Hunt and Beck

       “Did I miss anything?”
Beck walks from behind the old, dying trees next to the dilapidated house. He is finishing the top button of his fly, and then he rubs his hands on the sides of his jeans.  This was the second, or third, time tonight he had to go.  I swear; my five-year-old has a bigger bladder.
“Nope.  Nothing happened.”  What did he expect?  We had been sitting out here since before eight, and now it was almost midnight.  At least it was a Friday in mid-August, so it wasn’t  cold.  The rains from Thursday had stopped early enough so that the ground wasn’t too wet for the equipment.  Really, perfect conditions for what Beck wanted to do.  Not what I wanted to do, though.   How did he drag me into this mess?
It started about two weeks ago, on another Friday.  I was at my store, Book Looks of Leesburg, just waiting for someone to walk in.  Business was slow, lately.  We were just far enough away from the cities to feel secure, but close enough to go for shopping trips whenever one felt like it.  And then there is Amazon.  Always Amazon.  Anyway, it was about two or so when I got the call.
“Book Looks.  Good afternoon.  How may I help you?” My standard reply.
“Hey, Mikey!  It’s Beck. Can we talk for awhile?” 
Christopher Marlowe “Beck” Beckett.  Practically everyone but his parents call him “Beck.”  He hates ‘Christopher.’  Only his mother calls him that.  His dad uses ‘Chris,’ or ‘Marlowe’ when he’s joking around.  He would reserve ‘Christopher’ for when there’s a fight. Beck was my college roommate from freshmen year on, replacing my first one left after a week.  Criminal charges.  I didn’t ask for details.  We even moved to an off-campus apartment our junior year with some other guys.  Hadn’t seen him since I got married, a year-and-a-half after we graduated.  Sure, there were the infrequent posts on social media, or the occasional email, but this was the first time he called in months.  Six maybe?  He would usually call my personal phone, not the store’s.
“Sure, Beck.  I’ve got the time.”  A brief look around the empty store confirmed it.  Not one person had been in since I opened for the day.
“I’ll be quick.  Don’t want to bother you.”  Beck’s voice was kind of hard to hear over the background conversations on his end.  
“Go right ahead.”
“Well, I’ll be coming up to Leesburg in a few weeks, and I’ll need your help with some things.”
A wave of fear washed over me.  My tiny house was barely big enough for the three of us.  There was no room for a guest.  
I was getting ready to reply when Beck spoke up.
“I don’t need a place to stay.  I need information.  Have you heard of a place known as the Robinson Homestead.”
  I breathed a sigh of relief. The Robinson Homestead.  I glanced at the smallish local interest shelf before answering.  “I have.  We don’t have anything here on it, but I know someone at the historical society who might know something.  Why do you ask?”
“I think it would be better if I wait until I checked out a few more things.”  That was odd.  “I knew if anyone could find something, it would be you.  Especially since you are right there.  You can email me once you get anything.  I have to go now.  We’ll talk more later.  Bye.”
He hung up before I could even say another word, the traces of the conversation echoing through my head.  With nothing better to do, I went to work.  It took less than two minutes to reach Frank Hooper at the historical society and get him to send me the info for Beck.  I did a double-check with the store’s books, as well as a brief internet search.  Can’t say I’m not thorough.  There wasn’t much there, as the Robinsons weren’t too famous beyond Leesburg.  They had a huge tobacco farm with a fairly large apple orchard at the turn of the last century. One night, about 1909, they had thrown a party for their oldest daughter, who was announcing her engagement.  Unfortunately, a crew of robbers came by later that night, after the groom and most of the guests had left.  Almost everyone in the family, as well as the small staff of servants, were killed.  Pretty much anything with any value was stolen as well.  The Robinsons lived about five miles south of what is now the main part of town, so there were no witnesses.  No one was ever charged, either.  The three youngest Robinsons children of the seven had been hiding and survived:  seven, four, and a baby of sixteen months.  The kids were sent away to live with a cousin out-of-state.  They never came back, but other relatives tried to stay there over the years. It seemed that the house had been vacant for at least thirty years now.  Most of the farmland had been sold off, but the family still owned the main house and the remains of the orchard.  Since the taxes were still being paid, the town couldn’t do much else with the property until some one sold it.  The property could be worth a lot of money for anyone wanting to develop it.
