Watchers in the Woods

by William W. Johnstone

  Matt was not prepared for what he saw. He had seen Sataws, more animal than human. But the sight that greeted him this day jarred him to his boots. There were some who looked to be perfectly formed human beings. There were others who had attained only about midpoint through the evolution cycle. He fought an inner struggle to keep his face expressionless and hoped it worked.

  “Matt Jordan,” Nick said. “This is the leader of the tribe. His name is Ty.”

  Ty had a human body and an animal’s face, wolflike, with a shorter snout. Matt did not know whether to shake hands or just stand there.

  Ty smiled and stuck out an almost perfectly formed human hand, but a lot hairier than normal. When he spoke, the words came out slow and labored but clear enough to understand.

  Matt took the hand and could feel the tremendous power in the fingers.

  “I understand your confusion, Matt Jordan,” Ty said. “The first time I saw a human being up close their ugliness scared me half to death.”

  Matt had to laugh and hoped Ty and the others would understand the laughter. They did, and joined in.

  “Well,” Matt said, stalling for time and words, “. . . I guess the first thing we have to do is get a chopper in here and show you all there is nothing to fear from the machines.”

  “That would be a good first step,” Ty agreed. “I personally have seen them up close. Great noisy flapping things. Yes, bring one of them in so my people can look at it, Matt Jordan.”

  “There is something else, Ty. Do you have any prisoners you’ve . . . ah, taken in the timber?”

  “None. Since we were so close to attaining human form, we stopped that years ago. The Sataws are still guilty of taking prisoners, however. Those in the outside world who are supportive of them wrongly placed the blame on us.”

  “Ty, are you and your people fully prepared to cooperate with us in naming those who have left here and whom you suspect to be followers of the . . . ’urge,’ as Nick and Dan call it?”

  “The tribe members have discussed it, and we will give you the names of all those we know. But there are many out there whom we have lost track of. I don’t know how much help we can be.”

  “That’s fair. All right, here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to order helicopters in to resupply and beef up the army rangers, who will throw up a perimeter around this area to keep people out—people of my kind who might not have friendly thoughts toward you and the tribe, and also to keep out Sataws and breakaways.”

  “I am agreeable to that, Matt Jordan. I think I know what ’beef up’ means.”

  Matt lifted his walkie-talkie. “All right, Richard. You and Simmons get ready to come on in. Dan is coming back to guide you in.”

  High overhead a passenger jet flew westward. Ty looked up. “Amazing things have happened in my lifetime. The first time I saw a plane, I thought it was a great bird of prey. I ran back underground and wouldn’t come out for days.”

  “Would you like to ride in a jet?” Matt asked him.

  “Not . . . really, Matt Jordan. My heart is pounding in my chest at the thought of riding in one of those flapping things. Will it be a long journey?”

  “Several hours in the air. We have to cross the mountains.”

  Ty smiled. “Oh, I’ve crossed the mountains many times, Matt Jordan. But I’ve never flapped across them.”

  * * *

  Richard paled visibly at the sight of the tribe members, but Matt gave him credit for not losing his composure. He offered the tribe food.

  “We are not carnivores, Richard,” Ty told him. “We have no quarrel with the animals the gods placed on the earth.”

  “Can you communicate with them?” Simmons asked.

  “To a degree. The wolf especially. It is one of the smartest of all species. And the most misunderstood and feared by your people.”

  “Wrongly so?”

  “Oh, yes. You people don’t take time to understand an animal. You expect more out of an animal than you do from your own kind. That has always both amused and frightened us. Most animals are predictable if one takes the time to learn their ways. Most, not all.”

  “I think,” Richard said, “that we can learn a lot from each other, Ty. If we try.”

  “I hope so, Richard,” the tribe leader replied. “But I have very grave doubts.”

  “Yet despite your doubts, you agreed to be relocated.”

  “It had to be. Civilization—or whatever you call it—is moving toward us. Closer and closer each year. And the tribe met and agreed that the killing of the Sataws and the urge followers had to be stopped, even if it meant an end to us. And that will probably prove to be.”

  “You don’t have much faith in the human race, Ty, yet you strive to be human.”

  “Yes. But since no tribe member practices war, tribe members respect animals and do not kill for sport, no tribe member steals from another, tribe members mate for life, tribe members do not engage in child abuse, and we protect the environment instead of damaging it, we concluded that our incorporation into your race could only improve it.”

  Richard smiled and it was genuine. “If only that would prove to be true, Ty. All we can do is hope.”

  “Believe me,” the man-beast said, “we have done a lot of hoping since the decision was made.”

  “I have a suggestion,” Richard said. “Let’s see if we are in agreement. I am going to suggest to the President of the United States that this area, your homeland, be declared a government reservation and that it be placed off limits to anyone not of the tribe. If the incorporation of the tribe into our race proves to be a failure for whatever reason, you will have a place to return and live in peace. Are you in agreement with that?”

  “It sounds nice,” Ty said. “But I have read of the Indians on reservations. They do not fare so well. Why would we be any different? Look at us, Richard. Look at our forms. We’re trapped between worlds. There are those in your world who would consider us to be a game animal, who would come in and shoot us and mount our heads on their walls. Is this not true?”

