Chapter 06 - the Spot
I'm nothing if not relentless. Online, we joke and refer to it as autism. Its not, but its a cute internet slang for dogged persistence, and undying effort beyond all reason. Its simple, I just won't quit. I was well along the way to this, when I once chanced upon an investigation video. I like things like forensic investigation shows. I prefer the real documentaries and series format documentary, over fiction.
Every episode will showcase one aspect of forensic work. One case? It'll be a fingerprint analysis that cracks things wide open. Or not, and in the end the final fingerprint expert will reveal what the problem was, why they identified the wrong killer for a couple years until the correction happened.
But this episode, ended up being... dogs. Specifically, tracking dogs and cadaver dogs. I was impressed by the abilities of what was referred to in the colloquial, as body dogs or cadaver dogs. They demonstrated one prize dog's prowess. This hunting hound, was able to sniff out a body, like no one's business. There's a large property the system uses. To train forensics workers and others. They just ran a sterile piece of wood, along a dead body. Scraping at the skin.
A tech then gets it in a sterile bag, and goes off on a quad to anywhere they want on this huge property, lots of trails and woods. The tech hides the bag, wrapped tight around this science lab Popsicle stick. The star dog's handler? Stands there. Impassive. But a few words from the handler, ignited the change in that dog.
"Hey boy. Ready to work? Yeah, let's go to work. Good boys, go to work."
Man, that dog was up and alert. On point, all business. Glancing at the handler, for his cue.
"Find the body, handsome boy. Find that body. Where is it, huh? Take me there."
Like he could understand English, this dog scans. Looks around. As I said, all business. He rotated around, sniffing and tasting the air. He then took a hard point. A few loud single barks.
"You got him, boy?"
A big bark. A few tail wags. More pointing. A few whines, this dog wants to play. This? Is his game. He's good at it, he knows it. Handler starts walking him. Now, the handler was actually trying to lead the dog astray. But the dog? Would have none of it. He'd stop. Bark and nip at his handler. Telling him. You fool. This way. Stop screwing my gig up. I want my toy, I want my treats. Can't you smell that, you dim human?
Took the handler right to it, and dug it up like a burrowing mammal making a new home. You can't hide a decomposing body from these animals. They wrapped a cadaver hand in plastic, and encased it in a cement block. Buried it a couple feet down, in mud. Dog still wins. Every, single, time.
So, this was the type of all star dog brought in, to try to locate a little girl that had been snatched out of a parking lot. Law enforcement had a couple cute but missing little girls in the general area, and they were on this situation like white on rice. The handler prepped the dog, and showed him the girl's bicycle in the parking lot. A couple snuffles, and a nice single bark. Handler had some clothing donated by the spastic parents, that the girl had worn but were not yet washed. Dog got to snuffle that as well, then again. That single authoritative bark.
"Find her, boy. We gotta find her. Where is she, huh? Find the little girl, big boy. Show them, how good you are. Yeah, that's my big boy."
This dog is pulling and straining. He can't wait to go and do his thing. The law enforcement entourage, followed this dog's lead. Its obvious? The dog is in charge. This hound, started loping along. To the edge of the parking lot. He looked right, he looked left. He snuffled both ways. Big bark. He set off... to the right. This was a torture test in real life. They showed the mileage and the time in lapsed intervals.
This dog? Would, not, quit. They had to stop him, thirty-six hours in. The dog is falling over, exhausted. He whines, then struggles to stand and walk more. They finally had to call it off when the hound could no longer stand, and was game to keep attempting another few steps. The handler had to explain it. They have to hold the dog down, exhausted. Because he'll kill himself trying. And the dog's too damn valuable.
The sad ending? They stopped the dog for the final time. All that time, all that mileage. And the little girl's body was later found not a couple miles from where they called it off. The direction the dog was scratching at the ground, to try to pull his handler along? Was on a direct bearing line, to the later discovered body.
I respect that dog. Because we're one and the same. From a toddler and on, my parents gave me the standard give it all you got speeches. What parent doesn't. I guess I took it to heart. Getting older, my parents were now trying to get me to back off some. Nothing doing. I home in on my objective, and there's nothing else.
