SO EP:721 Bigfoot Country: Part Three

was it was? Standing enough? I'm out here looking through the window now and I don't see anything. I don't want to go outside. Jesus Quice, you better hello, hit thebody out here when I'm out there. I thought of a bitch about Tex forty nine. I don't know. Easy him out there. Yeah, I'm walking right head uh.

going when everything else tells you to stop. Daniel made breakfast while I filled Zack in on what had happened, the men in black, the threats, the photographs proving they'd been watching us for weeks. By the time I finished, Daniel had stopped cooking and was just standing at the stove, spatula in hand, staring at me. They threatened you, he said. His voice was flat, controlled, but I could hear the anger underneath. They came to our home and threatened you.

They threatened both of us, you specifically. What are we going to do? I looked at Zach, He looked at me. We'd already had this conversation in the driveway in low voices, while Daniel was still getting dressed. We knew what we had to do. The question was whether we could bring Daniel along for the ride. We're not backing down, I said. Daniel set down the spatula.

from them us, can you? Daniel was quiet for a long moment. Then he squeezed my hand and let out a breath. What do you need me to do? The first thing we did was make copies of everything, all the evidence we'd collected, the trail camera footage, the footprint casts, the hair samples, Austin's phone, Zach's files going back twenty years. We duplicated it all multiple times, physical copies, digital copies, copies stored in locations that only we knew about. If

they came for the originals, we'd still have backups. If they came for the backups, we'd have backups of the backups. Then we started reaching out. Zach had contacts in the cryptozoology community, researchers, investigators, people who'd been studying these creatures for decades. They operated on the fringes of mainstream science, dismissed as crackpots and true believers. But they had resources and connections that we didn't. More importantly, they had experience

dealing with government suppression. There's a network, Zach explained as we sat around the kitchen table with laptops open and phones charging. People who've been gathering evidence for years. Most of them have had run ends with the same kind of men you met last night. They know how to operate under the radar, how to protect their sources, how to get information out without getting caught. Can we trust them as much as we can trust anyone. They want

the truth out as badly as we do. I thought about it, thought about the risks, the potential for infiltration, the possibility that reaching out would just paint a bigger target on our backs. Do it, I said, make the calls. While Zach worked his contacts, I focused on the official investigation. The men in black had told me to close the Mercer case. They told me to destroy the evidence and

move on, but they hadn't actually done anything yet. They'd made threats, but threats weren't action, and the he took action. I was still the Sheriff of Caldwell County. I still had a job to do. Austin Mercer was still missing. His family was still waiting for answers, and regardless of what was really responsible for his disappearance, I owed it to them to conduct a thorough investigation. So that's what

I did. I assembled a search team, deputies, volunteers, anyone willing to hike into the back country and look for signs of the missing student. We spent three days combing the area around his campsite, expanding our search radius until we'd covered nearly ten square miles of forest. We found traces a torn piece of fabric caught on a branch, a shoe just one the left, one lying in a

creek bed half a mile from the camp. More footprints the same impossible size as the ones we'd found before, leading deeper and deeper into the wilderness, but we didn't find Austin. On the third day, I called off the official search. We'd done everything we could with the recent sources we had. The case would remain open, classified as an active missing person investigation, but without a body or more evidence, there wasn't much else to do, at least

not officially. Unofficially, the real investigation was just beginning. The forty eight hour deadline the men had given me came and went. I half expected them to show up again, to follow through on their threats, to make good on all the dark promises they'd implied. But nothing happened. No midnight visitors, no mysterious phone calls, no sudden career ending scandals. It made me nervous. They're watching, Zack said, when I mentioned it to him, waiting to see what we do.

They won't move until they have to. And when will that be when we become a real threat, when we start making enough noise that they can't ignore us anymore. So what do we do? Keep our heads down? Zack smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. No, he said, we make noise. The documentary was Zack's idea. He'd been contacted by a filmmaker, a woman named Amanda, who'd made several well regarded documentaries

about unexplained phenomena. She'd seen the news coverage of the Mercer disappearance, heard the rumors about strange circumstances, and wanted to know more. She's legitimate, Zach assured me. I've seen her work. She's not one of those sensationalist hacks who makes everything about aliens and conspiracy theories. She takes this stuff seriously, she does real investigative journalism, And you think we should talk to her. I think we should do more than talk. I think we should give her everything.

