Olympic Shadows
Nate McCallister knew the feeling of being unwanted. He'd grown accustomed to the sideways glances, hushed conversations abruptly ending when he entered a room, and the cold silences that fell between himself and his fellow special agents. The modest brick building of the NPS Investigative Services Branch in Port Angeles was meant to be his refuge, a place dedicated to protecting national treasures. Instead, it had become hostile ground.
"Hey, McCallister, you finally close that Indian trading post case?" asked Agent Morales, leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk barely concealed beneath his neatly trimmed beard.
"Almost," Nate replied evenly, stacking files on his desk. "The Inspector General’s office seems very interested in it."
Morales raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with another agent nearby. "You know, Nate, if you spent less time stirring things up and more time going with the flow, you might actually have friends here."
Nate paused, stared hard at Morales, and forced a thin smile. "Fuck off, Morales."
Morales chuckled coldly, pushing away from the doorframe and disappearing down the hallway.
"McCallister," barked a familiar voice. Nate looked up sharply, seeing Special Agent in Charge Mark Barringer leaning out of his office. "A minute, please."
Nate took a deep breath and walked into Barringer's meticulously tidy office, adorned with photos of Barringer shaking hands with important people Nate never cared about. Something about Barringer’s expression felt off. The man was smiling—a rare sight.
"Sit," Barringer gestured warmly, unsettling Nate further.
"What's this about?" Nate asked cautiously.
"I know things have been...tense lately. I just wanted you to know, I understand you're still coping with the loss of your family."
A flash of memory struck Nate: sunshine filtering through tall trees, laughter echoing around a campsite, Sarah's bright eyes, Liam and Emma chasing each other around the tent. Yosemite, three years ago. The moment faded, replaced by Barringer’s disingenuous smile.
"It’s been a few years," Nate said stiffly. "I’m managing."
"Good," Barringer said gently. "There's a special case I need you on, out in Olympic. Multiple disappearances. Simultaneous vanishings in three different locations. You’re the best fit, given your experience."
Nate nodded slowly. "Understood."
"Excellent," Barringer said, handing him a folder. "I think it'll be good for you, Nate."
As Nate left the office, he felt the weight of Barringer's eyes on his back and the unsettling sensation of being watched closely.
***
Olympic National Park felt off the moment Nate drove through the entrance. Towering evergreens loomed above, casting heavy shadows on winding roads. He felt eyes everywhere, unseen observers hidden among the lush foliage.
"Special Agent McCallister?" asked a ranger, approaching him cautiously. "I'm Ranger Daniels. We've been expecting you."
Nate extended a hand, noting Daniels' sweaty palm and quick glance toward the treeline.
"What's the situation?" Nate asked, observing two other rangers whispering anxiously nearby.
"Three groups vanished simultaneously," Daniels replied, voice quivering slightly. "Very strange."
"Any witnesses?"
"All being interviewed by another agency," Daniels said quickly. "All very hush-hush. I don’t know why. Above my pay grade."
Nate nodded slowly, suspicion rising.
"Alright. Let's go check the first site," Daniels suggested, clearly eager to move on.
***
The Hoh Rainforest felt prehistoric, dense and eerily silent as they entered. Nate's skin prickled with unease. A shadow moved swiftly between trees. Something huge, barely glimpsed, vanished in an instant.
"Shit. I forgot my radio," Daniels muttered. He turned quickly back toward their vehicle.
"Wait—" Nate began, but Daniels was already sprinting down the path, out of earshot.
Nate took a few steps, then stopped. The forest had gone quiet. An odd stillness descended all around him. He glanced left and right, concerned.
Then, in a rush of motion, a large, hairy figure emerged, grabbed Nate, and slammed him against a massive cedar, lifting him effortlessly. Before he could fight back, three heavily armed men stepped from the shadows, their clothing blending seamlessly into the foliage.
"Courtesy of your friends in the ISB," said one, weapon trained.
"And Phoenix," blurted another, earning sharp looks from his teammates.
"Phoenix?" Nate stammered. "What the hell—"
Gunfire was imminent when a loud crash echoed through the forest. A massive blur tore through the men, blood spraying Nate’s face. The creature pinning Nate vanished. Screams erupted, and panic spread.
Moments later, only Nate stood trembling amid the carnage. He wiped blood from his face, turning slowly to face an even more enormous figure stepping from the shadows. Its blue eyes pierced the darkness, glowing with fierce intelligence.
Terrified yet defiant, Nate dropped his sidearm to the ground. "If you're going to kill me, just do it."
The giant creature knelt gently, placing a huge hand on Nate's shoulder. With its other hand, it carefully pressed something small into Nate's palm.
It was a tiny brass compass. Nate recognized it, flipped it over. It was engraved with the name Liam McCallister—his missing son.
Nate's heart shattered, tears blinding him. "Where...where did you get this?"
Slowly, the creature stood and stepped back, its huge hands gracefully forming the sign language words: Miss you.
There was something familiar about the hand movements. A flood of memories returned to him—learning sign language as a Boy Scout merit badge with his then high school sweetheart.
Nate looked at the monstrous form in front of him in teary-eyed disbelief.
"Sarah?" he whispered. But the creature had already vanished into the darkness.