by Sienna Parks
Babs comes to my rescue.
“Women are just as capable as men. If she thinks she can handle it, then who are we to say otherwise?” But, I see the same concern in her eyes.
“Arron, your mom said you might be willing to help me get kitted out at the store?”
“Sure. I can take you in the morning. I have a great one-man tent you can take. It’ll keep most of the cold out.”
“Thanks.”
“And, I’ll give you my number in case of an emergency. You can call me, or Mom, anytime day or night.”
“You’re all very sweet to worry about me. I’ve been in much worse places than a tent in the cold.” Their trepidation gives me pause, but if I want a paycheck this month, I need to suck it up and get on with it.
I steer the conversation to lighter subjects and away from me. It’s interesting to hear what brought everyone to the B&B, but I can’t help thinking about my conversation with Babs earlier. She’s busy serving dessert, so I turn my attention back to Arron.
“Your mom was telling me about a man on the mountain today. Do you know who she was talking about?” He throws his head back and laughs. I guess I was right, but it was worth a shot.
“She’s a silly old coot sometimes. She was talking about the sasquatch.”
“The what?”
“Sasquatch. There’s a story going around to draw in tourists. Sightings on the mountain. No one lives up there. It would be impossible to survive, especially at this time of year.”
“Oh.” He misinterprets my disappointment for a story as fear.
“You have nothing to worry about. It’s just a made-up money spinner. Tourists flock to town to see if they can get a picture of the elusive sasquatch, and then they spend, spend, spend.”
Babs overhears us and stops what she’s doing.
“That beast is up there. Mark my words. It may not be what they say it is… but something lives on that mountain.” The table goes quiet. I’m not sure if they’re buying into this crap, or like me, they’re trying not to laugh. I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings, but it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. The sasquatch is about as real as the Loch Ness Monster.
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled, Babs. If there’s a picture to be had, I’ll get it.”
“You see anything up there, you call us, and get as far away as you can. I mean it. You’re a sweet girl, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I promise I’ll look after myself.”
“I’m going to take you to the grocery store before you go. Get you some proper food to keep your strength up.”
“Fair enough.”
The conversation takes many detours, but it keeps coming back to the mountain. Without hope for an interesting story, I decide to call it a night. It’ll be my last sleep in a warm, cozy bed for a few days.
2
TRAVIS
I’m flying under the radar today—not an easy thing to do when you’re the local sasquatch. Eli is a beacon for drawing the attention of everyone around him. He’s the cutest little guy, but he ruins my chances of wandering around Cricket incognito, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I have a property on the edge of town, but we rarely stay there. My little man and me prefer the cabin—just over halfway up Bear Paw—it’s as quiet as can be. We laugh, play, and hunt on our own terms. I don’t have to be Travis Thorburn anymore—I’m just—Daddy.
I used to enjoy the attention that came with being the star quarterback. To Angela, it was an unfortunate byproduct of my career, but we enjoyed the spoils… while they lasted. I had so many plans for our future. Elijah was just the beginning. I pictured four kids—three boys and a girl. They’d all be athletic, but our daughter would look just like Angela—soft, sweet, and cute as could be. She would have been the most amazing mom. I’ve spent countless nights imagining how she would’ve fallen in love with Eli at the sound of his first cry… delighting in every detail of his helpless perfection.
I miss her with every beat of my heart.
In truth, I don’t know what to do with myself for the next two weeks while Eli visits his grandparents. They arranged a special trip to their lake house, and against my better judgment, I let him go. I know what people say when they see us in town—“it’s no way to be raising a child, keeping to themselves all the time.” Lucky for me, I gave up caring about other people’s opinions years ago. My boy is healthy, happy, and carefree. He wants for nothing… except for the one thing I can’t provide—his mommy.
The locals try to make small-talk, but I’m not interested in getting to know anyone, and I don’t want them to know me. They ask if we have family nearby, and the obnoxious busybodies always inquire about Eli’s mother. I get by with a grunt or a groan and the occasional vague pleasantry.
