Forsaken - An American Sasquatch Tale (13 page)

Five minutes later Liberty was running through the tunnel on her way to the farmhouse.

Chapter Twelve

She entered the basement through the sliding door beneath the staircase. She was putting on her robe when Becky came into the tiny alcove.

“Honey, I was worried about you.” Becky looked Liberty over for injuries, “Are you okay?”

Liberty nodded, lifted the hair up on the right side of her head to show Becky the wound. It had already scabbed over. “Yeah, surface scratches heal fast.”

Becky assessed it, seemed satisfied it wasn’t life threatening. “Thank goodness. I was worried to see all that blood.”

“How is Mitch?”

“Oh, Lib. I tried to prepare myself for this, you know?” Becky’s bangs were damp and she wiped her sleeve across her brow before she gave Liberty a hug. “But I’m not ready.” She pulled away and looked at Liberty with shiny eyes. “I’ve decided I don’t want to say goodbye.”

Liberty sensed the double meaning in Becky’s words—referring to Mitch, but also her. Liberty looked at her best friend. “I don’t want to say goodbye either.” Liberty hugged her back.

“I love you, you know?”

Liberty nodded, her throat constricted and it made it hard for her to speak.

Becky pulled away and wiped the tears that ran down her face. “You ready?”

“Give me a minute?”

“Sure, hon. I’ll go in and tell him you’re here.” She patted Liberty’s arm and tried to put on a smile as she walked out from under the staircase, back toward the bedroom.

Liberty needed to compose herself. Pull it together so Mitch wouldn’t see her flustered. She wanted him to feel comforted, not looking fear in the face as he died.

She exhaled a long, cleansing breath and entered the open area of the basement. The first part had a cement floor and in the center of it, a pool table half covered in an old sheet. She didn’t want it to be true, but this may have been the last place her daughter was photographed. Would ever be photographed. She stood near the ledge where Sage had posed. She pressed down against the cool cotton fabric, her fingers irrationally sought the heat from Sage’s body. She pulled her hand away. It was cold.

To her right was the farmhouse’s second kitchen, the area Ellie had used to can vegetables.

She felt a little melancholy because she and Ellie had had some serious heart-to-hearts right there at the old wooden table, and the last one was the day before she’d died. Crazy how quickly she’d left them all.

“Psst.” Becky stood in the doorway to Mitch’s room, at the end of the hallway. Her aura pulsated opal around the edges. “He’s waiting.”

Liberty looked up. “I’m coming.”

Becky disappeared back into the room and, as Liberty reached the door, she could hear Mitch doing what she could only imagine was his attempt at breathing. Raspy, hitched, it didn’t sound life sustaining at all.

Liberty’s fears were confirmed when she entered the room. If she’d imagined Mitch couldn’t get any thinner, paler, more drawn, she’d have been wrong. He looked like a skeleton wrapped tight in flesh-colored cellophane, blue veins snaking under opaque skin. His aura had dimmed considerably and now was a dark and muddy gray, like a blown bulb.

The scent in the room was a mixture of fresh vomit and disinfectant. How was this man still alive?

She and Becky exchanged glances, then Liberty forced a smile and pushed herself to his bedside. He opened his eyes before she said a word.

“Liberty.” He patted the mattress with his bony hand. “Sit, please. I need to say something.”

She couldn’t bring herself to sit so close. She was afraid to hurt him, so she knelt down next to the bed, at eye level, and took his hand. It felt like she held a small bundle of icicles. “I’m here.”

Becky spoke up, “Would you like me to leave?”

Mitch shook his head. “No, you can stay…hear this, too.”

Becky looked at Liberty as if to ask if she minded, and Liberty smiled, it was fine by her. No secrets between friends.

Mitch stared into Liberty’s eyes for several moments, and when she opened her mouth to speak, to say anything to break the painful silence, he said, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Shh.” She placed her other hand on top of his and stroked it, tried to warm him up. “You’ve no reason to be sorry—“

He interrupted, “Please don’t.”

She nodded, encouraged him to go on.

“You remember when Sage went missing? The day after my Ellie died?”

How could she ever forget? “Yes.”

“I didn’t help you look for her—“

“It’s okay, Mitch, really. We understood. You were mourning.”

