PREVIEW: The Beast of Bear-tooth Mountain
"There is a beast that resides in its heart. A beast that only exhumes itself when the mountain dethaws, to hunt and gather for its expected slumber."
Howdy, folks and welcome back to Further Up & Further In! If you’re new around here, this week looks a bit different with the impending release of my upcoming work of fiction, The Beast of Bear-tooth Mountain. As many of you know, I’ve been teasing this story for a while, and I’m happy to say that the end is nearly upon us!
As I work on the final touches (including some last-minute spellchecks and building the actual book in InDesign), I wanted to share with you all just a quick taste of what’s to come. These are the first pages that, if this were a movie, would add up to about the first 10-15 minutes or so of screen time.
Maybe one day I’ll adapt this project for the screen, but for right now, I'll present you with what ultimately amounts to the first two “chapters” (or sections, rather) of The Beast of Bear-tooth Mountain. Enjoy!
The Beast of Bear-tooth Mountain
It was a cool morning in early May when Jordan and Deon hit the road, determined to finally ascend Bear-tooth Mountain. For years they’d been tickled by whispers of a breathtaking outlook from the top, which supposedly boasted the entire western side of the state. The summit’s crisp air and unobscured views had piqued their interest then, and ever since they dreamed thoroughly of conquering the craggily high place for themselves.
Though the lone mountain wasn’t more than a few hours away from their remote college town, year after year, something always got in their way. A busted engine. A last-minute call to work. A family emergency. All these and more had kept them from the siren’s call beckoning from its crooked peak. But this time was different. If they didn’t climb it now, they knew they never would.
Over the years, many had ventured to the top of Bear-tooth Mountain, though rarely did one attempt to trail it so early in the season. The locals knew that the snow hadn’t quite melted; that slippery sheets of ice still clung tightly to each rocky slab. Because of this, the park service usually advised against braving the trail until at least June. Even then, if the winter persisted, they might consider keeping the chilled tower closed until mid-July. It was said that, even when the county failed to close the trailhead, the locals would often do it themselves.
Despite this, Jordan and Deon weren’t deterred. Though perhaps they should’ve been. Jordan had checked the trail’s condition every day for a week now. The moment it was officially cleared, he woke Deon and they blocked out the date.
The two of them had spent considerable time hiking along the mountain range that divided their adoptive college home from its neighboring counties. Twenty miles was nothing to them, and though Jordan wouldn’t be considered traditionally athletic (especially when standing beside Deon), he maintained a genuine love of the outdoors.
Spotting the three-fifty on the poor excuse for a road sign, Jordan pulled into the dingy Gas-N-Sip just off the interstate. Unlike some of the nicer establishments closer to their artsy college town, this station looked a bit under the weather. Its rusty completion and greased-up underbelly weren’t unfounded out here, but they didn’t help much in attracting any new customers. Though, maybe that was the point.
Regardless, it would do the job, as it always had for the past fifty-plus years. As the only gas station for about sixty miles in either direction, it was the only option anyone ever had.
Before they had come to a complete stop, Deon was already halfway out of the car. He had struggled to remain in the confines of Jordan’s Highlander, and after a few hours of sitting mostly still, he was jonesing for a release. “Last chance, you want anything?”
“I’m good,” Jordan replied.
“You sure? I doubt there’s another one as nice as this anywhere near the mountain,” Deon said with a sly smile.
“Really, I’m good,” Jordan said, patting the backpack resting behind him. “I’ve got all the jerky I need right here.”
“Suit yourself,” Deon said with a shrug. He wasted no time, a handful of cash at the ready.
Jordan fed the pump some plastic before placing the nozzle into the fuel filler. His bare fingers were freezing, but that didn’t stop him from gazing westward at the lone mountain ahead of him. As he turned back east, he caught glimpses of the warmth and light baking just beyond the horizon. Right on schedule. It wouldn’t be long before they’d make it to the base of the mountain. From there, it would take most of the afternoon to hike to the top. “Not a bad way to spend a day,” Jordan thought.
As if on cue, his eyes shot down at his watch and caught the small hand leaping just past the seven. He watched carefully as the thinnest hand ran laps around the other two. Even if they’d been an hour ahead of schedule, it wouldn’t have been enough for him. After all, he didn’t wish to get caught all the way out here after dark.
The bell above the station’s doorframe jingled an off-key clang as Deon barreled out towards the car, a thin “Thank You For Shopping” bag in hand. It had already begun to rip before he dropped it onto the car floor.
“Fair warning, the trail mix is mine,” Deon said, passing Jordan a can of water. He was a bit of a snob who didn’t like the plastic stuff. It just tasted different out of a can. “No mooching after you get tired of your teriyaki.”
