The Whispering Caves
Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

A few hours later, he had a new canine friend. Typical story of Man meets Dog, Dog and Man realize they do not feel so alone. So, Dog went home with Fover.

Fover wondered how Miko was going to do with the new Dog. Fover sighed, he didn’t really need to make more of a misfit family. He could not help it either, he found his lonely soul replaceing some comfort in other souls had been left out in the cold as well.

Dog looked at him and just had a big tongue hanging out. To this Dog, life had gotten very good; he was in a Bronco riding along with the window cracked. Fover studied him; there was such contentment in such a small moment for this dog. Fover felt that experiencing joy for himself was a step-by-step restorative process, he had to learn how to softly feel it in each moment again. Just like his friend here. What should he name him?

“Dog, what’re you called?” Fover asked the rhetorical question of them both and almost expected Dog to bark an answer. These were strange days after all, with strange occurrences. Like ancient journals. What would it be to add talking dogs? he chuckled to himself.

But no answer resounded, so he decided he would think on it a bit. Instead, he gave Dog a good pet on the head; “Good boy, let’s go...home?” Fover almost asked the question more than he had confirmed it. Where was home to him? Was it the cabin? That answer still time had to tell.

They finally arrived on the bumpier section of road that led to the locked permitter gate of the wild Montana property (where in Montana even is this? North or South?) and felt the road become more untamed, reflecting the depreciation of civilization the farther he pushed towards his new domain. It was well into the evening, and the light had sunk well beneath the mountains and wished the day well.

Getting out first, Fover had to go around to the four-door pickup and let Dog out. He had borrowed a collar and leash from the shelter, agreeing to return it once he had something fitting of the young pup here. He had not exactly planned this more that he had been drawn to it to the choice; he had not felt a great need to resist it either. He would just figure it out as he went.

He had at least thought to pick up dinner for them both before they got home; good old-fashioned burgers. He couldn’t say that it was regular dog food, but it was at least something. Dog did not look to be too bothered by it overall as he raised his snoot in the direction of the fried goodness.

As soon as Fover opened the door when he got home, the mood shifted, and it was no longer about just cheeseburgers. This sweet young dog that he had had no issue assuming as his responsibility in a short amount of time, was suddenly raising his lip. But it wasn’t at Fover. He had a low growl, and Fover was startled; why wasn’t this little place tranquil? That is always how these places were depicted in magazines, just peaceful and simple. They didn’t depict any dangerous creatures outside said cute cabins. The vacation brochures for Montana need to be updated badly, to include – Stay alert, may get eaten by invisible forest demons. Fover still had yet to determine his opinion of this state he had only visited a handful of times long ago.

“Easy, what do you see?” Fover kept a tight grip on his new companion and voted to secure them both inside before getting any more curious. He didn’t need to lose either of them to the darkness fast approaching.

The fire he had set earlier before he left was now embers, he brought in another armful of wood and set it further ablaze. Whatever was out there pressing in, he would press out with the warm flame that kept the cabin bright and lively. In the quiet of the night, when the question of what to do came quietly after dinner, and cheeseburgers had been cleaned up, Fover saw little to do besides dig back into the book that was fast becoming his obsession. He had never been much of a reader, now he was a selective bibliophile, for this one fantastic piece of literature. Who’s to say it was even real? How did he know that whatever was written in there was not done so by some wild grizzly hunter out of his mind on unnamed mushrooms?

The fire could not keep out a soft scraping that Fover heard at the base of the house. What the hell was that? He bolted upright from the chair he had just settled into, as Dog had retired himself to the fire. Fover grabbed both shotgun and flashlight and swung the door open in dramatic fashion. He was tired of playing safe horror movie fan; whatever the hell was bothering his peaceful studying was sure as hell going to know he was agitated.

“Get! Whatever you are, leave, this home is taken now!” With a heavy sigh, Fover slammed the door and put the big wooden board back into place. For now, the noises stopped, but his own spine was chilled now, and he was unable to shake the feeling of being waited out. Of being studied perhaps, like he was studying this journal. What else did this writer know about the illusive and possibly dangerous creature?

He cracked it back open to the spot he had found at the pond, where the author had illustrated whatever, he had seen. He turned the book sideways, as if it might reveal some clue, he hadn’t been able to see. But there, wait, there was. As he turned the journal ever so slightly sideways, the firelight glinted off of another type of black ink; it was muted in an extra black way, it did not glint black at all, instead it shown a fine teal inlay to the page. Just in that spot, it appeared as though there was some sort of pattern to the teal shiny inlay, among the dark color.

