Sasquatch, Love, and Other Imaginary Things

by Betsy Aldredge

  He continued, but I tuned him out. I bet the real reason his family never joined him on the hunts was that they probably didn’t want to be around him. Sure, I didn’t enjoy freezing my ass off in the woods all night, and my parents and Lyssa could be incredibly annoying, but at least they didn’t make me want to feed them to wild animals . . . most of the time.

  Chapter 11

  “Being a cryptozoologist is a lot like being a postman. You need to know your neighborhood. Once you go through someone’s mail, you can figure out their habits and desires, and that’s how you find someone, by learning everything about them.”

  —Ernie Saposnik, president of the Northern Ohio Bigfoot Society

  We had only walked halfway back to the camp when the sky abruptly turned a vivid purple color that I had never seen before, even in one of those boxes of sixty-four crayons. If there were a crayon that color, it would have been called “Hope-You-Brought-A-Sturdy-Umbrella-Mauve.”

  I consulted my watch; it was only five-thirty. The crew had just departed for the night in a Jeep. It was way too early for sunset. Icy winds blew dramatic, dark clouds across the sky. The forest became so creepy, I partially expected an alien ship to land and prove me wrong about the whole UFO thing. Sure, I enjoyed all things sci-fi, but I didn’t actually believe in the stuff.

  Thunder rumbled and echoed throughout the valley. I’d hoped we would make it into the tents before the rain came, but there was still a mile of trekking ahead of us when the storm rolled in, and the torrential rain followed. The ground instantly became slick with mud, slowing our pace even more.

  It was a good thing the cameras were no longer rolling, because the entire family looked awful and kind of indecent since our clothes had become see-through in the rain. Like a wet T-shirt contest for mud wrestlers.

  We finally made it back to the camp. Sophie and I dove into our tent and stripped off our wet clothes.

  “Ugh!” she said, shivering. “I feel like I’ll never be warm and dry ever again.”

  Even in clean clothes, my icy bones creaked. “Yeah, now’s about the time I wished I was staying in a tricked-out log cabin with hot soup and running water,” I said. “We can’t even light a fire until the rain stops.”

  Sophie sneezed a few times, as if to prove my point.

  The pelting rain continued for hours, making for a long, cold sleepless night. The wind howled like a dog with a toothache, and threatened to rip our tents to shreds at any moment. My teeth chattered so loudly, I hoped I wouldn’t wake Sophie, who finally fell asleep next to me after hours alternating between coughing, sneezing, and shivering. The calendar may have said it was summer, but if someone had handed me a snowsuit, I would have French-kissed them.

  My mind turned to the fake clues Lyssa and I had planted. What a waste. Other than the claw marks, they were probably all washed away in the storm.

  Eventually, I drifted off to sleep but Sophie’s coughing woke me a few hours later. I found a flashlight and pointed it at her. Sophie’s skin was even paler than usual except for the slight sickly yellow tone. Sweat coated her face, and she sported some killer dark circles under her eyes.

  “Wow. You’ll do anything to avoid being on television, huh?” I teased her.

  Sophie struggled to hoist herself up on her elbows. “I’m fine. Just need a sip of water . . .”

  I reached out to help her, and immediately felt her scorching, clammy skin. “Shit. Sophie, you’re burning up!” My sister had a weak immune system, so when she got sick, she got violently ill. “Lay back down. You’re not fine.”

  For a second, I thought she was going to fight me, but she saw how serious I was and slunk back down in her sleeping bag. My easy victory proved Sophie really felt lousy.

  I wiped her forehead with a bandana from my backpack. “This is what’s going to happen,” I said. “You’re going to take some ibuprofen, and I will call Beth on the walkie-talkie and get help. There’s no effing way I’m letting you stay outside on the damp ground when you’re this sick.”

  I could be very bossy when I had to be. It was one of the side effects of being a middle child. If I didn’t speak up, I didn’t get heard.

  “Yes, Doctor Berger.” Sophie managed a small smile, which barely registered on her face.

  “I’m not a doctor yet, but someday, when I’m a kick-ass surgeon, you’ll have to listen to me . . .”

