Faithful Shadow

by Howard, Kevin J.

  “Andy’s a total spaz, but he’s reliable.” Joe watched him move, feeling guilty for asking so much. “We’re going to need some more men. Some equipment and some guns.”

  “That’s not going to be a problem.” Dale nodded, going over a list of potential volunteers. “What are you going to do?”

  “There’s someone I have to speak to.” Joe looked off in the distance, off toward the hole. “Someone who might be able to help us.”

  32

  Stew couldn’t believe what he had heard. Even now as he was racing back to the Inn, the words still swirling about his head like water in a toilet bowl, none of it seemed real. But he had heard it straight from the prick’s mouth. He’d been seconds away from missing the entire thing. Thank God he’d listened to his anger and not his sleeping foot.

  Stew had already been crouching behind the tree for twenty-five minutes, doing nothing but staring at that old ranger. It had been the most uninteresting act of voyeurism of his entire life. The old bastard just stood there, rocking from side to side with his hands in his pockets, pacing nervously. He looked ready to have a nervous breakdown; rising up on his tiptoes, holding it, then lowering back to the ground—anything to pass the time. But then he dropped to his knees and reached toward the hole, taking hold of someone’s hand. Stew was a good distance from Andy, but he didn’t want to risk giving himself up. He couldn’t stand it, not after waiting that long and finally seeing something but not being able to hear it. No way was he going to give up that easy. Stew kept low, running forward with his torso kept horizontal, his hands nearly scraping the forest floor. He dropped and rolled behind a tree just a few feet from where the three men were now sitting.

  “Wall to wall, human and animal alike.”

  It was that prick ranger hiding under the facemask. Had he really just said what he thought he heard? Stew leaned forward, listening with fascination as they described in gruesome detail what lay beneath them. For a moment he wondered if they knew he was listening, just kidding him, but the look on Andy’s face told him this was no joke. That old fool looked as if he were one hiccup away from crapping his pants, if he hadn’t already. Stew felt bad for the fireman, having lost two of his men, but he couldn’t feel anything but rage toward Joe. Thinking back to that night at the campsite, his complete unwillingness to help. He was a drunk and a loser.

  Stew kept low, following them as they began to move, running from tree to tree. He felt like a secret agent, listening to the bad guys’ evil plot. And what a plot it was turning out to be. Something about some underground creature that had escaped into the Inn and was now hunting them. Stew’s heart leapt into his ears as Joe looked up, his eyes starring directly at the tree he was hiding behind. He could hear the silence down by the fireman’s truck and it seemed to go on forever. Thankfully they continued speaking, ignoring what he’d seen as probably some alcohol-induced hallucination. He continued on and laid out their well-formulated scheme. Stew’s smile grew ever wider, shaking his head with all the key plots as if they’d been speaking to him directly. That whiny bitch Andy had almost ruined the whole deal with his yellow spine, but he caved in. Now it was only a matter of time.

  Stew pushed off from the tree and looked toward the trailhead as Dale started his engine. Dale waved to Joe and took off. Stew watched Joe walk through the empty cabins, his head slightly cocked as he reviewed something in his mind. Stew ran down the rest of the trail and stayed close, maneuvering between the cabins and finally across the street. He hid behind a large boulder and watched as Joe walked to his truck, taking a moment to run his finger along the scratch that hadn’t been there when he’d left. It was an awesome thing to see someone getting royally pissed and not knowing who to retaliate against. Reluctantly, after slapping the roof and saying a few choice words, the ranger got behind the wheel and took off. Stew waited before his truck reached the main road, a bit surprised to see him turning right when the station was south, but what the hell did he care. Stew just let out a loud laugh of contempt and ran the rest of the way to the Inn.

  “Careful!” Gretchen called out from behind the front desk as Stew came running through the main entrance.

  Stew didn’t give that uppity bitch the time of day. He sprinted into the ice cream parlor and slapped his hands down on the counter, startling both Sonia and Kelly, who had their backs to him.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Kelly asked, pulling back from his panting breath.

