Chapter Three

Charlie Swan

I had been born and raised in Forks, my father was the Chief of Police and I was expected to follow in his footsteps. From the time I was old enough to walk he taught me to hunt, track, and shoot, spending every minute I wasn't asleep or at school out in the forest with him learning all the trails and exactly where the reservation borders were although I never quite understood why this was so important. My Aunt Clara said very little but I saw a worried frown cross her face whenever he told her where we were going and a look of relief when we got home. I guess because of what had happened to her brother in that very same forest. We met up with the Quileutes sometimes and although it was clear my father had little time for them he didn't discourage me from making friends with Billy Black. His father never said anything either but I got the feeling he was upset about something because whenever my father's name came up he would change the subject and even Billy didn't know the reason for this. Occasionally went tracking with Billy and his dad and they taught me to look at the forest in a different light, as if there were more in here than the animals we often tracked and killed. I didn't feel it was a game but that it had some more deadly purpose. As if we were being trained for a war, as if the Quileute legends might be more than just stories. I'd heard about them from the Blacks but my father would just shake his head and leave the room if I mentioned them in his presence.

Sometimes when I asked him questions about my grandfather he would look very sad but he wouldn't tell me much. Only that there had been some rabid wolves in the forest attacking hikers and when his dad went out to kill them he and his friends had been attacked and all killed. My friends on the reservation never spoke about the attack either although they did mention that some of their grandfathers had tried to help. All I was told was that the forest is a dangerous and mystical place and I should never take my safety for granted. Dad reinforced this lesson, I was told to avoid the forest when there was any hint of animal attacks unless I was with Billy and his friends and taught to eye every newcomer in town as if they might be hiding something.

Although I'd heard all the stories about the spirit warriors and the Cold Ones the Quileute equivalent of Grimm fairy tales and about as believable I knew they upset my dad for some reason. One day when I was visiting Billy I happened to voice my opinion on the matter and cause an argument.

"Our legends are based in truth Charlie, not fairy stories."

"Really? Well have you ever seen a spirit warrior or a Cold One?"

"No but..."

"And you wont because they are about as real as ogres, dragons, and fairies. They're just stories to teach us a moral code. The evil lose and the good prevail. There are no men who turn into wolves, if there were you'd have seen them every full moon."

"That's werewolves Charlie, they're different"

We squabbled but then we did that all the time and the next day we were best friends again, it was all just a part of growing up.

My father died soon after he retired by which time I was already a police officer working in Forks. I promised him that I would look after my mother and do my best for the folk of the town.

"Charlie there are more things in this world than we realise so you need to be careful. Watch out for strangers, people aren't always what they appear and remember where the boundaries to the reservation are. If you are ever in real trouble make for them, that way they'll have to help you."

I had no idea what he meant by that and I never got the opportunity to ask him because he died the next day. I tried asking Billy but he just shrugged looking mystified,

"Maybe he believed in the spirit warriors Charlie"

He was buried next to his father in the cemetery and I often went there to sit and tell them what I'd been doing. It was stupid but I had the feeling they were watching over me.

My father had kept a journal for some years when he was a boy and I found them in the attic when I cleared it out for my mother. She was all for burning them but I kept them to read when I got time. I hoped they might tell me more about the attack which cost my grandfather his life and when I found a journal for the right year I was almost excited. I got myself a beer and sat down to read it but I was to be disappointed because the pages for the week of the accident were missing, they'd been very carefully torn out and although I asked my mother about it she just shrugged.

"I've never seen the journals before. Your father had a load of rubbish in the attic he wouldn't throw away and I guess the books are just the same. Why?"

I feigned indifference, it never did to let her know you were too interested in anything.

"I just wondered that's all."

"Well stop wandering before you get lost. No one in town ever talked about the accident, no one knew what happened only a couple of the Quileutes who arrived too late to help and they never spoke about it. They trapped the wolves though so I guess that's all people were worried about. Now have you got everything down?"

"Yes I'll bag it up and take it to the car. I'd like to look through it before I put it in the trash."

"Well that's where it belongs Charlie. Your father had some strange ideas, especially about the forest. If I hadn't known better I'd have sworn he saw something the day his father died."

"And did he?"

I was eager for anything and then her eyes narrowed,

"No, he was with his Aunt Clara in town and he and his Quileute friends broke up soon after or so I was told. Now hurry up, the dust from all this rubbish is making me wheeze."

What she meant was get the crap out of here, its dusty and no good to anyone and she was right because I found nothing. The journal entries stopped just after his fathers funeral, the rest of the pages were blank. This made me sure something had happened but I had to accept I would never solve the mystery of just what that might be.

I wondered if Billy or his father knew anything more so I drove out to the reservation after my shift to find out. Billy didn't know anything and at first his father refused to talk about it,

"Do you know who the men were who found the bodies?"

"It was a very long time ago Charlie, the past should remain there where it can do no one any harm"

"I found my dads journals in the attic"

He looked at me keenly now,

"And I take it there was no entry for the day your grand father died"

"Why would you say that?

"Because if there were you wouldn't be here asking questions. Let me ask you one."

"OK"

"Why do you think there was no entry? Why do you think your father said nothing about that day?"

"I don't know but I'm sure something happened."

"Of course something happened, your grandfather was killed by wolves along with his friends. Perhaps your father found that too horrific to write in his journal."

"Maybe but why did he tell me there was more things in this world than we realised?"

"He was dying Charlie and the dying don't always make sense. You should leave it alone Charlie before someone gets hurt."

I went home thinking about Jeremiah's words, they didn't make sense unless I was missing something...something like the missing pages from the journal.