A Walk in The Park

After work, I headed to my favorite park. It was a late Autumn afternoon and I enjoyed the sights in the 640-acre park, watching for deer, and eyeing raccoons and hawks up in the trees. Chickadees called out “Dee Dee Dee Dee” and Northern Flickers were calling. I stopped to watch the Pileated Woodpeckers hammering on a dead tree about 5 feet off the ground. Continuing on the wooded path, my nostrils were filled with the Fall fragrance of rotted leaves and damp earth. I breathed in deeply, looking up at blue sky, surrounded by green fir trees and the occasional yellow-leafed cottonwood and orange vine maple.

Night was falling and it would soon be dark. My pace quickened and my inner sense said “Hurry, it will be dark soon!.” I could hear cars on the road but the path I was on was about 10 minutes from the road. I continued walking as fast as I could, but had been on the wooded trail too long. Ten minutes passed and I knew I would not get out of the woods, or to my car before dark. The woods are scary at night, but I knew the way so wasn’t worried, just annoyed and a bit stressed due to the speed of darkness coming.

Then nightfall came. It fell on me like a black fleece blanket. It was dark in the snap of a finger - one minute I could see the tree colors and the next it was so pitch.

The tall old-growth trees blocked any light and the park was so large there were no house lights visible. No cars now either, the ranger had locked the gate 15 minutes earlier, chasing all visitors out. Reaching in my pocket, I found only my car keys. No cell phone, no flashlight. How could I have been so stupid? I should have returned earlier - actually, it was about 4:30 pm when I got to the park so my walk would have been safer near the rose garden and not on the wooded paths! “Dammit!” I cursed myself. I couldn’t run on this path like I could on the road…if I had only made it to the road. “Dammit!”

With no choice now but to plunge ahead in the pitch dark, I moved toward what I believed was the opening to the main road. Looking down so as not to stumble on roots, and rocks or twist my ankle in a hole, I continued pushing forward. My watch was the only light I had!

Suddenly, I heard a hair-raising cry from above. It sounded like the chimpanzees or baboons I had heard in the movies, calling, rising to a crescendo. I froze in fright. The noise continued. Caterwauling above me. Rustling in the leaves to my left! Oh my God, I thought, what is that? I had chills, and my stomach was in a knot. I had no idea where the animal making the noise was. I couldn’t tell the direction or how close. I was scared. “Shouldn’t be a bear, no bear here, this is an urban park, there’s no bears, are there? Maybe …..a fox? But what is that thing making that horrible noise? Oh my God!”

I’m crouched down now, hugging myself. I hear footsteps running toward me. My adrenalin kicks my heart into my throat and I jerk to my feet facing the footsteps. Closer, closer….they turn away. “How can that be? there’s no path there and I didn’t hear any noise in shrubs.” Then the horrible thought occurred to me. “Did I turn left at the fork, or did I swerve right? Am I where I think I am?”

Rumors of children having been killed in the park were from years ago. There was a settlement beneath the park near the beach and some people still lived there. They had to leave cars above and ferry their groceries by foot down the steep incline to their remote homes. There was also a loner caretaker who lived in a section of the park. Was it him running at night? Some kind of weird fetish to see if he could remember paths with no light?

The crazy chimp-like calls began again, closer. I had to pee and was afraid to do it for fear of something grabbing me. My feet began again, slowly, and I was careful to place eat footstep quietly on the path. There it was again! Caterwauling “UOW UOW Wah Wah Whoop Whoop, yiah yiah,” and loud scratching in the brush next to me! I took off running and fell, my feet tangled in a root.

I felt something watching me, eyes boring into my back. I couldn’t move. Slowly, slowly I turned my eyes toward the right, and saw 2 work boots facing me. I froze. How could I see in the pitch black? My eyes had adjusted and it was peripheral vision. Are they boots, or rocks? I breathed slowly and shallowly. Gathering courage, I willed adrenalin to kick in. I was going to leap up and sprint off. “No, no, no, can’t do that - the woods are thick, I don’t know exactly where I am.” If I couldn’t find my way to the road to run full out, this person could grab me and I’d be done for.

