Footprints of Thunder (41 page)

Ellen and Angie met Coop’s “off-road recreational enthusiasts” early the next morning. The group turned out to look like a backwoods motorcycle gang—the five men besides Coop all looked as if they made their living with their hands. Only Coop had bothered to shave, and their clothes looked as if they had never been washed. All of them were wearing leather work boots, jeans, and flannel shirts topped with sweatshirts or down vests. When the women approached some of the men started clapping and howling at Angie. Even in a coat and jeans Angie had an aura of sensuality. Coop stepped forward as they approached and introduced them.

“These are the ladies I was telling you about. This is Angie.” Two of the men whistled in appreciation, “And this here’s Ellen. Ellen has a young progeny somewhere in the Portland vicinity, and she needs assistance in reconnoitering the area. I said we would facilitate.” Ellen didn’t mention that her little boy was seventeen years old.

As Coop spoke Ellen noticed two things that bothered her. First, the group was heavily armed. The motorcycles were fitted with rifle sheaths, and every sheath had a gun sticking out of it. Two of them were also wearing holsters. Why would cross-country motorcyclists need weapons?

Second, one of the men wasn’t staring at Angie, he was staring at Ellen with the kind of look the other men were giving Angie. Angie may be used to that kind of look, Ellen thought, but I don’t like it. Coop had introduced the man as Carl. He was as tall as Coop but muscular, with dark hair slicked back on both sides of his head and curls hanging down covering his forehead. His face was covered with a dark stubble and his eyes were staring at Ellen.

Looking straight back at Carl she asked, “What do you need all those guns for? Expecting to run into a gun show?”

Carl smiled. “The big city’s a real dangerous place, right guys? Country boys like us can’t go into town unprotected. Besides, we’ve got you women folk to look out for. Right guys?”

The others snickered.

“The guns are for hunting,” Coop said. Then he paused, as if he were thinking about telling them more, but he merely shrugged and muttered, “You never know what you might run into.”

There was something going on here that the “guys” weren’t telling the girls, making Ellen uncomfortable. But the only remaining option was walking into Portland, which could take days, and she was concerned about her son.

Angie and Ellen followed the motorcycles in their Jeep, winding through the small residential section of the town. Officer Peters had been right. Cars packed the streets, parked in every nook and cranny. They came to what looked like a dead end but instead of stopping they drove down a long driveway around a house and to a dirt road. That road led up over a hill and down into another patch of forest. At the bottom of the hill they came to a small one-lane bridge that crossed a creek. Before crossing, Carl and the guys stopped and gathered together talking. Finally, Carl and Coop returned to the Jeep. Ellen noticed that Coop came to Angie’s window and Carl to hers.

Coop said, “You’ll have to abandon your vehicle here. We’re going to follow the creek bed. You can go double with Carl and me.”

The thought or riding with Carl made Ellen shudder. “What about the road? Why don’t we just stay on the road and follow it?”

Carl leaned in Ellen’s window to speak. When he did, she smelled stale beer on his breath and flinched back in revulsion. Her reaction made Carl smile. Carl was missing an eye tooth, and from the brown crust between his other teeth, she judged he’d be missing more soon.

“Hey, what’s a matter? Don’t you trust us? We’re gonna get you to your boy. There just ain’t more road to use. Coop and I been down there,” he said nodding over the bridge. “You can get another half mile and then nuthin’ but forest. You’d never get this mother through those trees,” he said as he banged the door of the Jeep with his knee. Carl smiled sweetly and then turned serious. “Better to come with us. We’ll follow the creek bed and use it like a road. It’ll get us closer to where we’ll jump off and head through the forest.”

“Okay,” Angie said, “we’ll get our stuff together.”

Carl and Coop drifted back up with the guys and started talking with them. The guys kept looking back at the Jeep and laughing as Carl gestured obscenely. Angie then turned to Ellen.

“Honey, I’m getting a bad feeling about this. I trust that Coop, I can handle him, but Carl and the guys are a different story. And what are they doing with all those guns? Did you notice two of them are carrying assault rifles? I’m not saying I won’t go with you, don’t think that for a minute,” Angie was saying. “I just want you to know what we’re getting into. Carl and his buddies are just having a good time now, a chance to get away from some mill or factory job, and cat around. Maybe Coop can keep them in line—probably he can.”

