Retreat

CW: bears and swears

“You sure we’re going the right way?” Jon asks as the Land Rover bumps along the rutted dirt road. Though it’s only late afternoon, the tops of the trees stretch overhead, their limbs intertwining like fingers to form a dark canopy that filters out the light.

“I’m fairly certain,” Andreas says, with a hint of a Swiss accent. “Though…” he pauses as he holds his phone closer to the Rover’s moonroof. “I’m not getting any signal here.”

“Kara,” Jon says, glancing in the rear-view mirror to the red-headed, thirty-something woman the backseat. “What do the directions say?”

Kara unfolds a piece of paper and scans it.

Join the Dartmoor Company Retreat

We’ve arranged an exclusive, private campsite, only 1 mile from the Cheat River launch site. Authentic backwoods ambiance on the border of West Virginia and Pennsylvania. Food, fun, and teambuilding, plus a wild ride on class IV rapids!

Directions:

Take Cheat River exit, Right on Hemlock Hollow for 15 miles

Turn left onto dirt track (look for sign ‘Naskar Park’) for 5 miles

“We’re going in the right direction, we passed the Naskar Park sign a while back,” Kara says, meeting Jon’s brown eyes in the mirror for a second, before he looks back to the track, slowing the Rover to make a tight turn in the road. “How many miles to you think—"

“Shit!” Jon breaths out as he slams on the breaks. The Rover’s front bumper rests a few feet from a large tree laying across the track.

“Can we get around it?” Andreas asks.

“No. There’s not enough—”

BOOM!

“Christ!” Andreas says, his head level with the glove box as he crouches down in the passenger seat. “What was that?”

“I think it was a gun. A shotgun,” Jon says, as he slowly sits up from his hiding place behind the steering wheel.

TAP tap

Heads swivel to the driver side window, where a gun barrel raps against the glass.

“Eh, didn’t mean to scare you,” The man with the gun smiles broadly. His gaunt face is topped with a camouflage hunting cap and anchored by a wiry red beard flecked with grey. “You here for the campsite? It’s not far.” He says, slinging the gun over his back. “I’m Ned, the caretaker, I’ll take you there.”

The Dartmoor team exits the vehicle, stretching after the 3-hour drive. They introduce themselves to Ned as they shoulder their backpacks.

“What are you hunting?” Andreas asks.

“Oh, well I wasn’t so much hunting, as protecting,” Ned says, as he climbs over the trunk of the tree blocking the road.

“Protecting? What are you…” Jon’s voice trails off as he straddles the tree trunk. Four deep grooves, about six inches long are etched into the tree. Dark red droplets run from the grooves onto the ground. “What is that?”

“Eh?” says Ned, returning to the tree to see what Jon is staring at. “Oh, well, that’s most likely Nokomis, the Werebear. She gets ornery during a full moon, like a werewolf. So the locals have taken to calling her the Werebear.”

“Oh, right, of course. There’s a fanatical bear roaming the woods, near our campsite,” Jon guffaws as he slaps Andrea’s back. “This your prank, Andy?”

“It most certainly is not.” Andreas says. “I already did my prank for this year, and it scored very highly indeed. This…” he points to the fallen log and bloody claw marks, “seems more like your kind of thing, Jon.”

Jon scratches behind his ear, mussing his wavy brown hair. “Could be Kara.”

“I told you, I’m not participating in your stupid prank contest. It’s so juvenile. I hope Andreas wins, so you’ll finally be dethroned," she says, mock bowing at Jon, “Captain Maturity.”

They follow Ned for a few minutes until they reach a small campsite with a firepit and a six-person tent. “You can put your gear in there, “ Ned says, pointing the nylon dome. “Just make sure you don’t have any food or smelly stuff, like chewing gum or coconut-scented lotion.”

“Is this the only tent?” Kara asks. “I was hoping I’d have my own.”

“Uh, yup.” Ned replies. “Your boss said she’d join you tomorrow, for the Whitewater rafting. So it’s just the three of you in there for tonight. It’s good for camaraderie and team-building, is what she said.“

He continues, “It will be getting dark in a few hours. If you want, you can take a walk. Stick to the trail though, and be back before the sun sets.”

They dump their backpacks in the tent and head down the trail, boots crunching the leaves and snapping small sticks.

Kara inhales the earthy and slightly musty smell of wet foliage. "It's good to breathe fresh air. "

"Hmm. Yes, though it's not as pure as the air in the Alps," Andreas says.

"That whole Werebear thing," Jon says, kicking a pinecone down the trail, "that's a prank for sure. And Kara, you only have a few weeks left to get your prank in. You must want to get Andy and me back for what we did."

"I beg your pardon," Andreas says. "My prank was very tasteful, and quite beautiful."

"I was picking fake snow flakes out of my hair and keyboard for weeks," Kara says.

"It was totally biodegradable paper," Andreas says. "It's not as if I bruised your ego like Jon did. With that fake journalist interviewing you about your fascinating sourdough recipe."

