Wolf Canyon: Cold Cat Mountain Book II (Cold Cat Mountain Trilogy 2)

by Kimberly Goss-Kearney

  Breathing heavily, she sidestepped her way clear of Randall, backing toward the tent door. Suddenly, she felt trapped and closed in; she felt herself tightening her jaw.

  “You are still disgusting, Randall. The team on this expedition doesn't need to avoid me. If the Dark Sasquatch want me they can take me and you know it. I'm not a lab rat. Figure this little situation out on your own. It’s obvious the Summit has you by the softies and you'd like to tell them this is handled. It’s also obvious that none of you are going to level with me about what’s really going on here. My illness isn't yours to exploit for research.” Turning toward the door to leave she paused.

  “And Matilda, you haven't said much, but Skid is dead. He loved you, more than I do. And Hoyd is gone too. I think all of you should pull your heads out and get in the game. No one is leaving here alive unless they let us. Doesn't matter what your state secrets are- or your pedigree.”

  “Hello darkness, my old friend...” Paul Simon

  ~Twenty-five~

  A camp divided against itself cannot stand. Blaze watched from the background as everyone slowly gathered around the large fire. Wolves howled in the distance as Blaze watched the trees quietly. It was only their second night. It felt as though she had been at Camp Snow Globe for weeks.

  Walker approached and stood next to her. Without speaking, Blaze slipped her hand in his. The warmth of his larger hand closed over hers and they stood without speaking. The smaller perimeter fires danced brightly, as did all of the extra light emanating from the lanterns hanging throughout the camp. The scent of sage drifted past and Blaze inhaled, appreciating the aroma.

  She wished Matilda were emotionally present enough to experience the camp with her, and the atrocities associated with the satellite Summit members. As cold and unreadable a crowd as she had ever met.

  As far as Blaze knew, no one had bothered to question Shelby, or Matilda, and the unorganized approach to solution-finding made her twitch with agitation. As she watched the trees, holding Walker’s hand, she wondered what to do next. The world waited, and she had no idea where to begin if she walked away from the chaos she had entered.

  She felt herself wanting to mourn, wanting to have a brief memorial service by the fire, but cooperation within the camp was entirely absent. Each individual served their own purpose. Except Walker and Gordon. John too was authentic in his mourning of Pat. Bixley beamed with hope over her daughter.

  One of the horses pawed at the snow covered ground not far from where she and Walker stood. Blaze watched as Pat’s horse stared out into the trees too. She wondered if it was also feeling the loss.

  “You two alright?” Blaze turned and smiled. Gordon offered hot mugs to Walker and Blaze, then stood next to them, hands in his pockets. In the quiet, with the camp behind them, Gordon cleared his throat.

  “Shelby is alive because of you, Blaze.”

  Nodding quietly, Blaze took a sip of the honey and lemon drink.

  “And I am alive because of her.” Several seconds passed and no one spoke. Finally, Walker turned to face Gordon. “This is our second night up here and the wolves are still crying. What do you make of that?”

  “Not sure, Sheriff. Seems suspect. I thought those things made the wolves stop altogether. I must have missed something. You two have a plan B?”

  Blaze raised her eyebrows. “For what?” “For getting out of here.” Gesturing back toward the camp he drew in a breath. “These folks are self-serving. I believe Ren and Cindy are good people who have their hands tied. But the rest, it’s obvious they will be taking care of themselves in an evac situation.”

  Feeling her jaw go slack, Blaze turned toward the camp. Under any other circumstances she would have disagreed with Gordon. It just hadn't occurred to her in the recent hours of stress and activity to consider they could be abandoned at the camp. She bit the inside of her cheek, pondering the gravity of being left behind.

  “My Plan B is in place.”

  Walker’s smooth response stunned Blaze. She turned toward him, asking “You already have one?” Shrugging casually he pushed his hat back. “Folks like these are serving a God I don't. Money. They will always consider themselves first. That Summit they report to,” he swiped his hand outward, “they're a bunch of educated, rich, pampered morons. They have had decades to figure out what to do with these things and instead they've ignored the problems and let the public live in ignorance. Of course they'll watch out for themselves first.”

