Chasing the Demon

by Paul Sating

  He needed to do this. It only took Maria saying it a few hundred thousand times for it to get through his thick skull. Ignoring it, remaining silent, that wasn't going to help him heal. Ignoring that the lion has escaped its cage wouldn’t make him any safer. Unless he dealt with the fact that he was staring at the open maw of a pissed off predator he had no chance of surviving it. For years, too many years, Jared had ignored the loosed lion, even when Maria begged him to deal with it for their sake.

  "It's time I'm real with you," his soft tone filled the vacuum of his mind. One arm behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling, focusing on a screw hole where one of Maria's planters used to house her Pelargoniums. Lose yourself in that, buddy. Get through this. You need to get through this. "I've been holding off for this long because I needed to be confident of what I was looking at, that I had enough evidence to support my suspicions of the last ten years.

  "When I started investigating Sasquatch's existence, I did so for personal reasons. I hinted at those in my earlier recordings. And, shit, I haven't been honest. I'm working on it, I need to if I want to respect Maria; if I want to give her all she's given me and dedicate the rest of my life to her and to us. There's only one way I can do that; I have to prove or disprove my theory.

  "See, the thing is, I'm convinced the Olympic National Park is home to this region's Sasquatch population," he continued. "There may be other population centers, far fewer than many claim, but those are the very same people who are in this for the wrong reasons. There are no Bigfoot in Tennessee or North Carolina or West Virginia. No, they're restricted to this part of the country: Washington State, Oregon, and Idaho, stretching into British Columbia. That's where you'll find them. Look at my home state. Almost two-thirds of it is a high desert. Most of Washington State would not be hospitable to them. And even the third of the state that is hospitable is way too overpopulated. The Cascade mountain range is littered with people and outdoor resorts. The only reasonable location left for this species is in the Olympics. But that's not all there is to my theory.

  "Even though I believe this is the only area in the state with a Sasquatch population, I also think their numbers are smaller than even the experts claim. Disappointingly small, for some. And I believe they live in tight communities, which I call herds. There are no more than a handful of Sasquatch in each herd, maybe five or less. One male, a female or two, and some offspring. They don't have many offspring, only one or two over the course of their entire lives, so they're not exactly a positive-growth species. But I guess that makes them a lot more earth-friendly than us humans.

  "A lot of my peers don't agree with my theory and some in the Bigfoot community have been outright hostile about it. I know the lack of hard evidence doesn’t help, but no one else has any either. Nothing legitimate. It’s the damning reality of our business. But the evidence I do have is getting better, like what I found at Forks, and it supports my small community theory. None of it stems the negative reactions I receive, but those don’t necessarily surprise me. The biggest inhibitor to a Bigfoot investigator are other investigators. I learned that hard lesson early on and it's one of the main factors for my pulling back out of the community and researching on my own, with a relatively small cadre of experts I trust, like Peter and Lucas. There are so many politics in this field. It sucks the energy out of me. Made me start falling out of love with doing this long ago. And, I haven't been honest about that, even to myself."

  You've got to do this. Don't quit!

  But he was wavering. He was going back into the state he always went to whenever he approached the memories. Even now, with so much on the line, he felt himself turning away. Hiding. The guilt was there, encouraging him to do what he knew he needed to do for himself. Tugging at him. Yanking at his sleeve. But that fork in the road was dangerous, full of potholes and edged with a life-threatening precipice. The safer route, the rough but innocuous route, lay in the other direction. It was the route he'd walked a thousand times already. He was so familiar with it that he could walk it with his eyes closed.

  It called to him even as his better judgment screamed a warning to stay off the path. He could feel it fading.

  He was giving in.

  "I can't wait to be done with this," he said, not caring to hide his self-disgust any longer. He hated himself more than anything right now. "But that's it. I believe Bigfoot exists and they live in herds, in communities, in the Olympic Mountains in Washington. And this, this entire series of recordings, will serve as my evidence. And then, finally, I can walk away and do something else.

