Cold Trail

By Ric Daly

A team of scientists had a plan to study a creature that had been extinct for well over a million years. Or so it was thought.

What they found was a nightmare—one in which they found themselves facing a mysterious and dangerous being, an ancient creature existing in a modern world to which it did not belong. They were left examining their faith and its interaction with what science thought it knew.

In Cold Trail, our team of anthropologists continue their research into the mysterious beings and find themselves thrust into a much more recent mystery—a modern murder. They also uncover much evidence of the presence of the mysterious hominids, but no proof. They were first confronted by these creatures in the African Rift Valley, found the connection to the cryptohominids around Willow Creek, and are tracking them now in Alaska, where they also have to sort out the creatures’ behaviors from those of a modern-day killer. Now it’s twice the mystery, with even more questions lurking in the shadows.

The old man thought for a moment. “I don’t believe or not believe. I have never seen him. But if someone has seen something that I have not, how can I say it wasn’t there? If I don’t see something, that is not proof that it does not exist.” He studied Wil for a few moments, almost as if looking into his soul. Wil felt the old man’s mind reaching in, strangling the turmoil with which he’d wrestled these past four years. It felt like the old man was speaking directly to him, and he wondered just what he himself really believed. Sam paused again, looked at Officer Sterns, and asked, “But you’re a policeman. Why is a policeman seeking a legend?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662438998

Ric Daly

Ric Daly wrote "The Rift", "Willow Creek" and "Cold Trail" following a thirty-year career teaching high school sciences (physics, chemistry, earth/space, oceanography, biology, research), geography and algebra in Minnesota, Arizona and Florida. He has been recognized as a leading authority on science education, presenting workshops in that capacity at national, state and district levels. He is also an accomplished artist in various mediums and photography and has displayed his work in galleries in Arizona, Florida, Iowa and Minnesota. When he’s not writing or painting he may be found riding his bicycle or in his car traveling America’s highways. While home is the Florida coast, he currently resides in northern Minnesota. He is a committed Christian and is currently writing an inspirational collection of autobiographical essays, "The Road Behind Me".

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Chapter 1

Nunivak Island, Alaska, Bering Strait, 2021

The cold mist did nothing to ease the dismal feel of the muskeg stretching across the island, with its scattering of dwarf tamaracks and black spruce. As Andy Stevens studied the landscape, his eyes saw little beyond the low-growing scrub and stunted trees, the dwarf tamarack, and black spruce. But his mind was forming images of what the land would have looked like twenty thousand years ago when the island had been part of the southern shore of Beringia. Now it was just a remnant of that ancient land. He envisioned the great Pleistocene glaciers making their final retreat, leaving behind a new landscape. Then the land was a vast expanse of grassland steppe and, with sea level much lower than today, the Bering land bridge was a migration route between Siberia and Alaska. Andy was seeing the herds of large mammals, the mammoths, bison, elk, the saber-tooth cats, and gray wolves that preyed upon them, moving across the ice age land, followed and hunted by the early humans. And he saw the mysterious hominids approaching the end of their migration across Asia, a journey of a thousand millennia or more out of the Great African Rift. And he considered what he and his team might be getting into. Andy had been part of the ill-fated expedition to Lake Eyasi in Tanzania back in 1999. There, five of their seven-person team had died, and he’d seen the encounters in Shasta County just six years ago. That was when their colleague, Scott Norwood, had been killed in the encounter near Willow Creek. He certainly did not want to see any of that repeated here and was hoping this expedition would turn out to be, as had been anticipated, a documentation, with their only encounter to be the ancient corpse they were here to investigate. He wanted nothing beyond that and an on-paper-only encounter.

Andy had been the one most traumatized by what they’d seen at Eyasi, and that had kept him out of fieldwork from then until now. It had been a long emotional recovery. But recover he did, as he delved into the study of the hominids in California and also held on to his personal faith. It was looking at the science through the eyes of faith that helped him to make sense of what they had discovered both in Africa and at Willow Creek. Even so, he often found it difficult to completely trust God.