I emailed Beck that evening and thought nothing else about his strange request.  
The following Tuesday, just before noon, I had my first customer of the day.  Jesse Hayes came straight to the counter.  I could guess what he wanted before he could ask.
  “Mike, do you have that new book by Amelia something.  I think it just came out.  They just interviewed her on the news.”
“Not yet Jesse, but I’ve already ordered it for you this morning, after I saw the same interview.  It should be here by Friday.”
Jesse was another one my friends, and roommates, from college.   He was a year ahead of us, but it didn’t really matter for we were the same age.  Early entry, and pre-law to boot.  After law school, he returned to Leesburg to work at his uncle’s firm. Almost junior partner.  It’s through him that I met Lily, my wife.  She was one of his classmates, just a few classes ahead of him.  It’s also how she got a job with the county district attorney office, and why we moved here to Leesburg.  Jesse always gets the latest political books, as soon as they come out. When I saw part of the same interview, I knew immediately that Jesse would want the latest presidential free-for-all.  I took a chance and ordered a copy.
Just as he was about to leave, Jesse turned around.  He always likes to get in a final word.
“You’ll never who called my the other day.  Beck.”
“Actually, he called me last Friday.  He’s coming in next week, I think, and he needed to get some information on a local farmstead.  Any idea why he’s coming here?”
“Well,” Jesse was always one for small talk, even when he says he isn’t, “he needed some advice.  Not specifically legal, but…”
   “If it’s privileged, you don’t have to go on.”
“No.  It was just general, but it’s still, well, different.  Beck needed to see what permissions were needed to do some research on private property.  I pointed him in the right direction.”
“What kind of research is he doing?”  I remembered helping Beck with his homework, mostly biology, I think.  I might have been pre-med, but it was awhile ago, so he could have changed plans.  Still, why was he needing to go onto private property?
Jesse hesitated a few seconds before answering.  “Well.  Ghost-hunting.  He was at some sort of convention in Nashville last week, when he heard about the Robinson homestead from an investigator.  I guess he wants to go full tilt, since he already has us here.”
I couldn’t believe it.  I took a quick glance at the Body, Mind, and Spirit shelves a few feet away.  I keep the focus more on the inspirational and affirmation side, rather than the “woo-woo” metaphysical stuff.  Still, I had quite a few special orders for that.  Even a few on ghost-hunting, but I thought that trend died out a year or two ago.
“Ghost-hunting.  Beck is going into ghost-hunting.  I would laugh, but this is just so not him.  I can’t, I can’t believe it.”
“Well, Beck was always into some strange things.”  Jesse was all but smiling when he said it.  “Look, I’ve got a client coming for lunch.  I’ll be back Friday for the book.  See you then.”
“I’ll call when it come in.”  I answered as he left.
The rest of the week flew by, thoughts of Beck and his new “hobby” never even crossed my mind.  By Sunday, things changed.  That afternoon, I got my regular weekly call from the last of my friends from college, Eddie Smallwood.  We actually went to high school together and knew of each other, but we hung out with different cliques.  He was a jock, and I was a band geek.  Haven’t really touched the drums since, though.  I didn’t even know we were going to the same school, until he sat next to me in first period calculus on the first day of class.  He was even on the same dorm floor as me, just a few doors down the hall.  He was assigned Jesse as a roommate, and that’s how the four of us got together.  We did everything together those four plus years.  Even sharing that off-campus house our final two.  He was now a chemical engineer working for a mining company, living in Lexington with his wife, Carol.  He is the only classmate from high school I still see or talk to.  Even when I go back home to see Mom and Dad.
“Hey, Mike, you will never guess who called me yesterday.” Eddie said after the usual small talk and catching up was over with.  “Beck.”
I all but groaned.
“Don’t tell me.  He needs you to get him some equipment for his ghost-hunting trip.”
“Wait, what?” I caught Eddie up to speed with both my and Jesse’s calls before  continuing.
“Well, I don’t know anything about this ‘ghost-hunting,’ but I do know he wanted someone to go camping with him this weekend.  Unfortunately, I’ll be at a site in Wyoming starting Thursday.  If it all goes right, I could get promoted, and then I’ll get to stay in Lexington for awhile.”
