Chasing the Demon

by Paul Sating

  "What the fuck?!" He tried to struggle. The object in his back pressed forcefully against him.

  Click.

  "Shut up," a gruff voice snarled, close to his ear. "I'm doing the talking."

  "Who the hell are you?" Jared asked, his question muffled by having his face pressed against the roof that was beginning to burn his skin. A strange sense of relief rushed through him. This was the coward who threatened Maria and Peter, and who had killed Molly, and this bastard didn't have the balls to square up to him. He had to wait in hiding and attack from behind. True courage, you fuckers. Let me get loose. Let me get one fucking opportunity. That's all I need.

  "It doesn't matter, does it?" the gruff voice responded. "Uh, uh. The only thing that matters is that you hear me nice and clear. Got it? You're going to stop this little child's play of yours. There are people who aren't happy with your insistence to keep going with your work, even after we've made it very, very clear that it'd be wise to stop. You're making serious enemies, Mr. Strong, enemies that are powerful and have a vested interest in what you're doing. They've been watching you and hoping you were smart enough to stop while you still could, before they needed to stop you. Consider this your last warning."

  Jared’s back exploded in pain as the man’s fist slammed into him. His chin slammed against the roof of the car as he collapsed. He tried to reach for the door frame. If he could get ahold of that he could catch his assaulter unaware. They’d see who was going to get what they wanted out of this after slamming the man’s head in the door a few times.

  But the chance didn't come. As Jared was still slumping from the first blow, still trying to catch his breath, which had been robbed from him with the unexpected violence, another blow came. He grunted when the fist connected with his side. His focus shifted there. He couldn't think about strategy or about what he could do to defend himself. All he could do was think about how much it hurt. Then the man hit him again and he fell to the ground.

  Another kick. Jared curled, trying to cover as many of his vital organs as he could. There was no chance to launch any sort of counter-attack. He had to salvage all that he could now.

  Opening his eyes consumed the fleeting energy he had left as his body resisted the blows and kicks. When he did, he saw the underside of the truck, thinking for a second that he could roll under it and buy himself some time. But that didn't work in reality. His attacker had a gun, the awareness, and the lack of pain Jared didn't get to enjoy. Even if he rolled under the truck it would only delay the inevitable. And likely piss off his attacker enough to push the man over the edge and shoot him. But the man wasn't letting him up. This man planned on killing him.

  But then, as Jared was sure he was going to die on the concrete slab of his driveway, outside the home he and Maria had shared for a decade, the punches and kicks stopped coming.

  "We mean it, Mr. Strong," the voice was distant now. "This is your last chance."

  Jared didn't have the strength to roll over to check the location of his attacker. He was going to live! That's what mattered. The fact that the voice sounded more distant wasn't important; drawing another breath was. He had shit to live for!

  A car door slammed. An engine revved, pebbles and dirt were kicked up by spinning tires. A car faded into the neighborhood. He only hoped it was the thug's car because he was having trouble breathing and wasn't sure if he was going to be able to stand up and get help if it was just some passer-by. Where the hell is my cellphone? He slowly reached behind him to feel his pocket. Not there. His watery eyes didn't provide enough information. No shadows or movement. Was someone still there, still behind him. His pulse thumped in his ears, depriving him of most of his senses he needed to determine if he was safe or not.

  So he waited and tried to catch his breath.

  No more punches or kicks or threats rained down on him from the unseen assailant.

  Jared risked rolling over and taking a foot square to the face. Relief was the only thing to fall on him when he saw the rising hill of his front yard, the long and neglected grass waving in the wind. He was alone. Now he could get up, regain his composure and see if anything was broken.

  Nothing was.

  He reached for the armrest on the door and pulled himself up. Everything hurt. Catching his breath was difficult. His cheek burned. And though his ribs weren't broken, drawing deeper breaths was difficult. He stood up, stretching and wincing at the sharp pain that cinched down his side.

  The black Bentley was nowhere. Whoever assaulted him was gone, their identity still protected. They still had all the advantages. And now, because he hadn't quit searching for Bigfoot, they were upping their game. Their earlier threats went unheard so they were going to help him understand what was expected of him.

  To give up the chase.

  He stretched. Drawing another painful breath. At least he was breathing. He needed to get inside. Not having something to lean against made the going difficult, but he was careful, measuring each step. He didn't need to face-plant and crack open his skull, but the way the ground underneath him shifted, rose and fell, made putting one foot in front of the other a challenge. He tried to open the door but the adrenaline surging through his body made it difficult. The key ring caught on a loose thread as he tried to pull them out of his pocket to unlock the door. Even when he achieved freedom for the keys, he couldn’t seem to aim it at the lock. His shaking hand missed the key slot for the third time. On a deeper level, his survival instinct forced him to check behind him every few seconds, worried that the scumbag who'd attacked him would come back to finish the job.

  But every time he looked he only saw tall grass waving at him, reminding him he was going to get written up by his home owner's association.

  He slid the key into the lock.

  Click.

  Finally.

