The Veritas Codex Series, #1

by Betsey Kulakowski

  Lauren squeaked, cupping her hand over her mouth. “I see it,” she whispered. “Don’t move.”

  “Team One to Team Two.” The walkie-talkie squawked loudly. Jean-René and Lauren both gasped. A crash in the thicket thundered in their direction. A dark flash of something large barreled at them. Jean-René turned to run, falling flat on his face, the camera tumbling wildly down the hill. He let out a yelp of pain and fear.

  “Team Two, we heard yelling. Lauren? Was that you?” There was a long pause. “Come in, Team Two. Team Two? Report! Report!”

  Jean-René saw the red light of the walkie-talkie in the fallen leaves and scrambled for it. “Team One! Team One! Mayday! We’re about two miles east from base camp near Ape Cave. We’ve just seen ... something ... I don’t know what it was!” He panted, breathlessly dropping to his knees, looking around. He froze. “Rowan ... we need you here, now!” He threw the walkie-talkie down and leapt to the form laying halfway down the slope in a heap, unmoving.

  “Team Two! What’s wrong? Come in Team Two! Come in Team Two!” The radio squelched. “We’re coming!”

  Chapter 7

  “Lauren?” Jean-René pulled at her jacket, trying to get her to stir. “Come on, Boss. Wake up.” He rolled her limp body over. “Lauren?” he repeated, this time more loudly. “Come on, dammit! Don’t do this.” His French-Canadian accent was more pronounced when he was agitated, and at the moment it was thick and brisk. “Tabernaque!” He genuflected, half-heartedly, his eyes briefly going towards the heavens; a silent plea for divine aid. He used the light to inspect her and froze when he realized she was bleeding from a gash behind her ear. “Dammit.”

  He fumbled through his backpack, for the small first aid kit they all carried. He found a pack of gauze, using it to apply pressure to the gash, holding her head between his hands. It wasn’t enough.

  * * *

  Rowan, Chance and Bahati were breathless when they arrived. Bahati recoiled at the odor that could only be described as a sickening blend of kitty litter and beast. Rowan didn’t seem to notice. “What happened?” Rowan dropped beside his cameraman. Jean-René knelt holding a limp form in his lap, he held his hand clamped over a wound. Blood oozed from between his fingers. The tang of iron found its way to the back of Rowan’s tongue as he switched on his flashlight. He confirmed what he’d suspected when he heard his friend’s panicked cry for help. It was bad.

  “I don’t know ... this thing ... maybe it was a bear ... I didn’t see it. It was so dark ... it charged us.” He started babbling in French.

  Rowan narrowed his eyes at him. “Calm down.” He turned his attention to Lauren, assessing her injuries. Rowan reached for his walkie-talkie. Jean-René held her head between his hands, his bandana pressed to the side of her skull. She had a deep gash behind her ear. Blood seeped from between his fingers. “Team One to Base Camp.”

  “Base Camp, over. What’s going on out there?”

  “There’s been an attack. Lauren’s hurt. I’m bringing her into camp. Get my triage kit ready, set up the light towers. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  “You’re going to move her?” Chance asked.

  “I don’t see that we have any choice,” Rowan said. “Bahati, help me get her out of this camera rig.”

  Bahati jumped into action. She loosened the clasps and peeled off the straps of the steady cam. Rowan fumbled through his field kit and found the collapsible c-collar. He used it to stabilize her neck. “Get me some more gauze,” he said. Chance found more in his kit and handed it over. Rowan placed it over the wound behind her ear, securing it with an elastic bandage until he could tend to it properly. It was the best he could do, given the circumstances.

  Rowan watched the trees nervously.

  “Bring the camera rig.” Rowan scooped her up. “Maybe we can see what happened to her.”

  Jean-René realized he’d lost his camera when the thing darted out of the trees. He searched in the dark until he found it. He fell in with the others, pushing past Chance so as not to be last in line as they filed through the stands of aspen and pines.