I like puzzles. Crosswords are fine, but I prefer the logic puzzles. I'll remember something for years, and when I on accident run across that answer? Wow. Finally, solved that puzzle. Long gone now, but hey. I finally did it.
Do I get bored? Of course. Do I get discouraged? Its natural. Will depression and anxiety settle in after a long time at it? Hell yeah. I feel all that normal stuff. The difference in me? Is my reaction to it. Bored? Maybe, but I fight that by constantly running over the given data. There's an answer, just have to find it. I just need to see the problem, from some novel angle, and... I can get that needed thread started.
The service, liked this about me. And when I became a military contractor after I got out? Well... they liked it even more. The dangerous and capable men around me, that I would join the ranks of? Schooled me on the esoteric finer points of it all. You don't need motivated. You provide your own motivation. You might have to fight your command structure, to let you do what needs done. But the big one? Was a weird one.
They called it transmutation. When the problem has you worn ragged and threadbare. You get depressed? Use that. It creates a calm, it slows your brain down, it allows you to think clear. Depression, is but fuel for figuring things out. And anxiety? A gift from god. That elevated blood pressure, that nervous restless energy. Harness that. Direct it towards what's useful.
The biggest lesson? Do or die. Its not just a phrase. Its not some punch line, to an infomercial huckster's self help course. Its a simple statement of fact. Among others, there were a number of Airborne guys around me. I was immersed in their culture. I got steeped in it. When I began to be accepted? You get this little grin, usually from the guy you thought hated you the worst.
He told me, in no uncertain terms. Airborne's treasured motto. Do or die. Its no motto. Its rule number one. They say it, they mean it in the literal sense. The man relating it, explained it in thorough terminology.
Step one. Be careful, what you commit to. Because you can no longer quit. Once you accept the challenge? There's only two things that can happen. Either you complete your objective or you die while still trying. There is no option C. He said that the rest of my life? I would now have this great gift they had given to me. He warned me. I'll hear rationalization. I was to ignore all of it. There are no rationalizations. At all. Not for us.
There is no sense of what's reasonable. At all. No effort, is too much. No resource, is too precious to throw behind it. You locate any molecule of anything you can, and you put it behind getting the objective completed. If you're found dead? It better be while crawling in the direction of the objective.
I was already long back to the real world, when I saw that dog I admired so much on that forensic documentary. I always did wonder, where the phrase dogged persistence, ever came from. Now I know. I'm just like that dog.
Its winter, so its natural for it to get dark early. I'm on minimum sleep, and driving myself. The situation reminds me of a movie I saw once. I found out it was a film style known as real time. The two hour movie, was two hours of the story. A tiny digital clock face ticked away, as you watched tension and anxiety mount. That's my situation.
With this much snow for this long, tire tracks don't last long. Wind and blown snow finish them off. I'm moving around on these back roads, hoping to see something or anything, that appear as if a vehicle went off the road. I decided to try to look for some kind of dip in the even plowed roadside piles. My reasoning here being that a car careening over the side and down a grade will leave an opening. Stop in the diner. Talk and listen. Then another loop around some roads, and back again.
I realize I'm not that dog, though. Not in reality. The tracking dog sets off on the trail, then heads in the correct direction. I'm just wandering around in circles, hoping. I can't sniff a car wreck, I can only hope to see some muted sign left behind.
The only two data points I have to work with, are my two given locations. The diner, then where the vanishing act happens. I question things, in this case the validity of the reported GPS data. Yet I can confirm that, because Junior tracked the phone they were using. The locations were the same. Which is what's starting to gnaw at my gut. The GPS location of the vehicle, shouldn't vanish. What can account for this.
Hmm. Think different, in some different pattern. I'm getting nowhere fast this way. How would I prevent a GPS transponder, from broadcasting. Well, I would disable or remove the device. Or, locate the vehicle inside something. What, though. A tunnel. A mine entrance. Maybe underwater. Going into water, might make the most sense. Skid off the road, end up underwater. It would freeze over, snow would drift up.
Rather than go back to the diner yet again, I headed back to the last known signal location. I pulled up tight against the side of the road. I sat there, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.
