Probable Impossibilities

  Chapter 6

  The woods were damp. The faint odor of decaying leaves reminded me vaguely of Desiree's tomato sauce. I would rather have been home eating one of her strange dinners than out here chasing a large furry beast.

  A breeze carried dirt and debris into the air. I stifled a sneeze.

  “Wait up a sec,” I called.

  “Shhh!” Gen didn't slow down. She crept up the trail like a Navy Seal with night goggles.

  Shadows rippled over the path making the ground seem to move. I stumbled over a tree root and groaned.

  “Keep it down,” Gen hissed. “We're almost there.”

  The noise of the stream mingled with birds calling from one tree to another. Gen stopped. I didn't. We collided. She bumped into a large oak tree.

  “Oof,” she grunted.

  “Sorry.” I helped her stand up.

  She gave me a lopsided grin and pointed to the stream. “This is where I took the video.”

  I nodded. “This is where I saw it too.”

  “Standing on the bank?”

  I shook my head. “Flying down out of the trees.”

  She leaned forward and peered through the branches. “Which one?”

  Leaning my chin on her shoulder I spoke softly in her ear, “Straight ahead. Came swinging right through that hole where all the leaves are missing.”

  She turned her head and looked in my eyes to see if I was making fun of her. She could always tell when I was making stuff up. Satisfied, she turned back.

  Minutes passed while we stared at the spot. The light faded. The air chilled. Across the stream the treetops quivered and shook in a breeze that didn't reach down to us. I guess we were protected by...what? If the wind was blowing that hard up there we should have been feeling something.

  Then I was feeling something, but it wasn't the breeze. A cold chill went down my back. Gen stepped on my foot as she backed up.

  Silence descended. No birds sang. No little critters scampered through the underbrush. Only the water continued its noisy chatter.

  A large shadow jumped from one branch to another releasing a shower of leaves. Through the opening burst a hairy figure gripping the horned skull over its head. Beastly legs peddled the air.

  The mouth opened in a gruesome distortion. Our shrieks broke the silence. The creature’s wail blended with our screams in a chilling cacophony.

  It dropped to the bank with a deep thud. Leaning forward and shaking the skull at us, it shouted what must have been Bigfoot curses.

  I tore my eyes away expecting to see Gen filming. The camera lay limp in her hands, forgotten. Her eyes were riveted on the creature like a mouse before a hawk. All color had drained from her face. In that moment any residue of courage still lurking in my chest evaporated.

  Not getting the expected response from us, the monster charged to show it meant business. The splash of its feet in the water brought me to my senses and I grabbed Gen's hand.

  With common consent we turned and fled. Pounding up the twisting path we jumped logs and dodged low hanging branches. Briars caught at our clothing as if trying to slow us down so our pursuer could catch up. But the monster didn't need any help.

  Behind us the splashing was replaced with heavy footsteps crashing on the path. I glanced back but twilight and the twisting trail hid our pursuer.

  “There,” Gen panted.

  I swung my head back and crashed into her. Why had she stopped? We tumbled to the ground and rolled to a stop in front of a dark hole in a wall of green. Gen scrambled to her hands and knees and skittered through the opening.

  “Wait!” I gasped, but her feet were already disappearing. “You don't know what's in there.”

  Her hand shot out and tugged on my arm. Her voice was muffled. “I know what's out there. Hurry.”

  A primal howl sent a shock wave through me and sealed my fate. I scrambled inside.

  We huddled together. I couldn't hear my heart pounding over the noise of our panting, but I was sure it was sending out loud booms. A buckle on the backpack dug into my hip. I tried to shift my position, but Gen's fingers dug into my leg. That stopped my squirming, and I placed my hand over hers. She clutched at my fingers and we waited.

  Through the opening I could see a thin section of the path. My heart slowed. Our breathing returned to normal. Silence settled over our little hideaway. A dim light filtered down from somewhere high above. With slow calculated movements I looked around inside.

  My muscles tensed as I started to get up. Gen's fingers squeezed painfully and I stopped. Outside a snuffling noise was followed by a snort and several short barks.

  Cracking twigs and grunts faded into the distance. I held my breath. Quick thumping footsteps retreated back the way we had come. All was still for what my heart said was hours, but my reasoning scientific brain knew was just a few minutes. A bird chirped and was answered. Soon the whole chorus started up and Gen's fingers loosened.

  “I think it's gone,” she said softly.

  “Can I move now?”

  “Okay.”

  I shifted and rubbed the spot on my hip where the buckle had left a large dent. My eyes were adjusting. The light was coming through an opening above us.

  I stood up. “This is not an animal's den.”

  “No,” she said. “I thought we might be crawling into a wild creature's lair, but this is more like a cave.” She started walking around the open area.

  My mind filled with pictures from those board books Mom used to read to me years ago. “Big place. Big animals. Like bears....”

  She ran her finger over the wall and giggled. “It's a skin.”

  “And that's funny?”

  “I meant hide.”

  “From what?” I scanned the room for danger.

  “No, no. I mean it's a cloth skin. A hide. The Native Americans used them to make teepees.”

  “I knew that.” Now that my thoughts were channeled properly, I could easily see we were in a teepee. In fact it was furnished with the latest fashion in primitive decor.

  A chair and bench-like sofa had been constructed by tying thick branches together and covering them with tough cloth. Between them stood a table made from a stump with a flat board on top. There was even a rug on the floor.

  Then I realized there really was a floor. “I thought teepees had dirt floors. This looks like tile.”

  “More like flagstones,” Gen said. “My Dad used something like these to build our patio last summer.”

  She knelt in front of a large wooden crate.

  “That probably belongs to someone,” I said.

  “Um-hum,” she said. “Probably a playhouse for some kids. She shoved the lid open with a huff.

  Inside was a plastic bin like the ones we store Christmas ornaments in at home. Gen had it open before I could caution her about snooping.

  Granola bars, saltines, tea bags, raisin bran, a bag of dried figs. “I don't think that looks like kid food.”

  “No...” She sealed the plastic lid and closed the crate. “I wonder who lives here?”

  Thoughts of hermits and wild men dressed in deerskins with bows and arrows rushed through my mind. Or maybe space aliens.

  “I don't know, but it's getting late and they might come home anytime. I wouldn't want them to find us here.”

  I stuck my head outside hoping a long furry arm wouldn’t lob it off. A squirrel gave me a suspicious look and scampered up a tree. Ivy and morning glory vines grew in profusion. The teepee was completely covered from the outside.

  All the way back to the schoolyard I had the eerie feeling that we were being watched. But we made it without encountering Bigfoot or any ghosts.