  * * *

  Lauren stirred as Rowan lay her down on the sleeping bag laid by the fire. She moaned and pinched her eyes shut, blinded by the light-stands that flooded the area. Rowan got his first good look at her injuries. An angry red scratch spread across her face from the corner of her mouth across her nose, to the outside corner of the opposite eyebrow. He turned to the bandaging, lifting it to inspect the wound in better lighting.

  “Ow!” She flinched. Rowan put a gentle hand on her chest, holding her down.

  “Don’t move,” he said, soothingly.

  “Oh man ...” she groaned, reaching for her throbbing head. Rowan took her hands in his. He was glad now he’d put the neck brace on her.

  “Lauren,” he said. “Lay still. Let me take a look. I need to see how bad it is.”

  “It feels like my scalp’s been peeled off my skull and taken my ear with it.” She drew her knees up. He removed the bandages and used fresh gauze to blot away the drying blood. She bit her lip. He could tell the laceration was deep. He also knew she wouldn’t be able to hold still long enough for him to stitch it up. Lauren was a horrible patient. He’d seen her kick a doctor in the groin once. He didn’t want her to do that to him.

  “It’s not anywhere near that bad,” he lied. “I’m going to get you something for the pain.”

  “Please.” She was shivering. It was a common pain-response. He needed to stabilize her.

  “How’s your neck?” He asked.

  “Everything hurts,” she whimpered. “Please ... do something. Hurry.”

  “That’s what all the ladies say.” He mused. He patted her on the shoulder. “Give me just a second to get everything I need.”

  “How bad is it?” Jean-René waited until he’d moved away to ask.

  Rowan lowered his head. “The laceration is deep. She’s in a lot of pain but I don’t have anything stronger than Tylenol. It’s not going to be enough.”

  “No whiskey?” Jean-René asked.

  “I drank the bottle I got on the airplane,” Rowan said.

  “Anyone else take anything for pain, maybe have brought some with them?” Jean-René looked around.

  “Wait.” Rowan hesitated, his hand resting on the dart pistol on his hip. He turned his gaze to his patient. “I have an idea.”

  “No! Rowan, you can’t be serious!” Jean-René caught his wrist as Rowan unsnapped the holster to his tranq gun.

  “It’s all I’ve got.”

  “Don’t do it,” Jean-René insisted. “You could kill her.”

  “Rowan.” Bahati called. “You have to see this.” She brought the camera over where Rowan could see it as he knelt beside her. The team huddled around. Bahati replayed the video from the attack. The FLIR camera aimed at her face showed a kaleidoscope of colors congealing over her shoulder into a bipedal form as it charged her. Lauren’s blurred form was sent crashing to the ground, tumbling down the mountain. Violently, her skull struck a tree with a hollow thwack. The camera went dark.

  Bahati set it to loop, decreasing in speed until they had frame by frame images. The images were haunting, but inconclusive.

  Lauren groaned but tried to sit up so she could see. Rowan tried to sooth her, holding her down with a gentle hand. “Don’t move,” he cautioned.

  “What happened? Where am I?”

  “You got hit by something that knocked you down,” he said. “We’re still not sure what it was,” Rowan explained. “Lauren, you’re going to need stitches and I only have one option for pain.”

  “I’ll take it. Whatever you have.”

  “Whatever?”

  “Anything.”

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “You asked for it.”

  Chapter 8

  “What the ...? Rowan!” Jean-René gasped. Everyone leapt to their feet as Rowan holstered the dart gun.

  “You got a better idea?” Rowan yanked the dart out of her t
high.

  Jean-René clenched his jaw, judgment written on his features.

  “What? It’s a sedative,” he said in his own defense. “I can’t treat her while she’s awake and in pain. What else was I going to do?” He went to work on his patient, peeling her out of the bloody jacket, before tending the wound.

  “That stuff will put a full-grown grizzly bear down for an hour.”

  “Well she’s going to be as mad as a grizzly bear when she wakes up. You better hope I’m done stitching her up before she does,” he said.

  “I don’t think I’m the one that needs to be afraid,” Jean-René said.

  * * *

  Lauren woke, flat on her back, unable to move for the pain in her head and shoulders. She reached out, realizing Rowan was sleeping beside her. She wrapped his shirt in her hand, tugging on him as firmly as possible.