Nate Brandley stood beside him. Nate had been part of the expedition to the Olduvai Gorge thirteen years after Eyasi and had spent much of his professional career so far trying to understand the behaviors of the strange hominids. The team had encountered this creature, not as fossils but as living beings, mysterious and deadly, creatures that should have been extinct long ago. That first encounter for Nate was on an expedition to the East African Rift, at the site of the Olduvai Gorge where Leakey had found the fossil that seemed to be part of the history of the hominids in question. It was Nate who had first proposed that the beings they’d since named the Rift hominid, instead of becoming extinct as anthropologists had thought, had migrated out of the Rift and across the Pleistocene ice age land bridge to North America. Nate had since devoted much of his career to understanding these creatures and their behaviors and their learning curve. Nate had been fascinated by what the creatures learned, how they learned it, and perhaps, most important, what they didn’t learn. They’d seen that the creatures’ learning was inventive only in terms of their survival, resolving a situation for a specific need without a requisite understanding. There had appeared to be no discoveries just for the sake of discovery. They had never learned to use fire, for example, because there was evidently no need for it in their existence. It was that aspect of their learning that had convinced Nate and Corey Timms, another member of their team then, that this was not an ancestor of humans. They’d understood that even before the DNA evidence proved it several years later.

Now, knowing the beings had migrated across Asia and into North America was a fulfillment of his intense research, begun when he’d observed patterns in recorded sightings and encounters. As it turned out, there were many such records. He looked out across the scrub and said, Fifty thousand generations, moving and adapting. And here they are. He paused then said, again, Here they are, sounding just a little prophetic, perhaps even ominous, to Andy. And for him, the memory of the earlier expedition brought some trepidation; the images were still frightening.

Or were, at least, he said, emphasizing were, perhaps to convince himself the danger was no longer with them. You know, this is just going to prove what we already do know. We saw that with the DNA from the creatures in Shasta County, so we know the Bering hominids are the same as the ones from the Rift. Remember?

Nate turned to him and said, But it’ll confirm that they migrated across from Asia during the ice age. You remember when Corey Timms took the team back to Tanzania and we were wondering about the migration of the hominids across Africa then? Where they were going and why. Maybe those creatures were carrying a trace of a genetic program for something like this. Something that had led to a migration that brought them here. What I don’t know is why.

He and his team were now in a location twelve miles upstream from a Yup’ik village on the north side of the island. Most of Nunivak Island is part of the Yukon Delta National Wildlife Refuge, and Andy had secured the necessary permits from the administrative office in Bethel, allowing them to study in a limited area and only where their activities would not disturb the land beyond the target site. They would otherwise have been concerned about having only a few weeks to complete whatever study they planned to carry out since they were already well past the middle of the short summer. But none of them thought they’d need more than a few days to remove the bones and examine and photograph the area around the burial to document the find. Thus, they were anticipating a short visit here. The site where they were going to be working was an apparent burial near where they were now standing, at the base of a low glacial ridge next to a small river that drained the summer terrain into Shoal Bay. It was a location that, on paper, promised more evidence of the Rift hominids in what had been their transition to the creatures they’d faced in California.

The site had evidently been exposed when a recent earthquake originating under the Aleutians had jolted the island. Andy had come across a report that a ranger with the Yukon Delta National Wildlife Refuge had found what was believed to have been a Paleolithic burial on the island. The idea of a burial on this remnant of Beringia would have been an exciting find by itself. But what had caught their attention in the report was the description that stated that it was hominid, but not appearing human. Referencing the unusually long arms and extended big toe, it had fired the enthusiasm of these paleoanthropologists from Minnesota State University. When Andy had first brought the article to Nate’s attention back in Mankato, he’d suggested that it sounds an awful lot like our hominid. While there had been a Paleolithic Yup’ik culture spanning Beringia, with remnants still existing on both sides of the strait in both Alaska and Siberia, it was evident that what they were dealing with now was not part of that culture—probably not even human, in fact. The team anticipated examining the remains of the strange hominid. Both Nate and Andy thought back to the events in Africa that now seemed like a lifetime ago and, at the same time, only yesterday.

