Page 33 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
“Mr. Rogers it is,” I say, and continue his story about the wild man of the forest.
“Damn,” Kenny says. “So the kid really did see a person’s face.”
“Seems that way,” I say.
“A serial killer on the run?” Yolanda says. “Hiding in the north?”
Kendra makes a noise. “I don’t mean to be rude, but as someone who’s lived up here for most of her life, I’ve never actually encountered anything like that off a movie screen. Dangerous people, sure. Wild-looking people, sure, but…”
“Not actual wild people,” I say. “They’re miners and trappers who appear a little rough after being in the forest for months on end.”
She exhales, as if relieved. “Yes. And also, being blunt, sometimes they’re just regular Indigenous hunters who aren’t dressed like white folks. Wearing a bearskin would be extreme but…” She shrugs. “Maybe?”
“The miner reported that it was a white man, at least as far as he could tell. And while the Yukon wilderness isn’t teeming with serial killers, there is something else.”
Having Kendra and Yolanda there means I need to explain about the hostiles. I don’t know how much Yolanda knows from Émilie, but I give the bare-bones version.
“You think a leftover hostile followed us here?” Kenny says.
“I wouldn’t say followed, but it’s a theory we can’t rule out.”
Kendra says, “And you think—whether it’s one of these ‘hostiles’ or not—that whoever that miner saw is the person who took Max? That Max spotted him and went to investigate?”
“Someone has come forward to report that Max said he saw his bear-man again. This person didn’t believe him, and so didn’t go to check it with him. We think Max went to investigate on his own.”
No one asks who “this person” is. Carson is the only one who really fits that bill—someone Max would entrust with that secret and who might not be quick to tell what happened.
“Max goes into the forest for a better look,” Kenny says. “And this man in a bearskin grabs him.”
“It’s a strong possibility, which means we’re shifting the full search focus to the forest and traveling further than we’d expect Max to wander on his own. Does anyone have any questions or concerns?”
No one answers.
“All right then,” I say. “We’re not ready to recruit residents, so it’s just us. We’re also not ready to tell them what was seen in the forest. Eric and I will leave the search to Will. We’re taking Storm into the woods.”
* * *
We spend the remaining daylight following every possible trail from town. The only one that goes deeper is the main hiking path. After a quick late dinner, we’re far along on that path, with Storm following Max’s scent, which could be new … or could be from the many times he’s hiked it with us and others.
When we broke ground at Haven’s Rock, there were only pathways worn by animals going to and from the lake. We’d asked Yolanda to cut a trail for her crew, so they could take guided hikes. Yolanda’s idea of a hiking trail was a path about a kilometer into the forest. Then you turned around and went back. It didn’t lead to a pretty overlook. It didn’t lead to the lake. It didn’t even meander along a scenic route. It was literally the simplest possible path in and out, the wilderness equivalent of using a treadmill for exercise.
One of our key tasks since then has been the creation of more trails. Right now, we’ve focused on practical ones. Trails to the lake. Trails to berry patches. Trails to good hunting and logging spots. We’ve been linking those up to form a longer system for hikes.
Eventually, we’ll cut and groom them properly. For now, we’ve made one primary hiking route, which links with others before looping back to town. In other words, it’s a closed system. We need to find the spot where Max’s scent trail leaves it.
There isn’t one.
“Do you think it’s possible Max didn’t leave town?” I say as we walk.
Dalton doesn’t answer. Of course it’s possible.
“How possible?” I say after a few more steps.
He still doesn’t answer, which may mean he realizes I’m not talking to him as much as I’m talking at him. Verbalizing my thoughts, while giving him the opportunity to respond if he has something to add.
“We know he saw his bear-man,” I say. “Going into the woods after him is the obvious theory, but it’s not a definitive answer. Everyone says Max did as he was told. He nudged the boundaries—like slipping a little ways into the forest—but would he go after this guy?”
“Depends on how angry he was.”
