(1995) The Oath (28 page)

They pushed up the steep grade through thick, low growth for several hundred feet and finally broke through to a more gradual, grassy slope peppered with outcroppings of rock. They were in the open again. They crouched low and listened.

Above them, there was a slow, dragging sound. Dry leaves, twigs, and gravel grated against the rocks. Some pebbles tinkled and pattered down the mountain. The sound was closer now. They were closing the distance.

Steve paused. “We’d better pace this a bit. I don’t want to catch up with it, not in the dark.”

“This is crazy,” Tracy whispered. “We don’t even know what that thing is. And what if—what if you’re right? What if that thing killed your brother, and Maggie, and Vic?”

“I’m sure it did. And I want it.”

Tracy could only repeat, with genuine fear in her voice, “This is crazy.”

He touched her shoulder gently. She took it as comfort. Then he pushed her a bit. “Let’s spread out. Stay about fifty yards over that way. We’ll whistle to locate each other.”

She wasn’t happy about it, but she moved away from him, carefully making her way across the rocky meadow while he began working his way toward a tree line above him.

They advanced up the mountain, pushing into thick pine and fir forest, taking it slow, closed in by branches, foliage, and blackness. Slowly. Slowly. There were no trails here, no easy hiking. Sometimes they could hear movement higher up the mountain; mostly they only heard each other.

Steve halted. He had been pushing branches out of the way, snapping some of them off. Suddenly he felt no branches. They seemed to have been broken off already. He clicked on his flashlight for a better look. The space ahead of him was clear. Yes. The branches were freshly broken.

At last. He’d actually found the creature’s trail. He whistled to Tracy, then softly called her, and she rejoined him. They followed the trail of matted-down grass, broken limbs, overturned stones, fresh, clawed dirt. Measured against the trail usually left by big game, this creature was leaving a superhighway.

They climbed, and they climbed some more, and always, the unseen creature stayed just ahead of them, as if matching them step for step. It would push through branches and kick over rocks, and they would follow the sound. It would fall silent, and they would wait. Then it would move again, and they would follow again, and on it went.

FRIDAY NIGHT
had become Saturday morning, and the darkness was showing a hint of gray when Charlie Mack finally fell asleep, his body thrown fitfully across his bed now stripped of sheets and blankets by the night’s ravings and terrors.

Phil Garrett had long since passed out on the floor, his fears momentarily forgotten somewhere in his liquor-scrambled brain, the pain over his heart quelled by the booze, at least for now.

Harold Bly slept rather well through the night, except for one brief moment when he was awakened by what sounded like distant gunfire. He gave it a good listen, some careful thought, and then smiled to himself and lay his head down again, unruffled. The rest of his night was uneventful.

FOUR O’CLOCK
rolled around, and the stars began to fade behind a sky of dark blue velvet. Across the valley, the ridgeline of the far mountains was emerging from the night, sharp and distinct. It would be a clear, crisp morning.

With the light of dawn, Steve quickly made a new discovery: blood on the ground, some more on a low limb.

“It’s wounded, all right.”

They quickened their pace, still following the trail, now seeing spots of fresh blood every few yards.

The forest gave way to acres of broken, tumbled rocks, a vast rock slide. They followed the blood trail across it, the rocks teetering and tilting under their feet, their ankles stressed and aching. Then came more forest, mostly thin, wind-ravaged pines, the roots groping for any available crack in the rocky ground.

They were close to the ridgeline, the jagged, rocky spine of the mountain. The air was cold and thin, and now, especially after a night of hard climbing and no sleep, both Tracy and Steve could feel the altitude.

Tracy sank to an inviting rock to rest a moment. Steve, after some consideration, joined her. She was breathing hard now, but so was he, and he had a pounding headache.

“Oxygen debt,” he muttered. “Hypoxia.”

“Try exhaustion,” she complained. “That thing’s wearing us out, and we aren’t even wounded. I’m cold, I’m still wet, and my feet are killing me.”

Steve couldn’t blame her for griping. He was pretty miserable himself. But he wasn’t about to give up. “Have you noticed this creature’s behavior?” he asked. He looked ahead and could still see some drops of blood for them to follow.

