Wind Whisperer Read online

  Still convinced that he was just ignoring me—for whatever stupid reason—I headed down the narrow trail toward the rustic cabin my aunt and uncle had rented for two blissful (their words) days on Lake Crescent. After that, we were going on to Manitou Lodge, near Forks, Washington. Let Jonah play his childish games. I couldn’t care less. I planned to enjoy my vacation on the Olympic Peninsula, in spite of him.

  I half trotted in the beginning, but soon slowed my pace and really made an effort to cover ground. Because of the fallen trees blocking the path, I had to go out of my way—sometimes an aggravating distance—just to get around them. Also, giant ferns and other prehistoric-looking plants prevented easy accessibility. The forest primeval ruled. You did it its way or you didn’t do it at all.

  It was funny, though. I didn’t remember the way up being as difficult.

  I’d been walking for just under fifteen minutes when the first niggling doubt tickled the back of my mind. I was retracing our route. I knew it. But as I searched for the clumsy trail signs Jonah had made along the way, I couldn’t find them. This irked me because I’d watched where he’d placed every single one, even laughed at his comical attempts at trailblazing. I knew I had to be almost to the end of the trail—at least, I should be—but after ten more minutes went by and I hadn’t found it, I started to lose it.

  The trail marker denoting the beginning of the walking path should’ve shown up by now, yet I hadn’t spotted it. We hadn’t traveled that far; hadn’t walked more than a mile, so I doubled back about a dozen yards to see, if, by some freak chance, I’d left the path. But nothing looked familiar. Nothing. Not one of the piles of twigs and rocks Jonah had set at the edge of the trail was visible. It was like they’d disappeared…or had never been laid. I realized a cold, hard fact. I was lost.

  Finding a suitable log, I plopped down and reviewed my options. It was all so stupid, so utterly ridiculous. All we’d done was take a crummy little walk down a crummy little path. We hadn’t gone very far from the cabin. But here I sat, all alone, confused, and unsure where to go from here.

  I had only my dumb cousin to blame—he and his warped sense of humor and moronic inclination to tease me without mercy, day in and day out. And at that moment, as I scanned my surroundings, I didn’t have one kind thing to say about him. Instead, an overwhelming desire to punch him came over me. I wanted nothing more than to punch Jonah and punch him hard.

  “Oh, Jonah.” I fumed aloud through gritted teeth.

  Deep shadows formed. Folding my arms against my chest, I tried to keep the marrow-numbing chill at bay. I knew that here, in this temperate rain forest, the temperature seldom dipped below freezing, even in winter. Now, in the middle of August, I knew I shouldn’t be shivering. I had on jeans and a light windbreaker over a cotton T-shirt, which should’ve been more than adequate clothing, rain or shine. But I was cold.

  “Jonah? Jonah?” I don’t know why I called his name again. I knew he was nowhere around. Not another single human being was close by. The forest remained as silent as a mausoleum. Jeez. Why’d I think that word? “Jonah? Jonah?” My voice squeaked.

  Still no answer.

  I was really and truly lost.

  Not wanting to remain a passive player in this horrible little drama unfolding, I stood up, sucked in a deep breath, and set my shoulders. I was determined to find my way back to the cabin; to barbecued hamburgers; to the loving smiles and quips of my aunt and uncle; to the comfort of living, breathing, noisy people. So, I started moving again.

  It didn’t take long to realize this was not the smartest thing to do. I remembered the cardinal rule when lost in the woods: don’t move. Stay put. Hug a tree. But as I scanned the thick vegetation closing in on me, the trees took on distinct personalities—unfriendly and aloof. They looked anything but “huggable”.

  And as I stood there, watching with mute suspicion, those alien trees began to breathe…and sigh…and whisper. They also moved. Already giving me the impression that they stood on legs, they now seemed capable of walking; sneaking a step or two while I focused on something else. That was the most frightening thing of all. Trees walking. Trees breathing. Trees plotting and scheming. Trees aware…watching me.

  I clung to my shriveling courage and told myself, over and over, it was just an illusion. The swirling mist was the cause. That was what gave me the impression the trees were walking. That and my stupid, over-active imagination. Nothing else. Nothing sinister or supernatural. I was not an impressionable child, after all. Almost sixteen—practically an adult.