"You know. Anyone else but you? Figure I'd be looking to get a pass made at me, right now."
Yeah, I got the giggles, and the slight mirth then passed back to her as well. Hell, anyone else but her, I'd figure she was the one suggesting that a pass got initiated.
"Well... me or Junior, that is."
"Mm. I don't think it counts as a pass, when your husband does it."
I'm done doing my little drum solos on the dash. I'm now pushing the flats of my hands against the steering wheel, straightening my arms out. Driving myself all gentle, back into my seat. Eyes closed, thinking. I feel like a rechargeable battery. But I'm being taken out of the charger before full charge is achieved, and put back into service until the next charge. I'm a gas tank the driver refuses to put more than an eighth of a tank of gasoline in at a time.
"Not... sure of the ruling on that one, dear."
"Me neither."
I sighed, and felt that slight relaxation settle over me. I'm running on fumes.
"This, is ground zero. This, is right where the UFO beams the guy and the car up. No trace."
"Lucky guy."
"Hmm."
"I'm just being a brat, sorry to poke fun at this."
"I'll bite. What was the joke. I could use a laugh, right now."
"Well, the UFO aliens. They uh, you know. Always kind of... probe the abductee in the ass."
"Oh. Right."
I suppressed a chuckle, but enough still came out that she knew it was okay to make a jest. Another rule there. Always keep your sense of humor, no matter what. It goes to morale.
"If he did get abducted by aliens, he's having more fun than we are."
I suppose I drifted off into a catnap. When you're overtired, you don't always realize you're falling asleep. I can remember being little and watching TV with mom and dad. Its a nice memory. It was invariable, that my dad would fall asleep in his easy chair watching the movie. Mom would suggest he go to bed. Always the same response back out of dad, too. No, honey. I'm just resting my eyes. Then, me and mom would hear him snoring. And again? Dad wasn't aware, and thought he was fooling us. Once again claiming he was just resting, those, eyes.
Its so seductive to take that tiny rest. My churning mind isn't coming up with much new, and... there we go. My little break, now the fond childhood family humor about dad and his bedtime. I drew that long slow sigh, and then I heard it.
"Honey. Come on, you're wiped out. You're not doing anyone any good like this. Lets just go and get you a couple hours."
"Huh? What?"
"Panic, you're falling asleep. Be reasonable."
"I'm just resting my eyes. Thinking. We're close, to where..."
"Hey!"
"What, I'm just rest---"
"Panic? You were snoring."
"No I'm not."
"Okay."
Yeah, it happened a couple more times. Full circle, I've become my father. Which really isn't a bad thought at all, in this twilight between sleep and awake. Next thing I knew? I got the other familiar thing anyone overtired experiences in this situation. The humble nap-jerk. You explode awake with that patented jump scare feeling. Which in and of itself was nothing, yet there was the yell or scream. Which makes no sense whatsoever, coming out of that short instantaneous and pleasant dream. I am my dad, its me in that easy chair.
That didn't last long. The jump and start, that instantaneous lurch. All normal, but why was there that yelling or screaming. I really wasn't fully awake, and I'm being yelled at for falling asleep in my own easy chair. In my own house, and that's one thing. But why would my wife be yelling, then pushing on my shoulder to rouse me to get up and amble off to bed. Wait. My wife, my mom? I'm dad, dad's me... what the hell.
My eyes blinked open. No more yelling. The gentle pushing on my shoulder. Oh, the yelling, getting struck. That, was dream. Reality, was normal.
"Mm."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm, just rest---"
Soft reply, though.
"I know, you're resting your eyes. Are you up now?"
"Ah. Yeah. What the hell, Zar. Did you, hit me? My head. Damn it."
"I wouldn't hit you, panic. Your truck hit you. Technically and all."
"What do you m---"
"You hit your head. Off the window, or the edge of the door around the window."
"Mm. Explains a lot."
"Like what."
"Why I'm dizzy, I guess."
I poked and felt at my headache spot. Not too much blood. Nice bloody egg.
"Ow. I'll live. What about you, are y---"
"I'm fine. Just, I got bounced all around."