“That’s great, Eddie.  Too bad Beck will have no one with him though.”
“Actually, Beck asked if I could get someone to go with him.  I would’ve gotten Pat, but his girlfriend is having complications with her pregnancy, and I don’t think he’d want to go.” 
Pat is Eddie’s three-years younger brother.  Both share a love of the outdoors, but Pat was more into the hunting side of things.  He enlisted in the Army right after he graduated, but left after he got his time in because he wasn’t seeing combat.  A week after he left, his former squad got called up.  He almost left college when he heard.  Now, he and his girlfriend are expecting their first child. (Pat has twin boys form his first marriage.  He wasn’t really married to his second wife long enough to have kids.)   Barely five months along, but she was having some problems Eddie didn’t or couldn’t go into.
“So, who else do you think could go?”  I regretted the question as soon as I asked it.
“Well, he was thinking about you.”
“No way.  If he wanted my help, why isn’t he calling me then?”
“He’s kind of embarrassed, Mike.  He hasn’t seen you in a few years, and you were barely better than him outdoors.  He really needs your, our help.  That’s what friends do.  What harm could come from humoring him?”
“Look.  I’ll ask Lily, but I’m sure she wouldn’t want me to go out on a Friday night to an old farmhouse to look for ghosts.  But I will ask.  That’s the best I can do.”
We talked a few minutes more before ending the call.  I waited until that evening, after we put Timmy to bed, to broach the subject with Lily.  We were watching the news and  I casually brought it up, knowing for certain that she would forbid me from going.
“I think you should go,” Lily responded almost immediately.
“What?  Why do you want me to go camping on a Friday night with an old friend to hunt ghosts?”
“Because Beck is an old friend.  One of your closest.  One you haven’t seen in years.  You don’t have many friends, and none you see regularly.”
“What about Jesse and Eddie?  I see them all the time.”
“You barely see Jesse once or twice a month, only when he wants a new book.  He was telling me at the courthouse just last week how he wishes you two would go out sometime.  He has a new girlfriend he would like for you to meet.  And you and Eddie just call each other.  We haven’t gone out with him and Mindy in months.”
“Well, what about, uh, Lance.  And Stan.  What about them.”
“Mike, Lance and Sam aren’t your friends.  Their my friends’ husbands.  When we’re all together, you barely talk to them.”
I have to admit that the two men had known each other for years, and that their kids are older than Timmy and therefore doing more things, but still.
“In fact, we haven’t even gone out with each other since our anniversary back in May.  How hard is it for you to want to have some fun with an old friend?”
“Lily, I, we, have responsibilities. If I’m out Friday night, I won’t be able to open the store up on time Saturday.”
“I can do it.  I wanted some extra bonding time with Timmy before he starts school next week.  I’ve done it before.  Saturdays have always been on the slow side.  It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“But it’s ghost-hunting, not a normal overnight camping trip.  How stupid can one get?  I doubt it will be anything close to ‘fun.’”
“This coming from a man with literal bookcases full of horror and fantasy novels, not to mention an entire shelf full of folklore.  And wasn’t it Beck who turned you on to that stuff in the first place.”  She lightly punched me in the arm while saying it.
I look over at the two bookcases on the other side of the living room.  They took up most of the wall, almost to the ceiling.  It was a small concession to my work.  I actually keep some of my collection at the store, out of public view.  Our house is so small, I don’t really have enough room here for all of them here.  
“I’ll admit that Beck got me started on folklore, but I was reading some of that in high school.  Well, a little.”  About twenty out of over two hundred, although a few old textbooks and reference books were mixed in too.  
“Call him.  Tell him that you can go with him.”
We went to bed soon after.  I emailed Beck that morning, before I left for work.  He had responded by the time I opened up the store.   He said he would bring of all of the equipment; I wouldn’t need to do anything.  He was supposed to be in Thursday morning to catch me up on the plans, but he got delayed.  We wound up meeting Friday morning at the store.  He barely had time to tell me what we would be doing that night before he had to leave for his hotel, as well as meeting with Jesse about some of the legal ramifications.  Apparently, we could enter the property, but we couldn’t enter the house, or any other buildings left standing, if there were any.