  When a twig snapped behind me, I thought my heart would stop. Whirling around, my eyes probed the thick vegetation. Nothing. Nothing and yet, there was—something. For a fleeting half-second, I saw a face peering back at me. I know I did. But when I blinked and took a second look, the impression vanished. I saw nothing in the gathering gloom that could’ve been the cause of that sound, or the blurred image of an imagined face. My heart slammed against my chest. An uncomfortable ringing plagued my ears, and my head throbbed with each heartbeat. God, I hate this place. I hate this place. I hate this place.

  So helpless, nothing to use as a weapon, and I shivered so much that just breathing in and out was difficult, let alone managing any kind of self-defense. I was so scared that, for almost a full minute, all I could do was hold my breath. I didn’t dare move or make the slightest sound. I closed my eyes and prayed that, whatever hid out there, shrouded in the protective mantle of mist and vegetation, wouldn’t bother with insignificant, little old me.

  For an eternity I stood rooted to the soft, needle-carpeted forest floor like the trees around me. Pitch ran through my veins instead of blood. I became part of the forest—waiting…watching. When I couldn’t bear it a second longer, I lowered my body to the damp ground. Tiny pinpricks of fear ran up and down my arms. My body trembled, the individual cells dissolving like a sugar cookie left in the rain. If the Thing had seen me, it was just too bad. My whole sense of being disintegrated into a thousand heartbeats.

  I trembled, my teeth chattered, and a chill seeped to the bone. Exhausted; weak and limp like I’d just played a grueling game of touch football. Fear, I discovered, was debilitating.

  “Amazing Grace…h-how sweet the sound…” I mouthed the words. By the third verse, it was so dark I couldn’t see the trees; trees that only a heartbeat ago, I’d accused of walking. Lifting my head, I watched as darkness swallowed the daylight. Rain. It rained a lot here, I knew. Jonah said something like 140 to 167 inches of rain a year. That’s why they call it a rain forest, you dummy. The darkness promised rain. I let out a long sigh. Great. That would be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it?

  Then the heavens opened up.

  THREE – LOST

  I knew I couldn’t remain a huddled mass of sopping humanity, sitting on a decomposing log, waiting for the rain to stop or the Thing to get me. I had to find shelter somewhere. I thought of the tree-cave, but tossed that idea aside. No way I’d be able to find that particular tree again, in the dark.

  I had to find some place right now and be quick about it. Pulling myself up with the help of a tree branch, I stretched out my arms to relieve the tension at the back of my neck and shoulders. It didn’t help much. I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Cold drops of rain snaked down my back, dripping from my hair down my cheeks, making me miserable. Biting my lip, I moved.

  In less than a minute I found—well, actually, bumped into—a giant log buried in evergreen branches thick enough to provide a sort of tent to crawl under. It was soggy under there, and I was still cold and wet, but at least the rain wasn’t hitting me from all sides and dripping down my neck.

  I curled up into as tight a ball as I could and closed my eyes. I don’t know how long I lay there. I only know it was pitch black when I at last floated away to nothingness, and when I awoke, I saw a screen of dark green on top of my face, which made me suck in a strangled yelp. For a second, I’d no idea where I was. Then, it all came floodin
g back to me.

  My immediate problem, however, was finding a bathroom. Scrambling out from under my evergreen tent, I stood up and looked around. A bluish mist hovered close to the ground. The air was saturated with moisture and my breaths came out in vaporous clouds like smoke. No place looked especially inviting to use as a toilet, but what choice did I have? I selected a nearby log and relieved myself—nerves straining to hear the approach of anyone or anything.

  My stomach gurgled. A glance at my watch told me it was 7:52 so I knew I’d been out all night. My aunt and uncle were probably worried bonkers. I wondered what Jonah had told them when he’d returned to the cabin without me. Most likely he was one very sorry young man right now—grounded until forever. I chuckled, in spite of my discomfort. You won’t be driving a car for a long, long time, Mister Green, I thought irrelevantly. Uncle David won’t let you get your license after this stunt.

