Forsaken - An American Sasquatch Tale (7 page)

Liberty nodded. “Away from the farmhouse. And north?”

Adrian answered as he kicked off his shoes. “To the boulder near the creek.”

Sage finished, “Fifty paces from the west. God, Mom, I know to stay away from the freaking road—”

“That’s enough, Sage,” Nathaniel interrupted the beginnings of a rant, which they’d been getting a lot of lately. “Just go before
I
change my mind.”

Knowing better than to argue with her father, Sage huffed and turned around. Adrian stood in his skivvies, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and waited for her to leave the area. Apparently even he was growing up.

“Be careful. And come home if it starts lightening,” Liberty warned as Nathaniel pulled her away.

He put his arm around her and they walked down the corridor together, listening to Sage as she mocked Adrian for being polite and then muttered something Liberty felt certain was unpleasant. Sounds carried in the cavern, though she didn’t think her daughter cared.

She looked up at Nathaniel with a mixture of worry and hurt in her eyes and he pulled her tighter to him.

“I can’t get used to them going off alone,” she lowered her voice and looked back over her shoulder. “I mean, look at Adrian, he’s worse than me. He carries a salad bag for crying out loud. Hardly any protection for our daughter.”

“Shh.” Nathaniel looked down at her and chuckled. “I don’t think she needs any.”

He had a fair point. Sage took after Nathaniel, strength and fearlessness ran through her blood. Liberty was the opposite. She’d spot a bunny nibbling on clover, and by the time she’s pointed out how cute it looked twitching its nose, Sage would be holding up dinner by its ears, its neck snapped.

The only thing Liberty killed were insects. And then, only if they’d found a way into her bed chamber. She sighed. “You’re right, I guess.”

“Come on, little hen, let’s visit with our guests. Maybe share some of the wine you’ve been saving. Before you know it…” He stopped outside the sitting chamber where Katie and Gabriel waited and gave her a wet, sloppy kiss that made her giggle. “Your girl will be home.”

* * *

Two glasses of wine and an hour later, Liberty couldn’t understand Adrian’s babble.

“Liberty.” Adrian burst into the cavern, naked, out of breath, and dripping. “We were run…” He paused. “It was out past the creek--”

“Whoa, slow down.” Liberty stopped him, looking over his shoulder. Sage wasn’t behind him. Liberty’s scalp tingled, burned. She moved him aside and started down the corridor. “Sage?” Fear crawled up her back, tightened around her neck. Her voice croaked, “Sage!”

Adrian grabbed her arm and looked at her, eyes wild. “I’m trying to tell you. Sage fell down the embankment.”

“What?” Liberty yelled, running toward the vestibule. Looking back over her shoulder, she screamed for Adrian to get Nathaniel, but Nathaniel had already appeared.

“Adrian? Liberty?”

She noted the alarm in his voice and heard Adrian begin to tell him what happened, but kept moving.

Reaching the entry, she saw a fresh puddle of water at the base of the ladder, and looked up to see the hatch wide open. She stripped as she climbed, letting her clothes fall into the wetness.

She was still four rungs from the top when she flung herself to the surface. No time to wait for her senses to give the all clear. She snarled as she rose to her feet and took off toward the creek.

She stopped after a minute, leaned against a tree for support and contemplated the idea of heading in the opposite direction, toward the farmhouse. She could ask Mitch for help.

Then she remembered. He was busy making arrangements for Ellie’s funeral.

Liberty wavered with indecision, wondered how this could have happened. Ellie dead one day, and Sage injured the next. It had to be a serious injury. Adrian wouldn’t have come home without her otherwise. Liberty shook her head and pushed away from the tree. She needed to get to her daughter.

Taking a shortcut, Liberty headed north, the straightest way to the creek. It wasn’t the easiest, brush and new pine growth hindered her progress, but she ducked and dodged her way through the foliage, snapping more than a few saplings on her way. She’d not even made it a quarter of the distance when Nathaniel caught up, and then quickly passed her by.

The creek snaked its way east-west, close to the rear boundary of their woods and during this time of the year, early fall, it could be hurdled in a single bound. The ravine sat a couple hundred yards north of there, and as she leapt across, Liberty felt her fear morph into anger.