Jordan ignited the engine and readjusted his back-facing mirror. “Just get in.” His foot gently caressed the gas pedal, though he kept the Highlander in park.
“As you wish…” Deon said, ribbing on Jordan’s favorite movie.
And so, their adventure continued. Within minutes, they were driving down an old country highway, passing through a handful of farming communities where the cows vastly outnumbered the people. It was a landscape they’d rarely explored, but one they thought was easy to fall in love with, if not just for the beautiful simplicity of it. It was so peaceful here, out in the Middle-Of-Nowhere, U.S.A. Life seemed lived as intended. No unnecessary busyness. No pollution or smog. No year-long road construction. Just land and cattle and a big sky as far as the eye could see.
And then there was the mountain.
Neither of them had ever given this part of the country any thought before. Sure, they had graduated from a school in a less-populated state, but their mid-sized college had most of the amenities that all the big cities had. But out here, in the open wilderness, folks only entertained the essentials. It was less wasteful that way.
Though they didn’t quite understand it, nor would they ever choose this sort of life for themselves, they felt a deep longing for the old ways.
After about an hour, they passed through the small town of Carmel, if you could call it a town that is. It wasn’t much, but it had the bare minimum. A local dive bar, a diner, a dual hardware-grocery store, and a post office littered Main Street. From there, they could make out the blanketed football field of the small K-12 school just a few streets over. But nobody was out and about today. Nobody ever really was. For the spiritually inclined, there lay a lone Episcopal Church on the corner of Main and Stewart, and a local theater across the street if you were into the arts. Though by the looks of it, it hadn’t been in operation for at least a few decades. It didn’t take more than two minutes to drive from one end of Carmel to the other, and before they knew it, the ghostly town was long behind them.
“Not much out here, is there?” Deon watched as the decrepit township retreated further into the morning’s misty light.
“Not unless you’re overly fond of cows,” Jordan replied. “Or manure.”
“Well, I’m not one to pass up a good burger, but this might be overdoing it.” Deon pinched his nose and tried to forget how to use his fourth sense. Or was it the third? It didn’t matter, within moments he was already palm-deep in the bag of trail mix he’d rescued from that worn-down gas station about 60-ish miles back.
“Dude, we’re not even on the trail yet.”
“So?” Deon shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of snacks. You’re the one who only packed jerky.”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we’re hiking Everest.”
“Hey, gotta keep up my strength, you know what I mean?”
Jordan rolled his eyes, noticed a positive change in the speed limit, and stepped on the gas. He took a long look at the shadows creeping across the open range as the sun climbed higher. If he’d known his breath would fail him, he might’ve scheduled an earlier starting time; but as it was, he kept on schedule, trying his best to take it all in.
“Would you ever wanna live in a place like this?” Deon asked. He too had been studying the painted landscape.
Jordan glanced out the car window. His eyes glazed over the wheat fields, still littered with snow. They passed farms with broken-down pick-up trucks and rusted tractors loitering beside storage sheds and barns. Yes, there was something pure and good about this simple way of life. Though, simple didn’t mean easy. Frankly, Jordan wasn’t sure he’d make the cut.
“I just don’t know what I’d do out here,” he said. “It’s not really my scene.”
Minutes passed before they stopped alongside the narrow country road, just near the trailhead. On the curb across from them sat a ramshackle Dutch Reformed Church that somehow looked even older than the rest of the quaint little town. Watching them with fading stained-glass eyes, the church sat just opposite the trail’s gaping mouth, carefully guarding the mountain.
But, like most, they paid the chapel no mind and began mindlessly collecting their gear and provisions. They had been sure to fill their packs the night before so as to not waste time this morning. A few liters of water, emergency supplies, a gas stove, and a half dozen heating packs in case their fingers got too stiff. They had everything they might need for this journey. There was more, of course, Jordan was a “worst-case scenario” sort of guy, always prepared for things to go wrong.
Or so he thought.
Though he understood Jordan’s pessimistic view, Deon opted to live life a bit more optimistically. Maybe it was the way he was raised, but he chose to hold to a confident expectation of good. Nevertheless, he strapped his father’s old hunting knife to his belt, just in case.
After donning their burdens, they were ready to embark. Jordan looked up at the mountain and then back down at the windy trail. The trail itself was lined with trees on either side, with some of the branches overlapping above to form a sort of makeshift covering. The scent of the pines wafted towards them like an oven filled with freshly baked bread, pleading with them to begin. Though wildfires had raged in previous summers, these lands looked relatively untouched.
A smile crept across Jordan’s face. It was just as he had imagined it. After all these years, after all the talk, they were finally here. He glanced back down at his watch and noted that it was the top of the hour. They had timed everything perfectly; or rather, he had. He turned back to Deon, who was finishing up the laces on his boots.
