SHE spun toward the door, the creature leaping up, claws jerking her backpack roughly and raking through the fleece jacket.
Her hiking boots, wet with blood, slid noisily on the smooth floor. In the confines of the vaulted toilet, the thing was close behind her, lunging at her back, trying to drag her down by her pack. She felt claws dig into the jacket again, holding her back momentarily before the material tore free. Quickly she wrenched open the door and ran out into the open, not daring to look back. Her eyes scanned the area for a weapon, but she saw none, just the ground sloping away into the forest. She stopped at the back entrance of the ranger station and ripped the door open. Dashing down a narrow hallway, she burst through to the main room, knocking over a display on wildflowers as she passed it, hoping to impede the thing.
She knew she couldn’t outrun it, heard the door slam shut behind her as the thing entered the station.
Then she spied a fire ax propped up by the main door. Lunging at it, she grabbed the handle and whirled around at full tilt. The creature was too far away, and she spun frantically in almost a complete circle, falling off balance and stumbling. The ax connected violently with the wooden door frame and stuck fast.
Panicked, she tried to wrench it free, her hands burning with friction on the handle. The thing sped forward, a fanged black figure in a blood-soaked ranger’s uniform, now mere feet away. She gripped the ax tightly, working it quickly back and forth. Five feet. It began to give way. Four feet. She wrenched the ax head free. Three feet. Swinging the weapon with everything in her, she connected with the creature’s chest. Bones snapped audibly. Howling, it spun away, gripping its dark flesh as blood sprayed the room. The handle wrenched out of her fingers, and she backed away. Screaming, the creature loped madly away from her, retreating down the corridor, where it banged against one of the walls. At the end of the hall, near the generator room it had entered before, it stumbled, fell, and sprawled across the floor, gasping for breath.
She could hear the bubbling of blood as the thing attempted to breathe, a direct hit to the lung. It struggled to prop up on one hand, rose a couple feet, but its clawed, black hand slipped in blood, slamming its torso back to the floor.
Its body contracted violently, folding in on itself, rolling into a ball. It twitched, its arms and legs alive with a hundred spasms. Then it fell still, struggling to breathe in long, ragged gasps. After several final labored breaths, it stopped breathing and lay immobile.
Madeline turned and tore open the front door, flinging it back on its hinges and banging it against the wall. Then she was outside again, scanning the area for a safe place. Only trails met her sight, snaking off in three directions.
Not wasting another second, she took off toward a kiosk that housed several maps and trail descriptions, hoping she could hide behind it for a few minutes in order to catch her breath and think. Sliding in the dirt near the wooden display, she flung herself down behind it. She panted, her throat dry. Peering up, she studied the map. At a glance, she noted that one trail led straight into Many Glacier, one of the biggest campgrounds in the park. There would be people there. Phones. Rangers who were alive.
Instantly she rose and began running down the path, glancing behind her. She had probably killed the thing, but terror had seized her. Madeline ran until she simply couldn’t anymore. The ranger’s station was no longer in sight, and she had entered a steep, forested section. Gasping, she slowed to a walk, still looking nervously behind her.
She wondered how far behind her the thing was-if it still lay in a pool of its own blood, dead, or if it was up somehow, resurrected, following her scent. How had it found her? Beaten her to her next stop? Had it anticipated her next move? Loped down the mountain in the silver of moonlight and found the backcountry ranger station, the lone ranger up there-and eaten him?
None of it made sense.
Madeline shuddered. She could feel the terror the ranger must have felt when he saw the thing slink in through the front door of the station. And then when it came at him, claws and fangs tearing him apart…
She wondered if the ranger, not quite dead, had heard her come in. If he had been desperately trying to get her attention by banging on the wall of the station. “The generator’s been acting up.” The creature had stridden back there and savagely finished him off while she waited in the other room.
It was incredibly intelligent. It had infiltrated the ranger’s station-it spoke. The fact that it could anticipate her moves, her thoughts, was terrifying. Even now it might know exactly where she was. If it was somehow still alive.
If only she could somehow touch it, or touch something it had touched, she might know what it was and what it wanted. It hadn’t had contact with the backcountry book long enough for her to get any detail other than the blood.
She needed to touch something it had been exposed to for a longer period of time.
Or, she needed to touch the creature directly.
