Madelaine (1)
Richard Koss

 

As I look down from my third floor window on this cloudy Autumn morning, I can see the entire driveway winding from the main gate to the front entrance of Western State Mental Hospital.

Soon Richard would arrive to take me back to Seattle and from there, we would plan our journey to the northwest forest to do what must be done.

*


Staring out the window, my thoughts drift back to the September of a year ago and I begin to relive the agonizing ride in the ambulance with my son Richard at my side.

The pain in my left arm and chest seemed like a dull toothache after receiving the injection from the paramedic. But with the oxygen mask covering my mouth, I was unable to speak, unable to tell Richard of the danger the others were in. The others we left behind at the campsite.

As I drifted off into semi-consciousness, I could hear the faint words of Richard assuring me that I was stabilized and promising me we�d be at the hospital emergency room in no time. Almost as if in a dream, I began to think back to the week before the nightmare began.

*


I had just told Helen about the results of my catherization tests. Three arteries with 85% blockage again. This would be my second triple by-pass in ten years. Helen and the kids were concerned. With my family history of heart disease, having two older brothers who didn�t make it to fifty and now approaching my fiftieth birthday, even I was concerned.

My concern wasn�t really for me, it was for Helen and my two sons and daughters. I hated to put them through this again.

Doctor Brewer was optimistic despite the returning blockage. He insisted my heart was strong. I just needed to keep my arteries clear. After the operation, we could reduce my cholesterol with new medication and if I exercised and followed my diet, I could live a normal life. It sounded like the same thing my other doctor told me ten years ago but I didn�t tell that to Doctor Brewer.


My surgery was scheduled for the following Wednesday but the doctor assured all of us that I was in no imminent danger. This kind of put Helen at ease a bit and prompted my number two son Eric to suggest a family �reunion,� a weekend camping trip. He had been to a new site about a month before with some friends and said it was more peaceful and isolated than any spot they�d ever been to before.
Since we moved to Seattle ten years ago, Helen and the kids got me to appreciate the picturesque beauty and tranquillity of the Pacific northwest. We spent many weekends camping together and it was always a great way to unwind. After my promotion a year ago, I couldn�t seem to find much time to share with Helen and the kids. Now I would make time.

We didn�t own a camper because all of us enjoyed �roughing� it a bit. We just took pup tents, sleeping bags, food and miscellaneous stuff, and prayed it wouldn�t rain. It was supposed to be a gorgeous fall weekend and although the evenings would get cool, it was great for sleeping.

The neatest part of these camping trips was that Helen and I got to sleep in our two-man sleeping bag. My stories seemed to bring out the passion in her and we had to sleep quite a ways from the kids because Helen was known to get noisy. Once I heard my sons snickering about hearing their mother while the girls thought it was disgusting. If I ever told Helen I heard them talking about us I�d probably never get laid again.
   
With Doctor Brewer�s approval, we all agreed the peace and quiet would do me good, besides, my oldest son Richard was in his last year of medical school and capable of handling any emergency that would arise. According to Eric, we would only be about 50 miles from the city.

*


After loading everything in the station wagon, and I mean everything, the six of us headed for our weekend wilderness. As Eric drove and Helen and I sat way in the back of the wagon, I thought about how nice it was to share the simpler things with your family, sucking up nature and sitting around the campfire, reminiscing, and telling stories to your kids.

I always wanted to write fiction instead of being a journalist. But it takes time to write good fiction and I just never took the time to put my ideas down on paper, (especially without getting paid), although they were always in my head and I could tell the stories as if they were written by someone else and I had read them over and over.

Helen squeezed my hand and smiled at me as she looked at our two-man sleeping bag folded up on the floor in front of us. Beneath that pretty smile I could sense the concern she tried to conceal.


My eyes shifted to the four of them in front of us. Eric, our most recent college graduate and Richard, the future M.D. next to him. Behind them were my fraternal twins, LaVerne and Lynn, both juniors in college. Neither one looked like her mother. Nevertheless, they were still attractive and really nice girls. My sons made sure of that.

