Nighthawk

by Alan Monroe

  Hugh slowly turned toward Clint. “Bear?”

  Clint shook his head. “The roar was off, but I could almost believe it was a bear. But that howl? Bears don’t howl. Ever.”

  “Wolf?” Jared asked.

  “No wolf ever had a howl that deep,” Clint replied.

  “That thing was like a train,” Hugh said.

  “Sheriff,” Clint said. “What is that thing in your hand?”

  “This is a little something Sheriff Dawson gave me after he retired. Bobby down at the gun shop built it for him. 700 Nitro express double rifle with 1000 grain bullets and almost 9,000 foot pounds of muzzle energy.”

  “Looks like a double barreled shotguns with some kind of thick pipe for the barrels,” Jared said.

  Davis smiled. “I think that’s what it is. The story as I know it says Bobby heard that Holland and Holland was selling this double rifle for a hundred grand a few years ago. Bobby bet somebody that he could build one for a thousand or less.”

  “Will it fire?” Hugh asked.

  “I saw Bobby and Sheriff Dawson fire it.”

  “But you haven’t fired it?” Clint asked.

  “No. I didn’t want to test Bobby’s hand loaded shells without a good reason. He guarantees it will work; I don’t have any doubts.”

  Clint tightened his backpack straps. “But can you carry it?”

  “It weighs about twenty pounds unloaded, but its better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.”

  Hugh could not help but ask, “I thought you didn’t believe in Bigfoot?"

  “I don’t. Let’s go.”

  Monday, May 13 8:14 p.m.

  Davis held the GPS in one hand and an eight cell mag light in the other hand while he weaved through the trees trying to hold a straight course to Tom’s last camp site. The shoulder strap from the twenty pound rifle threatened to pull his left shoulder out of socket. The forest canopy overhead blocked all but trace amounts of light from the moon and stars.

  “Walking through the woods in the dark is a lot harder than it sounds,” Jared said.

  “You ought to try following this gps unit and watching the ground with a flashlight at the same time,” Davis said.

  “Am I getting paid overtime for this?” Hugh asked.

  “You’ll get paid just as much as me,” Jared laughed.

  “The people of Okanogan County greatly appreciate your dedication to the safety of its citizens and visitors,” Davis droned.

  "Did he just turn into the mayor?" Jared asked.

  Hugh was the first to ask, “How much further do you figure we have?”

  Davis looked at the GPS unit and responded, “We’ve covered about three miles so that leaves around 1 mile to go.”

  Clint walked to the base of thick tree and squatted running his hands through the most leaves on the ground; he finally picked a rotten piece of fuzz and rolled it back and forth in his hand. His eyes gradually rose up the tree trunk as he stood; the dingy fabric fell from his hand.

  “Sheriff, you better take a look at this.”

  Davis shined the light upward.

  “Oh man, that guy had a bad day,” Hugh said.

  “His feet have got to be seven feet of the ground,” Clint said.

  Jared looked away quickly. “What could have torn him in half?”

  Hugh took a step forward. “No way is this one of Roundtree’s party; he’s been up there for years.”

  “He died bad,” Clint said.

  “Looks like vines or something tying him to the tree trunk,” Hugh said.

  Davis picked up the piece of material from the ground at Clint’s feet. “This used to be orange fleece. Does that ring any bells Hugh?”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He pointed at the body on the tree. “I’m not even close to joking; this is the kidnapper we lost track of a few years ago. You can tell what’s left of that pullover used to be orange. This is a long way from where we found that girl, but he could have wandered this deep in the woods if he was trying to get away from us. What are the chances of finding someone else in this area with that description?”

  Hugh thought for several moments. “It’s got to be that guy. It couldn’t be a coincidence.”

  Davis continued. “The height would be right if he were all in one piece. It would take a DNA test or dental records to make a positive identification; the weather hasn’t been kind to his face.”

  Jared took a step backwards down the mountain slope. “But what happened to him? It’s not easy to a tear guy in half.”