  “I already listen to you,” she mumbled, followed by a coughing fit that shook her whole body and made her gasp for breath.

  I cringed and gave her a stern look. “You could use cough medicine, too. And maybe some chicken soup.”

  “Now you sound like a Jewish mother, and I already have one of those.” Sophie tried to laugh, but all that came out was a wheeze and another cough. “Sam, it’s the same cold I’ve been fighting off and on for weeks. I’ll be fine.”

  “I bet the infection’s in your chest. You can’t ignore it.” I crossed my arms and stared at her until she nodded.

  She smiled for real, and lay down on the pillow exhausted, like a big vacuum cleaner had sucked all the energy from her body. “You will be a really good doctor,” she said.

  I hoped she was right. Being a doctor was something I had dreamed about from the time I was a little kid and visited Sophie in the hospital. When I got a little older, I would beg to go to work with my mom at the medical center. She was a receptionist and awesome at dealing with patients and the insurance companies, but I wanted to be the one who actually healed people.

  I had volunteered at the local hospital for the past couple of months, helping nurses deliver meals, filing charts, visiting patients, and stuff like that. So that’s how I knew Sophie could have the flu or worse. I didn’t want to scare her, but pneumonia was even a possibility if her infection went untreated, and that’s something you just don’t blow off.

  I pulled my boots on and stumbled out of the tent. The storm had moved on, but it was still dark outside. I surveyed the campsite with my flashlight. We had the foresight to pitch our tents on high ground, so most of the rain had run down the hill and formed a moat of muddy water around much of the site. The fire pit had turned into a birdbath. Tree branches and debris littered the ground. It was a mess, but it appeared that all the gear and Bergers had survived the storm intact. With the notable exception of Lyssa’s little pup tent, which drooped awkwardly on one side, one of its poles clearly snapped in half.

  I took a deep breath and braced myself before going over to talk to my parents.

  “Mom? Dad? Wake up,” I said through the tent fabric.

  A rustling came from within and my dad’s snores stopped with a snort.

  “What’s happening? What’s wrong?” my mom responded, unzipping the tent flap and peeking her head out.

  “Mom, don’t freak out, okay?”

  That was apparently the wrong thing to say. My mom immediately went into panic mode; turning pale, she asked, “What is it? Is Lyssa okay?!”

  “I said not to freak out. Lyssa’s fine. It’s Sophie. She’s got a pretty bad cough and a fever. I need the walkie to call Beth. I think Sophie should see a doctor ASAP.” I got that all out in one breath, and stepped back, waiting for Mount Mom to erupt.

  “Oh my god! My poor baby girl!”

  “Mom, it’s okay. She’s gonna be fine—but I need the radio.”

  “Right, right.” She disappeared and reappeared a moment later with the walkie-talkie.

  My father had woken up enough to realize what was going on and he rubbed circles on my mom’s back. “Honey, let Sammy call the crew.”

  “I should make Sophie some soup,” my mom said, her face lighting up at the prospect of force-feeding my sister chicken and noodles.

  “Good idea,” I replied. That’ll keep her busy, I thought as I walked away with the walkie. I pressed down on the button. “Beth, come in. It’s Sam.”

  “Go for Beth. Hi, Samantha, what’s going on?”

  “My sister Sophie is very sick. I think she might
have the flu. We should get her to a doctor, or even the hospital. She has a compromised immune system because of her asthma.”

  The other line went silent as Beth paused. “Umm. I’ll check with Colin. I don’t know if he will move her or not. We’ll have to look at the contest rules.”

  I kicked a tree out of frustration. “I know what I’m talking about. She’s having problems breathing. She needs to have a doctor check her out. Immediately.” My sister’s health was way more important than Colin getting upset about weird-ass rules.

  “Okay. Calling Colin now. Over.” Beth disconnected and static filled the air. A few minutes passed. Then a few more. I paced and played with the antenna of the walkie-talkie, bending it back and forth, willing the radio to come on again with good news.

  When it finally did, Beth said, “We’re sending a doctor over in a Jeep.”

  “Thank you!” I said, my voice cracking in relief. “How long will it be?”

