TFP

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TFP

Copyright 2016, William Kercher

Published by William Kercher at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

Special thanks goes to Sergeant R. A. Barker, an Air Force medic at, what was at that time, McChord Air Force Base in Washington state. The base has since been combined with the Army post, Fort Lewis. The new name of the base is, Joint Base Lewis-McChord.

Sergeant Barker gave me tips about making sure one of the main characters, an Air Force Medic, fit with the Air Force of the time.

I’d also like to thank the many people with whom I spoke with at Amtrak. I had a lot of questions and everyone was happy to answer whatever question I had, no matter how simple or complex.

Dedication

I dedicate this novel to several people.

The first person is my wife, Linda. Without her support and encouragement, I could not have endured the tough times. Every time I looked at my stack of rejection letters, I wanted to quit. But, Linda gave me the backing I needed to keep going.

Other people are Judy, James and Renee -- my writing critique partners. They helped me put life into my characters and my worlds. Without the backing of these people, I couldn’t have made TFP what it is. I thank all of you.

Lastly, I need to thank Sandra Wellborn. Sandra was the publisher of Waltsan Publishing. Not only did she give my books their chance to see the light of day, she also had the patience to work with me as her editor. Together, we made a good team and I thank her for all she did.

About The Author

I live just outside Vancouver, WA, among the tall trees and the year-round green of the Great Northwest. Prior to settling in the Northwest, I moved around quite a lot. I grew up in Ohio. After graduating from high school, I joined the Air Force as a medic. My first assignment didn’t take me very far from home. I was stationed at Wright Patterson Air Force Base, which is just outside of Dayton. My second assignment, however, took me quite far from home to Elmendorf AFB, near Anchorage, Alaska.

After four years in the Air Force, I attended Wright State University, again near home, just east of Dayton. I’ve always loved the mystery and intrigue of science and at Wright State, that love found a home in Geology. With a Masters degree in Geology, I ended up in Houston, Texas and worked in the oil industry.

As part of my moving around, I had a stint working in Africa, in Angola. To make it more interesting, not that just being in Africa wasn’t enough, there was a revolution happening when I was there. It’s difficult to put into words the feeling of Russian Migs flying over head, Cuban guards manning the entrance to our compound and knowing there was a siren that, if it sounded, meant drop everything and get to the docks or heliport ASAP. If the siren had sounded, it meant the compound had been breached by the rebels and we would be evacuated within minutes. Without getting into details, putting my feet on US soil felt so good.

I’ve always fantasized about other worlds and exotic places. So, when I began writing, those flights of fancy and my dreams of the strange and exciting came out on the pages. In order to make my newly created worlds feel real, I dipped into my own life. Every place I’d ever lived or visited, everything I’d ever seen and everyone I’d ever known, became a source. So, to anyone who knows me and reads this story, without your knowing it, you helped me create my world. In fact, if you look closely, you’re likely to find someone who bears a strong resemblance to you.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Dedication

About The Author

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Epilogue

Other Books By William Kercher

Connecting With The Author

PROLOGUE

Northern Idaho

Five Miles South of the Canadian Border

Will Gravets shuddered like a cold wind had just swirled the dirt on his grave. He raised his head. His senses tingled. A wave of anxiety mixed with fear rushed over him. The world around him had suddenly changed. He couldn’t identify what had changed, but it had changed. His heart pounded against his rib cage as he pulled back the flap on his tent and stared into the night. Straining to hear, he pushed himself to his feet and stepped into the darkness. The night wrapped around him and sent chills along his spine.

He closed his eyes and listened. No cars, no airplanes, none of civilization’s noises attacked his senses. He didn’t expect to hear any of the ubiquitous noises that passed for silence in the city. He was ready for that. After all, he was far from Ohio and Wright State University. He was, in fact, as far from civilization as he could get without leaving the continental forty-eight.

No, this was different, an unnatural breed of silence. It grew, took on a feel – a thick, clinging consistency. No sounds came from the forest. No insects chirped, no owls hooted, no animals called in the night.

