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UNTIL DAWN: NEVER FORGOTTEN

Return to Blackwood

One Year after Josh's Disappearance

He drove in silence up the mountain road. His expression was grim. It always was, these days. He hadn't smiled for a very, very long time. Not since the disappearance of his daughters. Deaths, he inwardly corrected. He knew they were dead. He'd known for a long time. He'd known since the day his son came home and blurted out that Hannah and Beth had gone missing in the night. He'd known they were gone. He felt it in his heart and bones. His son was gone now too…

He didn't know why he was going up to the mountain now. There was nothing there for him anymore. The photos and precious mementos had burned to ash, his children weren't there to hunt or camp with, and his wife was ill in the hospital not doing well. The doctors claimed it was pneumonia. He knew otherwise. She was dying of grief. Grief had weighed heavy on her since the day their daughters had vanished. It began to crush her when they lost Josh too… He'd sensed down to his core that it would only be a matter of time before he lost her as well. He only wished he could go with her. Perhaps he would…

Why was he coming up here, to this place of grief and death? Not for the first time he found himself asking that question. He knew he'd find no Josh up on that peak, just as they'd found no Hannah or Beth. Unlike when his daughters had gone missing, though, he couldn't say that he felt in his heart and soul and bones that his son was absolutely gone… Perhaps that was why he was making this journey alone. To come to terms with his son's fate. He couldn't help but feel that maybe the reason he hoped Josh was still out there was because he didn't want to acknowledge to himself that his son was dead like his daughters were. Like his wife might soon be…

He closed his eyes. He almost hoped he would drive off of the cliff or head-on another vehicle, so he didn't open them for a good few seconds. When he did, he was still on the road and not heading off it anytime soon. He sighed through the nose. Maybe he knew this place too well for his own good. Why was he up here, he wondered yet again? How often, now, had he asked himself that? Perhaps now was the time to answer it. He considered the 'whys' of his trip. He came here to soul search. No… He came here because maybe, just maybe, part of him still clung to the hope his child was still up there somewhere. Alone, freezing, suffering, frightened… He came here because if there was going to be any hope for Melinda's survival, it would be in seeing her son again. Even if despite seeing him there would still be no hope of her recovery, Josh would at least be able to say goodbye to his mother where he hadn't been able to say goodbye to his sisters. Melinda in turn could say goodbye to their last remaining child.

Some stubborn part of him clung to the desperate hope that by some miracle, Josh had held on. He had taught his children survival skills. It wasn't as if they lacked the know-how to make it up there alone, right? Why not search, then? He had nothing left to lose anymore. So much time had passed, though… What if his son had given up? What if he had resigned himself to his fate and let go? Please, no. Anything but that. He set his jaw firmly and focused on reaching his destination. He would go up that mountain and he would find his missing son dead or alive. If being up there gave him the opportunity to soul search and come to terms with the losses of his children as well, even better. Then perhaps he could begin to heal.

He would never heal again…

Tears misted his eyes. His daughters gone one year, his son the next, his wife one year after that. Gone. They were all gone… Gone or as good as gone.

When the rangers who had searched for his son returned, they had said Josh was dead. They told him there was something horrible up in those mountains, monstrous, that they had barely escaped from. The creature had seemed either impervious to bullets, or it was too quick to hit. They hadn't stuck around to find out. If they had, they would have died. They said if Josh had met that creature, he wouldn't have lived. Not in the state he was likely to be in. The creature they had described to him reminded him of a story he had heard long ago. The guardian of that mountain had told him the tale once when warning him not to build there. He should have listened to the man. Dammit, he should have listened! Now even he was gone…

UD

Bob Washington drove up to the gates as the sun was setting. He got out of the car and went to them, gently tracing his hand along the bars. He rested his forehead against the cold steel and took a deep breath. It seemed the lock was rusted again. He could unjam it, he knew, or cut the padlock, but was there really any point to it? Well, he supposed a quick getaway should something go wrong. With a sigh, he went back to his car and pulled out a crowbar. He went up to the gate. Whether this damaged it or not he didn't care. He wasn't sure he'd ever bother fixing this place up. This place that had taken his three children away from him… He closed his eyes tightly.