The boots didn’t move. “Are they rocks? They must be rocks. How do I know?” I decided that I had to know. My right arm was closest and was free at my right side from trying to catch myself in the fall. I inched it slowly toward the boots. I would know once I touched them if they were cold rocks or smooth leather boots, and the wearer would not feel the light touch. “Thank God I wore my dark running gloves!” I thought. I inched my fingers closer, closer, breathing so lightly I could feel my lungs screaming for a deep breath. When my little finger touched the boot I almost cursed out loud. “I can’t tell with these gloves on! It’s hard, solid….but it is cold like a rock, or is it a boot? It has to be rocks, they haven’t moved. It’s dark, the mind plays tricks on ya in the dark…” my thoughts were running together trying to calm my nerves.

To the left brush was breaking, something moving toward me and it pulled my focus there. I had to force myself to stay perfectly still when I really wanted to leap up. Now, a whoosh to my right! “That’s clothing that made that noise!” the conversation ran in my head. Then the boots moved perpendicular to my head, on up the trail.

“Oh my God, it IS a person. Wait, wait, what do I do?” I rose to my knees and began to back up, feeling with my toes. When I had backed about five feet, I turned my head and looked. A huge Douglas fir was there. I rolled on my side, crouched, and crawled behind it.

“Oh no, no, no, no, he’s coming back!” I heard clomping feet and brush breaking, coming toward me really fast. “He’s going to see I’m gone. Did he see me lying there?” I panicked and stood up. Spinning around, I took in what I could see. I was behind the tree; the path was to the right of it, and behind me was just bushes and undergrowth. Suddenly, a beam from a headlamp lit up the path.

“Oh crap, he’s got a light!” I ducked down, my heart pounding. “UOW UOW Wah Wah” came the calls up in above again. The light stopped. He turned and went away, footsteps getting further and further away. Then I heard bicycle wheels.

“Crapola, he’s on a bike! The road has to be near, but he’ll see me, and I don’t know which direction the car is! If he’s on a bike, he can catch me on the road but not in the bushes.”

I cursed myself again for not leaving the woods when it was still light out. Even if I got to the road, the huge trees would block out any visible landmarks to help me figure out the way. I pushed my way further into the brush and found a small clearing to relieve myself.

When I stood up, I gasped as I saw him standing there looking at me. His feet had on the boots, and he was big, like a weight-lifting, brown camouflaged hunter. My feet became wings and I spun and flew over the brush, away from him, dodging trees, trying not to fall. No way could he run as fast as me. He was huge, dressed in heavy gear. I heard the click of a walkie-talkie and the rumbles of the exchange, then the motor of a dirt bike.

“What? there are two of them? Damn!” My thoughts were scrambling for information and safety. Now, I was totally focused on hiding, moving, and outsmarting them.

I knew these woods; I walked them regularly and ran the roads. If I could just get a bead on something familiar... and there it was! The two-foot X of blue paint with an orange road reflector nailed at the cross of the X. It was an enormous tree they planned to cut down since its trunk split. Now I knew where I was. Boots clumping behind me, I made a beeline for the tree as best I could, leaping over small bushes and hoping I didn’t twist my ankle. Just as I was about to hit the road, the dirt bike spun out of the woods onto the road in front of the tree.

I crouched down, deciding what to do. Big guy was behind me and the bike was straight ahead. To the right went further into woods. The left led to a cliff above the sea; paths were there, but it was too risky.

Gulping in a huge breath, I ran toward the dirt bike, screaming a huge karate Ki-Yai at the top of my lungs as I rushed him. He froze just long enough for me to bring my elbow up into his nose and then a hammer fist to his left ear, shoving him off the bike. I jumped on, gunned it and hauled ass down the road. When I got to the entrance of the park, I skidded off the road into the grass, around the chained gate, and careened onto the concrete triangle. Revving the engine, I sped down the road to the police station.

The dirt bike wasn’t registered so they couldn’t trace anything that way. None of them had heard any stories like this before. I could only show them the next day where I had come out of the brush near the tree marked for cutting. There were skid marks where I had taken off but obviously no way to see who had been in the woods or what trail I had been on. The park ranger who met the police listened to my story. He said the weird chimp-like calls were most likely a Barred Owl. They sound very scary, especially at night. He was not surprised that someone could have been fooling around in the park after hours on foot. The dirt bike surprised him a bit as he should have heard the motor. He warned me not to walk far after 4 p.m. in the winter. I nodded in agreement. That was that.