Whispers echo in the background as I throw the necessities in my cart. It’s human nature to be nosy, but no one around here cares enough to follow me home. Eventually, someone will figure out my identity, and the life I’ve built with Eli will be crushed like a fly with the pages of a daily tabloid.
“Where’s the little one, today?” The voice behind me is familiar. I’ve heard her friends refer to her as Babs. She seems harmless enough, but everywhere you go in this Tinker Toy size town—she’s there. I don’t think I’ve ever done a supply run without setting eyes on her.
“Grandparents.” I attempt to engross myself in the nutritional properties of a can of baked beans, but she’s not buying it. With a gentle touch of my arm, her smile beams so bright it can’t be ignored.
“Good for you. It takes a village. I imagine it’s not easy raising a little gentleman alone.” The questioning pity in her voice only serves to reinforce the walls I’ve built around myself.
“Have a pleasant day, ma’am.” I pull my baseball cap a little lower and head to the next aisle. I don’t know why I still wear it when I’m out in public. I doubt even my friends could pick me out of a line-up these days. It was rare for me to be anything other than clean-shaven during the season—like most athletes, I had rituals and superstitions that I stuck to. The morning of every game, I would set my razor on the vanity with my favorite shaving cream. After a four-minute shower, I’d wrap a towel around my waist and stand in front of the mirror for a moment before commencing my meticulous shave.
Angela always begged me to leave the scruff on my chin. She said she liked the way it felt on her thighs as she writhed in pleasure. Every year, the second the season was over, I’d stop shaving just for her. Now, you can barely see my face for the thick growth of my beard. At first, I didn’t care. Where had my rituals gotten me? My wife was dead, and I had a newborn son without a mother. After a while, I realized my beard was the perfect way to blend in and become just another face in the crowd.
Last year, listening to the quiet conversations of this town, it made me laugh to hear the rumors of a sasquatch on Bear Paw. Over the months, the rumors grew to a family of them terrorizing hikers. I laughed so hard I just about broke down in the middle of the hardware store on Main Street. It’s become a game for Eli and me—hiding from hikers. I can see why a six-foot, six-inch guy with a beard and a mane of unruly blond hair could be mistaken for a sasquatch. I’m doing this town a favor! The tourist trade from my mistaken identity… species… has skyrocketed.
My cabin is off the beaten track. Hikers would have to be pretty lost to end up anywhere near us. The only people who know where to find it are my parents and Angela’s. They don’t come up here, but it’s only fair that they have a location for emergencies. All four of them have been supportive of my choice to raise Eli out of the limelight. He has enough to deal with. My parents gave up everything they knew—their homes and friends—to move out to Montana.
I bought a huge plot of land that straddles the edge of Cricket and the neighboring town and built a home for them. There’s one for Eli and me, but we don’t stay there unless it’s a special occasion. There’s a small memorial on the edge of our yard wher
e Angela is remembered. She isn’t buried there, but I wanted somewhere I could take Elijah to think about his mommy and tell him stories of how funny and amazing she was. We talk about her all the time, and sometimes I get lost in the memories—believing for a moment that she got the chance to hold our son in her arms and enjoy the tinkling music of his laugh as it echoed through our home.
Whenever Eli is with his grandparents, it’s hard for me. I worry twenty-four seven, and I’m left alone with my thoughts for too long. It’s a lonely life I’ve chosen for us right now, but it’s all I can handle. I do miss my teammates and the camaraderie that came with fighting together for the win. Angela and I were the life and soul of the party. We had a great group of friends who would’ve done anything for us. I tried to honor that when she died, but their love and support overwhelmed me. Leaving without a word was a shitty thing to do, but I had to. Eli needed a strong father, and this was the only way I knew how to get by—slowly finding the strength Angela always saw in me.
As I make my way to the checkout with everything I need for my fourteen nights of freedom, I hear Babs explaining my very existence.