  “Water please.” Stew wiped the sweat from his brow, surprised he’d broken out from such a quick spurt, but then again he hadn’t really had any fluids today. Plus the elevation had played havoc on him.

  Sonia grabbed a glass from beneath the counter and filled it with ice and water from the fountain behind her. It startled her to see him this way, looking slightly panicked. He was usually either very calm, or, lately, extremely grumpy and angry. It was a hard thing to endure when someone you cared for, whether for ten weeks or ten years, fell into a depressed state. Last night he’d looked her right in the eyes and called her a bitch. She knew he’d been drinking and hadn’t truly meant it, but it hurt just the same.

  “Where’s Richard?”

  “Duh, he’s in the restaurant.”

  Stew had barely waited for Kelly to finish her sentence before rushing out of the shop and down the hall. He slowed his pace as he entered the restaurant, giving the cute female host a wave as he passed by. Most of the employees knew him and thought nothing odd about seeing him pass through the restaurant, but Stew had never passed through the double doors into the kitchen.

  “You’re not supposed to be back here,” Kevin shouted from behind the cook line.

  “Bite me.” Stew gave him the finger and went about his search, passing the soda station and the bread warmers. “Hey!” he yelled, waving a hand to Richard as he came out of the walk-in refrigerator.

  “What the hell are you doing back here?” Richard looked around to make sure his manager hadn’t seen him come in. “You could get written up for this.”

  “Meet me in the ice cream shop in five minutes.” Stew turned and left the kitchen before Richard could offer a word of protest.

  Richard hurried over to the prep area and took off his white apron. He folded it neatly and placed it beneath the table. “Hey John.” Richard hurried over to a very obese prep cook, someone he’d come to like and trust within the past few weeks. “Hey, I have to duck out for a few minutes, could you just keep an eye on my station and make sure no one misses me?”

  “Hell yeah, buddy. Long as you cover my ass down the road.” John gave a snort and headed off toward the beverage station to have his fourth hot chocolate of the morning.

  Richard exited the kitchen, moving quickly to avoid being seen by his manager. He took a look over his shoulder and saw Gretchen heading outside for yet another smoke break. No one stank more in the entire camp than Gretchen. Her hair soaked up every puff of smoke and proudly hung onto it, emanating a hideous odor that reminded him of his grandmother’s house. He shuddered at the thought of his grandmother, a nasty old woman that took pleasure is smacking his bottom with a wooden spoon. Smack! You’re being a pisser. Smack!

  “What the hell is going on?” Richard asked as he turned the corner, holding his hands up in the air.

  “At the table.” Stew ran to the nearest booth and took a seat, bouncing with excitement. “You’re not going to believe what I just heard.”

  “If this is some kind of bodily function joke…”

  “Cool it Kelly, this is very important.” Stew looked out into the hall and confirmed there was no one within earshot. “I was out in the woods just beyond the cabins and I overhead that dickhead ranger Joe talking to a fireman.”

  “I left work for this ramble,” Richard interrupted as he stood up from the booth.

  “Sit your ass back down and be pa
tient.” Stew pointed, his face dead serious. “Now listen. Ranger Joe came up out of this hole in the ground. He said the hole was full of bones. The fireman said his man was pulled out of that hole with something hiding in his suit. Now when they let that fireman rest in the Inn, whatever was in his suit got loose. It killed the fireman and is now lurking somewhere in this hotel.” Stew tapped the table, confirming that he did indeed mean the Old Faithful Inn.

  A moment of silence passed between them, probably the longest the four of them had ever been together without speech. They shared the same expression—their brows furrowed, their mouths slightly agape.

  “It gets better.”

  “You’re shitting us.” Richard laughed, but it was short-lived.

  “No, listen to this. The rangers and the fireman are setting up this phony baloney evacuation set for tomorrow to get everyone out. Once we’re gone, they’re going to lock this place down and hunt the bastard. I’m telling the truth, scout’s honor, cross my heart and all that.” Stew dragged a finger across his heart and held up his hand as if swearing in court.