"All right. Mm. What the hell happened."
"You want the short version?"
"Why not. Christ, is that egg on my head tender."
"Okay. Short version? I'm not really sure."
"Well, can I get the, long version then? Ow."
"Here goes. You, were snoring. You keep telling me, you're just resting your eyes."
"I remember that much."
"Well. I got tired of that game, and... I let you get a little catnap. Figured maybe a little break, and we could go home. To our luxury accommodations."
"Hmm. I do spare no expense. To impress the really sexy girls, you know."
"I know, right."
That's another thing I like about Zar. Her and Merry have been inseparable since Merry's sophomore year of college, when they met. Its been long enough, they're way past finishing each other's sentences. They share the same phrases. It makes me smile. Merry always says... I know, right. I like that.
"I'm snoring and playing the eye resting game. Act two?"
"Pretty sure I ended up with a little catnap, too. Sorry."
"Its fine. You're running on empty, just like me. I understand. But, act two and all."
"Yeah. I hear something. My eyes pop open. Then, I'm not sure."
"Describe it. Hey! How long have I been out? I can't see out of the windshield."
"I'm getting there. I see bright lights. They get brighter."
I giggled and moaned.
"UFO, aliens. Did we get the probes in the ass. Cause if I didn't get my ass probed? I want my money back. My travel agent? He promised me, my ass gets probed."
"Yeah. You get us up and back home, and I use that term loose. I'll stick anything up your ass you want. But..."
"Bright lights. Go on."
"The lights, and... there's this, avalanche. And, we go flying, and... about it."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Why can't I see out..."
My door won't budge. Which is weird. I can open it from the inside, even if its locked. This doesn't make sense.
"Okay. Avalanche. A tree dumped its snow load on us, and..."
"Nope. I can't open my door either, Panic."
"Lights. We are on a road, Zar."
"Well..."
"What."
"I think, its more like we were on the road."
"Huh?"
"I think we went down over the embankment."
"How."
"I told the nice investigator, everything I know. Can I get handcuffed and searched now?"
"Is that what you're used to."
"Well. My husband? Is an FBI agent. Do the math."
"You said, avalanche."
"I did. You know how you're driving along, raining on the highway, and... a big truck comes the other way. On the other side of that cement thing in the middle?"
"Jersey barrier."
"Whatever. But you get, you know. Niagara Falls, for a few seconds."
"I call that a wash-out, but sure."
"Same thing, but its snow instead of water."
I took stock of what she was telling me.
"Lights. That's a vehicle. We're on a road, and---"
"We were on a road."
"Lights, road. A vehicle."
"Yeah, but the avalanche?"
"Well? I'm thinking, I guess some drunk hit us. It is the weekend. The, avalanche? That would be... snow flying up, he hits the snow on the side of the road."
"So why are we over the side of the road, which is what I'm guessing."
"We took a nap, he hits us..."
"Panic? I didn't think I felt a car hit us."
"Its close enough to explain this. Wouldn't you say."
"Mm. I guess so."
"We didn't roll over, did we?"
"Are we laying on the roof in here? So no."
"Honey. I know that. I meant, did we roll over. And yes, land on our wheels."
"Oh. I don't think so, no."
"Well thank god for small favors."
"What, we'd have gotten hurt, or... oh. You mean the truck might not run."
"No. Means all my antennas are probably okay."
"Yeah. That's the important thing. What was I thinking."
I waited a few seconds. My dramatic pause. Comedic timing, what have you. She broke it for me.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to snap at you."
"Its fine, dear."
I did the pause again.
"Zar?"
"Yeah."
"My door won't open. Yours?"
"Nope."
"So. If my antennas are all still good. Coax feed lines intact. If I still have electrical power, even if just from the battery... how else, do you propose we get out of here. I mean, the easy way."
"Oh. Here."
Cell phone.
"We're in a dead zone. We're down lower, than the place where we can maybe get a bar in and out. That cell ain't really good for much, but playing games to pass the time."
I watched recognition cross her face.
"Ah, right."
She checked, and there it was. The little red exclamation point, that announces you're screwed. Then something hit me, though it was too good to hope for.