  The sheriff spoke flatly. “This ties up one loose end, but it creates a lot more. Who killed him? Was he torn in half after he was killed, or was that how he was killed?”

  Hugh scratched his head. “Don’t forget that his feet are a good seven feet off the ground. There’s a two foot gap between his legs and torso.”

  Clint checked his rifle to make sure a bullet was in the chamber. “You guys are missing the obvious. Both halves are tied to this tree so they can be seen by anyone walking this way, and the body is facing the only civilization around here, Nighthawk. This is a no trespassing sign.”

  Davis looked past the body into the depths of the old growth forest where the darkness loomed like a solid object. He slowly and methodically removed the huge double rifle from his shoulder, opened the breech, and made sure that a shell filled each of the two chambers. Davis then closed the breech with a loud click and turned in the direction of Roundtree’s camp.

  “Well, we didn’t come this far to turn around at the sight of a dead man.”

  “Aren’t we kind of diving into the unknown here? This not just a body we found in the brush. The guy was cut in half and hung from a tree as a warning to anybody coming up here.” Jared said as he took a few more steps down the mountain.

  “Jared, pull yourself together,” Hugh said. “We don’t have a choice; Tom might just need our help. He's right though, sheriff, we don’t have a clue who killed that guy and hung him on the tree.”

  Davis walked right up to Jared and looked straight into his eye. “You’ve got to maintain control. We don’t know what happened to that guy, but we do know what might happen to Tom and all the members of his group if we don’t find them soon. Focus on your job. Some of them might be injured, and we won’t be able to help them without you focused.”

  Jared looked at Davis and shook his head. “Sorry, sheriff.

  Clint pointed up the mountain and said, “I’d like to find my brother and get out of here, sheriff.”

  “Yeah… I’ll take point with the GPS. Jared you follow close, and take that rifle off your shoulder; safety on please. Clint follow next. Hugh, you take the drag, but stay tight. Don’t let your imagination run wild. We’ve all been in the woods after dark before. But be ready, something doesn’t feel right up here.”

  Clint put a hand on Hugh in a gesture that made him wait as Davis and Jared moved just out of earshot. “Hugh, didn’t that guy have a rifle when you chased him?”

  Hugh paused. “Now that you mention it; he did have a high powered rifle. And he wasn’t ashamed to use it either.”

  “It would be hard for a man to tear me in half if I had a rifle.”

  “The sheriff remembers the rifle; I’m betting he didn’t bring it up to avoid scaring Jared. Let’s catch up.”

  “Wait a second,” said Clint. “Listen.”

  “What is it?” asked Hugh.

  “Can you hear that?”

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Sounds like the whine of an engine off in the distance.”

  Hugh shook his head. “Couldn’t be. Nobody else is up here.”

  Clint shrugged his shoulders. “I guess you’re right. I must be pretty spooked to let my mind play tricks on me. Let’s go.”

  The sheriff led the way with the GPS unit in his left hand while he held the double rifle pointed in air with his right. Each man followed in his respective place continually sweeping the huge tree
s with their flashlights. The forest seemed to grow even darker as they moved toward Tom’s camp.

  The sheriff pointed through a space in the trees ahead. “GPS says that Tom’s last reported camp is in that clearing.”

  He put the GPS unit away and replaced it with a flashlight while the four men stepped into the clearing simultaneously. Shredded tents stretched from one end of the clearing to the other; cracked then polls and torn backpacks hung from the trees on the edge of the clearing.

  Davis spoke first. “Hugh, you and Clint check the clearing and the area immediately around it. See if you can find a trail.” He paused a moment. “Jared, they said there were some injuries. Look around the clearing and see if you can find any sign of blood. I’m going to call the station.”

  The phone rang in Davis’ ear. “Sheriff, is that you?” the undersheriff asked.

  “Yea, we've just now reached the campsite. The camp looks like it got hit by a tornado. But there's no sign of anybody. We’re currently looking for any indication of what happened here, including signs of injury or where they went.”