I stared at him, everything, the footage, the files, the whole twenty years a cover up, all of it on the record on camera. He leaned forward. Think about it, Brian, If we try to go public ourselves, we get dismissed as crackpots, two guys in the woods chasing Bigfoot. But if a respected documentary filmmaker tells the story, if she brings in experts, corroborating witnesses, all the evidence we've collected, suddenly it's not just us anymore. Suddenly it's a real

story that people have to take seriously. And suddenly we're in the crosshairs of whoever those men work for. We're already in the crosshairs. At least this way, we're not alone. I thought about it for a long time, thought about Daniel, about the life we'd built here, about everything we stood to lose, thought about Austin Mercer's parents, about the families of all those missing people, about the truth that had been hidden for so long set up a meeting, I said, finally,

let's hear what she has to say. Amanda arrived in Caldwell County two weeks later. She was younger than I expected, mid thirties maybe, with sharp eyes and a no nonsense demeanor that I recognized from my years in law enforcement, the kind of person who asked hard questions and didn't accept easy answers. We met at a coffee shop in Lenore neutral ground where we could talk without being overheard.

She listened while Zack and I laid out the basics, the disappearances, the evidence, the cover up, the visit from the men in black. She didn't interrupt, didn't react, just listened and took notes and occasionally asked a clarifying question. When we finished, she sat back and looked at us for a long moment. Do you have proof of any of this? She asked? Some of it, I said, the trail camera footage, the footprints, the video from Austin's phone,

the rest, the cover up, the government involvement. That's harder to document, but you believe it's real. I know it's real. I've experienced it firsthand. When I was twelve years old, I had an encounter with one of these creatures. I didn't see it, but I heard it, smelled it felt it. It's been with me ever since Amanda studied me. I could see her assessing, weighing, trying to decide if I was credible or just another true believer with a story

to tell. And You're willing to go on camera with this, knowing what it could do to your career, your reputation. I'm the sheriff of this county. A young man is missing, probably dead, and I know what happened to him. Even if I can't prove it. I'm not going to stay silent because it's easier, even if it puts you in danger, especially if it puts me in danger. That's when it matters most. Amanda nodded slowly. Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a contract. Let's talk terms, she said.

Chapter thirteen, The Gathering Storm. The documentary crew arrived in early November. There were five of them, Amanda, two camera operators, a sound guy, and a researcher who spent most of her time buried in documents and databases. They set up shop in a rental house outside Lenore, and for the next several weeks. They were a constant presence in our lives.

Amanda in interviewed everyone, me Zach Daniel, though he was reluctant at first, Harold Whitmore, the old man who'd first encouraged me to run for Sheriff, park rangers who'd had their own experiences, families of the missing, researchers who'd been studying the Pizgah for years. She was thorough. I'll give her that. Every claim we made she verified. Every piece of evidence we showed her. She had analyzed by independent experts. Every witness we produced, she cross examined until she was

satisfied they weren't lying or crazy. And what she found confirmed everything we'd suspected. The cover up goes back decades, she told us one evening, Spreading documents across the kitchen table, I found references to suppressed reports going back to the nineteen forties. The Forest Service, the Park Service, the Army Corps of Engineers. They all have files on these creatures, and they've all been systematically buried. Who's behind it? That's

harder to pend down. It's not one agency, it's a network people in different departments who coordinate to keep this quiet. Some of them are true believers who think they're protecting the public. Others are just following orders. And at the top, she shook her head. I haven't been able to identify who's running the show. Whoever they are, they're very good at staying hidden, like the creatures themselves, Zach said, exactly,

like the creatures themselves. The filming took place over several weeks. They followed me on patrol, documented the ongoing search for Austin Mercer, interviewed witnesses and experts. Amanda pushed for access to the original campsite, and after some hesitation, I agreed to take her team out there. It was different in daylight, with cameras rolling and people talking, less ominous, more like any other crime scene I'd worked over the years. But I could still feel it, that sense of being watched,