“What do you mean?” Tracy asked, wincing as she rubbed one of her sore ankles.

“He keeps giving himself away, unlike any other animal. If he just would have hidden quietly we would have lost him, but every time we stop to listen, he makes more noise.” He paused to breathe, to survey the vast mountain stretching below them. “From one perspective, you could say we’re chasing him and making him retreat. From another perspective, you’d think he was leading us, almost daring us to follow him. It’s strange.”

“Strange is right,” Tracy agreed. “When do you think he’s going to run out of blood?”

“I don’t know, but that has to be a factor by now. He can’t go on forever.”

“Neither can we.”

Steve rose to his feet. “So come on, let’s end this.”

“Tell him that.”

Steve started out again, following the drops of blood, and Tracy stayed with him, listening intently and warily eyeing the ridge above.

The trail followed just below the ridge for another mile and then disappeared around a towering formation of rock. A blind corner. They stopped.

“Great spot for an ambush,” Steve whispered.

Steve brought the
30.06
down from his shoulder, and Tracy did the same. They each chambered a round.

Then, necks craning, backs close to the rock, they inched their way around the corner, watching ahead, above, behind.

On the other side, the blood trail led upward over fallen, broken rocks and into a towering gap in a sheer rock cliff. They looked at each other.

“I think he’s come home,” Steve whispered. “You take that side.”

They separated again, Steve on the right, Tracy on the left, and carefully approached the opening, rifles ready.

The breach in the cliff was about ten feet wide and appeared to be the entrance to a larger cavity in the rock, a vast room, open to the sky. They couldn’t see how far back it went, but the walls reached at least sixty feet above their heads. They hurried to positions tight against the rock walls on either side of the entrance, rifles ready. It reminded Tracy of a police bust.

What now?

Steve motioned for Tracy to remain where she was, then stole carefully into the breach, his rifle level at his waist, the barrel aimed ahead. He advanced a few paces, stopped to look and listen, then advanced a few more.

Tracy leaned into the entrance, craning her neck to keep an eye on him, her rifle barrel aimed skyward. Elk fever was setting in, and she didn’t trust her trigger finger. The narrow passage took a slight turn, and Steve disappeared around a corner. Out of sight. Not good, she thought.

A moment passed.

“Steve?” she called quietly. “Talk to me, Steve.”

There was silence, and then he let out a tired, “Oh . . .” Tracy thought he sounded disappointed.

“Steve?”

“Come on in,” he answered. “Take a look.”

She slipped hurriedly through the opening, went up over a mound of rubble, then turned the corner to find Steve standing just inside, his rifle at rest in his hand.

On the floor at his feet, there lay a large mound of brown fur.

A grizzly. It was dead.

Tracy rested against the stone wall and sighed, feeling deflated. It was only a grizzly? Only a huge bear? She knew she was supposed to be relieved, be glad it was all over, be glad they’d succeeded in the kill, but—all this for a grizzly?

She engaged the safety on her rifle and let the rifle rest at her side. “You were right,” she said at last. “It was a grizzly.”

Steve set down his rifle and shotgun. His disappointment was evident, as was his perplexity as he circled the bear, examining it. He checked the front claws, spread the jaws open to check the teeth, tried to estimate the length and shoulder height. He ran his fingers over the neck, the back, the belly, looking for wounds.

“Fairly young boar,” he reported, and then found a small metal tag on the ear. “Number
201
. Marcus DuFresne would know all about him.”

“I don’t understand this,” she said, as events of the previous night started coming back to her. “How could this bear—I mean— were we imagining things?”

Steve withdrew his hand from the bear’s neck. Blood covered his fingers. He’d found the wound.

“Gotcha!” came a third voice. Tracy jumped. Steve grabbed his rifle. They both swung around, and then . . .

Recognition. Relief. They saw a familiar face in the narrow entrance. A beard. Wire-rim glasses. A cowboy hat.

Levi Cobb.

Tracy did not appreciate being scared like that, much less seeing this man in this place at this time. “What are you doing here?”

Levi remained in the entrance, one hand leaning against the towering wall. He looked up at the narrow strip of sky visible through the rift, then surveyed the tight pocket in which they all stood. “Saving your lives, I expect.”