Beck got to my house around six, just after I had finished a quick, early dinner.  He checked in with Lily and Timmy, then showed me the basics of the technical equipment.  He didn’t have too much, mostly various monitors and recording devices and lights.  Just one camera, though.  He said he was just starting out, and he didn’t want to commit to too much stuff he wouldn’t have further use of.  We were off  by seven.  I’m kind of glad that he didn’t stay any longer.   The small house was the best we could afford when we moved to town.  We have enough saved back to move, but we haven’t had the time to decide on anything yet.
It was a short, twenty-minute drive to the Robinson property.  The old dirt road off the highway was so overgrown, muddy, and disused that we had to stop almost a quarter mile from the house or risk hurting the car.  It took us two trips to lug all the equipment to the site.  Fortunately, we weren’t planning to stay the entire night.  Only about six hours, give or take, so we didn’t need any tents or sleeping bags. That would’ve been a least another trip for both of us.  We had the monitors and camera up before sunset, saving the lights for when it got dark.  
The camera was pointing at the largest window on the left side first storyof the house, where the dining room probably was.  The house was mostly in good shape, even with it being over  a century old.  Sure, many of the windows were cracked, the paint was mostly peeled off, and the roof appeared to be sagging in spots, but the place didn’t look or feel that abandoned.  The twisted and dying trees covering the front lawn were more terrifying than the house.  They were all but barren of leaves, especially off-putting for mid-summer.  By contrast, the remaining apple trees in the orchard just beyond the yard still looked full in the fading light.  I could even spot some apples among the leaves.  I couldn’t even tell what the dying trees were, not that I would have any way of knowing.  Trees aren’t my thing.
So, here I am, almost midnight.  Beck is returning from his  latest trip to “water” a tree.  I’ll be good for another hour or two.  I have always been known for my bladder control. That and my dislike of going while outdoors.  Just not into it.  We have yet to see or hear anything unusual all night.  We have been taking turns watching the camera and monitors.  To be honest, I don’t think either one of us knows what we are doing. Beck keeps sipping coffee from a thermos.  No wonder he keeps having to go.  
Suddenly, a loud growl, or howl, resounds from behind us.  From the actual forest, on the south end of the property, and not the orchard.  Definitely not from there.
“What was that?”  Beck exclaims. 
“Probably a coyote. It was slightly muffled, so it couldn’t have been that near. They’ve been spotted around here a lot lately.”
“A coyote.  Couldn’t it have been a dog?”
“Uh, maybe.  It sounded a little out of a dog’s range, but coyotes can imitate other animals.  We should probably leave, just in case.  No telling what one could do, even though we probably could handle just one.  If it is just one.”  I start making my way to the camera to take it down.
“Wait, Mikey,”  I swear, I am beginning to hate being called that again.  “We don’t have to leave just yet.  Whatever that was, it didn’t sound so close.  We still have another hour or two before we were planning to leave.  Why the rush?”
I stop about a foot away from the camera. I let out a large sigh before I turn around to face Beck.
“Because, Beck, there are no such things as ghosts.  This is a fool’s errand that my wife made me go on because she thinks I don’t go out with friends any more.  There are much better ways to spend a Friday night than on an abandoned farm looking for something that doesn’t exist.  How you ever gave up med school for this, I don’t know!”  I’m waving my arms around, generally pointing at the futility of everything.
“What med school?” Beck is practically laughing. “Dude, I was a sociology major.  Whatever made you think I was going to med school?”
I stand there, so shocked I can barely talk.
“Well, I kept helping you out with those biology papers.  And you always mentioned helping people.  I don’t know; maybe I thought you were going into psychiatry, maybe?”
  “Mikey, those papers were for plant biology.  Although my parents wanted me to get into medicine, I was too sensitive for all that cutting into things.  Besides, a biology course was more conducive for sociology than other sciences.  I’ve told you this before.  Don’t your read my posts, my emails.  I give you updates every year in the cards I send you”
“Cards?  What cards?”
“Birthday, wedding anniversary, and Christmas.  I even send one to Timmy with five dollars to put into his college fund every year.  I even write notes about what’s happening in my life that go into more detail than I share in public.”
“Lily handles all of that.  She would have mentioned ghosts, if you mentioned it. But, what about helping people?  How does ghost hunting go into that?”