“Angie, you’ve done enough. You’ve brought me all the way across the state on back roads, spent your time and money when you could have been lounging around a motel pool waiting for Bill. Go on back, I can handle it from here. I don’t trust them either, but I’d make a deal with the devil to get to my son. I’ve got to know if he’s there, if he’s somewhere.”

“You want me to ride with Carl.”

“Angie, I said you didn’t have to go.”

“I heard you honey, now who do you want to ride with?”

Ellen smiled at Angie and then leaned over and hugged her.

“I’ll ride with Carl. You work your magic on Coop.”

“He’ll be horny enough to hump a tree by the time this motorcycle ride’s over.”

Ellen was sure about that. She only hoped Carl wouldn’t feel the same way.

When she and Angie climbed on the bikes the other guys grunted their approval with “all rights” and “way to go”s. All of them were looking at Angie and Coop except Carl, who made a disgusting “smacking” sound and then winked at her. Ellen hated riding behind Carl. When she spread her legs wide to squeeze in beside him, Carl pressed between her legs and made another disgusting sound.

The other bikers led off across the bridge and then turned and dropped down the sharp bank to the rocky creek bed. Ellen tried hanging on to the seat, but the terrain was rough and bouncy. She hated putting her arms around him, so she grabbed his coat, only leaning against him occasionally to keep her balance. Ellen noticed that Angie wasn’t as picky—she had her arms around Coop and her chest pressed up against his back.

After a while Ellen relaxed a little. She began to trust Carl— at least his riding skills.

After what seemed like hours the lead rider, a big man called Bobby, stopped and rode back to talk with Coop. Bobby had powerful-looking suntanned arms, and scraggly blond hair, with a half-grown beard on his boyish face. Bobby asked about something being “around here somewhere?” and Coop pointed up over the bank. Bobby rode out into the creek a little way, then the motorcycle jumped forward and roared up the bank, actually becoming airborne as he cleared the rim and he disappeared over the top. After a while he reappeared and signaled the others to follow. One by one the bikers launched themselves over the edge.

Coop and Carl waited for the others, and then Coop leaned back and said something to Angie, who wrapped her arms tighter and leaned into him. Coop too roared up the bank, the bike fishtailing and then straightening as it continued up over the edge.

Carl turned to Ellen and said, “Do it like Angie did, hang on tight and lean into me as we climb.”

Ellen wanted to get off and climb the bank herself. It would make more sense than making a risky climb with two on a cycle built for one. But she knew the bikers didn’t care. This wasn’t about climbing a hill, it was some sort of macho thing, and all the guys were waiting to see if Carl could make the climb. The fact that Coop, the nerd, had done it with Angie on his bike made it imperative that Carl do the same.

If Ellen was to handle Carl, she could not risk damaging his ego. Being married to Terry meant picking up bits and pieces of psychology whether you want to or not. Ellen knew that the best way to turn someone violent was to wound his ego.

Carl gunned the engine and pointed the fork of the bike at the lowest part of the bank. Swallowing her revulsion, she wrapped her arms around Carl’s waist and leaned into him, hoping he was too preoccupied to feel her breasts flatten against his back. Then Carl released the clutch. The bike flew forward and suddenly the front end of the bike tilted up at a sharp angle. The speed of the bike fell quickly and the engine began to strain. Just as they slowed to a near stop, the front of the bike dropped back flat, and they were over the top.

The other bikers were watching them clear the bank. Carl raced down the line of bikes for a victory lap and then turned around and stopped in front of the line. Bobby and the rest of the bikers applauded and yelled, “All right.” Then Bobby stared right at Ellen.

“Looks like she’s coming round, Carl.”

Ellen realized she still had her arms wrapped around Carl. She let go and sat back, giving Bobby a piercing look. He just smiled.

They cut through a sparse stand of Douglas fir to a field of strawberry plants. Running along the far side was a forest. Ellen had heard about it on the CB, but seeing it made it even more unbelievable. The trees were not the expected fir or yew, and she realized they were huge. As the forest loomed above her she identified the trees as redwood, as big as any she had seen along the Avenue of Giants in California. The guys stopped their bikes at the edge, staring at the trees in awe. The undergrowth was sparse but oversize. Some ferns grew nearly as tall as Ellen, and big patches of grass climbed nearly six feet in height. Elephant grass? she wondered.

