Legends

I wrote this story in the early nineties, shortly after moving to California. As a child, I was fascinated with the particular legend that inhabits the outskirts of this story. I still find the idea intriguing, but I'm glad it has never been proven.

Madira insisted I meet him at sunrise," Sue Ann Lewis dictated into her tape recorder, free hand on the steering wheel. "He wants to leave after his morning prayer. I talked to him on the phone last night. He's not concerned about the latest trouble. Disagreeable personality, but his reputation is good. I think he'll make a reliable guide."

Sue Ann set the tape recorder down to sip from her coffee cup as she drove toward the pink-and-purple dappled eastern sky. She wore a blue baseball cap over her short, black hair, sturdy hiking boots, khaki shorts, and a camouflage shirt. Her magazine had sent her into the Klamath National Forest area of northern California to investigate a burial ground discovered by a group of hunters. The site was thought to be a burial ground for a local cult. Hunters and campers, captured and used as sacrifices, had been deposited there over the years.
Los Serenos, the Watchmen, had fled into the mountains when the FBI came after them on drug trafficking charges, and had since been blamed for the disappearance of more than a few campers. The discovery was grisly enough to draw national attention. The FBI and county sheriff had to dig through several truckloads of dirt and red tape before they begin a real search for Los Serenos. Sue Ann wasn't bound by such restrictions.

The "latest trouble" was a series of footprints just found around the burial ground. Fourteen-inch, human-shaped prints. Sue Ann put aside her coffee and went back to the tape recorder.

"Here are the possibilities. One, Los Serenos planted the tracks around the area to throw off increasing suspicion. Two, some nut heard about the burial ground and wanted to add to the speculation. That's my favorite. Or, three, Sasquatch is real. I won't rule that out entirely, but the tabloids have never been right in the past. I can't believe they'd start now."

Sue Ann shut off the tape recorder and pulled into Madira's gravel driveway. He lived in a sizable cabin that he had built himself. He owned several acres, which he farmed almost year-round, when he wasn't guiding campers or sportsmen into the hills.

She saw the Indian standing out in the field, silhouetted by the rising sun. His legs were slightly spread apart, his arms raised. Indian worship was something Sue Ann knew she hadn't adequately studied, considering how important another Indian guide had been to one of her ancestors. She had learned of Madira from interviewing some of the locals. If you want a good story, they said, get Madira. He was about sixty, with long, , gray-black hair, and was actually quite handsome in a way she couldn't identify. He had seemed hard to get along with even when Sue Ann had met him a week ago to set up the trip. But the Indian had shown a detailed familiarity with the history and layout of the land. He had a cynicism that she hoped would work well in her article.

She left Madira alone to finish his morning ritual. Sue Ann unloaded her camera bag and backpack, and finished her coffee as the sun chased away another night. Madira was soon finished and acknowledged her presence with only a nod of his head.

"You all set, Lewis?" Madira walked past her car and picked up his own backpack, which Sue Ann hadn't noticed earlier. His clothes were all leather, made with his own hands. The man is a walking cliché, Sue Ann thought as she gave him a confident nod. "Okay, lock up your wheels and let's go."

Madira started marching casually toward the wooded, hilly region beyond his own farm.

"You mean we start from here?"

"You know a better place?" Madira asked over his shoulder.

Sue Ann tossed the foam cup into her car, locked the doors, and said a silent prayer for the vehicle's safety. She slung her pack over her shoulders and hurried to catch up with Madira.

They entered the forest on an uphill slope. It was like crossing the day/night terminator. The air that had been light and fresh became heavy with the weight of humidity.

"So you don't think the Bigfoot nonsense will be a problem?" Sue Ann was forced to talk to Madira's back.

"No problem."

"Last I heard, there're a lot of rednecks running ar...ah, hunters running around ready to shoot anything that moves. Trying to get a Bigfoot."

"We'll avoid `em," Madira grunted. He was clearing just enough of the brush as he walked so that Sue Ann had a slightly easier time hiking. "They'll never see us."

"You know I wanted to go back to the burial ground for pictures. When can we do that?"

"Right now."

"Now? Wouldn't Road Ninety-Six be faster?"

"Shortcut."

The hiking was rugged, but not unbearable. Sue Ann had seen worse. They had been moving at a good pace for two hours when they stepped into a broad clearing. The burial ground was in front of her, investigators milling about. Sue Ann cursed herself for not studying the maps better.

"That's some shortcut, Madira." Sue Ann wiped sweat from her forehead and sipped from her canteen.