He takes a breath before he looks at me and starts.  “I took some time off to find myself before going back for my Master’s.  I began my Doctorate studies just last year.  I’m working on a paper about the connections between folklore and modern beliefs in the paranormal.  This is part of my research, not just to see if there is any real evidence of ghosts, but the reasoning why people have such beliefs.  And what about you?  What have you been doing?  Weren’t you going to be the next big thing in the newspaper biz before making a break for the bestsellers list?  Where are you now?  Running a book store to the ground while living off your wife’s money, such as it is.”
Beck added that last part just to get to me.  He had walked to within a foot of me while he had been talking.  He’s only a few inches taller than me, just over six feet, but it still feels like he is trying to stare me down, especially in this dim light.
“I, I, I tried.”  My stutter always comes back when I get this nervous.  “Newspapers are dying.  Leesburg barely has a weekly.  They mostly reprint the news from sister publications.  I lost interest. I don’t have the looks for television.  And, and, and, well, my stutter-ing.”  Years of doubt and anxiety found its way back to me.  Beck always knew how to hurt someone the most, just by saying a few words.  
Beck turns away.  “What else is stopping you?  You always said you were going to write the next big novel.  I even gave you some of my books on folklore to help you out with some ideas.  You always loved that stuff, your horror and fantasy novels.  It was because of you that I decided to make the study of folklore a focus of my work.”
I can’t reply to that.  Not without making me feel more ashamed.
“You start packing up.  I’m going to visit the tree again.”
“Can’t you hold it in?  Do you really like exposing yourself so much?” I regret saying it immediately.
He turns around to face me again.  “Dude, we lived together for over four years.  We saw each other naked dozens of times.  And worse.  Whatever.”  He walks away to the trees.
I start packing the equipment while he takes care of himself.  Barely a few seconds later, a strange odor starts whiffling its way towards me.  It is so sickening that I almost throw up, but I  ignore it and keep packing .  Something just makes me want to leave as quickly as possible.
Suddenly, Beck is back beside me.
“Did you just take a …” I start.
“What?! NO!  I didn’t even get to start before I smelled that, that stench.  What could it be?”
The smell was no longer as sickening, but it was getting stronger.
“Well, bears do that sort of stuff in the woods.”

“Bears?  Here?  We’re nowhere near anywhere a bear would be.”

“One was spotted in Lexington a few months ago.”
Another loud growl interrupted Beck before he could respond.
“We’re leaving.”  We say at the same time.
Beck grabs the monitors while I grab the camera and the lights.  Although he has more to pick up, he is off and running before I lug the last bit over my shoulder.  Beck was always strong and fast on his feet, but this was was something I didn’t expect.  Even in the dim moonlight, he was halfway to the car before I could really get going.  While I wouldn’t say I was out-of-shape, I guess I do have a good start on my “dad-bod.”  I really need to start exercising again.  Beck and I used to go jogging a few days a week back in college.  Guess he still does.
The trunk lid was open, and Beck was putting the equipment in by the time I caught up.  I was almost out of breath.  I hand Beck the camera and lights while daring to take a look back at the house.  The smell was long gone, or we were upwind of it.  I tried to see if anything was lurking in the trees, but I was too far away to make out any details.  I almost thought I saw something moving, but it could have been anything, or nothing.
Beck got into the driver’s seat before I even realize he had shut the trunk.  I was too scared to pay attention.  I go around to the passenger’s seat before he can yell at me to get in.   Instead, he starts the engine up and steps on the gas.  I can just put on my seatbelt, and then we are gunning down the bumpy dirt road.  Beck was definitely going too fast, as I feel a huge jarring as we go over a rock or something.  This road wasn’t that good in daylight; it was downright dangerous at night, even with the headlights on and the moon sort of out.
I stay quiet until we turn onto the highway back into town.
“I’m sorry I said those things.  I didn’t mean them.”  Beck cuts me off,  before saying the exact same thing.
“You first.  I’m driving.”  Beck was giving me the opportunity, so I take it.
I start while looking out the window. “I guess I should have kept up with you more over the years. I could say it was a ‘guy thing,’ but that wouldn’t be fair.  I just didn’t realize what was happening.  I guess I knew you weren’t going to medical school, but I forgot, or didn’t care to remember. I just seem to have lost myself.  It’s gotten worse since I got married and had Timmy.  I had such big dreams.”