He shook his head in agitation and started a coughing fit. Becky picked up a glass of water, tried to give him some, but he waved her away. After a moment, he composed himself.

“Let me talk,” he whispered.

Liberty nodded and took his hand again. “Go ahead.”

“You never knew it, but I was there.”

“I’m sorry?”

“In the woods.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was on my way to the cavern to talk to you.” His eyes became watery. “And even through the thunderclaps I could hear Adrian’s cries. Though, at the time I didn’t know it was him.”

Not sure she fully comprehended, she leaned in a little closer.

“And when I followed the sounds, I finally realized they came from him. He’d been standing at the top of the embankment, looking down.”

Liberty heard Becky take in a sharp breath, and Liberty turned to look at her. What was he trying to say? Liberty narrowed her eyes at Becky, was she hearing this, too?

Liberty turned back to Mitch and said, “I don’t think I get what you’re saying.”

“Adrian never heard me, I think he was too upset. He ran along the ridge down over the hill, until he was out of sight. I crept to the lip, and took a look over.”

Her eyes were as wide as a barn owl’s, but she didn’t dare utter a word.

“It was your girl lying at the bottom. She looked busted up, and I knew it was bad because her form.” He held up a shaky hand. “Flickered, wavered.”

Liberty’s hands flew to her mouth and tears spilled down over her fingers. Oh please don’t say it. Liberty shook her head back and forth, thought the worst. Felt like she’d been punched in the gut. No, no. He’d taken her and buried her and left her aching and hoping all this time.

“How could you not tell me this before?” she managed as she got up from the floor.

Becky was behind her then, hands on her shoulders.

Liberty shrugged her off, no desire to be touched, turned on Becky. “Did you know this, too?”

“Of course not,” Becky said, and the surprise in her eyes was either a perfect performance or genuine. Liberty wasn’t sold either way.

“Lib, please,” Mitch begged but she was so confused the only sound she heard clearly was the blood as it pounded in her ears.

“Where is she?” She’d hurt him if he didn’t tell her. She believed she could.

“I’m not finished, sit.” His voice was raspy, but unmistakably firm.

She shook her head, no way would she sit back down. Liberty took a step backward toward the door, Becky close at the hip.

“Damn it.” He started to cough again. “Sage is alive.”

She and Becky gasped in unison.

Becky said, in a voice too loud for the small bedroom, “Is that why you’ve pushed us all away? Kept us from the house? To hide your secret?”

He ignored her, looking at the windowless wall on his right. “She’s here with me. Has been the whole time. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before.”

Liberty followed his gaze and stared at the plain white wall as rationale spun around inside her skull and tried to find purchase. Were these the delusions of a dying man who saw ghosts no one else did?

Or were her instincts correct, and had Adrian been right all along? She wanted to believe Adrian more than anything.

She moved back to the bed and sat down next to him. His fragile state no longer a concern, she gripped his shoulders. “Mitch Montgomery, you explain yourself right this minute. Is she dead or alive?”

“Alive,” he said, in obvious pain. “Yes. Adrian had gone and wandered off and I ran all the way back to the house, jumped in my truck and drove down the utility road.”

She loosened her grip, still not trusting her ears, wishing Nathaniel were there to hear him, too. She wiped her tears with a sleeve and Becky put an arm around her shoulders.

“Then what?” she managed to ask him.

“She was unconscious when I arrived, but still alive.” He drew in a ragged breath, his body hitched and seemed prepared for another fit, but it subsided and he continued, “She faded in and out, human to Sasquatch. I knew I didn’t have much time. I pulled her out of the brush and, hell if she wasn’t heavy.”

He lost track, but he was right. Sage towered over Liberty, even at sixteen she’d stood nearly eight feet tall.

“Go on,” Liberty prompted.

“After some struggle, I got her in the back of the truck, covered her with a tarp and brought her home.”

“Is she here?” Liberty fought the urge to ransack the place. “Is she here in this house?”

He nodded. “Yes. I put her up in Kevin’s old room. I prettied it up, you know, some fresh paint and linens like Ellie would’ve done.”

Liberty hopped up and moved toward the door, and he continued to talk.

“I’ve kept her hidden to protect her. But she isn’t Sasquatch anymore.”