"Sorry, ma'am." A sheriff's deputy was instantly in front of them. He gave the grinning Madira a wary look. "We're not allowing spectators here."

"It's okay. I'm from Outlook magazine." Sue Ann fished out her press card. "This is my guide. I'll keep out of your way. I'd just like a few pictures, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, that's all right." The deputy started back to the unpleasant excavation work.

"Have you had much trouble from Sasquatch hunters?"

"God, yes," the deputy sighed. "When we see `em, we tell `em to hunt somewhere else."

The burial site was a crude rectangle, about eighty feet by sixty feet. A slowly widening hole, perhaps ten feet deep, showed where the remains of three bodies had been pulled out. There looked to be eight more. Each burial site was marked with a wooden, upside-down cross. About twelve federal and county officers were moving around, digging up remains and sealing what they found for examination later. Two four-wheel drive vehicles, with federal plates, were parked in the crude roadway that had been plowed from the interstate.

"Madira," Sue Ann asked quietly as she focused her Nikon and started snapping. "How exactly do you plan to find the Serenos?"

"People leave trails, just like animals," Madira shrugged. "I seen signs of these devil-worshippers. Campsites with funny markings on the trees. Few of them upside-down crosses scattered around. We'll find `em."

"Let me get a few more shots." Sue Ann had already interviewed the state District Attorney, and would talk to the coroner once the exhumation was complete. No one at the site could have told Sue Ann anything new.

Satisfied that she had enough pictures, Sue Ann again followed Madira into the forest. As the day passed, she lost all track of time and distance. The hiking quickly became brutal. Despite Madira's earlier warning, she hadn't anticipated what her own backyard, really, was like. Hiking at Yosemite was a field trip next to this.

Sunlight only came down in splotches, between the trees and the underbrush, enough to give a semblance of daytime. The air was hot and damp, thick with pollen and forest smells. The ground was rocky and uneven. Sue Ann occasionally stepped on a loose rock that caused her leg to wobble awkwardly. Madira at times got far enough ahead of her as to be out of sight. He left enough of a trail that if she kept walking she would find him standing, arms crossed, looking impatient. The instant she was in sight, he silently turned and resumed walking.

Sue Ann settled into a trance-like walk. Her eyes focused loosely on the path directly ahead and she moved her feet forward mindlessly. She swatted away as many mosquitoes as she could. She stopped from time to time to reapply a strong insect repellant over her sweat. She felt like the target in a game of poison darts.

Based on a little direct light through the trees, Sue Ann guessed it was two or three o'clock when they came upon a cramped break in the underbrush. The remnants of a campfire were in the center, with three broken sections of log circled around it for sitting.

"Had a strong rain two weeks ago." Madira was sweating, but not winded at all. "Fire's no older'n that. Look." He pointed in turn to several of the larger trees around the tiny campsite. Small pentastars had been carved into them.

"Serenos," Sue Ann muttered. They sat down to eat lunch. Sue Ann chewed on two lunchmeat sandwiches. Madira tore apart strips of smoked salmon he had caught and cured himself. On Madira's word that a fresh stream was nearby, Sue Ann drank half the remaining water in her canteen and poured the rest of it over her head. The water felt delicious as it seeped through her clothing. She took a few pictures of the campsite. As her breathing returned to normal, Sue Ann could concentrate on the multitude of birdsongs being conducted
around them. And Madira, who was always watching, always listening.

"You know," she said through bites of sandwich. "If not for the heat, humidity, lack of hiking trails, isolation...this would be paradise."

"Not an outdoorswoman, huh, Lewis?" Madira smiled grimly.

"I love the outdoors," Sue Ann said matter-of-factly. "I go camping a lot. Yosemite, Big Sur. I've even run a couple of triathlons. But this...this is just desolate."

"This is outdoors, Lewis. Those parks of yours are playgrounds."

"Madira, did you know I'm descended from Meriwether Lewis? Lewis and Clark, remember them?"

Madira gave her a sour look.

"That's right, I'm his great-great-great-great-grandneice. He didn't have any kids of his own. I think I inherited some of his exploring spirit, though. That's why I'm a reporter."

"I think," Madira stood up and fixed her with an evil grin, "if that's true, somethin' got lost in the translation."

Madira, having finished eating, gathered his pack and resumed walking. He seemed to flow through the forest. In a city, he might suffocate like a fish out of water.

"Hey...wait a minute," Sue Ann hurried to follow after him. Half jogging and half stumbling, she caught up to him. "We just found one of the Serenos' campsites. Shouldn't we use that?"