  “Well . . . ah, yes, unfortunately, it is. But we can keep those people out. I think.”

  “You think,” Ty said with his strange animal-like smile. “But you can’t be sure. Your world contains people with many strange prejudices, Richard. If a human being can have those prejudices against a fellow human being, just think how many would view us. We are part animal, Richard, and we know—have known for centuries—that your world has little or no compassion for animals. You consider yourselves far superior to animals, yet no animal kills without reason. Animals do not drag their food kills into a drunken gawking circle of like animals expecting praise for killing it, and then leave it to rot. But your people do. We’ve seen it countless times. Your race makes planes that fly through the heavens and land on the moon, automobiles that roar about, puking filth into the air. Very fine accomplishments, I suppose, but then you have the arrogance to think that you can tinker with nature and make it better. You kill off all the natural predators of the woods creatures to justify man’s slaughter of the animals that are left . . . and all for sport. It just makes no sense to any of us.”

  Richard had no rebuttal; he knew there was none. He could not simply shrug this off. Finally he said, “We’re not all like that, Ty.”

  Ty would only smile, rather sadly, Matt thought. “I approve of your reservation plan, Richard. If all else fails. When will the first helicopters arrive?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “I will have my people ready. Please, erect your tents and be comfortable. Eat and rest. You are safe.”

  * * *

  When the first big choppers came hammering in, the tribe members scattered like leaves in the wind. One minute there were a hundred men, women, and kids in the area. A minute later, not a one could be seen.

  “Who are all those people?” Matt asked.

  “Medical doctors, anthropologists, and two goddamned politicians.”

  “Well, that’
s wonderful, Richard. A politician is going to keep his mouth shut? Since when? Well, maybe it’s not such a bad idea. Let Ty and others see what form of government we have. Fifteen minutes of conversation with those nitwits and Ty will order his people back underground.”

  “There are many good, decent, hardworking, public-minded men and women in Congress, Husky.”

  “Name two.”

  Richard walked off, muttering.

  The doctors and the anthropologists were awed when the tribe members began gathering around, staring at the new arrivals. The politicians just looked scared.

  The tribe parted when Ty made his entrance and one of the doctors said, “Good God!”

  Ty was introduced. “What happened was we tried to breed too close,” Ty explained. “From the neck down, I am pure human. You can see what I am from the neck up. I make no apologies for it. I believe it was your comic book hero Popeye who said, ’I yam what I yam.’” Ty chuckled, the sound odd coming from his animal throat and mouth.

  One of the anthropologists smiled. “I would very much like to see how you and your people live, Mr. Ty. Could that be arranged?”

  “Why not? I would imagine we all had best get used to being studied.”

  “Only with your permission, Mr. Ty,” one of the doctors said. “We would like to try to learn from each other.”

  “A noble thought. May I pose a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you use animals in laboratory experiments?”

  “No. I belong to an organization called Psychologists for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.”

  “Good for you. Certainly. I would be happy to show you our living quarters.”

  “Come along, Matt,” Richard said.

  “No.”

  Richard stopped. Turned around. “Aren’t you interested?”

  “I don’t wish to see the sadness on the tribe members’ faces, thank you.”

  “Whatever in the world are you talking about?”

  “Ty knows they’ll never see this place again.”

  “The President told me he approves of the plan to turn this into a reservation for them! I spoke to him not two hours ago.”

  “Never happen, Rich. Like a lot of things, it looks good on paper. The tribe will spend the rest of their lives confined in that old National Guard base in Montana. If it takes a hundred more years to breed the animal out of them, that’s how long they’ll be there. Under guard. Behind high wire. In prison. Ty knows it. He told Dan and Nick that not twenty minutes ago.”

  “He might suspect it, Matt. He cannot know it.”

  “Wait until the public hears of them, Rich. Some of the more bloodthirsty ones will be swarming in here with elephant guns, hoping one of the tribe was left behind so they can kill it and mount it, stuff it, stick its head up on a den or office wall and brag to other good ol’ boys about how they ’Got me a clean shot, buddy. It only lay on the ground and kicked and squalled and bellered for a couple of minutes ’fore it died.’ You know what I’m saying is true, Rich.”

  “Go on, say it all, Matt.”

  “The tribe is used to running free. Some of them are not going to like being confined. They’ll break out. And then here come the gun-totin’ posses. And when they catch it, or before they catch it, some civilians will die.”

  “And what do you suggest, Rich?”

  “Have Congress declare this area off-limits to everybody. No hunting, fishing, backpacking, camping—nothing. And let me pick the teams who would make those orders stand. My God, Rich, it’s such a small part of such a large wilderness area. Let the tribe stay here where they belong and allow only the doctors and scientists in to do whatever. The anthropologists’ study would be much more complete if the tribe could live in their natural environment.”

  “Umm,” Richard said. “Your plan has merit, Matt. You would stay in this area and seek out and capture or kill the breakaways and Sataws; not by yourself, of course, but heading a team?”

  “I would agree to that, yes.”