As I thought about them, I was only half listening to Lynn teasing Eric about meeting a strange girl at this campsite and dragging us all back here just to see if he�d run into her again. �I have no idea where she came from, she just walked into our campsite. She was pretty but kind of strange and quiet. We all fell asleep around the campfire and in the morning, she was gone.� Then LaVerne chimed in. �Jim Watson got really sick right after that weekend, didn�t he.� � Yeah, he had some kind of blood poisoning. Had to have several transfusions. In fact he just got out of the hospital last week. I went to see him but he still didn�t feel too well. He lost a lotta weight and still looked pale. Couldn�t �ve been the food we ate that weekend because nobody else got sick.�

Eric got off at the interstate exit and headed east toward Mt. Baker National Forest. After a while he turned north on a route I had never been on before. Where are we now Eric? Richard was not familiar with the road either. �We�ve got about a three mile climb until we come to a little one lane bridge. When we cross it, we take a sharp left up the mountain road and the site�s about five miles on the left side.� Richard shook his head. �I�m glad you know where the hell we�re goin�.� Eric boasted a little. �That�s why I�m driving, brother genius.�

Soon we approached the bridge Eric talked about. It was really narrow and didn�t look all that sturdy. Eric slowed down as we began to cross the bridge, much to the dismay of Lynn who was not fond of heights. Looking down through the space between the bridge platform grates, you could see the tops of the giant trees about 10,000 feet or so below. �Why are you slowing down? Are you trying to bug me Eric?� Lynn was not happy. �Wait Eric, I want to get a closer look at the names engraved on that railing.� Now I got Lynn even more upset and Helen admonished me, �Alex, don�t tease her.� Richard�s eyesight was near perfect and he spelled out- �C-H-R-I-S-T-I-N-E---- H-E-N-R-I-�

Lynn had her eyes buried in her lap and LaVerne was laughing quietly as we finally got to the other side of the bridge. Lynn picked her head up again as we turned left and started up the steep mountain road. It was a slow climb and about a quarter of a mile after the road leveled off, Eric turned left through an opening in the brush and onto a road not much bigger than a trail. �How the hell could your remember exactly where to turn in?� Eric frequently did things to amaze Richard and that pleased Eric. Though never the brilliant student like his brother, he seemed to have better instincts and was more mechanically inclined than Richard.


�Well here we are,� Eric smiled as he turned around to face us after parking the wagon. �We did a lot of clearing work the last time we were here, so there�s not much to do but make camp.� Looking up at the blue Autumn skies, LaVerne sighed, � It is sooooh beautiful up here. This is awesome.�

We unloaded the station wagon and started in on our little routine assignments and chores. After dozens of camping trips, we discovered who was good at what and who liked to do certain things. None of us were lazy and everyone pretty much did their fair share of work. Richard and the two girls went to gather fire wood while Eric and I sorted out the pup tents and bed roles and started digging trenches around where we would set up the tents. Helen went through the portable fridge and freezer and started organizing her kitchen stuff.

Richard and the twins made a couple trips back and forth with the wood. Lynn, looking at her brothers said, there's a stream a couple hundred yards down there. � Maybe you guys could catch us some fish.� �Who�s gonna clean �em, little sister? � you?� Eric was making fun of Lynn�s attempt last year to clean and filet fish. She cut her fingers with the knife and that was the end of their fish dinner. �No, I�ll let you do it, Mr. outdoors.�

In less than two hours, the place was all set up. The tents were up and I made sure ours was the farthest away from the campfire in case Helen decided to get noisy later. It was starting to get a little dark and Eric had already started the fire. �Hey Rich let�s take a look at that stream. Bring those spear sticks you got in case we see some fish. We can always have �em tomorrow for lunch.� Having been here before, Eric knew exactly where the stream was and the two brothers headed for it with a couple of homemade fishing spears.

The sun was down but they could still see almost to the bottom of the stream. Occasionally, Richard made an attempt to spear a fish he thought he saw but they were few and far between. Eric just sat on the bank smoking a cigarette, laughing at Richard trying to catch the �phantom fish.� Eric smoked cigarettes, mostly when he was drinking with his friends, but he wouldn�t smoke in front of his mother. She was very much against smoking, especially after her father died of lung cancer.

As Eric dragged on his cigarette, watching Richard poking and splashing in the stream, he heard a giggle several yards above him. He turned, expecting to see one of the twins, but there sitting in the dusk, was a girl, or young woman, it was hard to see her face. She was wearing a plaid hunter�s jacket and jeans and a tossle cap with her hair pulled up underneath it.

