Alosha (5 page)

Ted cleaned her cuts with water and alcohol—which hurt, wow—and bandaged them with tape and gauze. While he worked, she asked if he could please keep what had happened private.

“As long as you promise not to hike in these woods alone anymore,” he said.

“I want to promise you.” She added, “But I've already broken one promise today. I don't want to lie.”

“Ali . . .”

“I'll be more careful in the future. I can promise that. But this forest is where I go, you know, to forget about stuff.”

He knew she was talking about her mother.

Ted gave her a ride back to her bike. His truck was bumpy but warm. On the way she asked if he had ever seen anything peculiar in the forest.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Oh . . . nothing.”

“Did anyone chase after you today?” he asked.

“No.”

“You're sure?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

When they reached her bike, she told him she felt strong enough to ride back to town. But he loaded it in the rear and insisted on taking her all the way home.

He dropped her off in her driveway. By then it was raining and she was glad to be home. As he lifted her bike out of the truck, he admitted he had seen something strange in the forest. Just the other day, in fact. He seemed embarrassed to talk about it.

“What did it look like?” she asked.

“I didn't get a real good look at it.”

“Was it big? Was it hairy?”

“It was small and green.”

“What was it?”

“I'm not sure. It was there one second and gone the next.” He stopped and shook his head. “I must be imagining things.”

“I know the feeling,” she said.

A
li was in the house ten minutes when her father called from the road. He was a long-distance truck driver. His usual route ran from Breakwater to Los Angeles, to Santa Fe, then back again—three thousand miles altogether. Occasionally he drove to Florida to pick up freight. When he did that he would be gone for a week, and she would stay with Cindy.

“How's my Hunny Bunny?” he asked.

“Where are you?”

“Three hours away,” he said.

“Great! I didn't think you'd be back until tomorrow.”

“I've got to go back out this evening. All the way to Miami.”

“No, Dad. We talked about this. You can't drive when you haven't slept. It's dangerous and, besides, it's against the law.”

“No choice. Jerry's down sick. I've got to pick up his freight.”

“Jerry's not sick, he's lazy. You're always doing him favors.”

“We need the money.”

“We have enough money,” she said, unsure if that was true. Since her mother had died, they'd had financial problems. Her mom had worked for a software company downtown, and had earned the larger check. Ali added, “At least take a nap before you go back out. A few hours won't make any difference.”

“We'll see.” That meant no.

“I'll have dinner ready for you,” she said.

“You don't have to do that.”

“I want to do it, Daddy. Just drive safe.”

“I'll see you soon, Hunny Bunny.”

Three hours—that gave her time to shop for a special dinner for her father. Of course what was special to him was always the same thing: T-bone steak, a baked potato, and fried onions. Although she disliked steak and hated onions, she always ate with him. It made them both feel good to sit together for a meal. Then they could pretend they were still a normal family.

“We're still a family,” she said as she hurried into the shower. Besides her cuts and bruises, she was covered with dirt.

Thirty minutes later she was outside and walking to the market. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but she had her green umbrella with her, and let it twirl overhead like a leaf. She was going to miss the sweater she had lost, and the pants she'd ruined in the avalanche. She did not have many clothes that fit. She had grown six inches in the last six months, and her father was not in the habit of buying her clothes. Not because he didn't care, he just never thought about it, and she never brought up the subject. On the other hand, now that she was a full-fledged teen—now that boys were
sort of
looking at her—she found herself thinking about clothes more. What she wanted more than anything was a black leather coat, but because the leather was cut off the backs of
dead cows—or poor dead sheep—she felt guilty every time she fantasized about it.

The market was fairly deserted. Ali was able to get a nice steak for half price. The man behind the counter said the store was having a special that day. She knew he was just being nice. He had gone to school with her mother as well.

Back home, Ali got busy. Besides preparing the steak and potato, she whipped up a batch of brownies for her dad. He had a sweet tooth; he could eat an entire pint of ice cream while watching TV late at night. Often he fell asleep in the chair with the TV on.

Her father came home an hour later. A big man with strong arms and a thick head of dark hair, he had a face that never seemed to age. Ali had heard the girls at school talk about how cute he was, and in fact he had powerful features; the firm line of his jaw almost looked chiseled. He had married her mother straight out of high school.

He picked her up from behind and kissed her on the back of the head. “I was going to take you out to eat,” he said.

“Where were you going to take me?” she asked, not taking his remark seriously. Since her mother had died, they had eaten out maybe three times.

Her father sat down as she continued to fuss with the brownie batter. She still had to get it in the oven.

“Wherever you wanted to go,” he said quietly. One look at him and she knew he was exhausted. The bags under his eyes looked like bruises. She put down the batter and reached for the phone.

“I'm calling Jerry. There's no way you're driving all night.”

He stopped her. “It's my job, Ali. I'll be all right after I eat.”

She argued but it was useless. He took pride in burning himself out to support them. She wished she could explain that he didn't have to prove anything to her. They were close, yet there were still things she couldn't talk to him about.

Like the night her mother had died. They never discussed it. To this day she
didn't know exactly what had happened. The accident had knocked her out, thrown her clear of the car.

Yet over dinner she brought up the subject of bigfoot monsters, the mythical creatures that were supposed to haunt the forests of the Northwest.