  “And I can't wait to pick up Molly tomorrow. I miss that damn dog. As much as I've neglected Maria over the years, sometimes I think I've neglected Molly just as much. When I'm done with all this I'm going to cuddle the hell out of her. And Maria? I'll do more than cuddle her."

  He switched the recorder off and laid it on the coffee table, fluffing the pillow and setting it underneath his head again.

  You're a fucking coward.

  He stared at the hanging planter hole. It stared back, unblinking, uncaring.

  Jared closed his eyes. It had been such an outstanding day.

  Until now.

  He couldn't deal with himself anymore tonight.

  *****

  The ringing of the doorbell woke Jared. He flipped over, almost falling off the couch. "Wha-what the hell?"

  The doorbell rang again, and once more before the tone faded.

  He shot to his feet, making sure the recorder was on. Just in case.

  He flipped over his phone to check the time. 2:07 AM.

  "Jesus!” If this was some nut bag bothering him, someone was getting their ass kicked! "I'm coming!"

  Urgent pounding on the door, rattling its hinges.

  "I swear I'm going to kill somebody." Jared moved around the couch to the window, pulling the blinds aside. Maria's car was in the driveway.

  He pulled the door open. "Maria?"

  He couldn't get the rest of the sentence out. She looked distraught. Her hair was yanked into a ponytail, frizzled, loose strands she hadn't taken the time to grab dangled from the side. Her eyes were swollen and red. She'd been crying. Her chest heaved when he opened the door and she fell against him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, looking out into the dark night to see if someone else was in the car. Or the cops. Or an ambulance. Nothing. No one else. What the fuck is going on?

  "Oh God, Jared," she sobbed into his chest.

  He stroked her hair. She always liked when he comforted her that way. "Maria, are you okay? What's wrong?"

  She didn't bother to pull away before answering. "It's—M—Molly, Jared."

  "What about her?" Panic tightened his throat. "Oh, Jesus, please don't tell me something happened?"

  "Jared, th—they—oh my God. That poor girl!"

  Jared pulled Maria inside as he cleared the door, swinging it shut. "Come on inside, I need you to tell me what's going on but I can't understand you."

  He walked her over to the couch, the place where he'd confirmed his status as a coward only a few hours before. Maria sat, looking up at him with eyes glossed in hopelessness, sad eyes, sadder than the day she told him that she was leaving. Her mouth moved but only guttural half-words came out. She swallowed, choking back tears, and tried again. "M—men. Some men woke me up. Th—they ... they told me to tell you to stop. Jared, they told me to tell you to st—stop your investigation. And Molly ... oh my God, Jared." She began sobbing again. Jared forced down his rising terror, pushed aside his panic and need to know what happened, to not lash out at Maria. She needed time to collect herself enough to finish. "They—they had Molly and ... and—"

  Maria sobbed into the palms of her hands.

  His voice broke at her pain and the knowledge that something terrible had happened to his dog. Their dog. "Maria? What is it, babe? What happened?" He knelt in front of her, rubbing her thigh. Oh God, please tell me! Don’t make me wait. Please.

  "Th-they they had Mol
ly. They t-t-told me to tell you to stop or they would do worse to me. The-then ... they, they shot her! They killed Molly!"

  17

  There was no way Molly was gone.

  No fucking way.

  She couldn't be. He'd just dropped her off yesterday! Maria was in town, staying with her girlfriend so she could get to a meeting in Olympia. She'd agreed to watch Molly and Jared left the dog with a quick hug and pat on her gorgeous head. Molly had looked up at him with flickering eyes; her tongue flopped out the side of her mouth, swaying like her entire body, from the momentum of an enthusiastically wagging tail. She was used to him leaving her behind and she still loved him that much more than he deserved.

  Had loved me, Jared reminded himself.

  Molly. Gone.

  "Can you please stop pacing, Jared?" Maria sniffled from the couch she hadn't moved from. "Please, sit down."