She continued down the trail, pondering, gasping for breath with her mouth open, a stitch forming in her side. Already the temperature was climbing. She’d never known it to be this hot in the Rockies, and she needed water badly. She had to stop and drink. Up ahead she saw a cluster of rocks. Maybe she could hide in there and drink from Noah’s water bottle. She hoped he was still alive, but his screams played intensely and repeatedly in her head, like some gruesome song she couldn’t get rid of.
When she reached the huge, granite boulders, she glanced back again. The trail was still empty. Quickly she darted off the path and ran around the side of one of the boulders. There she squatted on a bed of pine needles and flung the pack off her back. Inside she found another change of clothes, including some polypropylene long underwear and a pair of woolen socks. Next to that lay the water bottle. Grateful, she took a long drink, quenching her thirst.
Replacing the bottle, her hands found something smooth and solid. A great sadness suddenly swept over her. Curious, she pulled out the object, a very old hardback book. The spine was well worn and the paper old and spotted with age. She opened it carefully and found graceful handwriting and some field sketches: a flower, a mountain peak. It was someone’s old journal, she realized. She read the date on the page she was currently turned to: February 20, 1859. The book had a terribly sad energy to it.
Carefully she closed it, replacing it deep in the bag. Her fingers searched for sun protection, but met something cold and metal instead. Instantly images and emotions leapt into her mind.
Running down an alley in pursuit of a dark figure.
Fear. Desperation.
Throwing open a door to a train compartment and lunging inside, heart hammering.
She withdrew the object, holding it carefully. She knew backpackers carried knives, but those were usually folding blades or pocket knives.
The knife she now held in her hand was a foot-long dagger, encased in a round, ornamentally engraved silver sheath. The handle was completely metal, and when she drew it out, she saw that the blade was very strange. It had no edges but was round with a pointed end, like a sharpened spike. She touched the point and felt it snag on her flesh. Very sharp. She’d never seen a knife like it.
It felt important, vital.
It looked very old and very well used.
Very old. If Noah collected antiques like this, it would explain the strange images I got from him. An antique dressing table had once given her images of a young girl in a calico sunbonnet, and a cameo brooch had once allowed her a glimpse into the Victorian period, showing her an elegant woman who had strolled with a white umbrella on rainy cobblestone streets.
She put the knife back. After cinching and buckling the pack, she hefted it onto her back again. Fastening the waist and chest buckles, she wondered over the objects she had found inside. Then, screwing up her courage, she prepared herself for the long hike to Many Glacier.
She had just rejoined the trail when she heard shouting. She froze, stepping back away from the trail. She heard it again: a man yelling from the direction of the ranger station. She crouched down, peering out between tree trunks. A figure appeared on the trail, and Madeline desperately hoped that it wasn’t the creature. It definitely looked human, though after the ranger’s station, that wasn’t worth much anymore. No long claws or ink-black sharkskin. She remained where she was, trying to make out if it was a ranger or the creature in another guise.
And then she saw the familiar blond hair and made out the face as he drew nearer.
Noah.
“Madeline!” he shouted, looking around in all directions.
Immediately she entered the path and started running, meeting Noah on the trail. He saw her and ran to her. A large gash ran the length of his cheek, and his face showed purple and blue in more places than not. He’d tucked his tent under his arm, along with her wet clothes.
“Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly when they reached each other.
“Yes” she said, panting herself. “I never thought I’d see you again!” The backpack weighed a ton, and she could feel the veins standing out on her neck. She ached to take it off but was too worried they’d have to start running again.
Noah looked around nervously. “I lost it. Let’s go over there, and I’ll tell you.” Motioning to a large glacial erratic boulder a few feet away, he said, “He won’t see us there as easily.” They hurried to the boulder and squatted down behind it. “It was quite a struggle up there. It was pretty close for a minute, but I managed to wound him and get away. I found my way here and went inside. No ranger. And the radio’s missing.”
Madeline gave him a glance over. He didn’t have much more than bruises. “You weren’t seriously hurt?” She thought of the screams.
He shook his head. “Luckily, no.”
“But I heard… you screaming.”
“Well,” he said, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden, “like I said, it was pretty tense for a minute there.”
“It’s here now,” she said. “I know this sounds crazy, but I talked to a ranger, only it wasn’t really him… it was the creature.”
Noah nodded. “It’s not crazy.”
Madeline glanced toward the ranger station. “I hit it with an ax.”
Noah raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes. But I don’t know if I killed it.”
“Well, it wasn’t in there.”
Damn. So it just got up again? “Did you look in the vaulted toilet?”