  “I can’t believe this.” Kelly shook her head, wanting to punch Stew in the arm for creating such a lie, but his face was completely honest. There was no lying in his eyes. She looked out the window, searching for the black smoke rising out of the trees to the south. This was the first time in days she’d actually had to search for it. “This is too real.”

  “Why wouldn’t they want help? Like more men with massive amounts of guns?” Sonia tapped the table. “Doesn’t that make a whole lot more sense?”

  “I’m staying.”

  They looked at Stew as if he had trees growing out the middle of his forehead, their eyes wide.

  “Are you insane?” Richard leaned across the table, keeping his voice clear as a tourist walked into the gift shop. “Let’s just pretend for one moment that you’re not hopped up on dope and this shit is real.”

  “It is real.” Stew raised his voice.

  “Fine. Why the hell would you want to put yourself right smack dab in the center of a dangerous situation?”

  “This thing killed four of our friends. Took two of them right out from under our noses in the middle of the night.”

  “Janice and Marco aren’t missing!” Sonia was angry, her hands shaking.

  “Look at the facts, girl. They’re missing, just like half the people around here.” Stew took a moment to look from face to face, expecting further debate but receiving none. They all knew it was true. “That bastard is going to send everyone away while they try and kill it, which means not only do they know what happened to our friends, but they’re planning to cover it up.” Stew hit the table with his fist, overflowing with emotion. He saw the faces of his friends spinning around him like a halo of shame, mocking him with their sad expressions. If he could talk to them right now, would they blame him for what happened?

  “I agree. This is fucked up.” Richard looked up from his folded hands. “They’re going to kill this thing and pretend none of this ever happened, labeling our friends as young runaways. They deserve better that that. They deserve justice.”

  “You’re not seriously considering this, are you?”

  Richard looked Kelly in the eyes and nodded, apologizing with his hangdog expression.

  “This is absurd.” Kelly stood from the booth and walked back behind the counter, lifting the glass cover while helping herself to two scoops of chocolate ice cream. She’d been so good about resisting the urge to pig-out, but this was serious. Emotional eating was well deserved. “I’m not doing it.”

  “Can I have a cone?” Sonia asked, her voice small as it often was when she wanted something, knowing cute won out over bossy any day. “Thank you.” Sonia smiled as Kelly set a waffle bowl down before her on the table, two scoops of chocolate looking up at her. Sonia had worked so hard to keep her small frame void of fat, but she too was an emotional eater; a problem that had plagued her from her childhood when she used to eat during her parents’ fights. They’d be screaming at each other upstairs, leaving only the dining room and the kitchen safe. So she hid there, her mind off their harsh words and set dead center into a bowl of sugary cereal or ice cream. And just as it had been back then, she wanted to cry.

  “What’s the plan?”

  Stew leaned forward; thankful he had at least Richard on his side. He held out his hands before them on the table. “Tonight, after I lock up the equipment shed, I’ll ‘borrow’ the camcorder we have.” Stew lowered his voice, spying a curious Gretchen eyeing them from down the hall. He gave her a smile and a wink, wanting to laugh as she turned her nose up and looked away. “We then head up to the third or fourth floor rafters and set the puppy up. I did some maintenance work with Dillon my first week here, so I know there’s a great view of the entire lobby. And we’ll be completely hidden.”

  “I have to admit, the jackass has a good plan.” Richard leaned back, running it over and over in his head for flaws and honestly finding none.

  “Tonight, huh? What about super bitch?” Kelly hooked a thumb out to the hall, aiming it directly at Gretchen.

  “Oh please, like it’s that hard to sneak past a heavy smoker like her. She takes thirty smoke breaks a day. I’ll just have one of you ask her out for a puff. When you head out, Richard and I head in.” Stew smiled, nodding as it all came together.

  “I love how you’re incorporating us into this scheme of yours.” Kelly folded her arms, scowling at Stew and disappointed in Richard. He should have immediately opted for leaving with the rest of them, making sure his girl made it out safely.

  “I think we should.” Sonia looked up from her ice cream. “I need to know this thing is dead. And I think Stew is right, our friends deserve more than that.”