Yet, I was determined to figure out the path I had taken. The next day, I set out at 10 a.m. in full daylight. When I got to the fork in the road, I paused. I realized then I had not gone to the right; I had turned around for some reason and backtracked to a foreign trail. I had not been on this trail in the daytime. It wasn’t there until now. Shrubbery and blackberry bushes obscured it. For some reason, it was open the evening I decided to go walking late. As I entered the path I noticed a tiny blue rubber band wound through a branch. “Strange,” my mind whispered to me. I followed the path, the bushes shutting behind me. Alone.

Alone. The brush was so thick it was like a tunnel, encircling me. Boot prints and bicycle tracks were visible. Birds were chirping but it was too chilly and late in the year for bees. I could see that the path in summer would be filled with them getting nectar from blackberry blossoms. Someone obviously had trimmed the bushes to keep the path clear enough to maneuver. They grew over the path and the cut made a tunnel through them. I continued on listening carefully, looking for more signs.

Coming upon a curve in the path, I slowed and looked around, studying the area. This time I had my cell phone, water, and a whistle. I took a photo of the path and the tree to the left of it as a marker. On the tree there was a tiny mark of blue about navel height. Most people wouldn’t notice it but I was hyper-alert. Below it was a tiny dot in white.

Glancing at the time on my watch (my cell was in my thermal vest pocket), I noticed I had been on this trail for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to the blue dot tree. I heard a man’s voice shouting and froze. Nope, coming from deeper in, not this trail. Kept walking, another bend in trail, still looking like a tunnel, though. Pausing, I took a drink from my water bottle and stopped to watch a Bewick’s Wren flitting about and then singing. OK, time to move, I had no idea how long this trail was but I knew exactly where I was within the park. Continuing on, I noticed a cut out section of the bush tunnel, enough for a man to crouch off the trail. I peered through the brush and saw supplies partially covered. It appeared that probably the fox I regularly saw in the park had found the goods and rifled through it. “What is this for? A homeless person, or those creeps?” passed through my mind. Traipsing on I heard soft voices in front of me. “Crap!” and I backed up into the cutout and crouched down, holding my breath. The voices didn’t come closer, so after 5 minutes and cramps setting in, I stood up and moved forward.

After another eighteen minutes, I came to a clearing. Here was a camo tent, supplies sitting around in Rubbermaid containers, and a tan camo jacket hanging on a tree branch. Just like the one the big guy had worn. Now I knew I had found their camp.

“What should I do now? I have to wait for them to come back; I have to snap photos.” Turning slowly in a circle, I perused the campsite looking for my spot to spy on those goons. The trees were huge firs, with no low branches except the one his coat hung on.

“Well, here goes nothing,” I thought. I ran across the clearing, eyes darting back and forth, watching for any movement. Searching the tree, I saw a branch on the back side and swung myself up. The coat began to sway. If it fell, I would have to get down and rehang it. Holding my breath, I watched the coat sway, and then a breeze caught it and flung it to the ground. “Damn!” As I began to swing down, my peripheral vision caught a movement, and I saw the men enter the clearing. “Too late!” I froze in the tree, my back against the bole of the tree, hoping I could stay still.

“Yo, didn't you hang your coat up in the tree?”

“Yeah Dude, I did - the wind must’ve blown it down. The wind just kicked up a few minutes ago. It’s still blowing. We better put the stuff in the tent; clouds are moving in too.”

I glanced up at the sky and he was right. Now, here I am above these goons, dangerous guys, way bigger than me, and the rain clouds were coming. Carefully, I pushed my hand into my pocket and slid the cell phone out. Quietly I put it into camera mode and snapped a photo of the camp, then the big guy and the one that had rode the dirt bike. Rain began pelting me as they moved their non-waterproof items into the large tent. When I was sure they were staying in the tent I had to make a move to get out the tree and back to the trail. I had been in the tree for over thirty minutes! I sat on the branch and swung down away from the camp, risking a noisy landing in the bushes. I turned around, and heard no discernible movement from the tent, so I cut through the bushes, parallel to the camp, toward the other side.

Finally I reached the trail and my phone was searching for a signal. Suddenly, jerked backward, choking, an arm around my throat, I was lifted off the ground and carried back the way I came. I turned my head into the point of the elbow so I could breathe. With my feet off the ground, I couldn’t slip out of the hold but I went limp to make him think I was out.

“Hey Scout, open the tent, I have a present for you!”