He raised his eyebrows. “The toilet?”
She cast her eyes down, trying to block out the memory of what she’d seen in the rafters. “It was horrible.”
“Another victim?”
“Another victim?” She looked at him sternly, wondered why he knew so much. “I think it’s about time you told me what that thing is.”
“I can’t now. It’ll have to wait. We’ve got to get you to safety.”
“But what about the ranger’s body in the bathroom?”
“A ranger? Oh, man. That’s bad. Did he have a two-way radio on him?”
Madeline stared at him aghast. “Well, I didn’t happen to notice.” Her voice began to rise, quavering as she grew more upset at the thought of what she’d seen. “I mean, when you see a dead body hanging from the rafters with this… thing… eating it, you don’t really think of looking for a goddamn two-way radio.” She was shaking. Forced herself to calm down. After a moment, she added, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I understand. It is terrible.” Noah’s eyes were wide and sympathetic. “Believe me, I know what it feels like to stumble upon a scene like that. That’s why I’ve got to catch him.” After a pause he added, “I’m going to go check the body for a radio.”
“Noah, no!” She grabbed his arm as he started to get up.
“We could use it to radio for help, get you off the mountain.”
Fear gripped Madeline. “But it could still be in there!”
“He’s probably gone by now. I have to take the chance.”
“No, you don’t! That’s ridiculous! Let’s just get the hell away.”
Noah remained squatting where he was, and Madeline let go of his arm. He glanced around. “Which trail is the one that leads down to Many Glacier Campground?”
“I was already heading that way. Too bad there’s not a closer one.” She was so tired. She slid the pack off her back.
“Well,” he said grimly after a moment, “that is the closest ranger station. “The trail’s a little long, but at least it’s not steep. There’s very little elevation gain. I took this route hiking up here. The way down should be a breeze.”
“So it’s all downhill from here?”
Noah smiled and looked up at her. “Yep.”
She watched Noah as he adjusted the laces on his hiking boots. She wanted to ask him again what was going on, what that thing was, why it seemed to be hunting them. But she was just so tired-her eyes burning from lack of sleep, her back aching, her head pounding-that she didn’t think she could thoroughly digest it all, even if he did tell her. She just wanted to lie down in a nice, comfortable bed and sleep for a long time. “Let’s go,” she said finally.
After repacking the map, tent, and clothes, Noah slung the pack over his shoulders, then buckled it in place.
They stood up, glanced around cautiously, and started down the mountain, the heat of the afternoon still building, humidity closing in around them, stifling and unbearable.
Halfway down the mountain, they stopped in a meadow to rest and eat and found a cluster of boulders to sit on. Catching their breath, they passed the water bottle back and forth.
“Sorry I lost all my stuff,” she said, feeling bad for drinking so much of his water.
“Don’t be sorry for a second. If you hadn’t dumped your pack, you’d probably be dead right now.” He took a long drink from the water bottle and surveyed the scene around them. They were hiking down through thick forest, where mosquitoes clustered, buzzing in her ears and biting through her clothes. She’d never experienced a summer so filled with mosquitoes. The muggy heat was perfect bloodsucker weather, and they repeatedly landed in her eyes and even occasionally came close to buzzing up her nose. They filled the hot air with incessant, whiny buzzing. Sweat poured down Madeline’s face and back, and occasionally mosquitoes stuck in the droplets of perspiration.
“You doing okay?” Noah asked, studying her face.
Madeline nodded.
“Is your head giving you any trouble?”
In truth the cut stung painfully, especially with the salty sweat seeping into the bandage, but there was nothing that could be done there in the backcountry that wasn’t already done. “It’s okay,” she lied.
“Let me see your eyes.” He scooted closer to her on the rock, placing a hand under her chin and lifting her face up so he could get a better look. He leaned in, peering intently into her eyes. “No dilation,” he said. “That’s a relief.”
Suddenly Madeline was aware of how close he was. His eyes were a bright green, and his breath smelled cinnamony and nice, his lips perfectly shaped.
“Everything okay?” he asked, making her realize how much she’d been staring.
“Yes,” she said, pulling away. “Glad there’s no concussion.”
“Any dizziness or blurred vision?”
She shook her head.
“Nausea?”
“No.”
“Good. Think you can make it down the rest of the way?”
“Yeah.”
He put the water bottle into a net pouch on the backpack and produced two granola bars. He handed one to her and stood up. “We’d better go. We definitely want to get down before it gets dark.”