of something lurking just beyond the edge of perception. You feel it, too, Amanda said, coming up beside me while the camera crew filmed the clearing. Feel what that presence, like something's out there, just out of sight. I didn't answer. I didn't need to. I've been doing this work for ten years. She continued, investigating, unexplained phenomena talking to witnesses, trying to separate fact from fiction. And in all that time, I've never felt anything like this. She turned to look

at me. They're real, aren't they? The creatures? They're actually real. I've known they were real since I was twelve years old, and the government knows too, They've known for decades, at least that long, maybe longer. Amanda was quiet for a moment, then she shook her head. This is going to change everything, she said, when this documentary comes out, when people see the evidence, everything's going to change. I wanted to believe her.

I wanted to believe that the truth would come out, that the cover up would end, that all those families would finally get answers about what happened to their loved ones. But I'd been around long enough to know that the truth doesn't always win. Sometimes the people in power are too strong, too connected, too willing to do whatever it takes to keep their secrets. Sometimes the darkness wins. I just hoped this wasn't one of those times. The first

sign of trouble came two weeks into filming. Amanda's researcher, a young woman named Jessica, was working late at the rental house when someone broke in. They didn't take anything valuable, didn't touch her laptop or her phone, or the cash she had in her purse. All they took was a box of documents, physical copies of some of the files Zach had shared with US, records of disappearances, internal memos,

evidence of the cover up. They knew exactly what they were looking for, Amanda said when she called to tell me what had happened, and stay tuned for more sasquatch oat to see. We'll be right back. After the these messages, they went straight for that box and left everything else untouched. Is Jessica okay? Shaken up but fine. She was in the other room when it happened, didn't hear anything until it was over. Did she see who did it? No, whoever it was. They were professionals, in and out in

less than five minutes, No witnesses, no evidence. I felt a chill run down my spine. The men in black, that's what I'm thinking. They're sending a message, letting us know they can get to us whenever they want. What do you want to do, Amanda's voice hardened. I want to keep going. I didn't get into this business to be scared off by thugs and suits, did you no, ma'am, I did not. Then let's give them something to really

worry about. We doubled down on security after that, changed locations, varied our routines, made sure someone was always with the crew, always watching for signs of surveillance. It wasn't enough. A week later, one of the camera operators, a guy named Marcus, found a tracking device on his car, small, sophisticated, the kind of thing law enforcement uses for surveillance. He found it by accident, only because he dropped his keys and had to get down on the ground to retrieve them.

They've been following us, he said, turning the device over in his hands, probably since we got here, at least since the break in. Amanda agreed. They want to know who we're talking to, what we're finding, how much we know. Should we get rid of it? Amanda thought for a moment, then she smiled No. She said, let's use it. Let them think they know where we are and what we're doing, and meanwhile we'll do our real work somewhere they're not watching.

It was risky. Everything about this was risky, but we were past the point of playing it safe. We were committed now. The interview continued. Amanda sat down with Zach for a full day, going through his files piece by piece, documenting every disappearance, every suppressed report, every piece of evidence that pointed to a systematic cover up. She interviewed former park service employees who'd been forced out for asking too many questions. She talked to scientists who'd analyzed hair samples

and footprint casts and couldn't explain what they'd found. And she interviewed me. I told her everything. The move to Lyarley when I was twelve, the feeling of wrongness in that corner of the woods, the encounter, the huffing, the growling, the bluff charge that stopped just twenty feet away, The creature I never saw but knew was there, knew was watching, knew could have ended me if it had wanted to. I told her about Mama's cancer, about Daddy's abandonment, about

the clan burning across in our front yard. I told her about growing up poor, about working my way through life, about becoming a because I wanted to help people, and discovering that the people who were supposed to help were often the ones making things worse. I told her about Daniel, about loving him, about building a life with him, about the fear that all of this would destroy everything we'd worked so hard for. Why are you doing this, Amanda