Ellen thought back to the kid in the cave. It seemed like a hundred years ago. “The end of the world,” that’s what he had said. Ellen looked at the forest and wondered if he had been talking about this. Mountains on I-5, a redwood forest dropped on Portland? Is this how the world was to end? In confusion?

Even the guys were surprised by the forest. When they started off again Coop led, with Carl right behind. They rode across the strawberry rows, crushing the plants as they followed the edge of the forest. Worried about the damage, Ellen looked around for a farmhouse but saw no buildings. She was so close to her son now, she didn’t want to get stopped for trespassing. Finally, Coop cut into the forest and Ellen could see what he had been looking for—a clearing on the other side. They rode to the middle of it, where Coop stopped. Carl pulled up next to him and the guys pulled up on both sides.

“I saw him right over there,” Coop said, pointing.

Ellen wondered what “him” they were talking about.

“Bullshit,” said the one called Kishton. He was the shortest of the group but probably the strongest; his upper arms and chest were muscular, forming a body builder’s classic V shape. He also had the only full beard in the group.

“I still say it’s bullshit.”

“Coop wouldn’t lie to us, would you, Coop?” Carl said.

Kishton shut up and looked around.

This is the classic adolescent friendship pattern, Ellen thought. How had Terry described it? “A like-minded group of males loosely associated for the purpose of fellowship, with no formal leader.” As Ellen remembered it, the individuals of the group would adamantly deny there was a leader, yet to an outsider the leader was clearly discernible. Carl was the leader here. Ellen knew leadership depended on having something the other males prized—being the strongest, having the best car, or making it with girls. Ellen studied Carl and decided he wasn’t the toughest. Kishton probably was, or maybe Bobby. Carl didn’t look that tough, yet he was clearly the leader. Why? Kishton started talking again.

“All right, if he’s here, how do we find the mother?”

“Coop’ll find him, won’t you Coop?”

It wasn’t really a question. Carl was telling Coop to deliver what they were looking for, or else.

They seemed to have forgotten about Ellen’s son, so she spoke up. “I thought you were going to help me find my son. What about us?”

Carl turned to Ellen and smiled broadly, revealing his missing eye tooth.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll be getting to you. Lead off, Coop, I’ll pick up the rear.”

Angie pulled Ellen to one side and put her arm around her shoulder.

“How you doing with good ole Carl? You want me to switch with you?”

“No. You’re doing a great job with Coop. Just keep him under your spell.”

“Don’t you worry about that. He’s mine,” Angie giggled.

Coop led them once around the perimeter of the clearing and then headed through the trees. The ferns and grass were thick and tall in the clearing, but once under the canopy of the giants the undergrowth thinned. The going was slow but steady. Carl kept cussing and kicking at the clumps of vegetation as they worked their way around and through the undergrowth. Once Carl rode close to a patch of grass that brushed Ellen’s arm, leaving three painful, bleeding slices, like paper cuts.

They broke out of the trees into another clearing, and Ellen looked around Carl in time to see Coop and Angie drop over an edge and disappear. One by one the other cycles followed. Carl went over the edge last, into a soggy creek bed with a small stream running through the middle. The going was slippery here, but they made better time. There wasn’t much of a bank, and Ellen could watch the scenery. The forest thickened and thinned in no particular pattern, but it was becoming clear that Portland was no longer here. Ellen realized if Portland was gone, so was her son.

Coop led them back up a bank into a clearing and stopped, turning off his motor.

“Looky there,” Coop said, pointing into the clearing.

Ellen could see nothing but grass and clumps of ferns. Suddenly a head popped up over the top of the ferns, with a dome, perched on a long thin neck, and covered with a gray-green skin. Ferns were hanging from its mouth and its eyes were fixed on their group. Ellen had never seen one before, at least not alive, but it was a dinosaur,

“Hot damn!” Carl screamed. “That mother is mine.”

“Holy shit, deputy dawg wasn’t lying.”

“I told you. I wouldn’t prevaricate about something like this.”