The two were joined by Jason Adler. Jason—Jace, to the others on the team—had been a young student working with Wil Parker on a hominid study back in Humboldt and Shasta Counties in California four years earlier. With the exception of Jason, they had originally called themselves the Olduvai Six from their experiences with the hominids at the Olduvai Gorge. Jason had eventually become part of that group, making them the Olduvai Six plus one. Now, though, with two of them deceased and Wil having departed for other pursuits following Scott’s death in an encounter with the creatures, the Olduvai Six (plus one) were now only four. The remaining fourth man was Dr. Corey Timms, still back at Minnesota State University in Mankato. Timms had been the only other survivor, besides Andy, of the 1999 Eyasi event.

Jason responded to Andy’s comment. We know the Rift and Bering hominids are the same. Seems to me that the big question now is why? What made these creatures leave Africa and migrate to here?

Nate said, That’s something we may never know. There’re only so many things fossils and ancient remains can tell us, and motive isn’t one of them.

While Andy didn’t share Jason’s exuberance and energetic enthusiasm, Jason and Nate thought much along the same lines as each other and shared an inquisitiveness regarding the behaviors and potential learning by the creatures they’d been studying. For Andy, the question had always been what?. Nate and Jason were the part of the team that asked why?. The answers to both questions would be needed to complete the picture. Since the Olduvai experience, the what question now appeared to have been answered. The why was still open, and that in itself raised another one—how?. How had these beings survived and made the transition to where and what they are now?

By the time they had surveyed the view and gone through their various thoughts about what they were now doing and would be doing here, the drizzle had stopped, but the damp chill remained. The three removed their outer rain gear and began to set up a work area. Since they had lodging in Toksook Bay, there was no need to establish an actual camp. To not make a camp here had been a consideration proposed—insisted on, actually—by the Refuge administrator in Bethel to minimize their impact on the island. Though most of the island was muskeg, some of it was covered with permafrost, which, at best, is a fragile environment, subject to long-lasting damage from the most trivial of invasions. Not wanting to camp in these conditions, the team had offered no argument. Andy looked at his watch; it was just after ten.

We have six hours until our ride back. He was referring to the helicopter that was shuttling them back and forth each of the next few days. He pulled his glasses, a pair of round wire-rims, from his shirt pocket, where he’d put them because of the drizzle. To Andy, seeing with no glasses and glasses spotted with rain was about the same. He put them back on.

Let’s get started then, Nate said, looking around for the marker the ranger had left by the site. With the low scrub growth and relatively flat terrain, except for the nearby ridge, it was easy to spot the orange strip tied to its six-foot stake standing on the bare and weathered bank, thirty yards or so upstream from where they were standing. They made their way carefully along the rocky streamside and approached the exposed burial. Their first sight of what was to prove to be an incredible find was of the left side of a skeleton partially visible in the side of the embankment, just about four feet above the edge of the stream. Nate looked appreciatively at the exceptionally long arm and the extended toe. Looks like our guy, he observed.

Jason took several photographs of the embankment before they began to carefully remove the layers of rock and soil to free the skeleton. Andy felt an involuntary shiver as he stood there, but whether it was from the chill of the gray subarctic day that surrounded them or from the association with the living creatures in their violent confrontations in the past or even what this mysterious creature represented, he couldn’t say.

The three of them worked with little conversation, each with his own thoughts, as they painstakingly brushed away the matrix that held their prize, not yet seeing that there was more to be discovered than an ancient burial. And what they were yet to discover would push them into a darkness they couldn’t foresee.

*****

For the remainder of the day, they worked slowly and carefully, gradually exposing the full skeleton, though they planned to leave it in situ until they could make preparations to get it shipped back to Mankato. A little before four o’clock, they cleaned up their tools and began waiting for their ride back to the mainland, to hot showers, dinner, and rest. Though they were cold and dirty from the day’s work, it had clearly been a productive day, revealing the first real physical evidence of the Rift hominids’ movement to North America from Asia. Back at Mankato, the lab would attempt to get an age for the remains, but the team was already certain it would show that the creature had lived here about twenty thousand years ago, before the continental ice sheets retreated and sea level began to rise, isolating this particular plateau as an island.