Worse yet, Denny, his kid brother was out there, in the dark, in the quiet. Alone.

Denny! Gravets called out. His own voice sounded shallow, artificial.

Yellow-white light from a full moon filtered through the dense canopy of trees, giving more shadows than it gave light. With the swaying of the trees, shadow creatures skittered back and forth across the ground.

Denny? Damn it! Where are you?

Silence.

More changes. A shifting triangle of moonlight spread across the tent caught Gravets’ attention. No longer soft, the reflection on the green nylon material had a hard, metallic tint.

What was happening? Where was Denny? He had gone to take a leak, should have been back long ago.

The absolute silence, the growing feeling that he was witnessing the real unknown sent a series of chills racing along the length of his spine. He stared into the layers of moving shadows, searching for Denny. What was happening? As he considered the answer, he thought of their father. While the unknown fired Gravets’s imagination and had led him to study science, science and the unknown was exactly what his father hated and feared.

It was this fear that six months earlier had come to a boiling point and had split the family apart. To date, there was no sign the schism would ever come back together. In fact, the gulf between Gravets and his father was growing.

* * *

The split began during Gravets’ junior year at Wright State University. He had written a philosophy term paper on the myths and legends of the Native Americans living in the northwest. Through the clarity of thought born of the scientific process, he had come to believe the flood of bizarre myths coming from the depths of the northwestern forests were misinterpretations of non-paranormal events. Portents and signs from the gods were most likely nothing more unusual than odd alignments of the planets, a fiery comet or a solar eclipse – nothing mysterious or ominous when viewed in the hard, revealing light of science.

After the class, he continued studying the religions. As he learned more, his fascination grew. He began to think there might be a kernel of truth locked away in the myths. He finally realized he had to do more than just read. To that end, he decided to go to the northwest and talk with the people, to get their stories first hand. He’d planned his trip for the summer break between his junior and senior year.

When he was back home for Christmas, Denny heard his brother talking about the upcoming trip. As a Boy Scout, Denny had earned a camping merit badge and wanted to give his skills the ultimate test, roughing it in the Great Northwest.

Sure, Den, Gravets told his brother when he asked if he could tag along, but ask Mom and Dad. If it’s alright with them –

But, do you think Dad will let me go?

Gravets shrugged his shoulders, shook his head. You’ll have to ask him carefully. Remember, Dad already knows why I’m going.

Denny sighed. His face turned blank. Oh, man, why’s he like that?

Simple, Gravets said with a nod, staring into his brother’s pale blue eyes, he thinks he’s right.

Yeah, but we don’t see it that way.

Look, Den, ask him first. That way, he can’t think you’re using Mom as a wedge.

While Gravets remained in the bedroom he was sharing with his brother, their father’s deep voice careened off the walls of the staircase. Not you too! What have I done wrong?

Within seconds, his father’s large frame filled the bedroom door. Just had to infect your younger brother, didn’t you?

Gravets breathed out in a deep, pained gasp. Dad, we’ve gone over this so many times before, can’t we just drop it? All Denny wants is to go on a camping trip with me. That’s all. I’m the one who’s going to be interviewing people, not Denny!

Heathens! You’ll be talking to heathens, trying to turn your brother from God’s word.

No, Dad, you’re wrong, as usual.

You’ll show him the ways of those pagan idolaters, fill his head with the corruption of Satan.

No, Dad, it’s not like that. Denny just wants to go camping.

Science and the Devil, his father began his well rehearsed mantra, walk hand in hand. Satan uses your science to destroy God and his works. I will not have that blasphemy within my house. This is a house of God.

The years of rancor and derision all came flooding back over Gravets. From his junior high school days, when he took his first science class, his father had accused the school and him of an unholy alliance, an alliance to belittle God and His word. Science treats God like a laboratory rat, his father had declared an untold number of times. Science tries to bring Him down to man’s level.

Dad, Gravets countered, science actually proves that God is real. The deeper you look into the universe, the more questions you have to ask. Don’t you see, we can never know all the answers. In the end, there had to have been a God to create the universe.