  He went straight to the bathroom to clean up and change, taking in his torn shirt and filthy jeans. A flushed skin stared back at him. Beyond that, there was little other evidence of what he'd just been through. Except for the fire that burned inside him. He was going to find out who that was. His assailant could have been the one threatening him all along, but from what he remembered—it was all so clouded now—Jared didn't think that was the case. The guy who'd treated him like a human piñata was working for someone else, Jared was sure of it. A thug didn't have the pull, the influence, to move and shake a number of distinct players. A thug was the muscle, not the brains. No, there was someone else involved.

  But who?

  And what did that mysterious person want? Why did they insist on remaining anonymous? What were they protecting?

  Once he finished cleaning up, Jared realized he'd left the house while recording and the recorder had been running through the entire assault. He was going to publish this. This wasn't child's play; it had never been for him. The world needed to hear the lengths rival investigators were willing to go to in order to be the first to prove Bigfoot's existence. Or to stop their rivals from doing it.

  It wasn't extreme, it was reality.

  But he waited to record until he was away from the house. He was vulnerable here and didn't want to be around if they decided to come back. Olympia was well behind him before he put the recorder to his lips again. This was humiliating but necessary.

  "I didn't stay in the driveway for long," Jared recorded. "As soon as those thugs pulled away, I got up and got the hell away from the house. I didn't want to be around if they decided to come back and finish what they started. I have no idea who these guys are. I'm not even sure who these people are who have a vested interest in what I'm doing. I'm looking for a goddamn animal! Why would that matter to anyone?" His fists rotated over the hard plastic of the steering wheel, rotating over and back, over and back. "I want to get to Maria."

  *****

  Three hours later he pulled into Port Angeles.

  The winding road between Olympia and his destination was only dotted with traffic and he took full advantage of it, driving it as
fast as his truck could handle the curves. Lost in thinking about the assault, in the trail of thought that had him reverse-engineering who could be behind this, Jared lost sense of time and speed limits. As fortune would have it, though, he pulled into Port Angeles without the needless loss of time and hit to the wallet a speeding ticket would have created.

  He waited to text Maria until he was already at the restaurant. It might not have been a fair tactic, but he needed some time to compose himself before he saw her. No more lying, no more hiding facts from her. She deserved everything he could give her. That meant not treating her like she couldn't handle the darker side of his work.

  Now or never.

  "Hi Jared," her smile faded when she saw his face. "What's wrong? What happened?"

  How does she constantly do this? She sees everything.

  "Babe," he hugged her. When she wrapped her arms around him he felt ... safe, safe enough to risk kissing her on the cheek before sitting down.

  She sat opposite of him, her face washed of any emotion as she waited for him to answer. He wasn't going to draw this out. Instead, he recalled the events of the afternoon, starting with Peter and slowly preparing her for what happened at the house. Her lips quivered, her forehead wrinkled, eyes watered, but she listened all the way through. Over and over again, as he quietly shared the details of the strange day, she grabbed his hand, squeezing at the point when he described the assault. When she began to cry he stopped to give her a moment to process everything he was laying at her feet. She dabbed her eyes with a napkin and told him to keep going. And he did.

  He told her everything, including how he thought the man who attacked him was intent on killing him. And Maria soldiered on along with him, consuming every detail as he shared it.

  "What happens now?" Her question wasn't one he was prepared to answer or for her to ask. There were a million unspoken messages behind it he was attempting to translate. And that was exactly what he wasn't supposed to be doing.

  "I don't know," he answered. "I haven't thought that far."

  "What?!" she slapped the table. "Jared, this is crazy. Why didn't you call the police?"

  He couldn't lie to her. "I—I don't know. I ..."

  She grabbed his hand and squeezed, hard. "What?" Her eyes pleaded with him to keep going. He couldn't deny that her encouragement had an effect. It was like she recognized his vulnerability, as meager as it was. Trying to open up was formidable. No longer treating her like an afterthought was imperative.

  Because she's not. She never was. You have to prove that to her, you idiot.

  "I just wanted to get to you," he croaked. "I needed to see you. It sounds juvenile, I know, but the only thing I could think of was you and I knew if I called the cops I'd be held by them all day. I didn't want that. I wanted to be with you."

  "Okay, Jared," her voice lost all heat. The worry was still there in the wavering tones, but so was the kindness and understanding that made Maria the incredible woman she was. "Forget you and me and what we're going through; think about Peter, Molly ... you. These people are serious. This isn't some game of prank callers or kids vandalizing something. These are grown men capable of hurting you."

  "I know how serious this is."

  "Do you?" she pleaded. "Do you really understand how far this has gone now?"

  This was a critical moment for them, not just him as a professional or a man, or even a contributing member of society; it was a critical moment that would define what they were going to be. And, right now, he needed to do what he could to determine that course. He was done letting fate do it for him. "I'm almost done. I'm so close."

  Maria let go of his hand. "You've got to be kidding me?" she exclaimed. The couple at the nearby table glanced over, concern mixed with invasive lust for juicy drama. "You're still insisting on pursuing this? You're willing to give up everything for some ... legend?"