Gone… they were all gone…

He grimaced, willing away the tightening in his throat, then viciously pushed on the bar, forcing open the gates. He marched back to his car, chucking in the crowbar and driving on through.

Parking outside of the lift, Mr. Washington looked towards the majestic peak. It was so beautiful here… How could a place so beautiful hide such darkness? He got out of the car and threw a tarp over it, weighing it down. Goodness knew how long he'd be up here, and should a wind or snowstorm come, he wanted the car to be relatively well off. He wandered around back to the rifle range, ignoring the wanted poster on the walls. He couldn't bring himself to look at it. It was too hard to remember. He went up to the shooting range and looked over the selection of weapons. The children had gone up onto that isolated mountain with absolutely no form of protection or first aid should anything have gone wrong, to stay in the only house for probably countless miles with no help easily accessed! He was almost resentful his son had been the only one who hadn't made it back… He knew he shouldn't think such things, but he couldn't help it. Well, he had more foresight and a more tuned concept of action and consequence than teenagers and young men and women. He would not make the same mistakes they had. He gathered up each weapon—not that there were a great many—slinging them over a shoulder. Were they heavy? You had no idea. However, he had spent every moment of free time he'd been able to muster roughing it outdoors, and it was reflected in his strength and build.

He dumped the guns inside on the platform and summoned the cable car. He went back to his car and reached into it, pulling out a very large pack filled with various survival necessities. Food and water mainly, along with extra layers of clothes, a substantial first aid kit, a cellphone, a radio, no small number of luxuries—or what classified as luxuries in a barren wilderness like this at least—and more just for good measure. He pulled out ski poles and double-checked the snowshoes strapped to the pack. There was no guarantee he would need them, but if a storm came up, he wanted to be ready to traverse deep snow if he had to.

Whenever his children had gone up, he had always ensured the caretaker had the paths cleaned off and easily navigable. There was no caretaker anymore, only him, and he didn't want that luxury. Frankly, he wanted nothing short of death or his family back. He closed his eyes tightly. He had desperately needed this time alone. This soul-searching 'man vs wild' spiel might do him some good. It might help him to start to heal and come to terms with… with everything…

He examined the things he had brought with him and felt prepared. He was experienced in the wilderness, had taken survival training, and his friend—his dead friend. His friend whose wishes he'd gone against and consequentially lost the friendship of, in a way—had taught him a good deal besides when they had been close, long ago. Many things even survival training hadn't. He decided to take one more look around the area and walked a little way away. He paused suddenly, catching sight of something lying in the snow. What was this now? A totem? Strange. He approached and knelt next to it. It was a guidance totem he realized. His old friend had told him about such things. To find it here, though, was odd. He tilted his head with a frown and picked it up. How long had it…?

He gasped as suddenly images flashed in front of him. A bird, Mike behind a tree. What? What was he…? He must be going crazy. On the other hand… He set his jaw, slipped the totem into a pocket, then returned to the platform to wait. The cable car soon rumbled up, and Bob Washington packed all of his things inside and entered.

UD

The cable car ground to a halt at the top. Bob gathered his things in silence and exited it onto the silent mountain. He closed his eyes and breathed in the air deeply. It was so peaceful here… And so lonely… Once upon a time, he would bring his children to this place to ski or hunt or camp. Sometimes Melinda would come as well and cook hot chocolate over a fire in a way that only she seemed to be able to manage. He would return from a hunt, Josh at his side proudly toting along whatever it was he had been able to kill, and while the meat was being prepared, Josh and Beth and Hannah would sneak off and start up a snowball fight in the woods, though always near enough that their parents could see them. Hear them if not see them.

He walked along the path now silently, lost in memory. He almost expected to see the house there and built again when he reached it. Of course, all that greeted him was a pile of ash, the remains of years of memories in what had once been a dream getaway… He felt his heart breaking to see it like this. Hardly a skeleton. What wasn't burned to ash or a skeleton was barely standing. Only a small part of the once massive cabin was left still relatively structurally sound. He went to it and placed his things down. Quickly he set up his tent. The walls still standing were protecting him from the wind, for the most part, so all he really had to worry about was the snow. Part of the roof was still up, but it would do precious little against the cold and probably couldn't bear the weight of very much snow besides.