  “Twenty or thirty minutes tops,” Beth said.

  I blew out a huge sigh. “If you could hurry them, I would appreciate it.”

  “I can’t hurry them. It’s still early and they said twenty to thirty minutes. Over.” She hung up.

  I let my parents know what was happening, then grabbed a bottle of water and ducked back inside the tent where Sophie was stretched out like a sick starfish.

  “Thanks,” she said with a hoarse voice, taking the bottle from my hand. She drank the water and collapsed again. I sat in the corner of the tent and watched her exert way too much effort to breathe.

  Thirty-four painful minutes later, the car carrying Colin and a hunky, rugged Seattle mountain-man type doctor arrived.

  My parents rushed over to meet him.

  My mom wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thanks so much for coming.”

  “I’m Doctor Sawyer.” He smiled at my mom and shook hands with my dad before entering Sophie’s tent. Colin stood to the side with my parents and Lyssa.

  “So, let’s see what’s going on here?” The doctor held the back of his palm to Sophie’s forehead. He gestured for her to open her mouth, and stuck the thermometer in between her chapped lips. His brows knitted together when the thermometer beeped. “One-oh-three, that’s not so good. I’m going to listen to your lungs,” he said, offering her a reassuring smile. Then he took out a stethoscope. “Breathe as deeply as you can. Okay, now try to cough.”

  Sophie’s lips formed a grim smile, and her eyes lowered to half-mast. “Not a problem there.”

  After listening to her cough, Dr. Sawyer said, “Your sister was right to call me. I’m thinking it’s the flu. The strain this year has been particularly brutal.”

  “Do you think she needs to go to the hospital?” I asked.

  “I’m hoping not.” He gave my sister one final smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you feeling better, Sophie.”

  “Thanks,” I answered for her.

  He stood and left to speak with my parents who were standing with Colin several feet away. I followed.

  “Well?” Colin asked.

  “It’s the flu. She’s got a moderately high fever and I’d like her to stay in bed—a real bed, not a sleeping bag on the ground—and get some rest for the next few days,” the doctor replied.

  “So, we’re sending her to the hospital, right?” I interjected.

  Colin frowned. “I thought maybe we could move her to the Netherfield team’s cabin instead. They have an extra suite, so she’ll have plenty of privacy and quiet. That way we can film her illness, make it part of the story. It’d be great for ratings. People love that kind of drama.”

  “What? Are you freaking serious?” I gestured for my parents to back me up, but they seemed unsure what to do.

  “Well, that is,” Colin fumbled, “unless Dr. Sawyer insists that she go to the hospital.”

  Dr. Sawyer took a moment to think about it. “No, as long as she’s indoors, and kept warm and dry, and has someone to look after her, I don’t see why she shouldn’t stay in the cabin.”

  Colin grinned. “I have a feeling that the other team won’t have any problem with Sophie being there. They’ll take good care of her.”

  Then it hit me. This wasn’t just about showing the recovery of a pretty girl with the flu. This was about Kyle. Colin had seen Sophie and Kyle talking the other day, and was hoping that pushing them together would make for some good soap-opera-style reality TV drama.

  “Good,” Dr. Sawyer said. “And I can check on her myself over the next few days and we’ll figure out if she needs anything stronger than cough and cold medicine. I think really the best thing for her is rest and fluids.”

  Everyone looked at me, expectantly, but as pissed as I was at Colin’s exploitation of my sister’s illness, I wasn’t going to argue with the doctor. And maybe it would be better to have Sophie nearby so I could personally keep an eye on her. I nodded, “Okay, let’s try the cabin. But if she gets worse, she’s going to a hospital.”

  My parents agreed and I left them to radio Beth and get the logistics sorted out.

  I crawled back into the tent and whispered to Sophie, “Well, I think you’re going to get your chance to know Kyle better.”

  “What do you mean?” Sophie’s voice was rough from all the coughing.

  “They’re going to send you to his team’s tricked-out log cabin until you’re better.”

  “This is awful,” she moaned.

  I put on my best cheerful face. “You heard the doctor. He said you need to rest for a while. No big deal. I guess you’ll just have to do a little glamping.”