  Gordon lowered his voice. “What’s your plan?”

  Walker fished into his pockets and produced a set of keys.

  “I boosted the key for one of their Side by Sides. I figure they're too preoccupied to keep track and one missing set won’t raise much of an alarm.” Shoving the keys back into his pocket he nodded to Gordon. “It’s enough of a plan to get her off the mountainside. I figure if those things keep their distance with Blaze around, the Summit’s going to want their hands on her if she doesn't disappear in the chaos of an attack.”

  Grinning, Gordon looked over his shoulder. “Well, make sure she doesn't run off into the trees again then.” Winking at Blaze, he pulled his collar up close around his neck. Blaze rolled her eyes.

  Another wolf cried out in the distance and all three stopped and listened as two more joined in. The green laser light alarm seemed insignificant protection in regards to what Gordon had witnessed on the North Ridge riding toward Wolf Canyon. Having seen how they displayed their victims, he knew they'd likely not heard the last of the Dark Sasquatch.

  “You know, possibly being a human-hybrid, as Matilda had theorized, they could be capable of intelligent strategy,” Walker offered. Without thinking about his response, Gordon answered. “They are.” The glint in his eye warned Blaze off from asking any other questions. Some things didn't need to be discussed.

  Blaze rolled her eyes. Even the cowboys had secrets.

  Walker rubbed his jaw line, looking out to the trees. “Do either of you know why Judy would just end up in shock like that?”

  Shrugging, Gordon raised his eyebrows. “It’s no good. It’s connected to all of this.”

  “Foul play?” Walker looked up. “Could be. Why?”

  Gordon shook his head. Walker took a deep breath and stepped closer to Blaze and Gordon. “I promised I wouldn't say anything...but under the circumstances I think secrecy among us is dangerous. Judy had been writing in her journal when we found her in shock. We found the word “Croatoan” written in it on a blank page, scribbled over and over.”

  Blaze felt her stomach knot. “Croatoan?” She looked to Gordon who shook his head. “I don't like that. I heard my grandfather speak about the Croatoan once. He thought he was alone with my uncle. Natives keep information like that under wraps for the most part. I know what it means, according to my heritage.” He dropped to one knee, looking around carefully, then picked up a stick a few inches from his boot. “It’s what I'd suspected all along but I didn't want to say anything.”

  Carefully, making sure no one else approached, he pressed his finger to his lips indicating both Blaze and Walker should remain silent.

  In the snow he drew a pattern with the small stick. When finished he placed the stick in the center of the pattern and stepped back. The silent snow falling around them, Blaze tried to make sense of the drawing, as did Walker. Suddenly, a scream sounded from the trees just ahead of them, raising the hair on Blaze’s neck. Another joined in, and another, until the camp was inundated with a barrage of screaming from all sides of the small canyon camp.

  Standing, Gordon raised his boot and kicked fresh snow onto the cryptic drawing, and stomped on it until no pattern remained. Looking up, he tilted his head.

  “Well, that ain’t good.”

  “Deep into that darkness, peering long, I stood there wondering, fearing, doubting.” Edgar Allen Poe

  ~Twenty-six~

  The screaming stopped. Both Walker and Blaze looked up at Gordon, horrified.

  “And just wh
at kind of crazy voodoo was that supposed be? Are you a witch doctor?” Unsmiling, Gordon made sure the stick was buried beneath a mound of snow before turning to look up. Blaze grabbed the sleeve of his coat. “I thought only Max had made a deal with the devil when Ren said these things don't bother him or his family. What was that?”

  “Lower your voice. They can hear you.” Blaze dropped her hands, stunned. She leaned forward, pulling Walker in closer by his coat sleeve as a mother might do a child. She hissed out the words. “WHO?”

  Gordon tilted his head, shifting his eyes to the trees.

  “The Croatoan.” His low, serious tone gave rise to a new apprehension as Blaze looked out into the forest.