  Sit down? How could he sit down? Adrenaline coursed through his body. His skin prickled. He tried to not snarl at Maria. "I don't want to."

  She nodded. "For me, then? You're scaring me."

  Of course, he didn't want that. But he had to move or he'd explode and say something he'd regret. "I—I don't understand. Why the hell would anyone do something like that? Goddamn it! She was such a good dog! Why?!"

  "Jared," Maria choked back her tears, "what are you involved in?"

  He turned on her. "What do you mean?"

  "These men. They wanted me to be sure I told you to stop your work. Why?" Maria leaned forward, her eyebrows arcing downward. "Look at me! Why? What do you know that would cause them to do something like this?"

  The crescendo was building. He could feel it calling to him from the darker recesses of his gut. He was going to explode. He wanted to explode. This couldn't have happened at a worse time. Not that any time was a good time for something so tragic to happen, but in his fog of self-hatred, the last thing anyone wanted was to push his buttons. Even Maria. "Does it matter? Molly is dead. Peter’s been threatened. You're being threatened." The glass of water he'd left on the coffee table was still there. Within arm's reach. The darkness called. He snagged it and propelled it into the wall without a care. Glass sprayed in a million directions as water dripped to the floor. Dammit! "All of this over some fucking investigation about an animal?"

  Maria sighed, placing her hands on her thighs and standing. "I'll clean it up. Sit down."

  "No, I've got it," he said, with much less fire in his humiliated gut now.

  "No, please," she laid a hand on his forearm. "I need to do something. I can't just sit here."

  Jared fell into the couch, covering his face. Molly was gone! "That poor girl! She didn't deserve this."

  "Come here," Maria was in front of him again, the shattered glass was forgotten for the time being. Her arms were open and this time it was Jared who fell forward into an ex-lover's embrace, seeking comfort for a pain that only time would erase.

  "Thank you, Maria," he cried into her chest.

  "For what," she said without pulling away.

  "For staying. I don't know if I wouldn't have done something stupid if you weren't here." That was half the truth. The dark place he was in tonight, if she'd called him instead of coming over, being physically and emotionally present, there was no telling exactly what he would have done. There was no one he could blame for Molly's death, not yet, but there were a couple of hidden figures, peers he distrusted, he wouldn't mind having an excuse to get his hands on for twenty years of frustration. Blaming them for Molly's death was a perfect excuse to rip their heads off their shoulders.

  "That's what we do for each other, isn't it?" she rubbed his shoulder before sitting next to him, wrapping her hand around his. "Plus, what can you do? I have no idea who these guys were. They didn't give me their names. They didn't say much of anything about themselves. Nothing. You can't go after nameless people and I don't want you to, even if you knew who they were. Promise me that, okay?"

  "I need to know who it is," Jared avoided answering her. "Who's threatening everyone I care about and leaving me harassing phone calls. I can't sit by--"

  "What do you mean?" Now she did pull back, but their fingers remained intertwined. "You didn't tell me about anything like that."

  Are you going to keep being a coward or are you finally going to take control of your life? The life that's starting to spin out of control? You're going to lose it forever if you don't step up.

  "It's been happening for a while now,” he answered. “The last time was a few days ago. I didn't tell you about it because I don't take them seriously. I figured it was just some jealous peers. Not something to lose sleep over. Then I started getting more calls, more hostile calls."

  "What did they say?" she pressed. "In the calls? What is going on, Jared?" She gave him a silent stare, waiting for him to fill her in. When he didn't answer, the calm control began to unravel. "This isn't like with your father, okay? You can't keep burying these things!"

  No. Not tonight. Please don't go there tonight! "Don't. I'm not in the mood for that."

  "Jesus, Jared!" she unlocked her hand from his and waved them at some invisible point of reference in exasperation. "Look at everything that's going on and the toll it's taken! Friendships, your career, our marriage, having children? When is enough going to be enough?"

  "That's not fair," he warned. "You can't do that."