Within an hour or two—what was time anymore?—he had set up his home base and crawled inside. He lay down his sleeping bag and fell back onto it, holding his head in his hands and closing his eyes. No sound of his wife moving next to him in the compartment, trying to make the tent something of a home. No voices of his children excitedly chatting about what they would do and all the stories they would tell and all the adventures they planned to have… Just wind and silence… He felt tears in his eyes. He let them come this time. No one was here to see him. There was no one at his side he needed to be strong for. His shoulders began to shake with sobs, and soon he was weeping openly, sobbing and crying out his wife and children's names.

UD

He opened his eyes. Birds were chirping. It was dawn… Josh and his friends had been here one night and had suffered it in horror. What right did he have to weather it without an incident? He yawned and sat up, stretching. He grimaced. Had he cried himself to sleep? Oh what did he care? It had felt good. It had felt relieving… Though not half as relieving as the obliviousness of sleep had been, it was still something.

He looked around. Maybe he would move his camp to the small cabin in the woods. It hadn't burned down, and it would be shelter that was better than a tent. He would feel it out. Right now, he was content to be living off the grid for a while. If there was a chance Josh was alive… He shook his head. He shouldn't let himself think like that. It would only give rise to false hopes. But hope was still hope, and if his son was still out here… He would search, he determined. Even if it ended up being little more than a body recovery mission. He couldn't live like this. He couldn't live never knowing what had befallen his child, always afraid he was out there somewhere scared and alone, never knowing how long it had taken the boy to die or how long he'd been calling for help before succumbing.

When the children had returned spouting stories about wendigos, most had scoffed. He had not been among them. Long ago the caretaker of the land, the Stranger, had told him stories of the fabled creature. His friend hadn't believed he had been paying attention. His friend hadn't believed he had even heard him or cared if he did, but he had listened. He remembered it all and he remembered it well… He had thought it was only a story, but he had found the legend fascinating and so had committed each detail to memory. What they did, how to ensure they were beaten, what they were capable of… When the other children had returned speaking of the creatures, he had realized how right his old friend had been. He was more or less in the know as to what to be wary of regarding these wendigos, considering any still were up here—the children may have managed to kill them all. He hoped they had—so he wasn't walking into this situation blind. He had found and collected maps of the mines Sam had adamantly insisted were checked out, and he had poured over said maps studiously so that he could actually remember chunks of them by heart, though he didn't dare venture inside without a physical map of them on his person even then. Or without chalk to track his way out.

The mines… Sam had said that was where Hannah had gone… Hannah… He closed his eyes tightly, willing back the pain crashing down around him. For how long had she been out there alone and terrified, crying for her daddy to come find her, or her mother or her brother… He could almost hear her weeping…

"No!" he gasped out, holding his head and shaking it. He didn't want to hear it or imagine it. He didn't want to! "Hannah, Hannah, I'm sorry. Beth, I'm sorry. Josh… Please, god, don't let me lose him too. Please! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

For a while he sat there in silent mourning before attempting to figure out his course of action from here. The mines… Maybe Josh had followed in his sister's footsteps and gone there as well. Maybe he could look. Maybe if he called at the entrance his son would run out and into his arms again and everything would be alright and they could go home!

He knew the thought was foolish. He knew it wouldn't happen like that. He knew… He ached for that to be what would happen, but this was no book or movie with a happy ending. This was reality, and the reality was his son may very well be dead. His son would not answer him when he called into the mines. His son… His son was lost to him… No, no, he couldn't think like that, not now! He made up his mind. Shouldering a gun, tucking away a map and compass, and bringing along some food and water, Mr. Washington set off towards one of the mine entrances he remembered.