Fover ran his fingers over the cave on the page, as though it might help him decipher the pages. He remembered the faint blue stone in his pocket, and it made him wonder if that rock had come at all from the inside of the cave. Or had it been brought in from outside the cave? Only returning with more time, more daylight, and a canine companion, could refresh the tale and shed some more light on the dark subject.

He had not finished reading this entry about the small pool of water because he had been so taken in by just the first drawings. But what his eyes now took in felt more alarming. The lines on the next pages shook as the writer had taken the notes down, either they were actively under some assault and found it hard to write safely, or they had altogether escaped something and tried to replace a moment to catch their breath. There was a turning in Fover’s stomach that told him it was the second. It felt too much like whatever had been pursuing both himself and the cabin. He could not prove there was anything hunting him out there, but his instinct told him there weren’t good things out there either.

Dog occasionally perked an ear up at the door, and it made him much safer that he had a friend there. Taking up reading the next page, he read what the author had taken time to gather himself to put down.

“Dear Reader,

Are you safe from your home? Are you reading this under the light of a comforting fire glow? The wind has been knocked out of my chest while I try and communicate to you what has happened. I do not really know what happened. I only know that I tried briefly to press into the cave, for who could resist such an enticing discovery?

Inside I would not see, but I would feel the burn of whatever had its eye on the cave. It was not until I pressed into the cave that I had that same sneaking feeling that I was not the only one there. Turning around, I saw nothing. Then a high-pitched hum, whine, or whistling took place behind me, and before I could understand what took place...I was on my back and had been jerked backwards by my boots.

At first, I thought it was a wild dog, a bear, something who’s residence I had offended. Spookier still, I saw nothing. No wild anything. But the throbbing in my shoulders told me that I was wrong. I got on my feet as quickly as I could manage and scrambled for my things and backed away.

I report there is something of value there, perhaps what we hope. Could it be the answer after all these years? One soul, the replaceer gets to set it right, or ask a question to replace desired knowledge. What would not you give to speak with someone, who death held beyond the realm you were now in?

Also, what question could a seeker ask? Is it our duty to replace this power before someone with the wrong intention may replace it, because who’s to say that the Fountain of Youth, its location, eternity, may be one such future humanity faces should the wrong seeker get his answer? Not to mention, only one Question will ever be the exception. After that question is asked, Mother Nature is said to swallow it up, for its chaotic placement in her otherwise perfect world.

I have heard of the dangers of trying to replace this source, that because it is so unnatural, nature itself protects the outer world from what Other World may lie underneath. Dangers may include whatever friend I just met, trying to keep me out. But I have heard that there are temptations sooner, of food filled with longevity, of women who offer endless pleasure, that can feed the mind rotted fruit so that real knowledge is never obtained. If one goes wayward on the way to the back of the ....cave, or wherever we may replace this, then its no telling if he will ever make it out.

The stakes could not be higher, after every avenue we have pursued, she cannot be reached. I fervently search the wilderness the world over to replace your answer, and I have the strongest suspicion that this cave leads us there. But, how do we see the entrance? How do we pass the entrance? These are all things that I cannot determine at the moment.

I go to replace my own fire now. A trying day and run back to the cabin have made a tired man of me. I seek no answers now, only to provide you hope that a greater report will lay beyond the next day. I have no keen advice to provide to avoid the first danger I have encountered. My pursuant only seemed unfond of a local wolf I passed, on the way back to the cabin. The enormous creature had posed itself at the edge of my clearing, and whatever hunted me had ceased its crashing into the forest around me. If only the Wolf had stayed at my door.

A respite is warranted for seeking the unknown,

Your Seeker”

Fover took a moment to catch his own breath. He couldn’t believe that the confident writer that he had met just moments ago in the pages had been so shaken by something. What took him by greater surprise was the notion that something supernaturally hiding in there, never mind the beastie that may be guarding it. Who had put the beast there to guard it?

What question? Too many things were arguing for space, what did they want to know, who could ask the wrong thing, and... suddenly Fover had the human reaction. What about himself? Were they saying it was possible to go back, or go beyond the veil to ask one question?

He felt his heart just tighten when he remembered her, those blue, oh so blue eyes. What would he ask her if he could? Is there anything he could know that would possibly make it right? He could ask her who had done that to her, who had been the one to injure her so gravely, that all he had left was the moment to hold her tattered ripped up frame and hold her close to him while she slipped beyond where he could follow. He had not been able to make any sense of that death, of that wound in his heart. So, it had been salted and hot ironed shut in his mind, he had gone on to work life nothing happened. They had asked him if he’d wanted some time off, but in the end, he had just wanted to keep going. Maybe he would not remember that she was not there.

