Forsaken - An American Sasquatch Tale by Christine Conder Read Free Book Online Page A

She turned to lay with her back to him.
     

Chapter Three
     
    They’d only been signaled once before, on the night Ellie died. Yet, near dawn, three loud stomps sounded on the hatch of the cavern.
    Liberty and Nathaniel were halfway down the corridor when Katie hurried out of her chamber, Gabriel close on her heels.
    “What is it?” Katie asked.
    Liberty looked at Nathaniel. “It has to be Mitch.”
    Becky wouldn’t come if it weren’t an emergency.
    “Everything’s good,” Nathaniel addressed Katie and Gabriel. “Rest for your trip. Go ahead. We need to see what’s going on, but we’ll be back as soon as we can.”
    Liberty swore Katie sneered before she and Gabriel disappeared into their room without another word.
    Giving Becky a five-minute head start to walk back, they surfaced and headed for the farmhouse.
    After they’d arrived and emerged from behind the partition, they stood face to face with a disheveled looking Becky. Her damp hair stuck to her forehead and her eyes bloodshot. She looked much older than her thirty-seven years.
    “Oh no,” Liberty choked out. “Is he—?”
    “No,” Becky interrupted. “It’s not that.”
    “Good.” Nathaniel’s shoulders relaxed. “I…we were worried.” He gave Liberty a half hug. She relaxed a bit, too. Maybe Mitch felt desperate, like he was almost out of time and needed to finish his story from earlier. Maybe wanted to show Nathaniel the pictures.
    “I’m warning you two,” Becky whispered, “the old man isn’t happy.”
    “No?” They asked at the same time.
    Becky shook her head, looked over her shoulder toward Mitch’s room, “Uh uh. I’ve got no idea what it’s about, he just told me I needed to get you both, then shooed me out like a fly in the fridge.” Eyes downcast, she looked genuinely hurt.
    “He’s just in pain, is all,” Liberty assured her. “Don’t take it to heart, okay?”
    Becky liked everyone to think her skin was made of turtle’s shell, but in reality she was as fragile as an egg. She even sponsored an orphan in Ethiopia, sent money every month for his care. She’d shown Liberty some colorful drawings the child made her once, she’d had tears in her eyes as she traced the stick figures drawn in front of a block house and said it was her money that bought the crayons.
    Liberty patted Becky’s arm as Nathaniel pulled her toward Mitch’s room. “It’ll be okay.”
    Any notion she’d entertained about their summons being related to the picture show earlier evaporated as soon as she saw Mitch. Becky was right, he didn’t look happy. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was downright pissed. Tendrils of scarlet cut through his misty gray aura.
    A couple of days ago she’d have said it was impossible for Mitch to look anything except close to death. Again, she’d have spoken in error because when they entered his bedroom, Mitch was dressed and sitting up in his chair. He wore a blue flannel work shirt with splotches of lavender paint up the sleeve, a pair of gray cotton sweat pants, and thick hunting socks on his feet.
    His wardrobe looked comfortable, but his expression was stony. Icy blue eyes were fixed on them as they came through the door and she felt a temptation to look away. She had no idea what they’d done, but nonetheless she felt guilty. She guessed this is what the nurse meant when she’d told them to expect a surge of vitality near the end.
    “Nate. Liberty.” He motioned them in with a nod.
    Liberty took a deep breath, sitting on the foot of the bed, across from his chair.
    Mitch gripped a paper of some sort in his hands. He looked at it and shook his head.
    The silence was uncomfortable. He didn’t utter a word. He didn’t have to. He turned the paper around and the photo did all the talking.
    Stunned, shocked, and everything in between, Liberty didn’t dare move. She saw Nathaniel out of the corner of her eye. The cords in his neck bulged against his skin.
    “Got my second wind