In the Woods (17 page)

Oh great. No facts, just rumors. ‘Tell them both to sit on it, will you? Until we find out what’s going on? Let me talk to Hiram.’

Hiram came on the line, his voice shaky. He said the explosion had happened a few minutes after twelve. Some of the membership – Ax, Mavis and a few of her women, Moose and Josh – had already gathered at the compound with him and Annie, convinced that whoever was setting off these blasts might blow up the whole forest by morning. The group of them wanted to form search parties and go hunting for the culprits.

The chief closed his eyes, made himself breathe slowly. ‘Now hold on, Hiram. Put me on speaker, would you?’

The chief heard Hiram announce that he was on the speakerphone, and everyone began to talk at once.

‘Everybody quiet down, I can’t hear anyone if you’re all jabbering.’ He spoke quietly, so they’d have to settle down in order to listen. When they were silent, he began. ‘I understand there’s been another explosion. Do we know where?’

Voices said, ‘No,’ and ‘Not yet,’ and, ‘I think out near the old campground.’

‘Was anyone hurt?’

Nobody knew.

‘How much damage did it do?’

Again, nobody was sure.

‘Well, first thing is to keep our heads. I don’t know who did this, but I can tell you that it’s not fracking—’

‘Yeah? How can you be so sure?’

‘Think about it, Moose.’ He’d recognized Moose’s voice. ‘They need permits for fracking. And big equipment – nobody’s brought in any heavy stuff. Nobody’s blocked off sections of the park. So nobody’s fracking.’

‘No? Then explain what’s happening.’

‘It’s the government.’ Ax’s voice. ‘I’m telling you they want to take the land—’

‘Ax, we don’t know that yet.’ The chief remained patient. ‘We can’t go jumping to conclusions. What we need to do is cool down.’

‘No, what
you
need to do is act like you’re our sector chief and stand up to protect this place.’

The chief restrained himself. Ax had a temper; the chief would gain nothing by challenging him. ‘I get how frustrated you are, Ax. We all are. But before we go on the warpath, we need to get the facts.’ He didn’t wait for the grumbles to subside. ‘First of all, do you think this was a bigger blast than the one earlier?’

‘Sounded about the same,’ Hiram said.

Others agreed.

‘So these are relatively small, isolated explosions. Timed far apart. Doesn’t sound like what the government would do. So first thing we have to do is find out who we’re up against. And if they’re responsible for the killings or just the explosions—’

‘What about that guy who’s been testing the water?’ Mavis asked. ‘He might be part of some environmental terrorist group—’

‘Yeah, trying to stir things up,’ Annie said. ‘You know, drawing attention to the pollution from fracking? Or the risks from the pipeline?’

‘Maybe,’ the chief said. ‘But again, we’re jumping to conclusions. We need facts. So let’s split into groups and go find the second bomb site. See if anyone’s hurt, what evidence there is, what damage has been done. Because count on it: Ranger Daniels is on top of this, and he’s got the ATF on its way. We want the upper hand, so let’s find out what the hell’s going on before they even get into their cars to drive out here.’

The chief arranged for everyone to meet him at the compound. When he hung up, he chugged the rest of his drink, went for his vest and hat, headed for his car. Stopped, went back into his cabin, and got extra clips for his pistol.

Harper heard the boom, sat up, recognizing the sound. She’d heard enough IEDs and bombs, various sizes and types. This one wasn’t big. Wasn’t far away.

She nudged Hank, but he was sound asleep again. Nudged him again.

‘Wha …?’ He wasn’t fully awake.

‘Another explosion.’

He turned over, facing her. Listening. Hearing nothing.

‘I heard it. Just now. We can’t stay here, Hank. We can drive to a motel, but we have to leave. Now.’ She shimmied out of the sleeping bag.

Hank grabbed her arm. ‘You really want to pack up now, in the dark, and hike back to the campground? You’re up for that?’

‘As opposed to staying here and getting blown up?’

Hank sat, rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t know what you heard, but I doubt anyone is going to blow us up.’

‘Hank, I know what I heard—’

‘Even so, I’m not up for trekking around the forest in the middle of the night. I think we’re better off staying right here.’

She saw his point. Her head hurt where she’d bumped it, and her left leg throbbed. Her entire body ached from walking all day. As much as she wanted to leave and get home to Chloe, she couldn’t imagine hiking anywhere right now. Fine, she’d stick it out until morning.

‘But Hank, what about that explosion? Somebody’s setting off bombs.’