  “What?” He was suddenly wide awake.

  “Did you shoot me with a tranquilizer dart?” The words came through her clenched teeth, laced with impending wrath.

  “Why would I do a fool thing like that?” He grumbled, sitting up and rubbing a weary hand over his head and face.

  “What the hell did you give me?”

  “A Benadryl injection. It’s all I had.” The lie came easily. He didn’t even blink. “Why would you think I’d shoot you with a tranquilizer dart?”

  “I don’t know,” she let go of his shirt, finally. “I guess the Benadryl gave me bizarre dreams.”

  “It always does,” he said. “How’re you feeling?”

  “I can’t move,” she said. “I feel like I got hit broadside by a Mack truck”

  “Close,” he said.

  “What was it?” She asked, squinting as if to see into him.

  “Wish to hell we could tell,” he said. “The thermal images are inconclusive.”

  “Great. Just great.” She clenched her jaw in frustration, wincing at the pain it caused. “What was it the critic in TV Guide said? No one’s better at not finding the truth than we are?” she asked. “Leave it to me to get hit broadside by a Bigfoot and not get it on camera.”

  “You think it was a Bigfoot?” Rowan arched a brow. He wanted it to be a Bigfoot, but the video was no help. It could have been a bear.

  “It made a run at me. Not Jean-René. It was after me.”

  “Why would you think that?” Rowan asked, reaching for the bandage and peeking beneath it.

  “I’m not sure. Call it intuition.”

  “I think you’re just being paranoid,” Rowan said.

  “Maybe.” She closed her eyes.

  * * *

  The rest of the evening remained quiet. Lauren slept by the fire where Rowan could monitor her. He diagnosed her with a concussion and whiplash. It wasn’t life-threatening, but their expedition was in jeopardy.

  It was near dark when the smell of food and wood-smoke woke her again. She was finally able to roll up to one elbow, still unable to turn her head. She groaned as she pushed herself up to a seated position slowly, with great effort. Bahati was at her elbow with a bottle of water and a pack of Tylenol caplets that Rowan had instructed her to give to Lauren.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Rowan took Jean-René to collect the camera traps for analysis so they can reset them before it gets dark.”

  Bahati returned to the fire. “I bet you’re hungry.”

  “Starving.”

  * * *

  Lauren was eating a plate of fried eggs, potatoes, and biscuits when they returned.

  “It’s alive,” Jean-René razzed.

  She raised her hand, flipping him off. “I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing,” she grumbled.

  “Looks like good grub.” Rowan glanced at her plate, taking a seat beside her, laying the cameras out around him.

  “Want some?” She asked.

  “I’ll get some once I download the film from the trail cams,” he pulled his laptop out of his pack, setting it up on the tree stump he used for a worktable. He connected each one to the computer, downloading the files from the cameras.

  “Chance and I will go reset those when you’re done,” Jean-René said as he took a seat with his dinner plate. Jean-René turned to Lauren. “Feeling better?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “My head is pounding, but that’s actually an improvement.”

  “Did you give her the Tylenol?” Rowan asked Bahati.

  “I did,” she said, and handed Rowan a plate.

  “Thanks.” He set the cameras and computer aside in favor of a hot meal. As night came, the night air chilled and the sky was chalky gray. A warm meal, even if it was Bahati’s cooking, would carry him through a long cold night of Bigfoot hunting.

  Rowan had reservations about continuing. The safety of the team was his utmost concern. Lauren’s especially. He’d been mulling it over all day. On the one hand, they’d hiked all this way, specifically for an encounter with the elusive Bigfoot. On the other hand, two members of the team had now fallen victim to the unknown. Safety on an expedition like this was a gamble. Everything was safe enough, until it wasn’t.

  * * *

  “So, here’s the plan for tonight. We’re going to stay together; one team. No one goes off alone. Lauren, Bahati and Rob will stay at base camp. Jean-René, Chance and I will go back toward Ape Cave. I want transponders on everyone, and I mean everyone.” Normally, this would be Lauren’s job. It amused her when he took charge. He was good at it. “We’re not having any more sneak attacks like the other night. Everyone stays on their toes.”