Her voice was sweet and clear. �You�ll never catch any fish there at this time of day. You�ve got to be up here real early morning, just before the sun comes up.�
Eric looked up at her. �Thanks, I�ll set my alarm.�


She slid down the little mound where she was perched and brushed the leaves from her jeans. �Hi, my name�s Madelaine.� She smiled a soft smile and her eyes were as black and shiny as coal. �I�m Eric, and I met you last month up here when I was with my friends.� �Where�d you come from?� She looked back toward the dense part of the forest. �I live up that way. Are you here with your friends again?� �No, just my family.� Eric got closer and saw how really pretty she was. �Then Jim�s not with you, is he?� She smiled again, as if she were a little embarrassed to ask the question. Eric countered in a teasing tone. �Oh, you remember Jim, do you?� She didn�t answer so Eric offered. � Why don�t you come up by the campfire with us?� The girl turned away slightly. �I can�t tonight, I have to get back. Maybe tomorrow night.�

Richard walked up to Eric just in time to see the girl disappearing on a path leading into the woods. I thought you were talking to LaVerne. Who was that?� �That�s the same girl I met up here last month. I think she came to see if Jim was with us. Probably has the hots for him, although I can�t imagine why.� They started walking toward the campfire. �Where the hell did she come from?� �She says she lives somewhere around here.� Eric shrugged his shoulders but his intuition agreed with Richard�s obvious skepticism. � Who the hell would live up here? Does she live In a goddamn tree house or what?� Eric shook his head a little. �I dunno, but she sure is a pretty thing.�
  
Back at the campfire, Helen had been grilling pork chops and chicken breasts and boiling redskin potatoes while the girls prepared the salad. There was coffee perking in an old percolator sitting on a grate at the end of the campfire. The kids were all beer drinkers so the coffee was just for Helen and me. Everybody helped themselves and as we started, I thought about trying one of Helen�s pork chops, but she gave me a no no look so I stayed with the chicken.

The temperature had dropped at least 10 degrees since we arrived here. It was always colder in the higher elevations and we were pretty much up in the mountains. The coffee was great. I always loved perked coffee and it tasted so much better out in the night air.

Eric and Richard took a little walk in the woods after dinner to do what comes naturally. It also gave Eric a chance to have his last cigarette for the evening. The women didn�t have to worry about walking in the woods because we had an easy to assemble port-a-potty. If they disappeared for a while, we knew where they were.

Although we didn�t expect to see any strangers, Lynn still brought her make-up kit, curling iron with batteries, and a four foot vertical mirror she used to have in her bedroom. She was usually up before anyone else and insisted on looking her best, no matter where she was. LaVerne was not as vain, maybe because she was always more of a tomboy than Lynn.

Now we were all sitting around the fire. The kids were still drinking beer and Helen and I were just about coffeed out. LaVerne broke off her conversation with her siblings and called over to me. "Hey dad, why were you so interested in the names engraved on that bridge railing?� Before I could think of an answer, Lynn interrupted. �Oh shit! To think we have to go back across that rickety little bridge hanging over those trees, thousands of feet below. Those trees looked like toothpicks and they have to be two or three hundred feet tall.� �That bridge has been there for a long time and it�s a lot sturdier than it looks.� I offered this to console Lynn as the others were all smiling. �Yeah, but on the way back you can get out and walk across it if you don�t think it�ll support the wagon.� Eric liked to needle Lynn and this time she responded by giving him a little �bird� which she didn�t think I saw.

Helen was quiet as usual but she turned to me and said, �I�m curious too. Why were you so interested in the names on that railing?� All their eyes seemed to be upon me, anticipating the beginning of one of my stories. �I remember reading about a bridge like that and a legend of two star-crossed lovers who engraved their names on it.�

Eric came in. �Here we go. That bridge stuff was just a set-up for one of dad�s new stories. This one must be good.� �No Eric, this is not one of mine. I remember now, it was in a book I bought at that underground city tour we took when we first moved here.�

�I think we still have that book somewhere around the house. In fact, I remember the exact title.� �Legends of North American Witches, Warlocks, and Vampires.� �Oooooohhhh!� My offspring sounded like a chorus mocking the sinister tone I must�ve used while reciting the title of the book. �Well come on, let�s hear about these star-crossed lovers and don�t tell us you don�t remember the story. You never forget anything you�ve read.� LaVerne didn�t have to do much prompting, for she knew I loved to tell these stories. And they all loved to listen to them.

�Well there wasn�t a whole lot to it. It seems there was a French count name Andre� Bouchard who came to the Seattle area from Quebec to invest in coal mining. This must have been around 1860 or maybe even before. He brought his servant with him, who was a widower with a young daughter�. Christine, that was her name. She had a young boyfriend back in Canada whom she left behind when she was forced to leave with her father. A few years later, her father became very ill and the Count, being a nice guy, offered to marry the servant�s young daughter. Well her father died and having no where else to go, she married the Count and became Countess Christine Bouchard.