"Serenos need water, too," Madira didn't slow his pace a bit to talk to her. "We're going to the stream."

                                                                 * * * * * * * * * *

The stream Madira spoke of was less than a mile away. It was narrow, bubbling and winding around gravel and fallen trees. Madira and Sue Ann drank from it and refilled their canteens. Madira reasoned that since the stream flowed into the Wanatah River, which was frequented by rafters and kayakers, then it seemed logical that Los Serenos would be found by looking upstream.

Madira slowed his pace when the forest grew darker, though night was still a good hour away on the outside. Sue Ann was thankful for the cooler air that followed. She was dragging, stumbling more and more frequently. They used flashlights to keep going. The forest became an eerie, B-move locale, with bizarre animal calls piercing the darkness. Sue Ann grew nervous. People had disappeared while hiking these forests. The police were digging up some of those people right now.

Finally, mercifully, Madira stopped and began lighting a campfire in an area near the stream. Sue Ann collapsed and massaged her aching legs. She put on a jacket for the evening chill.

"Stream branches off the main river just ahead," Madira pointed. "We'll go there in the morning. Decide where to go next."

Their meal consisted of dehydrated food and some fruit. Afterward, Sue Ann scribbled some notes into her travel journal, notes she would later polish into an article. They both sat leaning against tree trunks, sleeping bags unfolded before them. The fire popped from time to time, throwing a shower of sparks into the air.

"Do most Native Americans live like you, Madira?" Sue Ann asked. "I mean, I thought living with a tribe was more common."

"Tribe?" Madira snorted. "The only tribes left are tourist shows. Can't farm on those desert-trap reservations. The souls of the tribes were stolen years ago."

Sue Ann frowned in thought. "You still have a lot of bitterness over how your people have been treated historically? Is that a pretty common attitude among your people?"

That was her journalist's voice talking, despite the glow of anger lighting in Madira's eyes. Sue Ann wasn't exactly certain how to act toward the man. Madira couldn't understand that her questions were business, not personal.

The Indian gave her an astonished look. Finally, speaking very methodically, he asked, "If I went out, started murdering your people, and started stealing your homes, wouldn't you be bitter?"

"But it was so long ago. Can you blame me for what my ancestors did?"

"I blame you for makin' it worse. Hasn't been that long. I watched my father be victimized trying to live in the white world." His face, in the light of the fire, could have been carved into a mountain. "You remember what your ancestors told my ancestors? Huh? The land's yours as long as the rivers run and the grass is green. Well, you and your people have dried up the rivers and turned the grass brown, so I reckon the land's yours
now."

"You can't blame all of us for a few people screwing up the environment," Sue Ann continued the argument. "And what are we supposed to do? Bulldoze L.A. and San Francisco and let the Indians repopulate the land? To be honest, I know a lot of people interested in Native American history. I know I am. But you keep yourselves so distant. It's hard to figure out your religion or your customs."

"You see us poking around your churches?"

"I'm serious. I mean, I've always been fascinated by Indian mythology."

"Mythology?"

"Sure. The Indian healers, the prayer dances... You've always seemed to have...these gifts, some link with the planet that's almost...mystical."

Madira collapsed into loud, gut-busting laughter, the first cheerful action Sue Ann had seen him display. "Powers? Mystical? Lewis, you been breathin' too much smog. Do I look like anything special to you?"

"Well..." Sue Ann realized she was treading on thin ice. "Most people would never make any sense out of this wilderness. And you're in damned good shape for a man of...how old?"

"Sixty-two."

"A man of sixty-two."

"I'm in good shape 'cause I don't eat Twinkies and watch the boob tube. I know my home," Madira raised his hands to indicate the forest, "like you know that city you live in. We were a pure race, Lewis. We accepted what God gave us, we didn't need to poison ourselves."

"I'm not exactly a couch potato," Sue Ann protested.

"You play games, Lewis. We didn't live on the land. We lived with it. And our religious history's no more mystical than yours. Parting oceans, turning stone to bread. What's that? You treat your religion like a bunch of myths? White man thought he was better 'cause he had technology. Your technology killed the buffalo, flattened the forests, poisoned the air. You killed us, and you called it expansion. What're you gonna call it when you kill yourselves?"

Sue Ann sighed deeply, partially from exhaustion, but partially in recognition of what Madira had said. "I know...most of what you're saying is true. But don't blame me. I can't undo history. And my games that you laugh at. Those are part of my world. They're not exactly hurting anyone."