  A low, growling snort snapped me to attention. The sound came from my left, somewhere behind an impenetrable screen of berry thickets, vines, and ferns. I held my breath, waiting for the animal to show itself. When another snort was followed by a heavy, ponderous footstep, I waited no longer. I bolted.

  I had to get out of there. I had to get far away from whatever lumbered toward me. Visions of Bigfoot—stories of the monstrous, ape-like man called Sasquatch by the Indians—leaped before my mind’s eye, taunting me, frightening me into reckless movement. I ran. I ran until a sharp pain lanced my right side. I ran through stinging, face-slapping underbrush. I ran until the thick forest thinned, and I was able to make out something metallic through the trees.

  Thinking I’d somehow made it back to the lake, I summoned the last dregs of adrenaline and pushed forward. I was beyond paying any attention and ran blindly. I didn’t care. If I’d found the lake then I was safe. A surge of exultation rolled through me as I let out a weak whoop of triumph.

  That’s when I slammed into a face so grotesque that my whoop ended in a shrill scream. I fell back, landing so hard that I bit my tongue. Chest heaving, hair plastered against my face, I starred up at the monster looming over me. The face was horrific—two large eyes set above two flaring nostrils and a wide, leering mouth with a protruding tongue. Directly beneath that hideous face was another one even more awful.

  I grimaced, expecting the repulsive thing to pounce on me. When nothing happened, I opened my eyes and focused on the monstrosity standing before me. The horrendous thing was a totem pole. A totem pole. Nothing more than an inanimate piece of carved wood. Just a stupid totem pole.

  Relieved and a little ticked at my childishness, I stood up and brushed myself off. I was a mess. My face, arms, and hands were scratched. My jacket was ripped in several places—totally ruined, and it had been brand new—and my jeans were muddy, damp, and chafing. All I wanted was a really hot bath, and a slice of pepperoni pizza.

  I patted the fearsome face then turned toward the patch of metallic gray I’d seen through the trees. Once I reached the lake, I could get help from somebody and be back at the cabin in no time.

  I stumbled over branches and rocks and rotten logs to get a better view of the vast panorama of water that filled the horizon. The lake. I’d found Lake Crescent. My nightmare was over.

  As I gazed out at the awesome scene in front of me, a realization crept up my spine. Something didn’t look right. This vast body of water couldn’t be the lake. I wasn’t a total idiot. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Lake Crescent was big but not this big. And Lake Crescent either looked dark green, due to the thick forest that cupped it in its primordial paw, or a deep sapphire blue, reflecting the sky. This body of water was not dark green or sapphire blue but a dull, metallic gray.

  As I got closer, I could see wave action; could hear the low drumming of crashing waves hitting the beach; could smell the subtle briny scent of ocean. Impossible. Lake Crescent was not near the beach. And Jonah and I had started our walk from the lake. And we hadn’t walked that far. Absolutely not. No way.

  Panic rising once again, I pushed through the last of the undergrowth and found myself on a steep bank overlooking a salt-water beach. No doubt about it. A coastal beach covered with gray sand, rocks, and piles and piles of driftwood—driftwood everywhere like a giant’s discarded game of pick-up-sticks. No, this wasn’t the lake. Far from it.

  This realization was so frightening I flopped down and covered my face with both hands. My mind raced in twenty-five directions at once and I couldn’t think. I willed my heart to slow its frenzied thumping; my lungs to relax and take in deep, steady breaths. The whole thing was impossible and yet, here I was.

  I don’t know how long I sat there staring at the rolling pewter-gray water. Staring at everything and nothing at the same time. Gulls swooped and cried; the melancholy cawing of crows added to the din. My senses picked up all the sounds, smells, and sights. And yet, I was in a state of intense disbelief. Paralyzed.

  The sky, still overcast with low-hanging clouds, pushed down to smother me. I’d grown up in Atlanta, where my dad worked as a biochemist for the Centers for Disease Control. We had plenty of sunny days in Atlanta…days where my parents, older brother, and I would ride our bikes or hike in the North Georgia Mountains year-round. We didn’t have days and days of rain…like here. Depressing, gray days, where—

  I gave my head a furious shake. Thinking about my parents and brother made the tears well up. I felt like a little kid who’d lost her mommy at the mall. Right now, I’d give anything just to get a whiff of my mom’s perfume and feel my dad’s big hand on my shoulder, telling me that everything was okay. I’d love to hear my brother tease me and tell me how silly I was. But right now my parents and brother were as far away from me as they could be and still be on the planet.