Hank didn’t answer.

‘We’re not safe here.’

‘You’re sure it was a bomb?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re positive?’

Really? He didn’t believe her? ‘You think I dreamed it, don’t you? Or that I had another flashback.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘But it’s what you think.’

Hank took a breath, reached for her hand. ‘Harper, I don’t want to upset you. But tense situations tend to trigger your flashbacks. This day has been non-stop tense.’

‘So what are you saying? That I imagined the explosion?’ She pulled her hand away.

Hank reached for it again, grabbed it, held on. ‘I’m saying that what you heard seemed real, but might not have been.’

Harper’s body stiffened. She’d faced bombs and IEDs and sniper fire, had scars to prove it, and had the sounds, smells and sights of war burned into her brain. But when she said she’d heard an explosion, her own husband doubted her?

Outside the tent, an animal howled. Hank’s grip on her hand relaxed. He rubbed his eyes again. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

She didn’t answer. She simmered. Earlier, Hank had thought she’d imagined the creature; now he thought she’d imagined a bomb. If he didn’t trust her perceptions, what did that say about their marriage? So much for a weekend of togetherness. She wanted to go home. She wanted to hug Chloe. She wanted this weekend to have never happened.

‘Look,’ Hank said. ‘I sounded dismissive. I’m sorry.’

She reached for the flashlight, turned it on. Looked at him. Said nothing.

‘I think we’re safe until morning, that’s all.’ He waited for a response.

Harper said nothing.

‘Come on, Harper.’ He reached for her.

She resisted.

‘What can I say? You’re mad; I get that. But guess what? It’s not easy living with someone with PTSD. How am I supposed to tell whether you’re reacting to the moment or to something in your head? I do my best, Harper; I really do. Normally, I take you at your word. But tonight, admit it. You’ve been kind of bizarre, chasing a hairy monster in the dark, shooting at it. So I’ve got to wonder, when you say bombs are going off, if they’re real or not.’

He reached for her, and she didn’t resist. She settled back into the sleeping bag, her head on his chest, her eyes teary. Hank had never before complained about her condition, so she hadn’t realized how profoundly it affected him. She lay quietly, hearing his heartbeat, pressing her cheek against his warm skin. And felt as if the war had separated her even from her own husband. As if she were completely alone.

When Harper opened her eyes, Hank was gone. She dragged her aching bones out of the sleeping bag and opened the tent, saw him salvaging what he could from the ravaged bear bag.

‘Morning.’ He nodded at the camp stove. It was still early – the sun hadn’t risen over the trees yet. But he’d already managed to make coffee. ‘The eggs got crushed, and the flour got spilled. So no pancakes or omelets today. Want some oatmeal? Or we’ve got granola bars.’

‘Oatmeal sounds perfect.’ Harper looked around. Saw the broken tree branch, their surviving supplies laid out on the tarp. Hank had been busy, sorting through the creature’s mess.

‘It took some weight to break that branch off,’ he said. ‘And whatever did it must have been pretty tall.’

It had been. Harper said nothing, didn’t want to start another conversation about what she’d seen. She just wanted to brush her teeth. Getting a bottle of water, she glanced at the ground. And gasped.

The footprints were gigantic, ape-like, with toes and a thumb. No way had they been made by a bear.

‘Hank, look—’

‘I know. I saw them.’ He faced her. ‘I’ve never seen anything like them. I don’t know what could have caused them.’

‘I told you what caused them, but you didn’t believe me. It was the Bog Man.’ She went to him and held on, too alarmed to gloat. She stared at the prints, felt gooseflesh rippling on her neck, her arms. At least she’d been validated. The footprints backed her up. Maybe now, Hank wouldn’t doubt her.

‘The Bog Man.’ Hank released her.

‘Yes.’ Harper looked into his eyes. ‘The Bog Man.’

Hank looked away, went about making oatmeal. Harper said nothing. She got busy preparing to leave. She cleaned up in the creek, changed her clothes, organized her backpack, unzipped and rolled up the sleeping bag and put it beside Hank’s soil and water samples. She was about to take the tent down when someone screamed her name.

‘Harper! Thank God!’ Angela hobbled in from the woods, covered with dirt, carrying a rifle, using a long stick as a cane.

‘Angela?’ Hank went to help her. ‘What happened?’

‘Please,’ she panted. ‘I need to sit.’

Harper unfolded one of their chairs, and Hank guided Angela into it. Her boots were unlaced; she raised the cuff of her khakis to reveal a swollen red and purple ankle.