UD

He peered inside the entrance to the shaft carefully. Goodness knew what resided in there. Animals, fugitives, wendigo; to say nothing of the risks that came with exploring abandoned and rotting mine shafts. Besides, as he peered inside he felt some inexplicable fear grip him. He didn't like that feeling. He had no intentions of going inside. Yet. "Josh?! Josh!" he called out. He hardly cared what evil he might be calling down on his head if someone, or something, had heard him. He almost half expected some monstrous beast to leap out of hiding and chew his face off. At least then, though, he would be with his children again. Nothing responded. It was silent as a tomb. Not even the sounds of bats or water dripping, and that alone was just so, so wrong…

A chill gripped him and he shifted uncomfortably. "Josh!" he shouted again. Nothing, but what if his son was in there after all? He pursed his lips, weighing his options. Going inside now wasn't something he was prepared for at the moment. There were preparations to make before he went exploring an old abandoned mineshaft for what was more likely than not a body. "Hold on for one more night, son," he murmured gently. Just in case Josh was still alive after all. Bowing his head, he turned his back on the shaft and walked away. He had to lay snares and traps before the sun went down. His intention was to live off the land for the most part, while he was out here, so he needed to gather, hunt, and catch his food. He wasn't going to be completely stupid about that plan though, so along with guns, snares, and medical supplies, he had brought along emergency rations.

Entering the woods again, he began to lay down the snares one by one. The sun was low in the sky, so night was fast approaching. The sooner he got these traps laid out the better…

UD

The last of the daylight was fading by the time he finished setting the last trap. He looked up at the sky with a nasal sigh. It was dark grey, quickly becoming back, and the atmosphere around him was wholly unsettling. It seemed he would be walking back to base camp in darkness, which had been among the last things he wanted to do. Yet here he was doing it. He rose to his feet and took the gun off his back, gripping it firmly. He listened for anything that might sound off. He heard nothing, and that was not a good sign. Walking through a dark and isolated forest at night was the epitome of stupidity, that was survival lesson numero uno. Now he was breaking that rule. He could have kicked himself for it, but again, would ending up dead really be such a bad thing? It wasn't as if he had anything left to lose.

Suddenly he heard a noise and stiffened. He listened in silence. The noise continued. It sounded like an animal struggling in a trap. Quietly pulling out his flashlight, he shined it down the road. He spotted the source of the mysterious noise. A rabbit trapped in a snare in the same spot where Beth had found Hannah… Of course, Mr. Washington was unaware of that detail

Frowning a little, he shouldered his gun and observed the creature who was struggling in the noose and trying to get away. A part of him wanted to release it, if only in honor of Hannah. Hannah had hated hunting. More than once she had negotiated the release of some unfortunate creature caught in their sights. A sad smile pulled at the corner of his mouth before disappearing. Hannah wasn't here now though, and he had to eat. "I'm sorry, little one," he murmured. He took one step towards it, and that was all he took.

All at once a horrifying-looking creature sprang from the forest with a shriek! Mr. Washington shouted in alarm and fell quickly back before slamming a hand over his mouth, eyes blown wide in shock. Wendigo! He recognized it immediately from the stories. He couldn't believe what he was seeing! Instantly he shut off the flashlight and crouched down low. He couldn't move. Not one single inch. If he did, it would find him.

In horror he watched it grab the trapped rabbit and rip it apart as the poor thing screamed. The Wendigo shrieked in response to its prey's dying screech and began to devour it. Bob barely dared to breathe as he watched the gruesome sight in morbid horror. He had to get out of here. He had to escape before it began to prowl! If it began to prowl, it might find him! Slowly, carefully, Mr. Washington tried to back away. It wasn't looking his way. It couldn't see him moving… Suddenly he heard a loud crack in the bush behind him, probably some animal, and froze, catching his breath with eyes widening. His entire body tensed up. He knew exactly what was coming next.

The wendigo shrieked and spun around, the mangled remains of the dead rabbit dangling from the creature's hands. It was looking directly at him, and he knew he couldn't afford to move even the tiniest bit. He had no intentions of doing so either. Until, that was, it began to approach and the moonlight lit up its face and the shreds of clothing it wore…

His expression crumbled, becoming a look of utter devastation and grief. "Oh god," he exclaimed with a sob as he covered his mouth, all sense of self-preservation fleeing as emotion completely and utterly consumed him. "Joshua!" he blurted before he could shut himself up. No, this couldn't be! He was dreaming, seeing things, something! That thing was not his son! Josh was either still alive or dead, he hadn't become this. The wendigo gave a feral shriek in response to his movements and voice and charged at him with intent to kill, and he just didn't have it in him to even try to resist, because what did it even matter anymore? He gritted his teeth and prepared for the inevitable.