"Zar?"
"Hmm."
"When we went down the hill. When we stopped. You think you heard us crunch into another car?"
"Pretty sure we didn't."
"Damn. It was too much to hope for."
"Why would that be good. If we hit another car sliding down the bank."
"Well, we were sitting in the last known location. Of the car, and the phone, of the guy I'm supposed to be trying to locate, dear. Just, hoping I finally caught a break."
"Speaking of break."
"Yeah."
"See if you're radio is broke."
"Lets see."
Lights on the face of my radio came up. Static, always a good sign. I tapped the transmit button for a brief test. Not too long, though. If the antenna is compromised, It'll blow the finals to key down too long. But, the SWR meter said things were okay.
"Hope someone's listening."
"Didn't that off duty cop say... the jitney tow truck guy, was channel thirteen?"
Her face lit up, the head nodded. I even got the little smile and the wiggling eyebrows I enjoy so much. She is rather adorable.
It wasn't like making a cell phone call. I'd call out for a microphone check on thirteen, then wait. After several minutes with no response, go through the other channels. Come back to thirteen, and try again. Rather than kill the truck battery, I just monitored all 40 AM channels with my trusty little handheld scanner. With its fully recharged battery, I'm safe. Every so often, I'd make another pass and shut the big radio back off.
Between checking passes, I'm trying to think. Now is the time to prepare and plan, not when or if something crops up. Impulse reactions are rarely as good as a prepared response. I used my soft voice.
"Honey? I'm not trying to scare you."
"Okay. About what."
"Lets say, we start hearing noise."
"Then someone found us. That's a good thing. Right?"
"That's just it. Most likely, yes."
I saw her puzzling it out.
"I'll bite. How could being found, not be a good thing."
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Headache.
"I'm gonna say, ninety-nine percent chance that's how it would be."
"Hmm. What's the one percent deal, here."
"Really remote chance, if at all. But, I have to think of every possibility. Which is. Again, not trying to make you paranoid. Just saying. Until I get a hold of someone, so I know who would be outside making the noise. I'm sitting here, in the last known location of the car and the phone, before my guy goes off radar. Very slight chance, that..."
I now watched recognition wash over her features.
"Gotcha. I, uh... I trust you on that. Why you even bringing it up. It changes things?"
"Mm. Until I know who might be coming? I want some kind of plan. For, just in case."
"What would such a plan, even look like."
"No contact yet, we hear noise. I'd want you, down on the floorboards."
I pointed behind the rack of communications and radio equipment. Its just in front of the dash and down to the floor. Cop car style.
"Humor me, see if you can get down there. Head behind this rack. Curled up. Standard oh shit position? Fetal position, fingers laced together behind your neck."
"Now?"
"If something happened, it would be a very poor time to practice it, or find out you can't do it."
She was a college athlete, and trained young to be a dancer before sports. Her and Merry both still work out, she's flexible as hell. She did it the first time a little slow. Two more drills, with both of us getting the giggles had her doing it in a quite short time frame. Hell. Not sure I'd fit there and even if I could, it wouldn't be half that quick and quiet.
"Anything else?"
"We hear noise, with no contact? Just, get down there. The engine block would be a hell of a barrier, if anything came down the hill towards us."
She chuckled.
"Duck and cover drill. Saw it on old time movie reels."
"That's my girl. Like I said, not trying to scare you. Just preparing for anything."
"No. Its fine."
We waited.
"Panic?"
"Hmm."
"Are we buried alive?"
"Well, we are buried in snow. We are still alive. I mean, technically and all... yeah. Why."
"Well, not trying to be a worry-wart and all, but... won't we suffocate?"
I grabbed her hand, slow.
"You're less tired than me. You got to sleep, while I was driving to get you. Now. You see these pretty little fingers? Watch your fingernails. You see blue starting, you wake me up. But really, I don't think its that deep."
"And, what if I see blue."
I know to act nonchalant. Keep them calm.
"Smack me awake. I'll go out the window. Dig us an air hole."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Honey?"
"Hmm."
