Chapter Two Whispers of the WildSandy, Oregon, Summer 1985

Tyler slouched in the backseat of Julie’s beat-up Ford Escort, his sneakers propped on a pile of Green Club flyers. The radio crackled with *Billie Jean*, barely audible over the hum of the engine as they cruised down US26. He fiddled with his Walkman, still buzzing from his lunchroom chat with Ethan, the Green Club president. “Tyler, you saw *what* on Mount Hood? A giant bear? Dude, you gotta talk to ONRC. They track weird stuff in the forests.” Tyler had nodded like it was no big deal, but inside, he was hooked. Bigfoot? A mutant bear? Whatever it was, he was gonna find out.

Tadamasa sat beside him, clutching a dog-eared copy of *National Geographic*, his eyes darting to the pines flashing by. “Tyler, you really think ONRC will know about… that thing?” His voice was steady, but his fingers betrayed him, creasing the magazine’s pages. Sandy was nothing like Tokyo, and after the Mount Hood scare, Tadamasa wasn’t sure he was ready for more surprises.

Julie glanced at them through the rearview mirror, her hands steady on the wheel. “They’ll know something, Tadamasa. ONRC folks are plugged into the land—forests, rivers, wildlife. If anyone’s heard whispers of a giant whatever, it’s them.” Her voice was calm, like she was explaining homework, but there was a steel in it that made Tyler sit up straighter. Julie was Dennis’s girlfriend,  the kind of woman who could make you feel safe just by being there. **She was honest to a fault, the type who’d return a lost wallet with every penny intact, and she’d been part of the family’s orbit since she and Dennis started dating last summer. When Dennis got tied up with a last-minute bike repair at the shop, Julie didn’t hesitate to step in, grabbing the keys to take Tyler and Tadamasa to the Oregon Natural Resources Council office. "But first,” she said, pulling into a gravel lot, “we’re grabbing lunch. Nobody thinks straight on an empty stomach.”

The neon dragon sign of Double Dragon glowed against the midday sun, its red-and-gold letters buzzing over a squat building on US26. The air smelled of fried rice and sesame oil as Julie pushed open the door, the bell jingling. “Two orders of General Tso’s and an egg roll combo,” she told the guy at the counter, sliding exact change across with a smile. She always tipped a buck, even on takeout, because “it’s the right thing to do.”Tyler and Tadamasa hovered by the gumball machine, Tyler bouncing on his heels. “Hurry up, Julie! We’re on a mission!”  

She laughed, tucking the paper bag under her arm. “Mission or not, you’re eating. Tadamasa, you ever had American Chinese food?”  

Tadamasa shook his head, peering at the bag. “Not like this. In Japan, we have ramen, but… this smells different.”  

“Different good,” Julie said, winking. Her warmth put Tadamasa at ease, like she was an older sister he’d known forever. Back in the car, they tore into the food, the Escort filling with the crunch of egg rolls and Tyler’s exaggerated “Mmm!”  


The ONRC office was a low brick building in Gresham, twenty minutes from Sandy, with a faded sign and a rack of pamphlets on spotted owls. Inside, it smelled of coffee and old paper, the walls plastered with maps of Oregon’s forests. A woman in a flannel shirt—Karen, according to her name tag—looked up from a cluttered desk. “Hey there. What brings you kids in?”  

Tyler leaned forward, his voice low, like he was spilling a secret. “We saw something weird on Mount Hood last week. Like, a   huge  bear, but… not a bear. My cousins saw something like it at Wickiup Reservoir, too. Is there, like, mutant wildlife out there or what?”  

Karen raised an eyebrow, setting down her mug. “Mutant wildlife? That’s a new one.” She leaned back, thoughtful. “The forests have changed some since the new policies kicked in—Reagan’s second term pushed more logging in places, opened up some land. It’s shifted things—deer patterns, maybe predator behavior. But nothing like… what you’re describing. No reports of oversized bears or anything.”  

Tadamasa shifted, his voice hesitant. “Could it be… something else? Like, um, Sasquatch?”  

Karen’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “Sasquatch is a fun story, but we deal in facts here. Still…” She tapped a pencil on her desk, her eyes narrowing. “Locals talk. Old-timers in Sandy swear they’ve seen things in the Hood—shadows, tracks that don’t add up. Nothing we can verify, but it’s not the first time I’ve heard it.”  

Julie crossed her arms, her gaze steady. “So you’re saying it’s not impossible? Just… unlikely?”  Her question was direct, not pushy, the kind of clarity that made people trust her.

“Exactly,” Karen said. “If you see it again, snap a picture. Or at least note where you were. That’d help.”  

Tyler slumped, disappointed. “So, no answers?”  

Karen shrugged. “Nature’s full of mysteries. Keep your eyes open.”  


Back in the Escort, Tyler kicked the seat. “That was a bust. ‘Keep your eyes open’? Lame.”  

Julie started the engine, her voice calm but firm. “It wasn’t a bust, Tyler. They didn’t laugh us off, and they didn’t say it’s impossible. That’s something.” **She glanced at him, her tone softening.** “You’re doing the right thing, asking questions. Don’t give up.”  

Tadamasa stared out the window, the forest blurring past. “In Japan, we have stories about yokai—spirits in the mountains. Maybe this is… like that?”  

Tyler perked up. “Yokai? That’s dope! Maybe it’s a forest ghost!”  

Julie chuckled, but her grip on the wheel tightened. **She wasn’t one for ghost stories, but she’d grown up hearing her grandmother’s tales—Nehalem legends of shapes in the mist, watchers in the trees.** She didn’t mention it, not wanting to fuel Tyler’s imagination too much. But as they drove past the pines, the memory of Dennis’s story—his certainty about that shadow—gnawed at her.  

“Julie?” Tadamasa’s voice was quiet. “Do you think it’s real?”  

She hesitated, then met his eyes in the mirror. “I think… something’s out there. And if it is, we’ll figure it out. Together.” Her words carried a promise, the kind she always kept.

Tyler grinned, crumpling the takeout bag. “Heck yeah! Team Sasquatch, let’s go!”  

As the Escort rolled back toward Sandy, the forest loomed on both sides, dark and silent. The air felt heavier, like it was holding its breath. Whatever they’d seen on Mount Hood, it wasn’t done with them yet.