Why hadn’t Adrian and Sage listened? She’d specifically told them to stay within the creek’s boundary. They knew better. When they got Sage back home and patched up, the two teens had better have good answers.

As she crested a small hill and neared the steep embankment, she saw Nathaniel, shrouded in a dark aura, pacing near the ridge. She growled in fear and frustration. He turned, motioning for her to hurry. What was he doing? Why hadn’t he gone over? She rushed to his side, looked over the edge, and understood.

Dusk had fallen, but her Sasquatch-aided nocturnal vision let her see clear to the bottom. The chasm did not hold an injured body.

Sage’s scent had diminished in the downpour, but there were signs of the path she’d taken down the steep slope. The skid marks and matted greenery were plainly visible through the overgrowth. Sage still had some growing to do, but at fifteen, she stood over seven feet tall in her Sasquatch form. Liberty scanned the entire length of the base, looking for something she had missed, but Sage wasn’t visible anywhere at the bottom.

Maybe she’d got hung up along the way? Nathaniel must’ve had the same idea. Before she knew it, he slipped over the edge and started to pick his way to the bottom. She lost sight of him partway down, a large laurel obstructing her view, so she ran down toward the opposite end and to start her own search. Maybe both looking would find her more quickly.

The trees in this area didn’t have dense canopies, so the rain soaked her pelt. Trying to see better, she stopped every few feet to wring the fur on her head out, like a big soggy rag. Sage’s scent had now washed completely away. There was nothing for Liberty to latch onto, so she found a spot that didn’t look too treacherous to descend. It was as good a spot as any to begin. Perhaps Nathaniel had even already found their daughter.

Every time she stopped on her descent to clear her vision, Liberty called out to Sage. She knew she risked discovery, roaring as she did, but finding Sage outweighed the risk. She focused on the thick underbrush, looked for sable fur, pushed thoughts of pale flesh to the back of her mind.

Every stick, thorn, and bramble found its way into her coat, weighing her down. She stopped to untangle herself a half dozen times, grew more frustrated each second.

As she worked to remove a stubborn branch which managed to embed itself into the longest of the fur on her torso, Nathaniel stepped into view below her. Alone. She froze, branch in hand, and tried to decipher the look she saw in his eyes.

She smacked her hands on the earth where she sat. What was he looking at her for? Where was Sage? He climbed up, took her by the hand, and pulled her to the base of the cliff. He pointed ahead, to the left.

They weren’t in Montgomery Woods anymore. This was a rougher area, usually free from people. Even the die-hardest hunters didn’t venture past the ‘no trespassing’ signs posted every five feet.

Nathaniel continued to point. Even though it was dusk and the clouds refilled, tracks from a vehicle stood out ten yards away. The utility road.

The road was overgrown and closed to the public. It snaked through the woods and ended at the blacktop, Rimrock Hill Road, where a rusty chain strung between two posts blocked the entrance. Despite the blockade, people would sometimes unhook the chain and drive down the path to see where it took them.

With the comprehension, the desperation to locate Sage ballooned. Maybe they’d somehow missed her. Maybe she was behind them. Liberty turned and paced the rocky bottom, called out to Sage in deep grunts. Grunts quickly evolved into wails, and a moment later, Nathaniel tackled her to the ground. The air went out of her lungs and she slugged him. He didn’t retaliate, but straddled her, one hand holding both of hers, and waited as she tried to buck him off. When she made a solid connection with a knee between his legs, he latched onto her throat. Her aura turned blood red. She bucked harder, and he forced her head to the side.

She faced the road, not the incline, and the new position caused her to stop the struggle. Nathaniel waited a minute, then released his grip. She got it. Got a grip on herself. They’d search the road. Maybe Sage had been too injured to climb back up and went around. Liberty nodded, calmer. Nathaniel lifted himself off and extended a hand to help her up. She refused it, got to her feet on her own, and hurried toward the utility road.

He grabbed her shoulders and turned her back around. She almost lost her balance as he shoved her toward the brush at the base of the ravine. Had he gone mad? She balled up her fists and turned to take another swing at him.

He held up his hands to ward her off. Pointed to his chest, and then to the road. He pointed at her, and then to the hill. She dropped her fists. Agreed silently. He would search the road and she would stay. Go over the hill again.