The Count did very well in the mining business and they lived in a sizeable dwelling outside of Seattle. Now Christine, still very young, was not happy with the Count. He was much older and treated her like a child.

Meanwhile, Christine�s old, or I should say young, boy friend�. (I can�t remember his name)�. anyway, he follows Christine to Seattle and finds out where she is� with the Count of course. The young man is a welcome sight for her and they resume their romance sneaking around behind the Count�s back.

Soon they are discovered by the Count and he threatens to kill her lover. So Christine and her beau run away to the northwest woods, probably right around this area. Both the young man and Christine had learned to hunt and fish and survive in the wilderness from their days back in Canada, so they were apparently doing all right until the Count and his mercenaries started to track them down.

They had to keep moving around and the legend goes on to say that before the Count and his troops could catch up with Christine and her lover, the two of them were attacked by some wild animal or animals.

They never found the young man but they found Christine Bouchard and brought her body back. She was buried in a lonely cemetery just outside of Seattle. The Count was disgraced by her unfaithfulness and refused to honor her with a Countess� burial.

The villagers were a superstitious lot, especially the French migrants. They spread the story of her death �. about the marks on her neck and most of the blood drained from her body. Shortly after her burial, an unruly mob of villagers stormed the cemetery overpowering the resistance of the local police and even the Count and his men. They dug open the gravesite and when they opened the coffin, it was empty.

Many villagers believe that Christine Bouchard was killed by a vampire and still roams the northwest forest in search of her lover. More logical minds conclude that the Count did not want his wife�s grave desecrated and had her body removed to another site before the villagers could get to it.

In the past hundred plus years since the death of Christine Bouchard, there have been many stories of people who went into the northwest forest, never to return or be found. And there have been reports of campers and hunters finding unmarked dead animals, with the blood drained from their veins.� There was absolute silence at the conclusion of my story�..then��..

�Clap,Clap,Clap,Clap.� The silence was broken by the sound of singular applause coming from the darkness behind the campfire. Eveyone�s head turned toward the sound while Eric pointed his flashlight at the intruder. It was Madelaine. �The boy�s name was Henri, otherwise you did a great job on that old legend.� Eric got a little excited as Madelaine shielded her eyes from the flashlight beam. �How long have you been here? This is Madelaine, everybody.�

We all kind of waved at her from the campfire as she walked closer to the fire but sat down at a distance where she could hardly get any warmth from it. �I heard that story many times before, which is why I remember Henri�s name.�

Eric was delighted that she had come back and after he made all the introductions, Madelaine proved to be a very entertaining and knowledgeable intruder. She talked about the history of the Pacific northwest and her love of the forest and the animals who were her friends. She even knew quite a bit about the Seattle�s downtown underground and talked about the great Seattle fire of 1889. I had been here ten years and was learning more about this area just listening to her. It must have been well after midnight when she got up and suddenly said good night to everyone.

Eric almost fell down as he got up to escort her to where I don�t know, and neither did he. �Let me walk you home.� Madelaine laughed, �You�d get lost and probably never find your way back here.� �Well, why don�t you just stay here with us tonight?� �I must be back before daylight, my family would��.� Her voice trailed off as she kept walking toward the path Eric saw her enter earlier. �But you can walk with me for just a little since you�ve got your flashlight. You�ll get back okay.�

Everyone was buzzing about Eric�s nature girl and as Helen and I settled down in our sleeping bag, Helen asked me why Eric hadn�t returned yet. �Now why do you think he�s not back yet?� I laughed at her naivete even though I had some mixed feelings about the strange, pretty girl that had come uninvited, into our lives. My story about Countess Christine Bouchard apparently didn�t arouse Helen very much because she curled up and fell asleep in no time.

I woke up a few hours later. It was still dark and I heard the crunching of footsteps on the leaves and branches. I peeked out of our tent in time to see Eric with his homemade spear and a bucket apparently heading for the stream to do some pre-dawn fishing. I started to say something to him but changed my mind and went back to sleep. Helen was still out like a light.

It was a chilly morning. Right after the sun came up I heard Helen get up and head for the port-a-potty. The girls had already been there and gone and were nice enough to start the coffee perking. Lynn�s portable radio found a country western station but the static was too irritating so she gave up on it and shut it off. She was sitting by the fire playing with her curling iron looking into her mirror propped up against one of the coolers while LaVerne was stretched out reading something.