“He’s a recluse. No one knows where he lives, but he appears every so often for food and supplies. He usually has a little boy with him. I feel sorry for them.” I clear my throat alerting her to my presence as I pull up behind her in the line. She has the good sense to be mortified when she realizes I heard every word. Her weathered cheeks redden as her eyes drop to the floor.
She’s a nice enough old lady, but I’m in no mood to ease her guilt. I turn my attention to the woman she was relaying my sad tale to, and my stomach takes a tumble. I expected another familiar face, but I’m met with the reticent stare of a complete stranger. Young and striking, the warm hue of her skin, coupled with ice-blue eyes, is disarming. Her gaze burns the length of my body, stumbling over the bulge in my jeans, scorching my skin with every passing second.
I stand my ground and wait it out—a discomfort I haven’t felt in years. Neither of them attempt to speak, and I’m not about to start chit-chatting. It’s usually easier when I have Eli with me. He’s a magnet—like his mother. People are drawn to him. Even at the height of my fame, I would have been standing in his shadow. I sense the stares of everyone in the store.
The kid behind the checkout does me a favor and scans Babs’ groceries at lightning speed. I think I’ll leave him a tip for getting them out of here as quickly as possible. This girl can’t seem to mask her intrigue. Helping Babs to the door, she almost trips over her own feet trying to catch a last glimpse of me, and it’s then that I start to worry.
Was there recognition in her eyes?
Does she know who I am?
My mind is reeling with the various consequences for Eli and me if someone were to uncover our whereabouts. I grab my bags and make a quick exit. As I load the truck, my eyes scan the streets for any sign that I could be followed. It’s been years since I felt the need to look over my shoulder—this is a wake-up call. I’ve grown complacent and careless.
When I’m certain it’s safe, I drive out to Angela’s memorial desperate to feel close to her. Kneeling in the grass beside cold, hard granite with her name emblazoned on it, it hits me all over again.
“Angel, am I doing the right thing? You always knew what to do. You were my North Star, and I’m just… lost without you.” The silence that surrounds me is deafening. I’d give anything for one more conversation—to hold her in my arms and tell her I love her. I’m not sure if there’s a heaven, or if my angel can hear me, but I sit for a while relaying every funny story I can think of since the last time I came.
The sun sags in the sky as if it senses my melancholy, but if I don’t leave now, I won’t make it back to the cabin tonight.
“I’ll bring Eli next time. Love you, angel.” Even after four long years, a lump forms in my throat at the memory of her smile and the scent of her perfume when she kissed me goodbye.
3
JULES
I’ve been out here for two days, and I’ve yet to find anything good to say about it. I’m freezing my ass off. I haven’t slept a wink. I’m starving—rationing food is not my strong suit. Right now, the column is going to consist of two words—hiking blows!
The higher I climb, the thinner the air gets. It’s becoming sore to draw a lung full of oxygen without cringing. The temperature drops so much at night, I’ve been wearing my ski suit inside the sleeping bag. Why anyone wants to do this for fun is beyond me. I think you’d have to be pretty sadistic to enjoy it—like my dad.
With nothing endearing me to this trip, I decide it’s time to head back to town and the warmth of the B&B. I hate doing an internet search of other people’s opinions, but I have nothing positive to say about Bear Paw. I doubt the editor is going to want a scathing piece on why everyone who hikes out here is a raving lunatic.
Snow begins to fall, and the bed of leaves underfoot forms a layer of ice making it hard to get any grip as I wind my way down. I’ll be lucky to make it back by dark at this pace.
The trees sway with an ominous lilt as if heralding trouble ahead. Unease takes up residence in my gut making me walk a little faster than I should. I hear twigs snap in the distance, and I know… someone, or something, is out here. My heartbeat pulses in my ears. I drop my backpack and the tent—I can buy new stuff, and it’s just weighing me down right now.
As the footfalls get closer, I know I’m in trouble.