Suddenly Madeline felt exposed, standing up from her cover among the rocks. “Does it get more… aggressive at night?” she asked, glancing around nervously.
Noah shook his head, and for a moment Madeline was relieved. Then he said, “It’s aggressive all the time.”
“Let’s go,” she said quickly and beat Noah to the trail.
Just before dusk, as they passed their last switchback and looked down a steep hill, Noah and Madeline saw the dusk-to-dawn lights burning at the Swiftcurrent Lodge and camp store. Beyond it lay the paved roads of Many Glacier.
Madeline breathed a sigh of relief. “We made it.” She was absolutely exhausted and so thirsty her tongue felt swollen.
“Now we can get that cut looked at,” Noah said.
Madeline felt the bandage. It was still affixed securely, and she was impressed by Noah’s field dressing ability. She smiled at him as they continued down the trail.
They passed the Swiftcurrent Motor Inn, continuing down the road past the entrance to the campground. Soon they reached the ranger’s station, a small log cabin set among the trees. All the lights were off.
Madeline walked up to the door, her head aching. She rapped her knuckles on the wood and waited. No one came to the door.
Noah walked up beside her, and she was aware of his closeness as he knocked even louder on the door. They stood together in expectant silence. “I don’t think anyone’s here this late,” he said finally.
She brought her hand up to her head again. It was really starting to throb. “What should we do?”
Noah glanced around the darkened campground. “My Jeep’s parked in a lot here. I say we drive down to Apgar. It’s more populated than here, and I’ll bet we could find some help there.” He looked at her, concerned. “What do you say?”
Madeline was so tired that sitting down in a car sounded like a vacation to the Bahamas. Besides, if the ranger had left this area for the night, even if they called for help from the motor inn, they’d still have to wait for the ranger to drive up to Many Glacier. “Sounds great.”
“Okay, then. It’s this way.”
He left the porch of the ranger station with Madeline following close behind. They walked down the narrow, paved road until they reached another parking lot. A blue Jeep stood among a half dozen other cars, and Noah walked to it.
He unlocked the passenger door and held it open for Madeline, who was touched by the gentlemanly gesture. She climbed in, and he closed the door after her. He entered and started the engine.
Apgar, she knew, lay on the shores of Lake McDonald on the other side of the park, near the west entrance. It would take at least an hour to get there because the road took so many twists. Ranchers owned land bordering on the park, and to get to Apgar, Noah and she had to temporarily exit the park and reenter it farther down the road. She hoped someone was awake on the other end to help.
They drove down Many Glacier Road out of the park, and soon cow eyes gleamed green in their headlights, huge lumbering animals on the side of the road munching grass.
They passed through the small town of Babb at the intersection of Many Glacier Road and the Chief Mountain Highway, which they had to take to get back to the park. The local bar at the intersection was going strong, with beer signs glowing in the windows and live music emanating cheerfully.
He turned right on the Chief Mountain Highway, and they drove through more darkened ranch land. Finally they reached the eastern entrance of the Going-to-the-Sun Road, a precipitous route that climbed up along the peaks through the heart of the park. They reentered Glacier, the entrance kiosk at St. Mary locked up for the night. The visitor center at St. Mary was also dark and empty, so they drove on toward Apgar. Stunning drop-offs emerged on the left as they progressed.
Their progress was slow and winding. At night, Mount Reynolds and the peaks around it stood dark and foreboding, and glaciers clinging to the sides gleamed white in the bright moonlight. At the highest point, they passed the Logan Pass Visitor Center and the trailhead to her favorite trail in the park, the Highline Trail, a narrow path that wound through rock slides, snowfields, and mountain goat-populated forests.
Eventually they began to descend. Aspen forests replaced the stunted silhouettes of kruppelholz, small, twisted pine trees that grew in higher altitudes. Despite the gorgeous scenery, Madeline nodded off repeatedly. She jolted awake just as they passed the Loop, the trailhead where her VW Rabbit was parked. She thought of asking Noah to turn back so she could get her car, but her eyes were so heavy she didn’t think it was safe to drive. A few seconds later, she fell asleep entirely.
She awoke when the Jeep came to a stop. Groggily, she opened her eyes, yawned, and peered out. Her head throbbed. Before her lay Lake McDonald, its vast length fading into the distance, its rippling water sparkling in the moonlight.