The fire was warm and had been going for a while. Eric started it right after he got back from spear fishing. He caught about eight fish but had no idea what kind they were. We would find out how edible they were at lunch time. The wood supply was getting low so Richard was out gathering more and you could hear his axe hacking away.

The girls were talking about Eric�s lengthy absence last night with Madelaine and their attempts to tease him didn�t seem to bother Eric. �I walked her quite a ways down this trail. We just walked and talked about a lot of things. On my way back, I just followed the trail but I would have been a little shook if my flashlight batteries decided to quit. I never got to see where she actually lived but it must be a long way from here.�

The twins started to laugh and Lynn led the parade, �Right! They were walking and talking. Look at the sucker bites on his neck!� I smiled as Eric showed a little embarrassment but Helen seemed a little uneasy about this whole Madelaine business. �I have to agree with Richard. Who would live up here and who does she live with? Does she have parents or a guardian or how do you know she isn�t married?�

Richard made his contribution. �I think she�s older than she looks. Maybe too old for you Eric.� �But just right for you Doctor Kaufman.� Lynn countered. Richard smiled and changed the subject a little. �There are people living around here. You could hear trucks and cars on the road we came up on early this morning.� �Yeah but I bet they�re mostly just campers like us or maybe hunters.� LaVerne�s comments fueled the doubts of Helen but as Eric got up to take a walk, probably to take a leak and have a cigarette, the topic of Madelaine was dropped, at least temporarily.

Richard looked at me and said. �You know dad, it�s funny you didn�t seem to think the names on the bridge were important.� �What do you mean Rich?� �Well it is sort of eerie that the names carved on the bridge railing were Christine and Henri, just like in the legend, even Madelaine knew that.� �Probably done by someone after they heard about the legend, maybe to add some authenticity to the story. Maybe a frustrated unpublished fiction writer like me.�

�Oh I don�t know. I think some of that legend is probably true and maybe they were up near here and wandered out on that bridge.� Lynn, the romantic, added her two cents. �Although, not even Tom Cruise could get me out on that bridge.�
The rest of us laughed at Lynn but she really did have a fear of heights and to her, it wasn�t funny. �I don�t believe in the vampire stuff but there could have been a real Christine and Henri.� I closed it out with, �unfortunately, we�ll never know for sure, will we? That�s why these stories are called legends.�

Afternoon came and the girls wanted to take a walk to see if there were any cabins or houses up the trail where Madelaine came from. �You don�t want to wander too far up here. There�s wild animals around and they all don�t look like Bambi.� �I�ll take the 410 and go with them dad.� Richard was curious too. Helen felt more comfortable with Richard going along and I nodded my approval. The boys brought two 410 shotguns with us and although they wouldn�t exactly stop a bear, they were protection in the event we came across a hostile visitor. None of us hunted, but the boys knew how to use the weapons.
Eric was lying by the fire and had fallen asleep, which was surprising, because Eric usually had more energy than any of us. But remembering how little sleep he had last night, we let him be.

Helen and I laid around, talking about the kids and tried to avoid discussing my upcoming surgery. We started to fool around a bit but she looked over at Eric sleeping and I knew she was a little uncomfortable, so we sat up and talked some more. I started to get a little heartburn and got up to take some antacids which prompted a serious look from Helen. �It�s that fish we had for lunch. Not exactly brook trout, you know.� Helen smiled and headed for the port-a-potty.

The afternoon went quickly and around four-thirty Helen started to get dinner ready. Chicken stir-fry with rice tonight. Helen was avoiding red meat for me, but she had hot dogs and hamburgers and pork and beans for the kids.

Just as Eric finally woke up yawning, the girls and Richard came strolling in from the woods. Helen looked relieved to see them. �We must�ve walked for miles up that trail. There�s nothing up there. No cabins or shacks or anything.� LaVerne then interrupted Lynn. �There were some caves further up the trail, but they were pitch black inside. Rich wanted to go in with his flashlight but Lynn wouldn�t come in with us.� Lynn defended herself. �Who knows what animals are living in those caves. Or other creatures for that matter.�

Richard looked at me. �I did go into one of the caves for about a hundred yards. I didn�t see anything but it looked like that cave could go on and on forever. It would be interesting to go back there sometime and see how big it really is.�

Helen and I started eating our stir-fry while Richard and the girls were grilling their hot dogs and hamburgers. Eric wasn�t eating. He sat around kind of quietly drinking a can of beer. �Why aren�t you eating Eric?� Eric didn�t say much and just kind of shrugged his shoulders. �I�m really not all that hungry right now. Maybe later.�

 

 

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Copyright © 2000 Richard Koss
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