I’m being hunted…
4
TRAVIS
My breath forms perfect puffs of white smoke as I exhale in the icy morning air. Snow threatens in the clouds above, and I know this hunt will have to sustain me for a few days while I hole up and wait out the impending storm. I still have twelve days before Eli gets back, so this front should be long gone by the time I need to get back down into town.
With enough dry wood chopped to keep the fire burning, I grab my hunting knife and set off in search of tonight’s dinner. Rifles are no good to me out here—too loud. There would be rangers out tracking me down the minute a hiker reported random gunfire. It’s safer for me to use a knife.
Every footstep seems to echo through the forest, and a cacophony of animals crunch through the cold leaves underfoot. My dad taught me to hunt when I was Eli’s age, and I never appreciated it until I moved here—the quiet patience that’s required and the connection to my prey. I have the utmost respect for the animals that sustain us. It’s not easy to kill another living, breathing being, and it shouldn’t be. I never agreed with trophy hunting—I always found it unsettling, so I’m surprised by how peaceful I feel now when I’m out on the mountain tracking deer.
An hour of silent stalking, and I’ve got him in my sights. Right size and just young enough to be a tender cut of meat. As I edge slowly closer, careful not to startle it, I hear footsteps in the distance—a stray hiker. My prey hears it, too, and makes a run for safety.
“Shit!” I’m annoyed now. This spot isn’t close to any known trails. Whoever’s out here must have a death wish—it’s going to drop somewhere close to -40F after dark. Great. Now I need to track a dumbass instead of my dinner to make sure they don’t freeze to death.
With every step that crunches through the brush, I can tell by the light footfalls—this hiker is a woman, she’s alone, and she’s getting closer which means she’s even further off the trails than I first anticipated. What the hell is she thinking?
When a silhouette passes in the distance, I maintain a steady gap to evaluate the situation. If I can avoid making contact, I will. Her energy emanates in waves, slamming into my chest, increasing with every glimpse of her lithe body—the way she moves is poetry in motion. A pang of guilt strikes my gut with an intensity so strong it forces the air from my lungs. My groan reverberates through the trees, and I watch in horror as her head snaps in my direction. Before I can speak and assure her I’m not a threat, she takes off at a sprint. I follow quickly on her heels but lose sight of her as sh
e speeds off.
Snow begins to fall hard and fast, obscuring my view even further.
“Wait!” My limbs fight the cold as I propel myself forward—protesting every move until my adrenaline kicks in. This girl is fast.
Seconds later, an ear-piercing scream sends the birds flapping in a collective frenzy. I wait for them to disperse, so it takes me a moment to pinpoint her location. Grinding to a halt before a six-foot drop, the cries get louder. As I peer over the edge, I’m startled when I see the face of my prey—it’s the woman from the grocery store—the one that made my insides spark to life. Who is she… and why the hell is she out here?
5
JULES
“Are you okay?”
A searing pain in my ankle leaves me unable to answer whoever is up there. I can hear crying, and I know it’s coming from me, but I can’t seem to stop. I knew someone was watching me—tracking me through the trees. Babs was right—I shouldn’t have come out here. What was I thinking?
“I need you to calm down. I can’t think with you screaming like a banshee.” If I weren’t in blinding agony, I’d give this guy a piece of my mind. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to rein myself in and focus on the stranger looming high above. My sight is blurred—tunnel vision of a dark shadow moving toward me.
I’m not sure if it’s pain or fear as I lunge to my side emptying the contents of my stomach. And then it hits me—I was running from this person. His voice is low and soothing, but doesn’t every serial killer sound like that—the alluring tone of a tall, dark stranger? My pulse reflects the imminent danger, and my heart begins to hammer so hard against my ribcage, I’m left gasping for air.
He’s getting closer, his imposing frame obstructing the sky above me. The fresh scent of soap invades my senses, and an involuntary reaction takes over. It’s… sensual. My fight-or-flight kicks in the second after I think it, and I kick with my good leg. My foot connects with a rock-solid wall of man.