‘I’ll get some ice,’ Harper said, but Hank stopped her, shaking his head.

‘I dumped it all.’

Right. They were leaving.

‘Never mind. Ice won’t help. I think it’s broken. I hopped most of the way here.’ Angela leaned back in the chair. ‘I thought I’d die alone in our tent.’

Harper stared at the ankle. It looked bad.

‘Here, drink this.’ Hank gave Angela a bottle of water. ‘I’m surprised to see you. I thought you’d left yesterday.’

‘I was supposed to.’ She winced, repositioning her leg. ‘Captain Slader offered me transportation and got me a room in Philipsburg. It was generous of him, but, seriously, I couldn’t leave. I just couldn’t. Not without my Phil.’ She took a long drink of water. ‘No, I had to stay there in our tent. It might sound weird, but I felt like Phil was still there with me.’

Harper looked at Hank, recalling the weeks after his accident, when he’d been unconscious, barely alive. She’d spent nights clinging to his pillow, wearing his shirts, curling into his easy chair. His possessions had comforted her, made her feel less lonely, made him seem less gone. She understood why Angela had stayed in the tent.

‘I couldn’t sleep, though, without Phil. I was dozing,’ Angela went on. ‘And then, in the middle of the night – did you hear it? That explosion?’

‘Yes, we heard it.’ Hank glanced at Harper.

‘You did? So why are you still here? Because I thought, sweet Jesus, they’re bombing the place. I ran for it. Thing is, in my panic, I fell over my own two feet. I twisted my ankle – heard a pop, felt it snap. So I stayed up all night in my tent, swallowing aspirin, hearing strange noises. Waiting for the place to blow. I thought I’d die there.’

Harper made herself sound reassuring. ‘That’s over, Angela. You’re here now. You’ll be all right—’

‘No, wait. I’m not done. That’s not the half of it. So then this morning, I was in pain, but knew I had to get out of there even if I had to crawl. I made my way out of the tent and, guess what? I found out what those strange noises had been. Some animal had been in my campsite and torn it apart.’

‘What?’ Harper shot a look at Hank. He went back to preparing breakfast.

‘I swear. Phil and I had great camping equipment. A stove. Lights. Collapsible furniture. Somebody smashed it all to pieces – so there I was, my poor Phil shot dead like a squirrel and all our things destroyed. And with my ankle, I couldn’t even run away. I had to scuttle around on my backside until I got my hands on this big old stick. Then I had to make my way, hopping down the trail with my ankle swollen out of my boot. Thank God you two were here.’ She rubbed her face with her muddy hands, smudging dirt across her freckles.

Harper didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to tell Angela that their campsite had been destroyed, too. Didn’t want to cause more panic. But Angela was looking at her, waiting for a response. ‘Hank’s making oatmeal,’ she offered. ‘Have some. You’ll feel better.’ Really? Angela’s husband was dead and she’d broken her ankle. Oatmeal would fix it?

Angela looked over at Hank. ‘I’d kill for some coffee.’

Harper went to the stove where a pot of water was boiling. Hank had already prepared mugs of instant coffee and bowls of instant oatmeal. He added dabs of brown sugar.

‘I’ll go to the ranger’s station.’ He gave Harper two plastic spoons. Kept one for himself. ‘No way she can walk there. And we can’t carry her, with all our—’

But Harper interrupted him. ‘Didn’t you hear what she said?’ she whispered. ‘The Bog Man tore up her campsite, too.’

‘The Bog Man.’

‘Yes. He must have gone from one campsite to another—’

‘Harper, please don’t—’

‘It’s no coincidence, Hank. He did the same thing to her campsite as he did to ours.’

Hank sighed. ‘Let’s eat, okay?’ He carried coffee and oatmeal to Angela, who rambled on about Phil and Stan, insisting that Stan had killed him. Harper didn’t listen. She ate silently, watching Hank wolf his food down, annoyed that even after he’d seen the gigantic footprints and heard about Angela’s campsite, he still refused to believe that the Bog Man might be real.

Then again, just the day before, she’d agreed with him. She’d thought the creature was nonsense, too.

As soon as he finished eating, Hank stood. ‘If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’ll get ready to head out.’

Angela kept talking, but Harper said she had to get the first-aid kit and walked away, following Hank. She wasn’t going to let him leave without telling him how upset she was that he didn’t believe her. How she knew what she’d seen, how it had been real.