“Nooooo, if he gets me in the tent, I’m dead meat. I have to get out of this hold before that!” My mind was furiously working this out.

My hand was hanging down, so I swung it loosely toward his lower ribs. My fingers flexed hard and then jammed into his tender bottom ribs; I seized them in an Eagle claw. He let out a loud yelp and jerked me, but now my adrenalin was in full force. I banged my head on his chin and clawed my way around to pinch his Adam’s apple. That made him let me go! I dropped, saw the buddy was outside the tent now, and made a beeline back to the bushes, sprinting quickly through the brush, leaping over downed logs. I willed my feet to land steady and my ankles to absorb the pounding.

The goons were angry and following me but couldn’t keep up in the bushes. I tried dialing 911 while running but the phone wasn’t getting a signal this far into the park. Gaining on me because of their anger, I could hear them splitting up to try and head me off.

“Oh no, I’m not that stupid!” and swung in the opposite direction back the way I had come. I ran right through their camp. As I hit the tunnel trail, I pulled the whistle out of my pocket and blew it continuously. Winded from running, the decision had to be made - whistle or run? Together again, they were gaining on me, intent on shutting me up, dragging me back to their camp. I pushed my way through the blackberry bushes, thorns grabbing my vest and hair, scratching my face and hands. I kept shoving with my elbows until I got through them and was in ferns, knick-knick and salal plants. I laid down and quieted my breathing.

“Where IS she?”

“Hell, I don’t know, man, she has to be on the trail ahead.”

I held my breath. They couldn’t find me because the blackberries I pushed through were so dense there wouldn’t be a trace of me getting through them. The bushes tangled back together. Now my challenge would be getting back to the trail and my car without running into these crazy clowns.

I listened carefully and heard two sets of quiet footsteps heading up the trail so I had to stay off it. The ferns cushioned my feet and sounds so I slowly set my boots down with each step. Glancing again at my watch, a total of three hours had gone by. It was about 1 p.m., and I needed to get to my car by 4 p.m. or there would be a repeat of the day before. Was three hours enough to meander through the woods back to my car stealthily? These nuts weren’t going to hang around in the parking lot. They didn’t know how I had gotten into their camp, only that I had found it.

The rain had let up, but the sky was gray. I could vaguely tell which direction I was going and believed it was correct. Forty minutes later, I heard traffic and sighed. Some steps later I broke out the brush and came upon the road. My hand rested on a large tree. Blue mark, tiny white dot! No, no, no…is this part of them? I trotted next to the road toward the parking lot, figuring it was about ten minutes out. Cars passed slowly; runners and bicyclists passed. Finally, the parking lot was visible. There was my car, and relief flooded me. I crossed the lot and froze. Big Goon was standing next to a fir tree. Blue mark, white dot visible. “Oh my God! what the hell?” my mind screamed. I walked briskly toward a different car to throw him off, and he made a beeline for me. I ensured my car key was in my pocket, and as we came close, I sprinted away to my car. The door opened, and I slid into the driver’s seat and locked the doors. I hit 911 on my cell phone and took a photo of the goon up close. He banged on the hood and the windows. I stared him down, holding my phone at him. I revved the engine and theatrically placed my hands on the steering wheel. I gave him the finger and put the car into drive, stepping on the gas. He jumped to the side and tried to grab the car door unsuccessfully.

He ran as the police cars veered into the parking lot. I knew this park. I knew exactly where I was and had given them the coordinates and name of the parking lot. Reporting all of the information from clothing to hair color to size, the police had come in five minutes on high alert!

The Park police caught Big Goon in the woods, and then the city police got his friend on the road not far from the camp.

Confessions came.

One woman who had disappeared in the spring was their victim. They buried her out in the country, far from the park.

Turns out they had moved here from out of state after getting kicked out of the military and had lived in the park for fourteen months. Raccoons and deer, rabbits and fish were their food. Occasionally, they robbed some people or a small country store, which was always reported but never with any arrests. They were careful criminals, not leaving traces to connect their crimes, conducting them far apart and differently.

Then along came me.

Oh - I forgot one thing.

The blue mark or rubber band and white dot… are trees marked to be cut down (blue) but then marked to leave in place (the white dot). Those guys used them as markers to keep their bearings in their area of the park. There had been a parks intern who had plotted the trees and put white marks on them to remove from the cut list for environmental reasons. She plotted them during a time when the killers were out of state on one of their robbery sprees.