  Kelly looked from one sour expression to the next, all three of them agreeing to something so foolish. “You really want to just hang up in the rafters and watch these poor men hunt some creature?”

  “Poor men, my ass!” Stew sat up straight, fueled with anger. “That ranger stood there and told us our friends were just a bunch of love-struck idiots that ran off together; just some dumb kids. But now he knows they were brutally murdered by some forest creature and he says nothing. He’s not even going to inform their families. Instead he’ll continue to let everyone believe that they’re all a bunch of wide-eyed morons that took off. That’s just plain wrong. I can’t even stomach that.” Stew grimaced, pressing his teeth together in a snarl. “I’m going to get those jerks right on camera for the entire world to see.”

  Kelly nodded, not about the jerks on camera, but because she too felt her friends’ families had a right to know the truth. The thought of her friends being dragged off to a “brutal death,” as Stew had described, being torn to shreds and eaten alive, made her slide the rest of her ice cream across the table. The cure for emotional eating was losing your appetite over imagery so horrific it would later be a nightmare.

  “I get off at nine.” Stew placed his hand on the center of the table, palm down. “We’re all in agreement?”

  “Yes.” Richard put his hand on Stew’s.

  “As long as we’re high up and out of danger.” Sonia set her hand on Richard’s.

  Kelly felt the weight of their eyes, the pressure all but attacking her integrity, like a sub sinking well beyond the recommended depth. On the one hand she had the perfect excuse to hop on a bus and leave all this danger behind. But here were all her friends, looking at her with their pleading eyes, begging for her help. She probably couldn’t really do much for them, but she placed her hand on top. As hot-tempered as Stew was, she felt he was right about this. Sometimes you have to put aside your fear and do what’s right.

  33

  Joe couldn’t take his eyes off his hands. Resting upon the wheel, shaking bad. Was it from the lack of alcohol? Or was he just truly th
at afraid? He took a deep breath and looked beyond his hands to the road, knowing the mixture to be about fifty-fifty. He had never wanted a drink so bad in his life. Just a quick little swig, something to calm his nerves enough to get this done. But that had been his problem all along. He’d calmed his nerves nearly to death, letting this problem escalate when he should have been on top of it from the get go. Joe focused on his breathing, pulling his mind out of his inner coat pocket and back to the road where it belonged; back into the park where it was so desperately needed right now.

  An elk was lying in a pasture to his right; some buffalo were roaming right beside the road. This was what he’d forgotten, his memory drowning in the bottle. When he’d first come to the park as a child, he couldn’t get it out of his head; the rivers, the lake, the most amazing thermal features, more smells than he could count. As a young ranger, he’d often spent every waking moment on a trail or parked by a babbling stream, losing himself in the trickle of water. One memory that stuck out above all else had been back in sixty-four. He’d actually forgotten about it until this moment. How he could have forgotten something that had meant so much to him, something that highlighted his entire career as a ranger, was beyond him. It baffled and disturbed him. Had he really been out of it so long he’d begun to forget his life? But that was the gift the booze gave him; a bottle of “forget me” juice. Drink your mind away and watch your troubles disappear. Sadly, it took more than your troubles. Booze didn’t differentiate between good and bad memories; it just washed them all down. And there was no flood insurance for memory lane.

  Now that his mind had a brief escape from the liquid hold, he remembered the day clearly; the strong smell of sulfur from the thermal vents along the road, the sun high above the road, dead center in a blue sky. It had started out as an average day. But then he’d gotten that all too familiar call, requesting his response to a car accident up by Lake. Joe had driven to the site, riding the shoulder to pass by the long line of curious motorists. At first he saw only a blocked road, no sign of an accident. But then he saw the skid marks. He put the truck in park and followed the dark parallel lines crossing the road straight over the shoulder and down the steep hill. At the bottom of the hill was a red station wagon; its front bumper wrapped around a tree. What was more jarring was the fact the car was upside-down. It looked crumpled, pushed together as if it had first been between the hands of a giant interested in playing the accordion. It was a depressing sight, knowing that he’d have to be the one to find this poor person impaled on the steering wheel.