*****

The next morning, they sat drinking coffee in the hangar at the Toksook Bay airport, waiting for their pilot to deliver them to another day’s work, when Jason brought up a question: Is there a chance our site is an actual burial? As in ritual? And not just a play of geology? He turned to Nate. Thoughts?

A possibility, yeah, but not likely. Remember that these things aren’t even human. There’s geologic evidence the island had some flooding at times while it was part of the land bridge, so most likely, it’s just a carcass that got buried in an outwash plain and managed to be undiscovered by scavengers. Can’t say how it died, though. Maybe drowned in the flood that buried it, or maybe old age or even disease. Things die. This one just happened to get buried and kind of preserved.

As they made the short flight to the island, all their thoughts, for now unspoken, were on the creature they’d come to know as a relic of Homo habilis, the African rift creature long thought to have been extinct, a creature that was opening new lines of thinking in the world of anthropology. Andy, in particular, wondered how this would all relate to the supposed beginning of man, recalling some of his conversations with Corey Timms when they were in Africa. Timms was a bit of a standout in the world of paleoanthropology, believing the world owed its existence to the hands of a Creator God. But as Andy listened and thought about it, he realized it made sense. Nate, Andy eventually discovered in working with him, was of a similar mind. To Andy and Nate, while it was clear that the creature they’d identified as a living Homo habilis was not extinct after all, they were pleased that their study had shown that it was not an ancient human, as some had believed. To Timms, Andy, and Nate, the existence of this creature did nothing to counter their faith in God. But it did bring up questions about how it all fit together in what they’d referred to as a strange creation. And it was a strange creation indeed. Andy wondered, again, if they would ever really understand it.

Back at the site, as they continued to clean away the deposits over the next several days to facilitate removal of the skeleton, an unanticipated scene began to unfold. When they had the hominid skeleton completely removed and boxed, ready to transport back to Mankato, the team examined the surrounding area and found more of a story, uncovering evidence of a predatory kill. They examined and boxed what they found and continued looking around the area.

It was nearing midafternoon on their fifth day there when Andy called to them. Hey, Nate, Jace! We have another skeleton over here. He’d been examining an area about twenty yards from the first set of remains when he found an exposed and well-weathered bone.

Nate and Jason came over to where he was working to have a look at what he’d found. There wasn’t much exposed yet, but it was enough. They were looking at an exposed hand, and it appeared that this was not one of the hominids.

The other side of the story? asked Jason, seeing that it was very likely a human prey of the creature.

Looks like it. Let’s get it uncovered and see what we have. He nodded toward the cloud bank moving in from the west. Clouding over. And our ride back will be here soon.

They quickly scraped away the few inches of compacted gravel, and Nate remarked that it didn’t look like the body had been buried that long ago. They continued scraping until they saw it. The three of them stood there, looking at the new find. With images of the African Rift experience in mind, they studied the partially exposed skeleton, showing evidence of wearing clothing.

Will you look at that, Nate remarked. Looks like the creatures had some interaction with the early humans here. They stood there for a few moments, looking at the remains. After a few minutes, Nate got down for a closer look.

I’m not so sure this is an early human, he said and did some probing around the mostly decomposed but remarkably preserved corpse, using his hands to scrape out some of the soil. As he did so, something else came out with a handful of dirt. We might have to rethink what we have here. He picked up the object and showed it to Andy. Here. Take a look at this. Andy took it and gave it a quick look over.

Damn. How many ice age people carried American currency in leather wallets?

Chapter 2

Nunivak Island, Alaska, Bering Strait, fourteen years earlier

The sound was growing louder, heralding a small plane approaching from the east. As it passed low over the island, one body appeared to fall from the plane, followed a few seconds later by another. Almost immediately, parachutes opened, and the two men drifted down to the surface of the island. The watcher, concealed in the dwarf spruce, eyed the activity curiously, with no concept of what might be happening. The men landed a few hundred yards apart. They wasted no time releasing the parachute harnesses, after which they rolled the parachutes into loose bundles. The two called out, locating each other among the low scrub that covered the area. Then, after they had gotten together, one of them moved a short distance away and laid a canvas bag next to a large rock. As he did so, the other spoke.