"Get some sleep, Lewis." Madira stood up, deciding that the debate was over. "We start at first light tomorrow." He threw a few more sticks on the fire. Sue Ann climbed into her sleeping bag and squirmed around to get comfortable on the uneven ground. She opened her mouth to say one last thing. Then she thought better of it and closed her eyes.

* * * * * * * * * *.
ue Ann finally slept, deeply, thanks to her exhaustion. She had a series of dreams that all seemed to blend into one. Her mind replayed all the Sunday school sermons she had heard as a child. She dreamed about Sasquatch, watching them from beyond the firelight's reach. She saw los Serenos, a bloodthirsty lot trying to claim the same wilderness the Indians had been forced out of. She saw good old Lewis and Clark, forging a new path. Had they debated manifest destiny with Sacagawea or her kin? What had the Corps of Discovery seen on their long, strange trip? Any tall, hairy guys with huge feet? Some of the journals of their voyage had been lost and never recovered. Memories could have been altered to fit the official record into the popular views of the time. Beyond that, what had Lewis and Clark really thought of the strange new religions they encountered?

Sue Ann woke with a start. The forest was still dark, but looking up through the trees she could see the coming light of day. The fire was glowing with fresh wood Madira had placed on it. The Indian was stretching nearby. His hair was dripping wet.

"River's good for washing," Madira said when he saw she was awake. "Water's a little chilly, but good. Just past the trees. I got to pray now."

With that Madira dismissed her and began his morning ritual. Sue Ann pulled a towel from her pack and shuffled toward the river.

When Madira finished praying, he looked closely to make sure Sue Ann was out of sight. Then he went over to a sandy area along the stream, not twenty feet from their campsite. He scowled at a series of huge footprints plainly visible in the sand. Madira obliterated the tracks with his feet so that Sue Ann wouldn't find them.

                                                                  * * * * * * * * * *

The water in the river was shockingly cold when she jumped in, after first looking around to make sure no one was watching her undress. Her body adjusted quickly and she swam across the river and back, enjoying the smooth chill caressing her skin. It felt so good, she was reluctant to get out. Madira would want to move on soon, though. Duty called.

They had a light breakfast and resumed the trek. At the river, Madira claimed to have found a trail he suspected had been left by los Serenos. All Sue Ann saw were a bent tree and some crumpled weeds. Madira was adamant. They hiked a course roughly parallel to the river.

"You hear anything weird last night?" Madira asked over his shoulder.

"No. Why?"

"Heard some animal..." Madira was vaguely puzzled. "Couldn't recognize it."

"What did it sound like?" Sue Ann was already growing short of breath.

Madira's initial answer was silence, as though he didn't want to respond. Then, "Kind of a scream. Like if you crossed a dog with a scared woman. No offense."

"None taken." Sue Ann didn't want to waste energy pursuing that.

"Didn't sound happy, whatever it was."

                                                               * * * * * * * * * *

Abruptly, around midday, Madira stopped. Sue Ann bumped into him, and he waved a hand to keep her quiet. Sue Ann gave him a puzzled look.

"Hear that?" he whispered.

Sue Ann focused her ears on the forest ahead of them. Was it just her imagination, inspired by the Indian?

"I think so," she whispered. "Voices?"

Madira nodded. "I'll look. Wait here and scream like the devil if anyone sees you."

Sue Ann nodded agreement. Her training took over as Madira blended into invisibility. She took out her camera and checked the settings.

Birds called to each other through the trees. The ghostly voices Sue Ann thought she heard were sometimes audible, sometimes not, along with the sounds of people moving about. Her own breathing seemed louder. She constantly wiped away sweat that threatened to drip into her eyes.

Finally, Madira returned, silently, effortlessly. He gave a confident nod and kneeled down beside her.

"Want to see some Serenos?"

Sue Ann thought about what he was saying. Had they found them after only a day and a half? "Are you serious?"

Rather than answer, Madira stood up and waved for Sue Ann to follow. They advanced slowly to a rise in the terrain. They both stooped over, then crawled until they were peeking down into a small valley.

It was los Serenos' camp. Several crude wooden huts leaned against one another for support. Near those were some lean-tos constructed of tree branches. Many packs, food and supplies, hung from tree limbs, tied there so animals would be less likely to make off with them. The entire camp was circled with upside-down crosses; protection from whatever spirits might oppose them. Every so often someone would move from one hut to another. Sue Ann saw shaved heads, ragged clothing, and faces with drugged, vacant expressions.