Noah parked in front of the ranger station, and they got out. Apgar was more active than Many Glacier had been. Lights gleamed from cabin windows at Apgar Village, a collection of cabins for park visitors, and several people milled around by the scenic lake.
They approached the ranger station. Like at Many Glacier, all the lights were off. Just a little way away stood a cabin with its porch light on. Through a window they could see the silhouette of a person sitting at a table and eating. A sign out front read Staff Residence.
“Let’s knock,” Noah said. “They’ll know where to get help for your head.” He moved forward, but she stayed where she was. “What is it?” he asked when he realized she wasn’t moving.
“We also have to tell them about the backcountry ranger,” she said solemnly.
Noah stopped then, walked back toward her slowly, and looked at her intently. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“What? But his body is back there, and-”
“They won’t know what they’re dealing with,” he said, hooking his thumb in the direction of the backcountry ranger’s station far away in the mountains.
“We still have to tell them!”
“And how would you explain to them what attacked the ranger?”
“As best I could. I’d tell them what I saw. I’d tell them where they can find the body.”
Noah shook his head. “Even if they did track him down, he can’t be imprisoned. Believe me, I’ve seen people try. Place after place. It never works. They’d have to kill him, and they couldn’t. Even if they tried. They’d die taking him into custody.”
Madeline tried to keep her voice down, though she could feel it rising as she grew more frustrated, trying to understand Noah’s point of view. “If he’s aggressive when they try to bring him in, they may shoot him.”
Noah looked up, exasperated. “It won’t kill him. And then he’ll escape.”
“From a prison cell?”
“From anywhere.” Noah’s eyes were grim. “Madeline,” he took her hand gently, “I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen it all. You must believe me.”
“Look, Noah,” she said, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t even really know you. I appreciate you helping me back there, but I firmly believe a person should report a murder.”
“But don’t you see they’ll just get in the way?” he asked exasperatedly.
“Get in the way of whom?”
Noah looked down and remained silent.
“I can’t just ignore what I saw, what I’ve been through. If these rangers can do anything to stop this thing, then I’ve got to tell them.”
Noah put his face in his hand and sighed. He looked weary. “Okay,” he said at last, looking up. “But you’ll be endangering their lives. I’m going to leave you here then. It’s likely they’ll want to ask you a ton of questions, so I’m going to find you somewhere to stay nearby. I’ll be back soon.”
A ton of questions. Madeline hoped none of them recognized her name. She just wanted to report the murder and be done with it. Montana newspapers had carried a few accounts of her psychic endeavors. If they found out she was “gifted,” they might be all over her, asking her to return to the murder scene and see if she could pick up anything-like off the rafters in the outhouse. I can’t go through that. I won’t. I’ll just report the murder, and if they ask me to use my “ability,” I’ll just tell them it doesn’t work that way.
She was a bit taken aback and hurt that after all, Noah was just abandoning her on the doorstep of this ranger’s house. But he had already done so much for her, she was grateful for that. “Thanks,” she said feebly.
“My pleasure,” he answered, but she could hear the tension in his voice. He rang the bell on the cabin and then disappeared into the darkness.
She stood there for a few moments before the door opened.
A kind-looking man in his thirties appeared, holding a fork and napkin, looking at her quizzically. He wore a National Park Service uniform. She felt tiny out there on the porch, Noah now gone, and the dark expanse of the park at her back.
“I-I want to report a murder,” she heard herself say.
The ranger’s mouth opened. “A murder?” he repeated.
“Yes.”
He dropped his fork, and it clattered on the wooden floor. “Oh, my. I’d better call a ranger.”
Madeline furrowed her brow. “Aren’t you a ranger?” She looked at his uniform pointedly. The man was dressed in a khaki pants and khaki shirt, a National Park patch sewn onto his sleeve.
The man looked flustered. “I’m an interpretive ranger. We need a law enforcement ranger.”
“Oh,” she said and squinted as a flash of pain pulsed in her head. “I didn’t know there was a difference.”
“Are you hurt badly?” he asked, gesturing at the bandage.
“I should have someone look at it,” she replied.
He invited her in, and exhausted, she sank onto his couch and rested her hand on the armrest.
Nights spent reading into the wee hours of the morning.
A kiss with a pretty woman with long brown hair.
He went to the phone and dialed a number.
“Suzanne?” she heard him say from the other room. “I’ve got a young woman here who wants to report a murder… Yes, that’s right. Someone’s been killed.”