  He could have exploded. He could have said something hurtful in return. But he didn't. She knew it was more than a legend. She'd walked this path with him for more than half the time he'd been investigating this animal. It was her basement that had been overrun by boxes of gear and evidence. It was her kitchen table that had been taken over on far more than a few occasions by grown men planning a weekend in the woods. She had seen all the evidence he brought back from those expeditions. She knew Bigfoot was so more than a legend; she was hurt and frustrated and lashing out. He had to understand that and be patient.

  Or I could lose her forever.

  "Please keep your voice down," he reached for her hand. She let him take it.

  "I'd ask you to stop, to stop for us ... but ..."

  "Is there even an us to stop for?"

  "I love you," she looked down at his hand encasing hers. Then she slid hers away. Before his heart shattered, Maria wrapped her fingers around his this time. "You make it hard, but I love you. None of this changes any of that. You think I don't know that you're struggling right now? You're not doing this for your ego. You're not doing it to get rich or famous. I know that." Her tone lowered and she looked from their intertwined hands to his eyes. "You need closure and this is the only way you're going to get it."

  "So you're okay with me finishing?"

  "I'm not okay with any of it," Maria admitted tenderly. "Somewhere out there is a normal life waiting for us. I'm rooting against you, but only because I'm being selfish. You're not the only one struggling with this, you know? If I ask you to stop you'll never get the closure you need and what does that say about me? But if I give up and let you keep going ... I worry what will happen to you."

  Tears welled up in her eyes. Jared reached across the small table with his free hand and, with this thumb, wiped the tear. "I'm close, babe," he leaned in and offered her an encouraging smile. "I'm really close."

  Maria gripped his hand putting on the same brave smile she did every time something in life upset her but she didn't allow to deter her from whatever course she had set. "I'm sure you are. You've been getting closer, year after year. You've put a lot into your work."

  "Lucas and I went on an expedition and had a Sasquatch almost in our camp. It was close enough to smell it."

  "What?!"

  "It was right outside our camp," he nodded. "There were some wood knocks and a couple of different calls. Then they started throwing rocks at us. There had to be at least three of them. That's when we smelled it. It was ... terrifying. I could hear it walking around outside the firelight like it was scouting us. I know where they are, Maria! I'm so close to getting credible evidence. So close I can taste it. Then ... then I can walk away."

  She was silent for a few seconds, making him doubt his assuredness. Was being open with her a bad idea? Could the truth scare her away from something she'd already lived through? But Maria didn't stay silent for long. She nodded once, sharply. "Okay," she smiled. "Okay. I'm here for you, no matter what."

  "Here for me but not with me?"

  The strong smile faded, like the way a light bulb's glow gives over to a dark room when it's turned off. "I can't promise something I’m not sure I can give you. For all I know you could be doing this for another year or another ten. There's no telling. The reason I left in the first place was that I needed to get on with my life. You know that. And that hasn't changed. I'm sorry."

  "Maria, you have nothing to apologize for. The apologies are all mine. I'm going to make this up to you."

  "After you've found Bigfoot?"

  He couldn't be mad at her for wanting to know what her place in the world was. Resisting that would be a backward step and he was only moving forward from now on. "What do you say? Let's enjoy lunch and talk about something else." It might have been a cowardly way to answer but since when hadn't that been his modus operandi? Change was slow. He could only work on so many things at once.

  She's not stupid. She knew the answer before she even asked the question. Was that the point? Had asking just been a test? A test he failed?

  "Okay," her voice betrayed her surrend
er. Her smile was devoid of joy. "It does smell good."

  They picked up their menus and took forever to decide what to eat. Jared imagined it was because she was hiding behind hers as much as he used his as a tri-fold barrier. He didn't care about anything he saw on those plastic pages, none of the deliberately-designed pictures did anything for his appetite. He was tired of hurting her.

  So tired of all of this.

  22

  Jared pulled the hotel door closed with a yank. He'd only left the room once during the night, to get ice, and the door wasn't level, making it impossible to close without creating a racket for any of the nearby rooms. He was sure he shook more than a few walls when he pulled hard to get it to lock. The door wasn't the only problem with the hotel; the carpet stank like it'd been drenched in water and the staff left it to air dry. The room he paid for was a non-smoking room but the aroma told him that the room's past occupants, probably stretching back decades, ignored that rule. There were fourteen cable channels, three of which were those over-the-top Christian channels where some charlatan spent ninety percent of the time telling whoever watched that crap that "God" needed them to send money or His work couldn’t be done. Jared had a good idea who the true 'Him' was and it had nothing to do with a heavenly spirit.

  He checked out and then stopped by a shack situated in the front corner of the hotel parking lot that served as a coffee shop. It was the same formulaic coffee you could buy at any one of the four million coffee houses throughout Washington State. Nothing special, but it sure as hell beat drinking the hotel coffee offering, and it also made the winding drive out to the Elwha Ranger Station more tolerable.

  It was a drive he didn't want to make, no matter how gorgeous and inspiring it was. Moreover, he was completely and thoroughly jaded. It never used to be like this. He had the Elwha River on one side and mountainous slopes rising up to touch the sky on the other. He should be happy.