His life probably would have ended then and there. He couldn't feel his legs to turn and flee and even if he could, he didn't want to. All at once, though, another wendigo suddenly sprang from the bush and attacked his son! Violently the two began to rip into each other, roaring viciously and battling.

He could hear in their battle cries the remnants of his son's voice…

Despite all common sense telling him to slip away while he could, and indeed he did start to back away a bit, he didn't follow through. Just watched in mortified horror. It was an action that once upon a time he would have criticized in television, probably by saying whichever character was doing it was too stupid to live and deserved to die for his or her ignorance. Facing it now for himself though… Enough said.

When the second, bigger Wendigo got a hold of Wendigo Josh and went to try and rip off his head, parental instinct kicked in hard. He had never expected it to, but kick in it did. His son, or what had once been his son, was frantically struggling to break free, and this creature that had him in its grasp had taken hold of his head, and that wendigo was crying out in a voice that was so clearly his son, and all he could register was that he wasn't going to lose him like this. It was primal instinct that drove him. He knew that creature wearing his son's face and clothing was no longer his son, but he couldn't let it go all the same. The more pragmatic and realistic side of him told him to leave sleeping dogs to lie, Josh was better off dead than alive at this point. The more emotional side told him something indecipherable but powerful, and that was the side that ruled the night.

Scowling, Bob Washington reached up to his rifle and whipped it out, lining up a clean shot to the second wendigo's head. He pulled that trigger without any hesitation and it made a sound before collapsing to the ground, seemingly dead. He knew the stories, though. A wendigo never truly died until its corpse was burned. Quickly he ducked behind a bush and stayed still, hoping Wendigo Josh wouldn't find him. The moment 'Joshigo' recovered himself and realized the other Wendigo wasn't moving, he looked around with a growl for his escaped prey. Seeing nothing, he growled once more then raced off with an enraged shriek to hunt it down again.

Bob waited for as long as he could spare to make sure it was safe, but he couldn't wait too long or the other one would revive again. Still shaken and overcome with emotion, but now starting to regain his common sense—it was pure luck that he'd come out alive at all when it fled—he got out of hiding and went straight to the wendigo he had shot down. He looked it over, shook his head, then quickly raced to gather up leaves, branches, and anything else he could use to build a pyre around it. He needed to burn this thing as quickly as possible. It was pretty well the only surefire way to ensure it didn't regenerate itself! As soon as he'd built a half-descent pyre, he fumbled for matches and pulled one out, lighting it up quickly. He gazed a the flame a brief moment before putting it to the leaves and swiftly moving back.

The fire climbed the leaves towards the body, and for a horrible moment he thought he saw it twitch, signifying he was too late. He held his breath, eyes wide in fear, but soon enough the fire began to lick at the body before completely engulfing it. Numbed and frozen, Mr. Washington watched as the corpse burned to ensure it was thoroughly done away with. When it had been burning for a good long time, when it began to char and fall apart, Mr. Washington felt his mouth quiver and couldn't keep it back anymore. Dissolving into tears, he collapsed to the ground and shrieked curses to the skies for his son's cruel fate. His son. That Wendigo had been his son! For so long he had waited for answers, hoping desperately to one day find them. Now part of him almost wished he'd never known…

He looked up to the moon high in the sky, blurred by the tears in his eyes. He half wondered if there would ever be a time in his life from this point on where he wasn't near to tears or at the point of breaking down. As he stared at the starry sky, he gritted his teeth. Determination welled within him. He looked back down at the burning Wendigo body. He would get his boy back. Somehow. He wasn't going to lose his last remaining child to a curse! It wasn't going to happen! A curse could be broken… A curse could be broken… But if there really was no way to break it, he would still die trying. He wouldn't give up. Not on this one. Not like he had on Hannah and Beth. Damn him for ever giving up on them. He wasn't giving up Josh too… He wouldn't lose Josh too! He couldn't! Not now! Somehow he would find a way, however long it took. He would find a way to bring back his child! As the last of the flames died out, taking the corpse of the wendigo with them, he turned and raced back towards his camp. He had preparations to make and questions to ask…