“Why do you ask?” he said. “Did you see one?”

“People in town talk about them. I was just wondering if they're real.”

“Most people will tell you they're only legends. But bigfoots have been reported all over the world, even in places as far away as China and Mongolia. Up north, where the Eskimos live, the tales of the abominable snowmen are probably the same as our bigfoots. With so many stories going around, I think there's got to be something to it.” He added, “But I wouldn't call them monsters. Most people who've seen them say they're incredibly shy.”

“But couldn't bigfoots be like people?” she asked. “You could have nice ones and rotten ones?”

“I never thought about it. I suppose you could.”

They finished dinner and she helped him pack. On the way out he made her promise to get to Cindy's house by nine o'clock. Kissing him goodbye, she told him to drive carefully.

When he was gone, she cleaned up the kitchen and sat down to read for an hour before going over to Cindy's. She had already called her friend; she was expected.

But the house felt so empty. Outside the wind howled with a lonely ache. Inside the walls trembled with too many memories. Ali ended up packing her own bag and going over early.

Cindy met her at the door and led her to her room. Her parents had friends over for a video; they didn't want to be disturbed. Cindy's mother and father were nice people. They had let her sleep over many times since her mother had died.

Cindy was on to her the moment they were alone in her room.

“What happened to your leg?” she asked.

“My leg?” Ali asked.

“You're limping. What happened to it?”

Ted had seen her cuts but had not noticed her limp, nor had her father. “I fell.”

“Did you go up to hassle the lumberjacks today?”

“Well . . .”

“Where did you fall? Let me see your leg.”

“You can't see my leg.”

“You're suddenly shy about your body? You're sleeping here tonight. I'll see it when you put on your pajamas.”

“I'm putting them on in the bathroom.”

“Why can't I see your leg?” Cindy insisted.

“I cut it. It's gross.”

“I'm a gross-out kind of girl. How bad did you cut it?”

Ali realized Cindy was not going to let up until she saw her leg. Sitting on the edge of Cindy's bed—Ali slept on a foam mat on the floor—she rolled up her pants. The size of the bandage impressed Cindy.

“Cool,” she said. “Did you have to go to the hospital?”

“Ted, Sharla's dad, bandaged it.”

“So did you hassle the lumberjacks or what?”

“Not exactly.” Ali stared down at her sore leg. The cut on her head hurt as well. While she had showered, it had begun to bleed again. But she had not put anything on it because then her father would have freaked out.

The trauma of the day's events came back to her right then. She felt like crying. Turning away, she stared at the wall. Cindy was a loudmouth, but she was sensitive. She came and knelt in front of Ali.

“What happened up there today?” she asked gently.

“I got attacked by bigfoot and his family.”

“What?”

Ali told her the story. It took half an hour to explain. To her credit, Cindy listened without interrupting. When Ali was done, Cindy shook her head in amazement.

“You were lucky you found that bamboo stick,” she said. “I would be picking out a coffin for you right now.”

“That makes me feel a whole lot better,” Ali said.

“Sorry. Actually, I'm amazed the way you kept your head.”

“You believe me, don't you? Everything I just said?”

“Sure. That's too weird a story to make up.”

“What do you think of the bamboo? Why was it there?”

“Forget the bamboo. What were the bigfoots doing there? They're not supposed to exist. If we could catch one, or even find a footprint, we'd be famous.” Cindy got excited at the idea. “Hey, let's do that! Let's go back up, see if they left any prints. It rained today, the ground will be soft. I bet we can find something. We can photograph them, show the pictures to the police. We could get on TV!”

“Cindy. These bigfoots are
big
. They tried to kill me. We go back up there tomorrow, they might succeed.”

“Nah. They were probably passing through. They do that.”

“Up until an hour ago, you didn't even believe they existed. Now you're an expert on their migration habits.”

“If you're afraid, I can swipe my father's gun.”

“No guns. We're kids.”

“Teenagers!”

Ali shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Better to be living kids than dead kids.”

“No. I hate guns. Your father shouldn't even have one in the house. And we can't just shoot them if we see them. It's their forest as much as ours.”

“We won't shoot them unless they try to eat us. Look, you're the one who's talking about how dangerous they are. I'm not afraid of them.”

“You're not the one they tried to bury alive.”

“That must have been scary in the dark.”

“It was—real scary,” she said.

Cindy patted her shoulder. “You poor dear.”

Ali thought further about what Cindy was saying. There was no bigger mystery in the Northwest than bigfoot, and they could be the ones to solve it. The possibility excited her as well.

“I wonder,” Ali said finally.

“What?”

“I left my sweater up there, the one my mother knitted for me. You know, the white one?”

Cindy nodded. “I love that sweater. You don't want to lose it.”

Ali considered further. “You might be right. If we could find the exact spot where they started chasing me, we should find footprints.”

“Let's do it!” Cindy said.

“Maybe. But we shouldn't go alone.”

“You want to take Karl?”

“Don't start that again.” Ali paused. “Let's take Steve with us.”

“Steve is a weenie. Bigfoot attacks and he'll run the other way.”

“If they attack, believe me, we'll all run. But Steve is braver than he acts. I know him.”

“Why don't the four of us go? Safety in numbers.”

Ali yawned. “That's an idea. Let's talk about it in the morning.”