She didn’t like it. It felt like a diversion, but his stance said he wouldn’t budge. Standing around to commence with a power struggle wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Tumbling rocks startled her. She whipped around, full of hope, only to find Gabriel standing atop the ridge. He looked at the two of them and dropped down over the edge.

He cleared the treacherous cliff faster than Nathaniel had, the urgency tugged at her heart. The extra set of eyes would help.

Gabriel and Nathaniel went ahead to the utility road and she clawed her way up and down the steep hill, examining each shrub and thicket.

Perhaps Sage couldn’t call out or answer because she was unconscious. That had to be it. Liberty looked back toward the road, saw movement halfway to the blacktop, still just two figures.

Liberty focused on a possible injury. Even that was better than imagining the set of muddy tracks had anything to do with Sage being gone. Head down, Liberty desperately searched for Sage’s aura.

The rain finally stopped, but had come down so heavy and for so long, they could no longer trace their own scents. Though they knew they’d covered the entire thirty acres of their side of the property.

They stayed in the woods all night. Searched the eastern property even, though it was quite a distance from where Adrian had last seen Sage. Liberty returned to the cavern twice, checking if her daughter had somehow made her way home. Same answer from Katie each time, no word.

When daylight crept over the horizon they were forced back to the cavern. Liberty’s normally strong legs trembled with fear and weariness, they’d buckled a couple of times and she’d gone down as she made her way.

Nathaniel was there to lift her, even though he’d searched just as hard, if not harder. She found herself semi-numbed. Straight ahead the path was clear but her peripheral vision was a complete blur, couldn’t even see auras.

Liberty reached the hatch, lifted it, and stumbled down the shaft. Lying at the base of the ladder in a puddle of mud, Liberty sobbed. Nathaniel came down behind her, took a soft robe from the hook in the wall, wrapped it around her shoulders, and coaxed her to her feet. She collapsed in his arms, refused to move.

Gabriel stood halfway up the ladder without saying a word, unable to get down.

“Sage?” Katie entered the alcove, whispered their daughter’s name. A question.

“She’s gone, Katie,” Liberty struggled to get the words out, “disappeared into thin air.”

Nathaniel peered over Liberty’s shoulder toward Gabriel, and Liberty saw a look pass between them. “Don’t you do that! You’re wrong. Nobody took her. She’s out there, Nathaniel.” She pleaded with her eyes. “We just can’t find her.”

Adrian appeared next to his mother, face puffy and eyes swollen.

“What happened out there, Adrian?” Anger rose, and Liberty tried to pull away from Nathaniel. He held fast.

“I’m so sorry I left her.” Adrian started to cry. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Katie put an arm around his shoulders, rubbed his chest and hushed him.

“Why protect him?” Liberty nearly growled. “He didn’t protect Sage.”

“Now wait a min—” Katie started.

“No, you don’t dare talk to me.” Liberty jabbed a finger at Adrian. “I want your
son
to tell me what really happened out there.”

Nathaniel rubbed her back, still holding tight. “Shh, Lib, listen–”

“It’s all his fault.” Liberty shook her head, eyes fixed on Adrian.

Liberty noticed the look in Katie’s eye changed as she turned her son around and led him down the corridor.

Gabriel made it down the ladder and without another word, squeezed Liberty’s shoulder and left the vestibule.

“Please go out and look again.” Liberty looked at Nathaniel. “Please. Go to Mitch.”

His voice was calm and low as he helped her toward their bedchamber. “I will,” he said. “I’ll go in a little bit.”

She cried, called Adrian neglectful, accused him of hiding something. Passing the entry to the guest chamber only renewed her fervor.

“He’s a liar, Katie. He knows what happened,” her screams bounced off the limestone. She didn’t recognize her voice. “Where is she, Adrian? Huh?”

Nathaniel picked her up, covered her mouth, carried her the rest of the way to their bed.

She looked into Nathaniel’s eyes for the first time that night and noticed they were red-rimmed, moist. She wondered how she could be so selfish. She hadn’t even considered how badly he must hurt. He loved their girl as much as she did.

She couldn’t find the words to comfort him, settled on stopping her outburst and pulling him to her. Her chest jerked with spasms against his. Finally her body decided it was done and she fell asleep.