"I'm going to just rest my eyes. Wake me up, if you hear anything. Or, if you see blue."
"And the radio?"
"What. You hear anything on thirteen on the scanner? Wake daddy up. Every once in a while, do what I did. Microphone check on thirteen. I need another nap. Hell. I need any nap I can get."
I'm overtired and there's no doubts on that point. Whatever is running through my mind at such a moment, seems profound. Zar had blue fingernails and toenails painted a beautiful sky blue, and she was showing them off to me. Did I like sky blue, or perhaps the robin's egg blue. Would that be better? We were deciding. She would do them over in another blue color, then model them for me and we would once again, decide. My last thought was blowing on her toenails to help dry them, so the shade would set. These weren't thoughts, these were those curious dreams starting, that were still my random images inside my head. I was just conscious enough to know it, yet tired and falling under quick enough that I couldn't control it.
Falling. That's what its like for me. As if I could know what everyone else experiences. Its only when overtired, that I get to know how my awake thoughts morph into dreams. I'm directing my thinking to some end, or else I would already have lain down and went off long ago. No, I'm ruminating on something or I wouldn't even be overtired.
I can control my thoughts, yet only for so long. Then it begins, but slow enough I don't recognize it right away. My thoughts, turn into images. That's me on the cusp. I can still open my eyes, but the lids will crank down fast. One last check on my precious cargo, which is of course Zar. I patted her forearm through her insulated winter zip up. The lids cranked down, with more torque. My last physical action was to look at both my own nails as well as her own. No blue.
She laced her fingers inside mine, and I brought the back of her hand to my face. The little cheek rub I used to be able to enjoy. I got that little thin smile that told me it was fine. I didn't so much as kiss the back of her hand, as much as I just touched my lips to it. That was it, the end. I lost control of my eyelids, and soon after the thoughts I directed that turned into dream images? Took over.
Dreams are magical, even though we know them for what they are and what they aren't these days. People think man before modern society was kind of silly. I don't, I find much of it reasonable. Why wouldn't cavemen develop immediate belief in some kind of afterlife. Your fellow caveman or cave-woman that died? You can meet and talk to them, in a dream. Why wouldn't some concept of heaven and paradise exist. The caveman that lost his leg before he was years later eaten by a cave bear? You might well meet him in your dream, he's younger and healthy again, and still has his leg. Dreams are so real, its uncanny. No. It all makes perfect sense.
Your ancestors are somewhere, and they can see you and everything you do. Don't embarrass them, with your life and your choices and actions. Make those ancestors proud of you. Wasn't very long ago, that I just met my dad and my mom, both. They're both gone. Met them in that dream, watching TV with them again. Dad was younger, mom too.
Belief in some spirit world, and certain people can travel there? Crazy sounding stuff. Not to me, that was rational for its time. You get overtired and stressed, like I am now. You keep opening your eyes, and falling back asleep. Sometimes, you realize you're starting to dream. And once in a great while, you know you're dreaming just long enough, that you can control the dream and you realize anything's possible.
The others in the village? Its not crazy to them, either. Most people report a recurring dream situation. You move your feet fast enough, you can fly. You float down like a parachute though you have none, by slowing your feet in the air. No. Its real, and you have your proof. You've seen your dead relatives and friends in that world, too. So when you're told, they can see you. Make them proud. You nod your head, yes.
Dad brings back a share of the meat, from the hunt. Mom? She makes you share it with your little brother or sister, not push them around and take more. Don't you do that, you know better. Dad tells you things. Don't be lazy, you have to keep practicing with the spear. Or how are you going to be able to being back meat one day, for your wife, for your children. Just because they're dead one day, is no matter. They're somewhere. We all see them, we all know.
Yeah. Your ancestors are watching. Make them proud of you. And what the hell is so wrong with that belief. Sure, I know its all not real. Doesn't make it a bad thing, does it. It creates a framework. It creates a structure. For people to control their underlying animal-like urges. And the result when enough people do it? For certain its not paradise, but the world is just a little bit more bearable of a place for it. We're only here a short time, really. Billions of years before us, and there will be billions of years after us.
Why more people can't get on board with this, I have no idea.