Steve was angry. “By endangering your own? Don’t you realize we were on a hunt, that our nerves were on edge? We could have shot you.”

Levi was unruffled. “Oh, it was a hunt, all right. If I was the dragon, you’d be breakfast.”

Tracy only sighed and shook her bowed head. Here we go again.

“Go ahead,” said Levi. “Look around. Just say I’m the dragon. How would you get out of here?”

Tracy turned to walk away. “I am not in the mood for one of your lectures, Levi!” In this tight space she couldn’t walk far, but just to make a statement, she walked as far as she could.

Steve didn’t know what to think. True to form, Levi was mixing his weird superstitions and folksy ways with practical truths, which made it hard to dismiss him out-of-hand. Call him a fanatic or a nut, be enraged at his theatrics, but he was right about this cavity in the rocks: there was no way out. If there was a dragon and Levi was it, then . . . Steve couldn’t help being a bit embarrassed.

Levi insisted, “G’won, Professor, take a good look at that bear. He wasn’t shot. Not a mark on him except for the throat, am I right?”

Steve had already discovered the throat was slit. “How did you know that?”

“A guess, mostly. If I was the dragon and wanted a quick source of blood, that’s what I’d do.”

“Levi, we’ve been chasing this bear all night, and I’m a little tired. Please, just make your point.”

“You weren’t chasing the bear, Professor. The dragon caught that bear and cut it to leave a blood trail for you to follow. And you did.”

Tracy was insulted. “Do you honestly expect us to believe that? You probably killed this bear!”

“Yeah, with my bare hands,” Levi said, “and I cut out that whole trail through the woods too, broke off all the limbs, dug up the ground, led you along—” He looked at the dead bear. “—and lugged that carcass all the way up the mountain on my back, just to fool you, just to have a good time.”

“All right, all right,” said Steve. “Levi, just get to the point!” He gave a snort of disgust.

Levi looked straight and level into Steve’s eyes. “If you don’t buy what I have to say, well, I’m used to it. But I’ll have you know, Professor, the dragon can fly. He don’t have to smash and claw his way through the woods, leaving a trail the size of a freeway—unless he wanted you to follow him.” He looked around the cavity in the rocks one more time, then locked eyes with Steve again. “He was hunting you, Benson. Take a look. Haven’t you used this method yourself? Set out some bait, find a good blind, a good vantage point, wait for the game to come after the bait, and when he does, you take him.” He motioned toward the bear. “You were so intent on that old bear you didn’t even hear me coming.”

Steve looked down at the bear. Levi was right. The grizzly had drawn his full attention. He had dropped his guard.

Tracy stormed toward the entrance. “I want no part of this!”

“He would have trapped you! Can’t you see that?” Levi asked.

She only pushed her way past him and got out of there.

For a long moment, Levi and Steve just gazed at each other, Levi hoping to convince, Steve reluctant to believe.

“Maybe you should explain something first,” Steve said. “I’d like to know how you got here and how you found us.”

“Followed you. That was easy enough.”

“How did you even know what we were doing?”

“God told me—and besides that, I could hear you shooting up Old Town. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“So you just sneaked behind us all that time? Why?”

Levi looked the direction Tracy had gone. “What I say don’t carry a lot of weight around here. I had to let you walk into it so I could make my point.”

Tracy’s voice echoed through the narrow entrance, “Steve, don’t even listen to him! He’s totally out of touch with reality!”

Was he? That was one thing about Levi, you could never be sure one way or the other.

But Levi responded to Tracy’s remark by beckoning to Steve. “C’mon, Professor. If you must see to believe, c’mon.”

They went out through the rift. Tracy was back down the mountain a short distance, sitting on a rock, looking out over the valley, waiting. When she heard them come out over the rocks, she looked in their direction long enough to shout, “Steve, don’t waste your time! Let’s go!”

“Your choice, Professor,” Levi said.

Steve sighed. “All right. Five minutes, Levi, and that’s all.”

“Fair enough. Just follow me.”

Steve followed Levi several yards along the rock face until they came to an outcropping. Steve followed Levi up the steep formation, finding plenty of foot- and handholds on the way. Before long, they stood above the deep well in the rocks and could see the bear’s carcass on the narrow floor far below.