Silence! The state may dictate in your school, but not in my house.

Fine, Gravets shouted with an exasperated gasp. He’d reached his limit. If I’m that evil and you’ve made up your mind that I’m out to destroy God, I’ll spare you the agony. I’m getting out of here.

He threw the few shirts and pants he had brought with him into his ragged suitcase. He pushed his way past his father and hurried down the steps. His mother was standing at the door. Sorry, Mom, he told her, I love you but I can’t take this any longer. I’m going to stay with friends. I’ll call you later.

Denny heard the commotion and rushed out of the living room, into the hallway. Why, Mom? All I wanted to do was to go camping. I don’t care what Will wants to do. I wasn’t going to help him.

Now, Honey. You don’t understand.

No, Mother, the father commanded from the top of the stairs. Let him leave. I won’t have this evil in my house.

Mom, Gravets said, standing in the open door, try to make him understand. It’s just science.

I’m sorry, she whispered to him. You know how he is when he gets like this.

Yeah, Mom. I know. He stepped out the door.

Gravets returned to school and in secret, he and his brother planned their summer trip to the northwest. They knew their father would be angry when he learned Denny had gone on the trip against his wishes. He’d probable disown his younger son, as he had his older one

* * *

Damn it! Where are you, Denny, Gravets muttered when he decided he’d better go looking for him, didn’t you learn not to go wandering around the forest at night? I guess there wasn’t a merit badge on bears or mountain lions.

Denny! Where are you?

Silence greeted his words. The stillness of a crypt had descended over him. The forest was reaching out for each sound, each word and suffocating them. Electric chills shot along the length of his spine. He shuddered violently.

Denny!

A sharp jab in his shoulder sent a burst of fiery pain surging down his arm. His hand went numb, knees momentarily buckled. He spun.

A sliver of moonlight flashed across an arm. He jerked away, brought his hands in front of his face.

In the cold moonlight, an eye appeared.

He shuddered.

The eye blinked, stared back at him.

Man, this is so weird, a tinny voice said.

What?

The forest, it’s kinda spooky.

Denny! Jesus H. Christ, it’s you! Gravets shouted. Where the hell have you been?

I was just over there, Denny pointed. Over there, by that cliff.

No! You couldn’t have been. I’ve been calling you. You’d have heard me.

Will, I swear. I didn’t hear you.

Gravets grabbed his brother’s shoulders and shook. Where were you? Don’t tell me you didn’t hear me! I was shouting.

What’s wrong with you, Will? Denny broke away from his brother’s grip with a wide swing of his arms. I’m telling you, I didn’t hear you! Why would I lie?

Gravets rubbed his chin, stepped back and stared from Denny to the wall of rock shining in the moonlight. His skin crawled. Another shiver played down his spine, like an ice cube, slowly melting on his neck and sending rivulets of cold water snaking down his back.

With Denny safe, his anger faded. Within seconds, he realized this was why he had come to the mountains. This was the unknown. He could feel it.

Denny, Gravets pushed his brother into the tent, stay here. Zip up the tent flap and don’t do anything.

Why? What is it?

I don’t know. Which is why you’re staying here!

The changes taking place, the moonlight losing its luster, the silence surrounding him, it reminded him of one of the local Native American myths he heard. The legend told of a time when the world was young, before the people of the mountain had learned the ways of nature.

To teach respect for the land, the spirits took the soul out of the world. For a generation, the mountain tribes had to live in silence. Only when the people lived in harmony with the world did the spirits return its soul.

But that was only a myth, a story passed down from generation to generation. It couldn’t be true. It had to have been a tale woven with the threads of allusion and allegory. Yet that was exactly what he was sensing now. The cold light, the unnatural stillness, even the silence from the river, it felt as if the heart, the very soul of the world had vanished.

Zip it up and stay in there! he told Denny.

Will, what is it?

I don’t know. Now, zip it up!

But...

Do it! Gravets shouted with a flash of urgency in his voice. Do it, now!

He forced himself to relax. He had to remain calm, in control. Stay inside, he said and tried to pull the zipper up. It stuck. Together, they managed to close the flap.