  She looked at him and then he watched as her face caved to the inevitable disappointment of living a life with him. "It's never fair with you. Anything you can do to avoid having to talk about it or even think about it, right?"

  Jared slammed his hand on the coffee table, making Maria jump. "I don't need to think about it." It hurt to look in her eyes. Coward. "I'm sorry. I'm—I'm stressed about all this shit. I didn't mean to yell. But, please, don't. This has nothing to do with him."

  "It has everything to do with your father. How long are you going to deny that? Are you going to keep pretending that what he did to your family had no impact on you or are you going to finally be honest?"

  "What he did…what happened—" he started to say, but she wasn't going to allow him to get away with it.

  "Destroyed your family," she shouted over top of his stuttering response. "It destroyed your parents' marriage and it destroyed his life."

  If she could yell, then he could too. "No, it didn't! We did fine. We all made it out. Mom moved on. I went to school, got an education, met you, I have a career."

  He swore she was about to crack a smile at his response. "A career that you hate, that has worn you out, and has led our marriage in the same direction as their marriage went."

  "That's not fair. You're—"

  Her voice was so soft he could have completely missed her comment ... if it hadn't been so barbed. So true. "You're walking his path, Jared. How can you not see that?"

  But he was ready for it even before she finished her observation. Why? Why didn't she understand that? How many times did they have to go around on this ride? He would deal with it when he could. If she was around now, if she hadn't run out on him, then she would have seen his struggle over the past few weeks. If she'd been here instead of in Port Angeles, staying with her parents, trying to escape her life, she would have seen how much thought and effort he was putting into turning this corner. And if she'd been there to see those behaviors she wouldn't be sitting here on the same night his dog was murdered, trying to push him into exploring what happened with his father. "Are you kidding me?" he raged. "Don't put that on me! And don't talk about him like that. He was a great man; a man I admired."

  "Stop defending him," she said in that all-too-calm tone. "You need to recognize what he did and how it impacted you before it's too late. The fact that you can’t see that after everything that’s happened …"

  Her trailing voice left so much unsaid, but it was all still so clear.

  He watched her eyes. A haze of hurt hung behind those crystal mirrors. "What's that supposed to mean?" This time all the heat was
gone. Bare. Just him. And her. Exactly as he wanted it to be.

  "If you're not going to be honest with yourself then you can't be honest with me. And if you can't be honest with either one of us ... where does that leave our marriage?"

  "I love you. Why are you talking like this?"

  Her face begun to crumble. "Sometimes love isn't enough."

  It sounded like she was giving up. Maybe, this time, for good. "How can you say that? I thought we ... I thought we were going to work on us? I thought you were going to give me a chance?"

  "How can I give us a chance if you're not willing to?" Her voice got louder as she spoke. "I told you, Jared, I warned you that this was only going to get worked on if you did your part. Do you honestly think the only thing I wanted from you was for you to stop chasing around this goddamn animal?" She swept her keys up from the coffee table.

  He went to grab her arm then pulled back when he realized what he was doing, thankful that she didn't notice. "Wait. Maria. Come on, don't--"

  The door slamming was how she ended the conversation. He didn't even get up to watch her back out of the driveway. Her headlights beamed through his front window and across the far wall of the living room. That was enough of a signal to let him know where she was with their marriage.

  "You fucking coward," he slumped back into the couch, listening to the sound of her car engine fading into the night.

  *****

  When he woke a few hours later, he didn't know what to do.

  With himself.

  With his future.

  Everything was in upheaval.

  A few hours ago he had more evidence about Bigfoot than anyone in the world. He was on the fast track toward making it all public and then walking away to get on with the rest of his life and reconciling with Maria. Now, his beloved dog was dead and his estranged wife was on her way to a full-fledged divorce. It all fell apart easier than wet paper.

  Where do you go when you're already face-down in the gutter? Should he toss a life's work away because of a broken heart, or finally wake up and realize the cost of passion exceeded his capability to pay it?