks,” I said.
He watched me while I took it.
“You know you can talk to me about things … If you feel like it.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I was thinking maybe we could go fishing tomorrow.”
Fishing. With a rod and reel. So pointless.
“How am I supposed to go fishing like this?”
“We can—”
“No. I just want to be alone.”
He started to say something else but stopped himself. “Adam, would it make you feel better to move back to Perry? I’m just asking. Maybe you’d like to be with your old friends.”
I shook my head. “I just want to be alone.”
Uncle John nodded like he understood and left my room and closed the door behind him.
The secrets continued to smolder inside me. I sat in the wheelchair and stared out the window. I couldn’t stop thinking about the creature who’d helped me and the spring. I still heard the birds and the crickets and the frogs playing in my ears, like I’d never left. Then I fell asleep with my chin on my chest. At some point the pain medicine wore off and the nightmares slipped over me, easy and silent as shadows. I dreamt that I was standing alone in the night beside my old campsite. There was no sound except for the trickling of the spring, no stars and no moon. It was so dark I could barely see the outline of the trees overhead. Then I heard the terrifying sound of Alpha screaming his fit of rage at the night. Coming for me.
I opened my eyes and breathed heavily and stared out the window into the gloam of dusk.
How is this any better? Now I know. I know everything, but nothing is better. I did it all so I wouldn’t be like Stanley … And now I am Stanley.