"Whatever, I'm not interested in your stupid games any....oh look!" Kara says, “Puffballs!” A cluster of spherical brown mushrooms, the size of small tangerines hunker on the right side of the trail, each with a black dot in the center of its dome, like a small puckered mouth.

Kara picks up a stick and pokes at one. A sickly yellow-green smoke rises out of the black dot, spewing spores into the air.

“Is that safe?” Andreas asks.

“Yeah, I think so.” Kara says. “I mean, I don’t think they’re hallucinogenic or anything.” She rocks a rotting log with her boot. “As a kid I loved walking in the woods. Finding puffballs and weird insects, like roly-polys and thousand-leggers.” The log rolls aside, making doodle bugs and millipedes scurry for cover.

The rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker on the trunk of pine tree is interrupted by an eerie wail, like a dove and coyote duetting in the distance. A flash of movement between the tightly packed pines catches Jon’s eye.

“What was that?” he asks.

“What?” Andreas and Kara ask in tandem.

“You didn’t see it?”

“What did it look like?” Andreas asks.

“I only caught a glimpse. Looked like a person with dark, braided hair, wearing some kind of animal skin outfit, maybe?”

The wailing sound echoes softly, again.

“We should be getting back,” Kara says, “It’s getting dark.”

When they reach camp, a crackling fire burns in the pit, sparks spiralling up to the full moon. Ned serves chili and cornbread on metal plates as they sit on logs circling the pit. Jon breaks out a bottle of whiskey, pouring large shots into tin mugs and handing them round.

“How was your walk?” Ned asks.

“Really good, I saw puffballs," Kara answers. “But we heard something strange, like sad singing, and Jon saw something that might have been a person, with a black braid, moving through the pines.”

“That so?” Ned says. “Well, that was probably Nokomis, daughter of the moon. Pour me some more whiskey and I’ll tell you a story.”

“Nokomis belonged to ‘those who keep records of a vision,’ the Chippewa, clan of the Nooke," Ned says. "They had travelled many moons from the Land of the Dawn, where the sun rises from the salty sea. Here they found fish, and deer and bear. On a full moon night, Abeque gave birth to a girl, Nokomis. Nokomis grew strong and tall, and talked with the animals in the wood, the birds, the stag, the bear. One day the chief said, 'she is a witch’ and he chased her into the forest.”

Ned takes a slug of whiskey, before continuing. “He hunted her for seven nights. Then on the night of a full moon, he saw her standing in a small clearing, and readied his bow and arrow. Sensing danger, Nokomis shape-shifted into a bear. The arrow struck her chest, but did not kill her. Though she bleeds from her heart every full moon, and wanders the wood in a rage, seeking revenge on brown-haired men.”

Andreas and Jon look at each other, wondering whose hair is browner.

“Well, you’d best turn in, you have an early start tomorrow.” Ned says, standing up and handing them a flashlight. "I'll come back in the morning."

Jon flicks the flashlight on, shining an unsteady beam toward the tent. He unzips the front flap and they duck through the opening. Kara, the last in, zips the flap as the men remove their boots. They sit on their sleeping bags drinking the last of the whiskey while watching the shadows jump and dance along the nylon walls as the fire burns lower. Eventually they settle into their sleeping bags and close their eyes.

An hour later, Jon sits up quickly. “You hear that?”

“Go back to sleep.” Andreas says, groggily, turning in his sleeping bag.

Aaaa waaa aaah laaanaa layaa

Andreas and Kara sit up, holding their breath as they listen to the strange lament.

“It’s getting closer,” Kara whispers.

A crack of branches breaking just outside their tent. A snuffling sound as something heavy paws at the ground nearest Jon.

A hulking shadow stretches up one side of the tent, outlined by the dying embers of the fire. Steam rises in small puffs from the creature’s mouth, as its heavy, laboured breathing fills the ears of the occupants.

"Land Rover, now," Jon says as he pulls on his coat and fishes in the pockets for the key.

A thundering roar shakes the tent, filling it with the putrid smell of rotting flesh.

Kara’s fingers slip as she tries to unzip the front flap.

Jon's side of the tent shreds in long strips as four sharp claws puncture the nylon and draw downwards.

"Kara, open the damn tent!" Jon screams as they huddle round her.

She finally unzips the flap and they stumble over each other, running barefoot in the dark towards the Land Rover. The ghostly song follows them as they trip over branches and rocks.

They reach the Rover and pile in. Jon starts the engine, turns on the headlights and backs down the narrow track. At last they reach the sign at the top of the road.

Naskar Park

In the backseat, Kara is laughing hard, doubling over. “Oh, oh man. If you could SEE your faces.”

Andreas and Jon turn to look back at her.

Then Andreas starts laughing.

“What’s so damn funny?” Jon asks.

“It’s an anagram,” Andreas says pointing to the sign, illuminated by the Rover's high beams.

Jon considers the letters, arranging them mentally into possible words.

“Shit," he laughs, “Kara's Prank."