  Lauren turned her whole upper body to glare at Jean-René. “What happened the other night?”

  “You don’t remember?” He asked. When Lauren looked at him blankly, he told her the whole story. His voice trembled as he recounted the harrowing ordeal. Lauren seemed to sway. Her cheeks paled. “It was probably a bear or maybe a large wolf.”

  “Or a Bigfoot,” Bahati said, dropping her tone. A distant howl broke the silence of the forest. “Speak of the devil ...”

  “That’s no wolf,” Lauren said. “Where is my digital recorder?”

  A grin dimpled in the corner of Rowan’s cheeks. “There she is. Welcome back, Lauren,” he rose. “Let’s get to work. The sooner we get this one in the can, the better.”

  Chapter 9

  It was a busy night. The team chased trap cams and howling noises through the trees for hours. Lauren sat by the fire, her laptop on the stump as she sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag. Rob and Bahati hovered around watching the camera feed over her shoulder.

  “Dang it. One of the perimeter cameras went down,” she snapped. “We’re completely blind without that camera.”

  “Did something break the beam?” Rob asked.

  “The alarm would have sounded if it had. It just went dead,” she said. A second quadrant of her screen went blank. “Shoot! There went #2.”

  “What the hell?” Rob moved in. “I’ll go check them.”

  “You can’t go alone,” Lauren said. “Bahati, go with him.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “I can’t leave you alone.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she waved them off. “Nothing will come near so large a fire,” she added.

  Bahati and Rob stood looking at one another, not sure what to do. “You know Rowan would kill us if we left you here alone,” Bahati objected.

  “I’m armed,” she, said setting the dart pistol up on the stump by her laptop. “Please. Go fix that camera.”

  “Team One to Base Camp,” the walkie-talkie interrupted the argument, and she shooed them off as she reached for it. “We found a deer stand in one of the trees; we’re going to send Jean-René up with the night-vision and see if we can see anything.”

  “Sounds good. There’s a problem with the perimeter cam, but we’re going to get it reset. Hopefully it’s just a dead battery.”

  “I checked those batteries myself,” Rowan said. “They were fine a few hours ago.”

  “We’ll keep you
posted.”

  “Over and out, Base Camp.”

  * * *

  “What happened here?” Rob found the perimeter sensor on the ground by the tree where he’d secured it a few hours before. The bark on the tree was damaged. He picked up the remains of the alarm and held it up to the light for Bahati to see that it was nothing but a bunch of broken plastic and dangling wires. “What the hell?”

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Bahati shook her head. “Let’s fix it and get back to base camp. The longer we’re out here, the more likely we are to end up like Lauren.”

  “Or worse,” Rob agreed. “Did you bring a replacement?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  * * *

  It took less than an hour to fix both damaged sensors and return to camp. Neither could explain what had happened to them.

  Lauren’s laptop screen shone brightly, and the fire had died down to glowing coals, twinkling red beneath the char and ash. Nothing seemed out of place, but someone was obviously missing. Lauren’s coffee cup lay on the ground next to the tree stump upended in the dirt. The sleeping bag she’d been sitting on was disheveled. The lantern lay on its side a few feet away near the edge of camp.

  “Lauren?” Bahati called.

  “Surely she didn’t go off into the woods to pee,” Rob said. “Look, her tranq gun is still here. She wouldn’t leave without it, would she?”

  “Surely not.” Bahati agreed. “Lauren!” She yelled even louder. “Lauren?”

  There was no response. “Where is she?” Rob paced, searching the tree line for her, his flashlight swinging wildly in the darkness.

  “Check her transponder.”

  Bahati sat down at her computer and pulled up the tracker. “I’m not getting anything on her.” Bahati picked up the walkie-talkie. “Base Camp to Team One.”

  “Team One here.” The response came a moment later.

  “Have you talk to Lauren recently?”

  “It’s been a while,” Chance answered. “Why? We thought she was with you.”