  Mom and Dad went on a cruise in the Caribbean, taking the honeymoon they’d never had. Paul took a canoe trip somewhere in northern Minnesota with a church youth group. And I was here…wherever here was.

  Now, as I sat huddled on the edge of this immense ocean-that-shouldn’t-be, I could only hang my head and moan. “Oh, God…what’s happening? What’s happening? Tell me I’m dreaming. Please…tell me I’m dreaming…”

  Then I heard it. Laughter. Children’s laughter. It was coming from somewhere down the beach. I scrambled to my feet and craned my neck to see around the protruding rocks, desperate for a glimpse of the kids making the ruckus. As soon as I saw them, I would yell and wave my arms. They’d probably think I was crazy, the way I looked and all, but at least they’d be able to lead me to help. They were probably campers or Scouts. It didn’t matter, just as long as there were adults who could get me back to our cabin.

  The shouts and childish laughter grew louder, so I didn’t waste any time scuttling down the steep embankment to the beach. It wasn’t easy. I slid most of the way on my seat. I had to catch the kids before they went too far, so there was no time to waste.

  Landing on the soft, wet sand with a splat, I recovered my balance, then headed for the sounds coming from behind a large rocky barricade. I splashed through ankle-deep seawater, ignoring the icy cold that stung my feet, and made it to the other side of the jagged, mussel-covered rocks. What I saw was like a punch in the stomach.

  Four children—all girls—about the ages of eight or nine, were padding barefoot across the gray wet sand near the water’s edge. They had long, dark hair—worn either loose or in two long pigtails—and they were dressed in curious brown capes and skirts made from a material I’d never seen before. The clothes actually looked woven from strips of something. The little girls were talking—I heard their shrill little voices—but that’s not what really freaked me out. I couldn’t understand a word they said.

  FOUR – ON THE SHORES OF YESTERDAY

  I stood there, legs apart, ankle-deep in the soft, wet sand, and just stared with my mouth open. As the little girls got closer, their strangeness became even more apparent. Clearly, they were not from around here. Probably tourists.

  Taking in
a deep breath, I raised my right hand and waved to get their attention. One of the girls spotted me and stopped so suddenly that two of the others bumped right into her. She shouted something and pointed toward me. The other three glanced my way, and one of them brought a small brown hand up to her mouth. Her eyes were wide with fright.

  Not wanting to frighten them, I quickly splashed closer, wearing the biggest smile I owned. “Hey. Hi, there. I’m sorry I scared you, but you see I’m...”

  I wasn’t allowed to finish my sentence. The first girl—the taller of the four and obviously older—stepped up to me and said something that sounded harsh. Her dark brown eyes were narrowed, her mouth a firm line. Without understanding a word she said, one thing was clear: she didn’t like me, and she planned to do something about it.

  The older girl fired sharp, loud words at me, gesticulating the whole time. Then, apparently satisfied that she’d put me in my rightful place, she grabbed two of the girls and pulled them along after her. The fourth girl trotted alongside, glancing fearfully at me over a thin shoulder.

  For a minute I just stood there. Then it all hit me in the face like a dousing of cold seawater. It didn’t matter whether they liked me or were afraid of me, or what they thought about me. I needed help, and they were the only ones around who could provide it. I had to follow them whether they liked it or not.

  Splattering wet sand everywhere, I ran after them. One of the smaller girls turned around and, seeing I was catching up, let out an ear-splitting shriek. That made the older girl stop, turn around and glare at me like a fierce mother bear. She yelled something, but since I couldn’t understand anything she said, I ignored her and kept on running.

  I guess that was the last straw because even the bigger girl looked frightened then and pushed the others ahead of her. They ran like gazelles. I felt like a clumsy fat clown in comparison. Those little girls could run fast and probably won ribbons at their local schools—wherever they came from. They looked sort of Asian so I supposed they were tourists from China or something. On the other hand, their language didn’t exactly sound Chinese to me, but, since I didn’t pretend to know everything about Asian countries, I shrugged it off.