  “Well, I guess no news is better than bad news.”

  “Have you been able to recall any deputies from the forest fire?”

  “Sheriff, it’s going be at least this time tomorrow night before any of those guys get back to Okanogan, much less set up a base camp in Nighthawk. And that’s the earliest possibility. It may be later than that. I can’t get a hold of anybody that knows what’s going on down there. It’s the most disorganized mess I have ever encountered.”

  Davis smiled. “It drives you crazy doesn’t it?”

  Jared walked up to the sheriff. “I just found some blood. Not too much. But somebody's at least gonna need stitches. “

  The sheriff covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Thanks Jared. Gather some of that wood near the edge of the clearing for a fire.” Davis then returned to his conversation with the undersheriff. “Jared just found some blood, not enough to worry over. But this has become a murder investigation.”

  “I thought you said there wasn’t enough blood to worry about.”

  “Remember that kidnapping we had a few years ago?”

  “Yeah, we got the girl back outside of Nighthawk, but the rain kept us from tracking the kidnapper into the forest.”

  “Well we just found that kidnapper. He was torn in two pieces, and the body was tied to a tree at the edge of the old growth forest.”

  “Sheriff, we've got to get some more people up there. Let me round up some volunteers.”

  “Negative. I don’t want anyone except my deputies wandering around these woods until we have some idea what's going on.”

  “If you say so. But I’ll get a base camp set up in Nighthawk as soon as I can.”

  “We're gonna set up camp right here tonight. We'll call you in the morning to let you know what our next move is. Davis out.”

  During the phone call, Hugh and Clint finished their search of the camp’s perimeter and helped Jared build a fire. The firelight allowed them to put away their flashlights, but the flames danced in the shadows at the edge of the clearing.

  “We got any help on the way?” Hugh asked.

  Davis shook his head. “Looks like it’ll be a couple of days. Clint, did you find anything?”

  Clint squatted by the fire and jabbed the coals at its base with a stick repeatedly. “The ground's too hard in the clearing to leave any tracks. And it’s too dark to do any real looking outside the clearing.”

  “Can you tell whether or not a bear could have torn up this camp?”

  Clint shook his head. “A bear could have done this, but there's no reason. No sign of exposed food to draw in a bear, and Tom knows how to keep a bear away from a camp. He would make sure the greenhorns didn’t do anything to attract one either. Even if a bear ate all the food, there would be some sign. Trash on the ground or crumbs. It’s like a tornado came through here; everything’s busted and torn up for no reason.”

  “What about the blood Jared found? Could that amount of blood have drawn in a bear?”

  “It wouldn’t take very much blood to attract a bear. But my brother wouldn’t let that much blood scent get into the air. For that blood to be lying on the ground untouched, somebody got cut during or after what ever happened here.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to find any tracks in the morning?”

  “Should be able to. My guess is they went uphill from here; otherwise we would have run into them on our way up.”

  “All right. We camp here tonight and we continue the search tomorrow morning….”

  A cool breeze floated into the clearing and Davis stood cradling the double rifle; he looked up the mountain breathing deep. The wind grew into gust rolling down the mountain blowing scraps of tents and backpacks across the clearing. Davis actually had to lean into the wind as is built up momentum snapping out their fire and plunging their camp into darkness. A deep howl carried by the wind echoed off the trees piercing Davis’ ear drums; he pulled back both hammers on the double rifle. Flashlights bounced around the clearings perimeter until the wind slowly died down. Four grown men sat in silence for almost ten minutes.

  “It is gone,” Clint said.

  “What do you mean it?” Jared said.

  Hugh kicked the wood back into a pile and removed a lighter from his pocket. “Never have been in that kind of wind before.”

  “I was a williwaw,” Clint said.

  “I thought those always went downhill toward the coast. We’re on the inland side of the mountain range.”