Standing outside the tent, Gravets shook the cobwebs free. He couldn’t dwell on his father, not now. There was too much to do.

He ran to his van for his equipment. He grabbed a tape recorder from his footlocker and turned it on. Would it capture the mysterious silence? Speaking into the microphone, he gave the time, date and the location. Then he reached for a flashlight. Slowly he crept through the unnatural silence that held sway over nature. Twigs snapped silently beneath his feet. The soft breeze made no noise as it wafted through the towering trees. His senses were alive, ready for anything. He turned on the recorder.

A bright, yellow-gold light flashed silently around him. He snapped his head upward. What was it? The glow surrounded him. He turned slowly, studying everything – the trees, the sky, the ground beneath his feet. The light seemed to come from everywhere at once.

He looked behind him, at the tent.

My God! It...it’s glowing.

Like a fire within, the nylon of the tent was glowing with a flickering light. Gravets started toward it.

He stopped. As if someone had just flicked a switch, the sounds of nature suddenly returned. Behind him, the river had its normal steady roar. In the trees overhead, the wind whistled gently. An owl added its call to the building wave of sounds as the world came back to life. The rebirth grew more intense when the symphony of the insect world returned in mid beat of a moving crescendo. In the distant, the undulating cry of a coyote capped the resurrection of the world’s soul.

Gravets ran his shaking hand over his face, wiped away a sheen of sweat. What the hell, he whispered between deep breaths.

He moved the flashlight back and forth across the trees and rocks. From high in a tree, two yellow eyes shined brightly, blinked, then disappeared with a soft flutter of wings.

The tent!

Gravets turned back to the tent. No noise.Denny?

Deep within his chest, a muscle twitched. His heart skipped a beat, then pounded.

Denny! he shouted and jerked the zipper. It didn’t move.

Denny?

Still nothing.

You’d better not be screwing around, Gravets muttered as he yanked on the zipper so hard the stitching tore free from the nylon material of the tent. With panic growing, he ripped the opening apart, tearing the flap from the tent.

Denny wasn’t there.

Gravets stood. With his breath held tight, he scanned across the darkness, then back to the tent.

With a long gasp, he exclaimed, Son-of-a-bitch!

He rushed around the campsite, going deeper into the woods with each lap. Denny! he shouted over and over.

When he grew tired, he came back to the tent.

Denny!

No answer.

He was alone. He could feel it.

He checked his watch, nearly midnight. What should he do? He couldn’t leave. What if Denny had somehow left the tent and returned, injured and needing help?

Gravets gathered wood and started a fire to act like a beacon, just in case. At the fringes of the flickering light, strange shadows danced among the trees like demons cavorting around the fires of hell.

Gravets checked the tent again. Everything Denny had brought with him was still there – his suitcase, his Boy Scout manual, his hiking boots, the only shoes he brought with him. Where would he have possibly gone without his boots?

Gravets sat in a numb stupor, facing the fire, his head and back against the rough bark of a tall pine tree. He took the recorder from his pocket, rewound the tape, and pressed PLAY.

There! Silence! No noise, no animal calls. Only silence. Then, with a suddenness that startled him, the sounds returned. It wasn’t a dream!

Hours later, sitting against the tree trunk, replaying the tape, to the west, between the towering pine trees, the full moon was setting behind the jagged ramparts of the Bitterroot Mountains. Dawn of this longest of all nights was finally approaching. The sun would soon bleed the red-gold light of the coming day into the eastern sky.

Still, Denny was missing.

Chapter One

Fifteen Years Later

Winters hit hard and stay long at the timberline in the northern regions of the Rocky Mountains. The endless snow and numbing cold kept life balanced on a razor edged fulcrum, perpetually teetering between death and survival, existing solely for the promise of spring.

Survival, and the hunt for food, carried a high risk for those foraging the deep snows and rocky outcrops for the meager scraps they might find. A patch of moss, an exposed plot of grass could mean a day’s nutrition for a small animal. However, at any moment, a mistake, the slightest lapse of attention, and the forager could instantly fall prey to a larger, quicker predator.

