Day 11
"Think he'll find anything?" I asked, watching Jimmy as he carefully moved toward the ridge.
"If there's anything to be found. But why are you whispering?" Cut sneered
"Hell, I don't know!" I snapped, aggravated because I realized he was right. Stupid, I thought. Jimmy was looking away from us, and wouldn't hear me even if I screamed on top of my lungs.
Cut had explained the situation to him the night before, along with the circumstances under which we found the discarded—or lost, or whatever—equipment. Chief asked no questions, just shifted a curious gaze between Cut and me. Only when Buck showed the same reaction as before toward the rucksack, he seemed surprised.
Speaking of the dog, here we go again. Where is he? I cussed quietly between my teeth.
"Chase?" Cut mumbled.
"What!
"Did you ever think we might be better off not findin' anything?"
I shrugged, not wanting to admit that such a thought had crossed my mind.
"You know," he continued, "it ain't so much bein' concerned about what happened to them city-boys. Just pisses me off that this thing's gettin' the best of us."
"Know what you mean," I agreed.
"Damn, Chase, it's just like trackin' that twelve-point buck you shot up here that time. No blood, no tracks, no nothin'."
"Don't start, Cut. I hit him! Watched the arrow go right into his chest. For all it's worth, he shouldn't have even flinched. That was a dead-on hit."
"Hell, don't get defensive," he muttered frustrated. "It was just a comparison. You say you shot 'im, I never said you didn't. Just kinda got somethin' like a flashback since it's the same area."
"Well, forget about it. Where did Jimmy go?"
Both of us looked around, then at each other.
"What the...?" Cut swore under his breath.
We quickened our steps and hustled toward the ridge. Jimmy had been only about fifty yards in front of us, now he was nowhere in sight. I suppressed the urge to call for him. Wouldn't do any good, he couldn't hear it anyway. There was a cold chill at the back of my neck, and Cut wore a rather strange expression on his face.
"Wait a minute. What's that?" Something had caught his eye. He bent down to move some leaves out of the way. When he straightened and turned around, white as a ghost, holding up what he had found, I suddenly felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.
Jimmy's bear-claw necklace! It seemed completely intact, except for one broken link in the front, between the two middle claws.
Deadly silence, as the two of us stared at the snapped ring in the chain. A low growl from behind, and the familiar scent of a wet dog told me Buck was back. But he stopped a good four or five yards short from our position.
Cut turned, walked over, the necklace in his hand, and bent to a knee so Buck could sniff.
The dog backed up, head low, hair raised, and every tooth in his mouth bared. The reaction was clear—Get it away from me!
"What the fuck?" Cut scolded. "This ain't right. Jimmy ain't no city-boy and he sure as hell ain't no ghost."
"Split up. You head to that ridge and work toward the draw. I'll go up the other side and meet you at the top," I said, stepping across the shallow creek bed.
"Keep a finger on the trigger," Cut cautioned low.
#####
The mist was starting again. What the hell is going on here? This was all wrong. It shouldn't happen like that. No sign, nothing. Walking along the creek bed, I noticed a piece of something on a branch snag. Looks like a shred of plaid shirt. Same as Chief's. I'm getting close. I can feel it! A sound—a branch broken.
Running to the top and splitting the ridge like a young Ranger Cadet, I was barely in time to see a shadow pass over the top. I took off again, running hard, then suddenly stumbling.
"Damn!" It's gone. Man, was he fast. What did I trip over?
A large pile of leaves at my feet drew my attention as it appeared to quiver. Crouching, the MPK locked and cocked in my right, I brushed away the top-layer of foliage and encountered a bewildered stare from a set of pitch-black eyes. But at least he was breathing and, save for a golf-ball-size knot on his head and a gash on his chest, Chief seemed okay. Still—How did he get here, and what was that going over the ridge? Behind me! A sixth sense spun me around, bringing the MPK into Cut's face, right between his eyes.
"Whoa, partner, it's me!" He threw his hands up.
I exhaled a sharp breath.
"Jimmy alright?" he asked, gingerly pushing the barrel off to the side.
"Guess so, but he seems really out of it."
Cut squatted down, placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder, and nearly landed on his rear when Jimmy snapped up in a flash.
"Easy, man!" Cut grabbed Chief's arm. "Put that goddamn knife away. You gonna end up hurtin' somebody."
Chief merely stared blank for a moment, then shook his head, squinted painfully, and returned the Bowie to his belt .
"Better get him back to the camp," I suggested. "I think all three of us got just about enough for one day."
"No shit, Sherlock!" Cut grumbled, helping Chief to his feet.
#####
Back at the fire, an immediate discussion started but took on a somewhat bizarre pattern. Jimmy signed, Cut translated, and I—well, I tried to think and put it all together in a rational manner.
"Jimmy says, he don't know what happened. Says he was readin' some sign, then the lights went out. Next thing was, looking up from the ground and seein' your ugly face."
"Did you say he was reading sign?" I asked, ignoring the last part of the statement and pouring another cup of coffee.
"Yup!" Cut replied.
"What kind? We were all over that area."
"Footprints," Cut answered. "The reason we ain't been findin' nothin' is real simple. The son-of-a-bitch that knows what really happened up here is barefooted."
"Huh? Are you nuts?"
"I'm just tellin' you what Jimmy says."
"I think maybe he's spent too much time in the sweat-lodge," I gave back scathingly.
"Sit on it an' rotate it, Chase," Cut related Chief's next gesture with a shit-eating grin.