  Clint shrugged. “Given the right atmospheric conditions it could happen anywhere. That was a little one. If we were at the base of glacier instead of this little mountain, we could have been blown all the way to the bottom.”

  “I’m more concerned about the howl,” Jared said. “It sounded like the one we heard when first got out of the trucks.”

  “That could have been the wind both times Jared,” Hugh said.

  “That howl wasn’t the wind,” Clint said. “Whether it was the same as before or not I don’t know.”

  Davis had walked several paces toward the high side of the camp; he finally turned back toward the fire and eased the hammers down on the double rifle. “It was the same howl, but I’m more concerned about the smell.”

  Hugh finally lit the fire again. “What smell.”

  “As soon as the wind started to pick up a little, it hit me. Ms. Feyhee’s got a cesspool out behind her outhouse. This smelled worse than that. This smell was alive.”

  “Some animals give off a musk as a defense mechanism,” Clint said.

  Jared’s voice shook. “We have got to get out of here.”

  “We aren't going anywhere in the dark. We are going to stay right here. I’ll take first watch. And I’ll wake Hugh in two hours.”

  Jared shivered. “How can you act like your'e not scared? Something is out there.”

  “I know something or someone is out there and I am scared, but running around in the dark is just going get one or all of us hurt. I want a good fire all night, and I want everyone to get some sleep. We’ll see what we can figure out in the morning.”

  Jared reluctantly helped double the fires size before he unrolled his sleeping bag and lay down into a fitful sleep. Clint took one last look at the edge of the camp before unrolling his sleeping bag as well. Hugh, however, approached Davis.

  “You remember that kidnapper had a gun, right?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “Clint and I were wondering how somebody was able to kill him when he was well armed.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you really think is going on out here? Where is Tom? And how in the world did somebody throw a rock that big into the fire?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you Hugh; this is all new to me. I think Clint will be able to pick up Tom’s trail once we get some daylight, and we both know Tom is smart enough to keep everybody together if they wer
e chased out of this camp.”

  “What do you mean if they were chased out of the camp? Something bigger and uglier than me is out there screaming and stinking up the woods according to you.”

  “I don’t think that is possible.”

  “You still don’t think there is something out here?”

  “I don’t think there is anything in these woods that is uglier than you.”

  “Very funny. I’m starting to believe that Bigfoot is real. Tell me the truth. What do you think?”

  The sheriff thought for a moment. “I’m starting to develop an open mind. Now, get some sleep, and I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

  Tuesday, May 14 5:05 a.m.

  His own snore snapped his eyes open, and Bruce rubbed a meaty paw across his face before the sun even creased the horizon its morning light. A pain settled in his lower back not long after he unrolled the sleeping bag on the rocky ground the night before. He rolled his head to the right and spat for the dirt, but he fell short leaving a trail of spittle across the sleeping bag and across his face.

  The shock absorbers on the ATV screamed with every bump on his way up the mountain. He made good time until he met a ridge of rock four feet tall running over a mile in each direction. Bruce raced back and forth along the ridge for an hour searching for break in the rock large enough for the ATV to crawl through. Rather than circle the entire mountain, he finally parked the ATV and made his camp just below the short wall. Bruce thought about the walk ahead of him along with the short climb over the wall; he pictured Wallace at the end of the long walk.

  Bruce had finally unrolled his sleeping bag right against the wall thinking of the giant soft bed his house, but at least the fumes from his meth lab did not follow him up the mountain. The dogs dropped to the ground next their master as soon as they saw the sleeping bag.

  After he rubbed the spit off his face, he wiped the hand across his chest only to feel something thick and wet smear across his chest. He held the brown hand up to his eyes and tentatively sniffed. His face retreated from the hand while he started to gag and heave. Bruce rolled over to his stomach twisting the sleeping bag into a knot and drawing the patch of manure closer to his face. His roll raked most of the manure onto the ground, and he tried to crawl out of the bag on his hands and knees. Once he got to his knees, the sleeping bag slipped underneath him, and his chest landed in the manure.