Hey, Ray. How soon’s the boat coming?

Midnight. It’s all set up. We have to get up to Mekoryuk. Village up on Shoal Bay. Boat’ll meet us there an’ we can get outta here. Head down to Dutch Harbor and then on to Seattle. We can get lost there. He walked back over and started digging into the stream bank. Right now, let’s get these parachutes stashed and rest here a bit. Then we can head north to the village. Guessin’ it’s about ten, twelve miles.

How much we get, y’think?

Couple hundred grand. Maybe more.

Cops’ll never look for us out here, huh?

That’s the plan, Jerry. And while they’re searchin’ Anchorage, we’ll be on our way south.

Like laughin’ all the way t’the bank. They both had a good laugh at that. It might have been cliché, but they found the context to be funny.

Then Ray said, Yeah, like that, Jerry. But I just don’t trust banks. Money’s not safe there, y’know. Ya never know when it might get robbed. Another good laugh—a knee-slapper for Jerry.

The two bank robbers, as quickly as they could, covered the parachutes in the soft gravel along the stream bank. The damp chill surrounding them had them both wishing they could’ve landed a little closer to their pickup point up on the north coast. They decided to build a fire to warm themselves before starting the walk up to the bay. Raymond Brooking figured they could make it in about six hours. It was only eleven now, giving them seven hours more than they’d need, plenty of time to rest and get warmed. Jerry Markham set about gathering what little fuel he could find among the scrub that covered the ancient glacial terrain here, picking up small twigs and brush and bunches of dry moss from the muskeg. Even though there were small trees and scrub growing in the area, it took a while to gather enough for a fire. After working for half an hour, he’d managed to get a pile together and had picked up an armload to start carrying it back to where Ray would be waiting to get the fire going. He shivered and thought, Good. It’s too cold here.

As he approached the makeshift camp, he saw some activity he wasn’t expecting, and not completely sure just what it was he was seeing. Instead of his partner in crime, he saw someone, or something, crouched down and hunched over a body. Ray’s body. Jerry dropped his firewood, and the figure turned briefly toward him. Jerry wasn’t sure just what he was seeing. Because of the sun and his viewing angle, he couldn’t see the face, just the hunched-over form. But in his startled imagination, the image was giving him a chill even beyond the cool temperature around him. The mysterious figure stood and reached for a rock lying near Ray’s head then dropped it, turned, and walked quickly away. Jerry warily approached his partner’s body, stopping to briefly pick up the rock he’d seen dropped.

Ray Brooking was dead; that was obvious. Just the same, Jerry tried to shake him, covering his own hands with blood. He stood and backed away, slowly at first, then turned and ran, hoping he was headed north to the boat. He had been counting on Ray to be the guide to the boat, and without Ray, he was afraid he’d get lost. But he was more afraid of staying here.

With each passing second, he fully expected whoever or whatever it was to be on him, but the only thing that overtook him was the irrational fear that permeated his very being and began to erode his sanity. The figure slowly began to transform itself in his mind into a creature of some kind. With that terror growing in his mind, he half ran, half walked, stumbling over rough areas on the less-than-level ground, occasionally losing his balance and falling into one of the numerous small ravines, stumbling over the gravel ridges or getting bogged down in the thick wet moss of the muskeg that was prevalent as he got closer to the village. Each time he fell, he listened for sounds of his perceived pursuer coming for him. Then panic again would take hold, and he would get up and continue. At one point, he reached the top of a low glacial ridge, where he stood for a moment, looking around. He saw nothing—no village, no pursuer, no, well, whatever was back there. As he started down the slope on the north side of the ridge, he slipped and slid down into a ravine. There he sat, breathing heavy. Just when he thought there was no threat, he heard a sound, like a shifting of the gravel, a