"Okay, smartass, so if the only witness is a barefoot, who and where is he?"
The answer was delayed because Chief's attention turned toward the door. Buck was home again. Could have smelled him from a mile away.
"Damn, you stink! Go dry off, you cock-hound," I snapped at the dog.
Showing me his sarcastic snarl, he strolled in. But only half way.
"What's your problem, Buck? Get in here."
Chief quickly signed something to Cut.
"Jimmy says he won't. He smells somethin' that scares him."
"Buck, scared? No way!"
"Watch!" Cut relayed what Jimmy motioned, getting up.
With each slow step toward Buck, the dog backed up, showing more teeth.
"What the...?" I frowned.
Jimmy removed his clothes and pitched them into the fire-place. As soon as they were in flames and Chief had changed into a fresh outfit, Buck came in and laid down.
"So what did he smell, Jimmy?" I started with the questions again.
"Whatever it was that carried him to the ridge...wait a second!" Cut broke his translation in mid-sentence. "You're saying you were carried?"
Chief responded with a somber nod.
"No way! You're six-foot-seven and almost two-hundred-sixty pounds. Would take one hell of a man to carry you straight uphill, but somethin' unnatural to do it that fast and with no sound. Are you sure you were carried?"
Another nod, accompanied by an irritated squint.
"Let's get back to the footprints," I broke into the argument. "Tell me about 'em, Chief."
What he now signed and Cut translated didn't make any sense—at least not to me. But I realized, he was serious. Dead serious!
"He's over seven foot, judging by the branches broken overhead. Over five-hundred pounds by the impressions on the ground, and very, very agile, considering the logs he hurdled."
"What the hell's he talking about, Cut?"
"A myth," he answered, scratching his head. "A century-old legend to the Natives all over the US. He's talking about Sasquatch."
"You mean Bigfoot?"
"Yeah, I mean Bigfoot."
"Horse-shit, Cut!"
"Well, it's all there. How else you gonna explain it, Chase?"
"So I guess you two heroes believe in UFOs too, huh?" I sneered aggravated, knowing Jimmy understood since I intentionally spoke toward him.
The expected reaction failed to appear though. He merely flashed me a punitive glare, then abruptly broke the eye-contact and stretched out on the cot, hands behind his head.
Guess that's his way of saying "End of discussion!"
"Way to go, Chase!" Cut scolded. "Really did it this time."
"Kinda touchy about the subject, ain't he?" I grinned.
"Look, man, maybe I should've warned you 'bout that. Jimmy is really into his native beliefs. You know, Great Spirit, medicine power and that stuff. He don't take no bad jokes about it."
"Oh, come on," I chuckled. "This isn't the twilight zone."
Cut gave me a hesitant shrug. "Yeah, well," he drawled, "but there's still some things you can't explain naturally." He glanced over at Jimmy who was staring up at the cobwebs in the log ceiling. Seemed he had bent the link in his necklace back together, because he was wearing it again.
Weird, I didn't even notice until now.
"You know," Cut interrupted my thought, "this might sound stupid, but I think there's really somethin' to that whole spiritual stuff."
I cast him a contemptuous look and didn't say a word.
"Like that necklace," he continued, for some reason lower than before. "Jimmy's convinced that the power of the bear protects 'im, as long as he wears it. That's one reason why he'd never give it up willingly."
"What's the other?"
He hesitated, an uneasy expression on his face. "Better ask 'im that yourself. Ain't sure he'd appreciate me telling you."
I rolled my eyes derisively. "What a bunch of bull! I bet you my last dime, I could snatch that thing right off his neck while he sleeps, just like I did..."
"Don't even think about it, Chase," he cut me off, almost worried now. "Look, I know you're good...best I've ever seen, flyin' through that Ranger and Special Forces training. Hell, you saved my ass so many times, I lost count." He grinned ruefully. "But, Chase, don't underestimate Jimmy. He makes up for not hearing in ways you and I couldn't even begin to understand."
"Alright," I mused, still sarcastic, "so why did he get caught then by that...well, whatever it was?"
"Don't know," Cut admitted. "That's why I kinda believe he's right about what it is. I never seen a person, human anyway, that could sneak up on him from behind...or when he's asleep for that matter."
"Please don't tell me he sleeps with his eyes open." I glanced over, and Jimmy was still staring straight up.
Cut just shrugged indifferently.
"And I thought only we did that," I laughed.
"Nah!" He grinned crooked at last.
"Great!" I sighed. "Just remind me not to invite him over my house for a night. My ol' lady still throws a fit when I do it."
"Come on! You been married what...ten years by now? Figure she'd be used to it."
"Not after we scared the shit out of her that time. Remember?"
"Yeah," Cut chuckled at the memory. "Must've been a pretty sight. Both of us stone-drunk, passed out on the living room floor, snoring the plaster off the ceiling, and staring up at 'er." He shook his head. "Had some good times though, didn't we?"
"Sure did, man."
"Well, anyways, better get some shut-eye, too." He yawned and stretched. "Oh, and Chase..."
"What?"
"A little piece of advice. Don't never ever touch 'im when he's sleepin'," he muttered with a furtive nod toward Chief.
"Wonderful," I sneered. "Boy, what a team! Two trigger-happy war veterans with flashbacks, and a deaf Indian with a sixteen-inch Bowie knife, ready to scalp you if you look at 'im wrong."
"Yeah," Cut laughed, "what a trip!"