I turn to face him, finally.  
“I don’t think I know who I am any more.  Lily saw what was happening. I guess that’s why she wanted me to go out tonight.  I’m so sorry about what I did to you tonight.”
Beck gives a soft laugh as we take the turn to downtown and on to my house.
“I was just going to say that I was sorry I took you out on this wild goose chase.  This was only a side project, more for fun than real research.  To tell the truth, I actually poked around the place this morning, looking for a good vantage point.  I should have warned you about the road and the forest.  I didn’t know about coyotes. Or bears.  Or whatever that was.  If I had, I would have prepared better.”
We don’t talk the rest of the way.  I mumble goodbye when he drops me off , and then I go straight to bed.
I don’t wake up until sometime past ten that morning.  Lily and Timmy had already left, and the house was silent.  I had been so tired last night, I just stripped to my briefs.  I also really needed to relieve myself.  I take a quick look at my belly as I all but run to the bathroom.  Yeah, I really do need to start exercising more.  I just make it before my bladder bursts.  I barely finish washing my hands when I hear my phone ring from beside the bed.  I definitely don’t like rushing so much so soon after waking up.  I don’t need to look to know it is from Beck.  He never needed to sleep back in college.  He used to go on four, six hours, easy.
“Hi, Beck.  I just got up.  What is so important to call me so early?  If it is about last night, we’re fine.  I’m sorry for what I said.”
“Caught you in the bathroom, didn’t I?”  Beck jokes.  He still knew me, even after all this time. “No, it’s not about that. I know we’ll patch things up.  Anyway, I couldn’t sleep, not after the excitement last night, so I started going over the footage.  There isn’t much, but I think there’s something you need to see.  Are you by your computer?”
“No, why?  Can’t you just send me an image over the phone?”
“You really need a bigger screen to see everything.  I’ve already emailed you the clip.”
I scuttle back down the hall to the nook in the living room where I keep my computer.  Lily needs more room for her legal work, so she gets the entire basement for her ‘she shed’ and I had to settle for a table as a ‘man-cave.’  I really need to work out more.  All of this running is tiring me out.  I’m just glad no one can see me in my underwear, with or without this slight paunch.  I wake up the Mac and log into my email.  Right on top is Beck’s.  
“Okay, Beck,” I’m still on the phone, “I’m opening up the attachment.  What am I  supposed to be seeing?”
“It’s footage from where you were running away from whatever that was.  We didn’t have time to turn off the camera, and you got something.  Maybe.”
There it is, a scene from the camera facing back towards the forest while we’re running to the car.  
“Can you see them?  Two eyes, in among the trees, about eight feet up or so.”
“I see them.  They could be eyes, but at this distance, it’s hard to tell.  Might be a bear, on its hind legs.”
“Look again, Mikey.  The bears we have around here can’t stand up that high.  Besides, the eyes are too far apart.  And that’s not all.  Remember the hard bump we had driving away?”
“Yeah, barely.  It was a pothole.”  Really Beck, what are you getting at.
“Well, I checked the car out as soon as it was light enough.  There is a huge dent on the rear fender, right by the trunk.  It looks like whatever that thing was, it threw a rock or something at the car while we were driving away.  Bears don’t, and can’t, do that.”
Technically, he was correct, but I wasn’t liking where this conversation was heading.
“What are you saying, Beck?”
He takes a breath before replying.
“Mike, I think that may have been a Bigfoot.”  He was getting serious if was calling me ‘Mike.’   “Don’t cut me off, but I think we actually have something here, something real.  Look, I admit that this ghost hunting thing was a side job, mostly for fun, but we now have evidence of something more.  It might not be anything, but it could be.  At the very least, it is a start.  The start of something beyond any research I was planning on.  I think we should look into monster- hunting.  What do you think?”
I knew Beck would do this.  Give him and inch, and he’ll be a hundred miles away before you realized it.  At least the ghost-hunting has a shred of scientific evidence behind it.  Not much, but the research is there.  This monster-hunting is the sort of thing that will get him laughed out of the scientific community.  At least it will be lessened by the fact that his focus in sociology, but still.  No one will respect him.
Wait.  Did he say “we”?