  “I can guarantee only that I will take it up with the President.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  “I’ll delay the other helicopters coming in until I’ve spoken with the President.”

  “That’s good enough for me, Rich.”

  Matt walked over to Dan and Nick and explained what he’d proposed. The men grinned and slapped him on the back. “Good for you, boy,” Dan said. “If the powers that be buy it, I’ll stay in here with you and help you track the bad ones down.”

  “Me, too,” Nick said.

  “Here comes Ty with the doctors,” Dan said. “I’ll tell them what you proposed.”

  The scientists were ecstatic. Matt thought one of them was actually going to try to kiss him. He backed up a couple of feet. While they were babbling happily about on-site study and fellowships and whatever, Matt winked at Ty and slipped away. Ty returned the wink. It was an odd feeling, having a wolf’s head wink at him.

  But a good feeling.

  2

  It went well for the first few days. Helicopters began ferrying in mounds of supplies for the army and the scientists who were staying indefinitely in the area code-named U-1. First camp of the Unseen, Matt supposed.

  Ty and his tribe readily accepted the scientists and patiently began answering their hundreds of questions. The tribe lined up to take blood tests and to be given lengthy physicals. More equipment, including portable generators, was helicoptered in.

  “Any day now,” Matt told Lieutenant Davidson. “The press has to pick up on it. And when that happens, we’re in trouble. Or more accurately, the tribe is in trouble. The new people in place?”

  “Yes, sir. Captain Fargo is in command. We have a full company of rangers in place. But,” he added glumly, “a full battalion couldn’t really secure this area. It’s just too damned big. What’s the word from Congress?”

  “A select committee is discussing the matter.”

  “That means the press will learn of it very soon.”

  “You got it.”

  Two weeks after the first helicopter carrying the scientists, doctors, anthropologists, and two politicians touched down near the tribe’s living area, the story broke in the press.

  Savage Tribe Found Living in Great Primitive Area silently screamed one headline.

  Cannibals Discovered in State said another.

  Watching on a satellite hookup, Matt and several of the doctors listened as a network news anchor wrapped up his commentary by saying, “And once again the government has deceived the American people. This network has, like other networks, been denied access to the tribe area. Why? If this lost tribe is harmless, as the government claims, why aren’t we allowed to enter the area and film them . . . ?”

  “Because it’s none of your mother-fucking business, that’s why,” Matt muttered.

  “... And what about the recent spate of deaths of both high- and low-level government employees in and around the Washington, DC area? Confidential sources tell us the deaths are solidly connected with the lost tribe ...”

  “Idiot!” Matt said. “The tribe has been found, so how in the hell can they be lost?”

  “... The American people have a right to be informed. We demand that the government open up this area and allow news-gathering personnel in.”

  “You demand,” Matt said, getting up and turning off the set. “You demand. You demand to be let in so your ratings will go up and you’ll make more money. That’s why you demand, you asshole.”

  “The acting DCI wants you on the radio, Matt,” an FBI agent yelled to him.

  “Yes, Richard?”

  “The fat’s in the fire now.”

  “Yes, I saw the broadcasts. Who leaked it?”

  “Who knows? That’s only one of our problems. Congress is very jumpy about all those rangers in the area. They’re afraid some civilians are going to get hurt.”

  “So? All the networks have, to their credit, informed people to stay out o
f this area. If they ignore that warning and get their asses shot off, that’s their problem.”

  “Why must you always take such a simplistic approach to complicated problems, Matt?”

  “It isn’t complicated. Politicians have to make everything complicated so they can confuse the public into thinking they’re doing their jobs. Who do those blithering idiots in Washington want guarding this area, the Boy Scouts? God damn it, Rich, we’ve still got no telling how many breakaways, Sataws, and outside sympathizers roaming this country. Now that those fucking nitwits on the networks and the newspapers have busted this story wide open, people are going to get killed. You know how the press hates us. You mark my words, Rich. Once the newspeople learn that the Agency has a hand in this, we’re going to get the blame—all the blame—for anything bad that happens. It’s never failed before.”

  “Jesus,” Richard moaned. “We’re not even supposed to be working domestic. How in the hell did we ever get tied up in this mess?”

  “You’re asking me?”

  “No, no. All right, Matt. Brace yourself for a hard blow. A bad wind is coming.”

  “Yeah. And it’s spelled R-E-P-O-R-T-E-R-S.”

  * * *

  Simmons ran over to Matt’s tent. “It’s busted wide open, Matt. It’s all that’s on any network. The press has tied in the tribe to the disappearances, the kidnappings, and the murders over the past years. They’ve connected General Dawson and Chief of Staff Atkins. They’ve got the story about the Bureau agents and Company’s agents and the Secret Service people. It’s all out in the open now.”

  “Choppers approaching our sector now, sir!” a ranger radioman yelled. “They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”

  “You want to bet me ten bucks that I’m not going to be handed this hot potato?” Matt asked the Bureau man.

  “Yeah,” Simmons said. “I’ll take that bet. I just got off the horn with the Director. I’m the official spokesman for the Bureau out here. We’re to let the choppers land and to answer the reporters’ questions.”

  “Shit!” Matt said. “Better you than me.”