  “Uh- why are we suddenly worried about that now? We've never lowered our voices before.” “Because I wasn't sure until now what we were dealing with. I’m only a descendant of a native family. A lot of the lore was passed on to me by my grandfather was when I was a child. In secret. I have not shared it.” “But why are we whispering?” Blaze's insistent tone caused Gordon to put up a finger as he watched the trees.

  “Because they understand us.” No one spoke. In the night air, tree tops swayed gracefully as spot lights swung in circles in all four corners of the camp. With the green laser light just a few feet in front of them, Blaze felt herself recoil. Stepping back she put her palm to her forehead. “Does Max know about this?”

  Shaking his head, Gordon stepped next to her. “I doubt it. I wasn't even sure it would work until I just tried it. Grandfather made it clear I should only use it under extreme circumstances. It forces them to identify themselves.”

  Walker stiffened. “I don't think they liked it.”

  “Wait...your grandfather told you they understand us?” Blaze pushed, refusing to let what little information Gordon offered be the last of it. “Yes. He said they understand us. But there are two different kind of Sasquatch, Blaze. The “Old Ones” have been around a long time, living alongside us, peacefully. They avoid people, shy away from detection, and never cause harm unless they are openly challenged. But the “Dark Ones,” they’re deadly, and have been around just as long. They're killers. They’re twisted; evil and cunning. They evolved into killing machines, with a predatory intelligence even the Old Ones avoid. The Dark Sasquatch have no predator above them. They take. They enjoy the hunt, and they enjoy not being caught.”

  Blaze knew her tone was sarcastic. “So that Indian voodoo you just did is an ancient tracking system to see if that's what we are dealing with?” Gordon nodded. “Not just a tracking system. An identification method.”

  “Identifying them as what?”

  Walker met Gordon's eyes. “The ancient Croatoan?” Blaze blinked. “We have to get back to camp and warn the others.” As she spun to leave, Walker caught her sleeve. “Hold on there, Blaze.” Peering intently at Gordon now, “so what about her jaunt out into the trees? Your grandfather tell you anything about that? Why she was left alone?”

  “Because she is the only thing they fear. She has something inside that propelled her to confront them.”

  Blaze snorted. “An inner monster?”

  “I don't think that's what my grandfather called it. He referred to it as “light”. Extreme light. It blinds them from being able to pursue.”

  Blaze pointed to the ground again. “So do you have any drawings that will send them packing?”

  Gordon shook his head. “I was pretty young, but if I remember right, that's your job.”

  “By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes...” William Shakespeare

  ~Twenty-seven~

  Gordon shared his own Plan B quietly with Walker while Blaze continued to stare out into the night. The Dark Sasquatch watched her from the near distance, a fact she could feel. In the vacuum of the moment, she wondered how lore from the past had come to dominate the present. How the monsters she had refused to believe in had suddenly not only become very real, but very agitated with her presence.

  It was early evening and she stood weary. Knowing that somehow they didn't have all the pieces to the puzzle she wondered if she would have to be content with that. Human nature itself however, taught her something new during their stay at the camp; survival was self-serving. Even in the intimacy of the moment, as Gordon and Walker conferred on how to exit the camp in an emergency, it had not occurred to Blaze that she, as a pawn, could potentially be left behind. She herself had been so busy dealing with her own motivations she hadn't considered those of others.

  How would Matilda respond to Gordon's Native style of calling out the Dark Sasquatch? She'd no doubt insist he show her how to do it, too. A wave of fatigue washed over her and she allowed her eyes to close as the two men spoke softly.

  “Hey, I wanted to say thank you for saving my life back there.” Blaze opened her eyes and saw Shelby standing just in front of her, smiling a crooked smile. Her mother, Bixley, stood close to her side. Blaze smiled back and reached for Shelby, hugging her. “I'd say we're even.”

  Bixley held her arms out as well, tears shining in her eyes. Laughing as she hugged Blaze, she pointed playfully at herself. “After this is over I'm moving far away from the mountains.”