But he could also ask her if she truly would have said yes. He had asked her one of the biggest questions one could propose to their mate, and she had been in the flurry, and had not even realized he was going to ask the question. She was perfect, there, he could see her in his mind’s eye now, she was a small blond nurse, and she was his everything. They had met each other through the medical system of course, and like anyone in those strange shifts, had bonded over late night Styrofoam cups and vending machine junk snacks. One day he had asked her if he would like to join him for a date to go take a walk and get a bite together. The rest was history once their lips had touched, and conversation had flowed.

Now those moments felt like eons ago. He had shut that door so violently in his mind, it had shattered the windows on the rest of his soul. He had broken what emotional capacity he had after that, he had spent all of what he had left just trying to keep things and himself together.

Now, did he understand correctly that he could have a chance to peek out the eternal door, and perhaps hope for one ray of sunshine? But what good did it do? She was gone, and no question would change that. But yet in him a driving force thrust forward, eager not only to ask the question, but to be the one to reach this source first to get to ask it for himself. His heart boomed heavily now where it had tightened for her seconds ago.

Dog perked his head up. Almost like he knew that there was something on his new master’s mind. Fover studied him, tomorrow he would need to go out to the cave and see if he could....Fover was not sure. He knew that he needed to replace out more. But Fover would take a little extra personal security in his shotgun tomorrow.

The night went quickly. The fire burned low and Fover felt himself falling asleep. He startled awake when there was a pop in the fire, and the book tumbled to the floor. Dog leaped up and gave a large bark at the window; a tapping was bothering him. Fover had drawn the blinds beforehand. The tapping turned to small scratches. Dog was now growling and Fover was on his feet. He grabbed his shotgun and went over to the window. Peeking open the tip of the curtain ever so slightly with the tip of his gun, he peered out.

His eyes and ears as a 911 operator were used to the sights and sounds of trauma. He was no shy man when it came to confronting the unknown. His heart still raced - but he looked out and saw not a shape, but only two white eyes looking in back at him. He nearly fell back to the floor and had to cover his mouth from gasping. Again, with the tapping. Whatever it was seemed more passive than it had as he’d first arrived here.

Fover quietly made his way over to the light switch, he had been enjoying the presence of the fire and naturally the overhead lights had been off. He got ready to click it on and yell. Just as he prepared to, there was a small crack on the window, and he could see a slight crease and bend had taken shape in the pane. That was fucking close enough.

He yelled and threw the lights on and threw pans from an overhanging rack in the kitchen at the door. Dog erupted in barks and loud whining and could not be consoled. There was a bang off the porch, and he could feel the fine vibrations in the thin floor separating the inside and the outside. This time he was no defender only, he was on the offense. Sickened bear or feral person had to end now. He made sure that two shells were loaded in the chamber and cocked the gun into ready: safety off. He kept the stock pressed into his shoulder and swung it low away from Dog to aim out the door. He had heard the wood pile bang as well, and as he ripped open the door, he could see those two, creepy, grim pale eyes looking at him from underneath the wood pile.

Before there was even room to take another breath, he shot. It hit this thing, because a sharp, sharp whimpering took to the air that made Fover reach to cover his ears and drop the gun. The eyes were no more, and Fover did as his journal writer had, and he abandoned the scene. It sounded like he had hit it, but he wasn’t going to stick around and replace out.

Fover tore the board across the door and called for his companion, “Buster!” Suddenly he chuckled, without meaning to, he had named Dog. He had both felt like they were ghostbusters there, so there Buster got his name. He was a Buster too.

With a deep breath, Fover went to go replace a shower and sit down for another ham sandwich. Confrontation made him starving afterwards.

He knew the journal would have to stay with him, and so would the rock. He still couldn’t place at all what the strange colors and teal inlay meant, why they couldn’t see what was pursuing them. It wanted something badly, and he felt more and more it was the book that now revealed delicate knowledge to him.

This would not stop him. He was determined, if there was a way back to make the horrified past just one bit better, it was worth investigating. Perhaps it was a goose chase, but either way it was worth his time. What else was a millionaire grandson supposed to do?

He drew the curtains, confident that shot had bought him at least one decent night’s sleep. That and his new friend Buster. Buster and Miko. Fover closed the covers over himself climbing into bed. He patted the side of the bed and Buster knew in good dog sense, just what to do. He jumped right up, and for the first time, in a very long time, he was not alone in the dark. Another warm body curled up next to his to replace solace in the cradle of the morning hours. Fover found that even after a challenging and somewhat frightening time thus far in Montana, he felt still a comfort that had been missing for many years now in his life. Even a small amount of it was a huge improvement in his life. Where the fear was in the creature outside, the adventure and challenge of loving today and feeling love in return.