The night presented even worse conditions, high winds and low temperature that drained a body’s warmth and killed in minutes. In the brutal cycle of life in this environment, the measure between living and dying was in fractions of seconds.

* * *

Forced to the higher elevations by the pernicious encroachment of civilization, deep in a rocky cave that formed her lair, a female mountain lion tensed. From the relative safety of her lair, she tested the air. The cold, the smell, the feel, it instinctively told of an approaching storm. Fierce winds whipped down the granite battlement of the towering cliffs and rocky crags above her. Its high pitched banshee screams tore at the massive pines, blew the snow into deep drifts.

Into this desolate world of cold, where death came quickly, a new danger, a danger far greater than the storm, was appearing A kind of death she had never confronted entered her adopted realm. An unseen terror now stalked both predator and prey with equal ferocity. It struck with little warning, killing at will.

For days, she had sensed the deadly presence, a stray scent above the smell of pine and snow, an undulating death squeal that cut through the wailing night winds, an instinctual tingle. With it near, her senses came alive.

Her breath misted as she lay at the mouth of the narrow cave. The strong wind swirled bits of snow past her face. She saw through it, down the hill. With her pupils open wide, she scanned the night terrain, searching for a sign of the approaching threat. Her ears twitched. She tested the cold night air for a trace of the interloper. She strained, but heard only vague hints above the screaming winds.

Her nostrils flared. With each new warning, the yellow hackles rose on her neck and back. She could only wait and hope the danger would pass by her lair, the way it had many times in the past. But the smell, the feel, she knew this time it would not pass. It was near, very near. Out there. Stalking her. Her cubs. Her two nine-month-old cubs.

The scent grew stronger. She backed deeper into the protection of the rocks as the icy grip of night closed around her.

Beyond the cave entrance, the land quickly fell away into a ravine. The winds, pushed harder by the storm, whistled past her lair. Far down the steep hill, a tree broke with a sharp crack. She moved out of her cave, into the night and stared down the slope, her feline eyes open wide.

Nothing.

She arched her back, growled a deep, rumbling roar. The odor of fresh blood, the smell of fear and death, assaulted her. Out of fear and excitement, she urinated at the entrance to the cave. She hissed, backed farther into her lair. Behind her, the two cubs arched their backs, growling as deeply as they could.

Up the embankment, a boulder broke loose. The ground trembled as it bounced downward.

She growled, showed her white fangs, clawed at the air, yet saw nothing.

Farther up slope, a tree snapped, fell into a snow bank. She hunkered low, swaying side to side.

Another tree fell.

Nothing else moved.

A mound of snow exploded.

Then nothing.

The smell of death grew stronger. Her cubs yowled. Driven to a frenzy by the new smells, they scratched at her, at each other. Her eyes remained fo cused on the hill, searching.

Nothing.

Near the top of the hill, deep foot prints suddenly appeared. The smooth surface of the snow parted in a deep furrow heading directly for the opening in the rocks. She clawed wildly at the air, at the unseen predator.

At the entrance, the furrow stopped. Fear saturated the air. The stench of death took her to a state of rage, clawing and howling at the night.

For an instant, she paused, sensed a change. The moment passed. Her senses warned an instant before a blow to her head ripped long gashes in her neck and shoulders. She wailed. Another blow sent her flying to the far side of the cave.

Behind her, the two cubs scratched frantically at the sides of the lair, at her back, at each other.

The female lion righted herself. Blood flowed from her gaping wounds. She again flailed wildly at the air, striking nothing.

The creature grabbed her throat and rear leg, pulled her out of the cave and into the night. A death scream cut through the howl of the wind, echoed off the mountain slopes as the foe hoisted its helpless prize high in the air. The beast shook her violently, then threw her to the ground.

She landed in the opening of her den, striking her head on a jagged boulder, instantly breaking her neck. Her body quivered. The lion cubs sensed a change, fell silent, backed deeper into their den.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a loud slurping sound. Blood flowed from the lion’s neck, upward