Liberty stopped, turned back to Mitch. “Isn’t what? What do you mean, she’s not Sasquatch?”

Mitch lay there, eyes closed, chest rising and falling shallowly.

“You stay,” Becky stepped in. “I’ll go check if…” The look in her eyes was sincere and confused, as if she too wasn’t certain either if Mitch hadn’t lost his mind. Ravings of a dying man seemed a distinct possibility.

“Hurry, please,” Liberty said.

Becky left the room, nearly at a jog.

When Mitch opened his eyes and started to talk again, she’d already heard the door to the upstairs open, heard the wood creak as Becky’s feet moved overhead.

“You need to know, Ellie meant for me to save you, not Sage. But I can’t undo it.”

“Save me? From what?”

He didn’t answer.

“Save me from what, Mitch?”

“The curse.”

“The curse,” she repeated. She shook her head. “You can’t…” She heard the doors open and close upstairs and felt sick with anticipation.

“There’s more to the legend. More than what your mother told you about our ancestors.”

“Ours?”

“What more?”

“Ellie and I are like you and Nathaniel.” He made an attempt to lift his arm, whispered, “The amulet.”

She looked at his bracelet. It meant the world to him, and to Ellie, but it was plain. Their version of wedding bands, Liberty always remembered, but they tended to disappear and she wouldn’t notice them again until they were pointed out.

“Ellie’s and your bands?” Her head buzzed and she scolded herself. No time to demonstrate how well she could faint.

He nodded, dropped his arm down as though it weighed a ton.

She looked closer at the band, and knew it wasn’t her imagination.

He’d lost so much weight, but the band fit perfectly. Perplexed, she tried to spin it around, but it wouldn’t budge. She drew her hand back sharply. It felt like skin, not metal at all.

“Lib—” He hitched in a breath and held it.

She looked up at his chest, hoped he’d let it out again and if he did, she sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be the final one. “Mitch? How are you and Ellie like us?”

The faint click of a door opened, then shut. Becky had reached the top floor, the one with the dormers.

Liberty reached for Mitch’s hand again, and took a firm hold of his wrist. The band squirmed and pulsated beneath her fingers as though it were alive. She’d begun to tremble. “Please talk to me.”

She heard the sound of Becky’s voice. It was muffled, but she called out Sage’s name, over and over. Would her daughter hide in a closet? Why hide at all?

He started to speak again, but his voice was so soft she had to put her ear next to his face to hear.

“When our people massacred the Indian tribe, they left their children behind. But they didn’t die.”

She furrowed her brow. That’s not what her mother told her, but she didn’t want to interrupt and kept her head still.

“The last woman they killed, the one they all saw dancing near their campsite?”

She murmured, “I know of her.” She recalled the brutality, the little details.

“She escaped with her children during the attack on her tribe. She almost made it to the banks of the creek, where a canoe was hidden in the reed, but we were close behind her. She stumbled upon the lean-to and begged the colonist’s children to keep hers safe.”

No, she didn’t remember this. This wasn’t a part of the legend she’d been taught. “She stroked his cheek, urged him to go on, “I’m here.”

“She was so beautiful.” He paused as though he remembered the woman himself. “Dark skin and eyes so large you could see your reflection in them. The children didn’t understand her language, but knew what she asked of them and they didn’t hesitate to help. She captivated them. They took her babies into their bedrolls, covered the two up with their blankets and gave them shelter.” He stopped speaking and took a breath. He could no longer do both at the same time.

“The children heard the screams outside,” he finally continued. “The cries of pain, and were so afraid they wanted to run away but they kept their promise to the woman and stayed with her little ones.”

He stopped again, and was getting slower to start with every breath. Liberty listened for Becky and didn’t hear any sound at all. She lifted her head up and looked toward the door. Had Becky found her? Had she not, and was now thinking of how she’d break the bad news? My God, what could take so long?

Conflicted, an urge to go up herself, she looked back at Mitch and jumped. He stared at her, with eyes wide open and irises as black as his pupils.

“Liberty,” he said, though his mouth did not move.

She couldn’t pull her gaze away. “Yes,” an acknowledgment she heard with her ears, but certain her lips hadn’t formed the word.