“You ready?”
Deon tightened his double knot and jumped to his feet. “As I’ll ever be. Can you believe we’re really doing this?”
Jordan locked the Highlander and turned towards the trail. It was time.
As they took their first steps in the soft, sweaty snow, they heard a creaky voice beckoning them from behind. It started out just above a whisper but soon became louder, and frantic. “Good morning, lads!”
Jordan and Deon glanced back at the older gentleman waddling his way toward them from the churchyard across the street. He was a short feller, of average build who clad himself a black overcoat and a felt hat. He wore big, round glasses and though he looked as if he should’ve had a great, white beard, he maintained only a few unkempt gray whiskers peppered across his face.
From what they could tell, he was the only one out here at this time of day. And no wonder as there wasn’t much out here to begin with. More than likely, they were the first visitors he’d had in a week, if not longer.
“Just our luck,” Jordan muttered. He resisted the urge to glance back at his watch. This better not take long, he thought to himself. When the man in black reached them, he offered an open palm. He seemed friendly enough, so they gave theirs in return.
“I am very good with faces, and I do not recognize yours,” he said, a warm smile plastered on his face. “Reverend Jude Anthony, at your service.”
Jordan wasn’t exactly thrilled. He wasn’t expecting company, nor did he much care for it. He wouldn’t be deterred again, not when they were so close.
Noting Jordan’s frustration, Deon went on defense. “Good morning, Reverend. I’m Deon, and this here is Jordan.”
Deon knew how to play the field. After four years of college ball–and the complimentary years as Jordan’s roommate–it had become second nature. Jordan sent back a courtesy wave, but his eyes itched toward the dark tower behind them.
“Nice to meet you both,” the Reverend said. “Where are you gentlemen headed this fine morning?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Deon replied. “We’re headed up the mountain. We’ve been trying to get out here for quite some time, but...”
“Something always got in the way,” Jordan snapped back.
Either unconcerned or ignorant, the Reverend seemed oblivious to Jordan’s irritable tone. “Now, why on God’s green earth would you want to climb that mountain at this time of year? It is far too dangerous. Much slipperier than you might think! You ought to reconsider.”
Had the minister left it there, the boys might’ve just considered him a harmless old man with nothing better to do than worry about the health and safety of complete strangers, not unlike the little, old ladies who police nearby playgrounds where children climb as high as they can on the tallest tree.
But the Reverend didn’t leave it there.
Instead, he rambled on, explaining that it was crucial they let the snow melt completely before returning to ascend the high place. It wasn’t long before he trailed off, listing all the local predators that the boys were already keenly aware of. Even Deon was beginning to lose his patience.
“You would be better off heading back home,” the Reverend finally said. “Or, better yet, come on inside, out of the cold. We could share a pot of warm tea and you can tell me all about your dreams and ambitions.”
“Thanks, but we can handle the cold,” Jordan said, with more than an ounce of pride curling from his lips. “Enjoy your tea.”
With that, the boys turned away from the old man. First Jordan and then, somewhat apologetically, Deon followed suit as they started back down the trail. Deon wasn’t too pleased about abruptly turning their backs on a minister (he’d been brought up better than that), but he couldn’t help but be glad to leave the old man behind. The last thing either of them wanted was another reason not to see their course through to the end.
They didn’t get too far before a faint chill perforated their ears and sunk down to their uneasy stomachs. “You must not go!” the minister cried, standing like a crazed watchman at the city gate. His feet were firmly planted in the snow. He showed no intention of moving even a step closer toward them, or the mountain.
Jordan couldn’t help himself. He glanced back at the pastor with a fiery look in his eye that was about to cut loose. He somehow managed to hold his peace, but it took every last drop of patience he’d packed with him. With a heavy sigh, they turned back to the minister, though they kept their distance.
“Believe me or do not, it is entirely your choice, but I would caution you against journeying up this particular mountain at this particular time of year. There is a beast that resides in its heart. A beast that only exhumes itself when the mountain dethaws, to hunt and gather for its expected slumber.”
“A beast?” Deon asked, “You mean like a bear?”
“Nice try. Bears only hibernate in the winter,” Jordan said.
“This is no bear,” the minister continued, letting his words linger a moment more. “This creature is something else entirely. It is a carnivorous beast capable only of death and destruction.” His eyes widened as he spoke. “If you ascend Bear-tooth Mountain now, you may never return.”