  “I can’t impose on them.” Sophie patted down her hair and put it behind her ears.

  “Bull! You just don’t want Kyle to see you looking like this.” I pulled out the brush from her backpack and helped straighten her hair.

  She exhaled, with some visible effort. “Okay. Whatever you think. I just hope it doesn’t affect our team. I know it’s important to Mom and Dad.”

  “Don’t worry about the contest. I’ve got it covered. And I’ll come by to make sure you’re getting fluids and stuff. Although I bet Kyle won’t mind playing nurse either.” I winked at her. I hadn’t wanted Sophie to get distracted by Kyle, but maybe I was thinking about it the wrong way. It was possible that Kyle would be the one distracted. Maybe he’d fall hard for my sister and not want to see her lose, which could only help us.

  The doctor poked his head back into the tent. “Okay, Miss Sophie, we’re going to take you to the cabin for a few days. We’ll drive you right now in the Jeep.” He wagged his finger at her and added, “Promise me you won’t push yourself.”

  “Okay,” she replied meekly.

  The doctor held out a hand to help her stand.

  Sophie’s eyes searched mine. I nodded and smiled, then gave her a gentle hug. My dad and Lyssa blew kisses and waved while my mom got into the car with Sophie.

  My mom wiped a tear away from her face. “I’m going to get Sophie settled in and then come back,” she said.

  I draped the dry blanket that Colin had brought over Sophie’s shoulders and threw her backpack in the Jeep for her. Once she was all tucked in, Sophie offered a small wave as the vehicle drove away, taking her behind enemy lines.

  Chapter 12

  “The most important video footage of Sasquatch was taken in 1967 by Roger Patterson in northern California. There is still debate over whether it’s real. I think it doesn’t hurt to believe.”

  —Colin Johnson, producer of “Myth Gnomers,” in “Yes, Virginia, There Is a Sasquatch: A Behind-the-Scenes Christmas Special”

  I didn’t even have time to worry about Sophie that morning—I had to get ready for the camera crew that would be there any moment to follow us on another exciting adventure with Ernie.

  I tried to wake Lyssa, who had crawled into my tent after Sophie left because hers was broken from the storm. “Lyssa, get up.”

  Lyssa covered her face with the crook of her arm to avoid the sunlight. “
Ten more minutes,” she grumbled into her elbow. “Go make me some coffee.”

  “No way. You’re on your own,” I said. “I gotta help Dad.”

  I pulled my boots on and trudged outside to find him wringing out the clothes that had been drying on the clothesline when the rain started falling last night. “What a night, eh, kiddo?” Dad grinned as he draped a couple of his embarrassing shirts over the line. One read “Gone Squatchin’ ” and the other said “I’m with Bigfoot.” He had many more of those types of shirts back at home.

  “That’s an understatement,” I replied.

  “Anybody start building an ark yet?” he asked. “Maybe we can convince two Wood Apes to come on board.”

  I wished I were a spider, so I’d have even more eyes to roll.

  Lyssa finally emerged from the tent, and shortly after that Mom got back from getting Sophie settled in the other team’s cabin. Ernie’s bellowing snores were still emanating from his tent, so we all tiptoed around, hoping to let him sleep for as long as he wanted. Seems I wasn’t the only one who was eager to avoid Ernie.

  Everyone was exhausted from a sleepless, stormy night, but I was resigned to get back out on the trail. Sure, we won the first challenge, but time was running out for the second one.

  I wondered how the other team was doing with Duke, and toyed with the idea of spying on them again. But I decided against it, feeling like my time would be better used for trying to figure out how the hell we were going to get video of a creature I was still pretty positive didn’t exist.

  “Okay, Bergers, let’s get cracking,” Ernie said, once he threw off his sleep mask and rolled out the map. “I’ve crossed off the site of the footprint. I say we go further up the mountain now.”

  My dad’s lips formed a grim line. “This is a nighttime hunt, which means we should start later in the day. Plus the girls need to rest. We don’t want anyone else getting run down and sick.”

  The two went back and forth endlessly, before my dad finally prevailed. I was proud of him for standing up to Ernie.