  A scream from across the camp pierced the early night chill. Bixley pulled Shelby close, then turned to Gordon and grabbed his arm. Another scream followed the first. Walker put his hand to his sidearm. “We’d better get over there.”

  As a group, they made their way across the encampment towards the sudden onset of screams. Past the large fire at the center of the camp, near the laser alarm, a small circle of Max's family stood with hands pressed over their mouths, pointing to the snow. Blaze looked down into the light provided by Rick’s flashlight to see two red hand prints and a small trail of blood where someone had been pulled under the laser alarm. Swiftly turning, Blaze looked to Rick and Ren. “I didn't hear an alarm. Why didn't we hear an alarm?”

  Shaking his head Ren, looked up and faced Max. Kneeling, with his finger touching the crimson snow, Max shook his head. “Who is missing?”

  Someone did a quick head count and returned. “No one’s missing- everyone's accounted for.”

  Max stood and slowly searched the camp with his eyes. “Did you check Judy's tent?” Rick nodded and sprinted off in that direction. Randall approached slowly, as though unfazed by the commotion. Sauntering over to the location of the red stained snow, he pursed his lips. “Now they want to play.” His quiet statement was ignored by several others, who were rushing to check the alarm systems and fires. Max turned to Randall, glaring. “This is what you wanted.”

  Randall shook his head, grinning. Rubbing his hands together, he smiled the wolfish grin Blaze had become accustomed to. Showing no concern or remorse, he eyed the blood in the snow, just under the green laser light.

  “So wickedly cunning,” he whispered to no one in particular. Blaze watched from a few feet away as his eyes gleamed.

  “There is something so wrong with you.” Her tone lacked emotion, which she knew would only feed his appetite.

  Randall ignored her. He paced around in the snow, looking out into the dark.

  “You know you're afraid of them. I saw your cowardice back there by the hot springs. They’ll take you like the rest, Randall.”

  Randall stopped, all motion and pacing ceased. “Don't you think you're in danger too,” she asked. When he turned his head to face her, his smile had returned.

  “No.” That simple word undid him. Rushing forward, he reached out to grasp her, his long arms extended as he moved with great strides. Walker stepped between the two, as did Gordon and John. Throwing his arms, spittle erupting from the sides of his mouth he swore.

  “You are not immune!”

  Walker remained where he was while Blaze offered a disgusted look Randall’s way and walked off.

  “You are not immune! There is no one who is! Not even Max in this situation-”

  Blaze stopped.

  Turning slowly, she raised her eyes t
o his. Randall slowly composed himself, pulling down the sleeves of his coat and arranging his neck scarf. As he ran a hand through his hair, the wolves began to cry from just outside their camp.

  Blaze felt a shiver.

  Turning his back to her, Randall walked toward the laser alarm, eyeing the dark trees beyond. “Even Max thought the wolves’ absence would warn us when the Dark Sasquatch were near. That's not what’s happening though…is it, Randall?” Gordon's voice broke the silence.

  “If you knew what they were capable of, you'd step back from that green light. They like the color.”

  Walking away, Gordon winked at Blaze as he passed. When Blaze glanced back over her shoulder she watched Randall step back cautiously and look around.

  “Light up the darkness...” Bob Marley

  ~Twenty-eight~

  The camp would have been stunning under any other circumstances. Lights danced and twinkled from all angles in the deep night of the recessed canyon. Lanterns with scroll work tossed out illuminated designs in yellow and gold upon the white snow covered ground. Multiple fires danced merrily between each white bubble tent.

  The large fire in the center of the camp had been banked up again, crackling as it threw defiant sparks upward into the night. Walker had left her by the large fire on a timber bench to ensure the alarms were working and the head count was intact. It had been confirmed Judy was still in her tent, still lying in silent shock.

  On the bench, Blaze closed her eyes and absorbed the warmth. The natural sounds of the camp’s occupants were soothing, even if the mountainside itself was teeming with Croatoan. Blaze repeated the word as she withdrew her medication. She'd fallen behind on her dosage and refused to be a burden in the camp if she could help it.