Jordan couldn’t help but laugh. Any pent-up rage he’d been holding dissipated as he erupted like a middle-school science class volcano. He couldn’t stop himself. A man-eating monster inside the mountain? Please. If it were true, someone would have surely said or done something about it by now. Someone with a little more, scratch that, a lot more credibility than this raving small-town preacher. If the park service didn’t know about any monster on Bear-tooth Mountain, then what secret knowledge could this kook possibly offer? Even Deon was stifling his laughter now, trying to help his friend regain his composure.
“This guy’s a lunatic,” Jordan whispered.
“He’s probably just lonely,” Deon whispered back. “Let’s just let him be.”
Jordan caught some loose tears amidst his laughter. “No disrespect, Reverend,” he fibbed. “But this isn’t our first mountain. We can handle ourselves just fine. And if we see any strange beasts heading our way, we’ll just run like hell.”
“I really think you boys ought to come inside,” Reverend Jude pressed. “Your very lives may depend on it.”
“No thanks,” Jordan said. He glanced down at his watch, signaling Deon to help wrap things up.
“We appreciate the warning, but we’re prepared for any predators,” Deon said. “Anyway, we’ve better get going if we want to stay on schedule.”
Reverend Jude considered his next words carefully. For a moment, neither Jordan nor Deon thought he’d speak at all. But he did, and he did so with a hint of grace upon his lips.
“Very well, then. I wish you boys a safe and uneventful journey. I will pray for a speedy return.”
“Thanks,” Deon said. “We appreciate that.” He really did too.
“Just mind the caves,” the minister warned as he wandered back to the old church across the street. His muttering continued the farther he waddled. “Mind the caves…”
After the Reverend pulled the chapel doors closed, Jordan and Deon finally set sail. They pushed the minister’s eerie warnings aside and began their trek into the snow-covered forestlands that led to the base of the mountain.
Their journey had officially begun.
Thanks for Reading!
I hope you enjoyed this exclusive preview of The Beast of Bear-tooth Mountain. I’m psyched to share this story with you, a tale I’ve been working on for almost a year and a half now. It started off as a short story with about 20-40 pages worth of material, and from there it just sort of mutated.
Writing Jordan, Deon, and Reverend Jude has been a blast (no wonder the story continued far beyond what I initially intended), and I hope that you enjoy these characters even half as much as I do. It’s been so much fun playing around in the fictional small town of Carmel and ascending and descending Bear-tooth Mountain in the process. Even once the book is released, I’m not sure I’ll ever leave it.
If you enjoyed this story, please stay tuned for more updates about the project. Right now, I’m looking at a tentative release date of October 25th, but that could change depending on some behind-the-scenes stuff. God willing, it’ll be out before Halloween, but if not, certainly by Thanksgiving.
Thank you all for your support through this project. I’ve mentioned some folks here before who have helped me along the way (either creatively or by promoting my work), and I’m very thankful for them, but the one person I could not have done this without is my wife, Hannah. She not only read every draft and painfully worked with me as I revised this story more than once but also sat and listened as I read her the entire tale aloud over the course of a few nights. Thank you, sweetheart, you’re one in a million!
With that, check back here and on my official author’s Instagram for updates surrounding The Beast of Bear-tooth Mountain (#beartoothmtn), coming very, very soon!
This Week’s Petty Picks
With Spooky Season now upon us, here are some other thrilling tales to get you through Halloween…
‘Salem’s Lot was my first venture into the world of Stephen King, and aside from the occasional “ick-factor” that comes with that, it was an excellent horror story that takes some pretty clear inspiration from Dracula.
I read/listened to this one in about a week and couldn’t put it down. There’s supposed to be a new movie adaptation coming out pretty soon, but with Covid and then other behind-the-scene setbacks, there has (sadly) been no official update since its last release date came and went. But the book’s great!
The Haunting of Hill House is a limited Netflix series based on the novel of the same name, though it differs significantly from what I’ve been told. Hill House was made by horror master Mike Flannagan, who is slowly becoming a staple of the genre (see Midnight Mass for his magnum opus).
But this ghost story is much more than a horror, it’s a deep dive into the mental and emotional demons that one family carries with them from childhood to adulthood and more. It’s pretty exceptional, and the filmmaking techniques alone are worth the high praise (see, Episode 6 - “Two Storms”).
Scooby-Doo and the Witch’s Ghost is one of those movies I think of every time the seasons change from summer to autumn. It’s such a fun animated movie, and second only to Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island, which I must’ve watched on repeat as a kid.
Witch’s Ghost is a blast, and from a bygone era of Scooby animation that only lasted a few years. Nevertheless, this New England-based story touches on everything from the Salem Witch Trials to hard goth rock. It’s sort of got it all. Oh, and SPOILER ALERT, the monsters are real in this one, so be warned…
This looks really fun brother!
Thank you so much for sharing, can't wait to read the whole story!! You grasped my attention and my curiosity!