Sue Ann took one picture, hesitantly, afraid the clicking shutter would reveal their presence. Nothing happened. She quickly took several more, panning to get the entire camp on film. She constantly battled the sweat in her eyes.

"How easy will this be to find again?"

"No problem, land or air."

"You'll go to the authorities with me?"

Madira nodded glumly. That was part of their agreement. The Indian was reluctant to involve himself in the matter, but he evidently felt some obligation.

Sue Ann watched for a few seconds longer, almost hoping for some real activity. Then she nodded slowly to Madira, who led her away. They crawled back from the valley, then moved off at a different angle than they had come in at. Madira whispered that it would get them to the river quicker.

They had walked for only a few minutes before Madira made a sudden stop. He sucked in his breath in horror.

"What now?" Sue Ann whispered sharply. She was tired of seeing nothing but Madira's back. She looked around his broad shoulders. Already on the verge of sensory overload, she didn't recognize anything at first. As her mind convinced her of what she was seeing, she thought she was going to be sick.

An animal body, with a stocky build and probably nine feet tall, covered with matted brown hair, was tied to a tree in a small circular clearing. It had been gutted, and a pentastar burned into its forehead. A sacrifice by los Serenos.

A voice in the back of Sue Ann's mind suggested that she might want a picture of this. That was a moral decision she didn't have time to make. Madira quickly untied the ropes to let the carcass fall as gently as possible.

Another thought surfaced through Sue Ann's confusion, and this one she was able to voice. "If the Serenos did this...well, look, they buried their other sacrifices. Why not this one?"

"Maybe they ain't got around to it yet," Madira grunted. "That's why we got to be quick."

"What?"

Madira had to explain his intentions twice, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. The thing was heavy, and it smelled to high heaven, but the two of them managed to drag the corpse through the forest to a place near the river where the soil was soft enough to dig. Sue Ann tried to look away from it, but that was impossible. It looked as though the beast had died from a stab wound in the belly before being sacrificed. The screaming animal from last night. Madira found a couple of sticks to use for digging tools, while Sue Ann fought back that
uncomfortable gagging sensation.

It was the most God-awful work Sue Ann could imagine. The heat and insects weren't being kind to the animal, or to her and Madira. Her hands blistered with the effort of digging. And there was the constant fear that los Serenos might stumble onto them.

"Why...Madira?" Sue Ann wheezed. "It's dead now...we can't do anything."

"Think, Lewis." For once, Madira was winded, too. "Think about what this is, and what'll happen if people find it out here."

Then some logic struck home. They were obligated to lead the police out here, and this place would soon become a circus. This rumored creature they were burying had roamed the California mountains for who knew how long. Proof of this animal's existence would give hunters a field day, with potentially disastrous results. This was no way to prove a legend to the world.

That explained some of Madira's reluctance to go to the authorities. It was one more thing the white world couldn't handle.

"Madira..." Sue Ann paused in her digging. "Is this really one of them?"

Madira shrugged. "Look at the feet."

She already had.

Madira gave a derisive laugh to her look of disbelief.

"You're shocked 'cause you never thought you'd see this. You seen so many humans killed, you hardly batted an eye at that burial ground. Me, this makes me sick 'cause I have seen it before."

"You've seen a Sasquatch before?"

"No, Lewis." Madira shook his head sympathetically. "Sure, I seen signs of the things. I was hoping we wouldn't see any for you to write about. I mean, I know why it was killed. Sacrificed. By the white people. Your ancestors sacrificed my ancestors for manifest destiny. Now you send your children out," Madira gestured back toward los Serenos' encampment, "to sacrifice a different race. So what if they worship different gods? It's the same thing."

For once, Sue Ann didn't have an argument.

                                                            * * * * * * * * * *

Bigfoot never entered into the official picture. The sheriff's department and FBI converged on los Serenos' camp and took them into custody. Sue Ann understood Madira's reluctance to deal with the authorities, but now she also understood his desire to rid the wilderness of this new version of an old threat.

The article was well written and well received. Sue Ann made a sub-theme of what could still be learned from Native American history. It turned out, actually, that los Serenos were a sub-theme to the much larger story. She supposed that story would have to wait for a novel, though. Outlook magazine wasn't in the business of exposing legends to the public.

She had a vacation coming up soon. She was planning a trip into the same California wilderness. Sue Ann was determined to persuade Madira to guide her again, and to teach her some more substantial lessons about a land that was still largely unknown, decades after Lewis and Clark had led the way.

At the same time, Sue Ann went back to reread some of those books about her famous ancestor. Maybe she could still learn a few things from him, as well.