asked near the end of the interview. You could walk away, close the case, forget what you've seen, go back to your quiet life. Why risk everything? I thought about the question for a long time before answering, because I spent thirty years pretending it didn't happen, I said, finally, thirty years telling myself that what I heard in those woods was just a bear, just my imagination, just a trick

of the light. And in all those years, I never stopped wondering, never stopped questioning, never stopped feeling like there was something wrong with the world, something hidden, something that I was supposed to understand but couldn't. I looked directly into the camera. I'm not pretending anymore. I know what's out there. I know what happened to Austin Mercer, I know what happened to all those people who disappeared over the years, and I'm not going to be quiet about it,

not anymore, not ever again. Amanda held my gaze for a moment, then She nodded and signaled for the camera operator to cut. That was good, she said, that was really good. I didn't feel good. I felt exposed, vulnerable, like I'd stripped away all my armor and left myself open to attack. But I also felt free. For the first time in thirty years, I felt truly free. Whatever came next, at least I'd told the truth. At least I'd finally told the truth. Chapter fourteen, Things that Lurk.

Thanksgiving came and went without much celebration. Daniel and I had a quiet dinner at home, just the two of us, a turkey breast instead of a whole bird, all the fixings Mama used to make when I was growing up. We didn't talk about the investigation, or the documentary or the men who were watching our every move. We just ate and talked about nothing important and tried to remember what normal felt like. It wasn't easy. Normal felt very

far away. After dinner, we sat on the back deck with glasses of wine, watching the stars come out over the mountains. The air was cold enough to see our breath, and we huddled together under a blanket, drawing warmth from each other. Do you ever regret it? Daniel asked, regret what all of this running for sheriff, starting this investigation, stirring up things that maybe should have stayed buried. I thought about it, really thought about it. No, I said, finally,

I regret that it's put you in danger. I regret that our lives aren't what we thought they'd be when we moved up here. But do I regret trying to find the truth. No, I can't regret that even if the truth destroys everything, the truth is the only thing worth destroying everything. For. Daniel was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached over and took my hand. I love you, he said. Whatever happens, whatever comes next, I love you.

I love you too. We sat there in the darkness, holding hands, watching the stars, and somewhere out there, in the vast wilderness that surrounded our little patch of land, something watched us back. I could feel it, that familiar sensation of being observed, of something large and intelligent, taking note of our presence. It wasn't threatening, not exactly, more like a reminder, a reminder that we weren't alone out here, a reminder that the forest had eyes. They're out there tonight,

I said, quietly. Daniel tensed beside me. How do you know I can feel it the same way I could feel it back and lirely all those years ago. Should we go inside? I shook my head. They're not going to hurt us. If they wanted to hurt us, they would have done it already. Then what do they want? I don't know. Maybe they're just curious. Maybe they're watching to see what we do next. I squeezed his hand. Maybe they know we're trying to help. That's a lot of maybes. Yeah, I agreed it is. We stayed on

the deck for another hour, watching and waiting. Nothing happened, no vocalizations, no movement in the trees, just that presence, that weight, that feeling of being observed by something we couldn't see. When we finally went inside, I locked the door behind us and checked all the windows. Not because I was afraid of the creatures. I wasn't, but because there were other things out there to be afraid of. Human things, things in black suits who made threats in

the middle of the night. Those things scared me a lot more than anything in the forest. December brought snow, not a lot, just a few inches, enough to turn the mountains wide and make the roads treacherous. The documentary crew had finished their initial filming and headed back to California to start editing. Amanda called every few days with updates. Said the footage was amazing. Said this was going to

be bigger than anything she'd ever done. We're looking at a spring release, she told me, maybe earlier, if we can get everything cut in time. The network's excited, they think this could be huge. What about the people watching us? Have they made any moves? Nothing overt A few attempts to access our servers, some suspicious activity around the editing facility, but we've got good security. They're not going to get

to the footage. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that we'd outmaneuvered them, that the truth was going to come out, no matter what they did to stop it. But I'd been in law enforcement long enough to know that powerful people have ways of making problems disappear. Be careful, I said. They're not going to give up just because we've made it hard for them. I know we're being careful. You be careful too. Always. The call

came on a Tuesday afternoon, two weeks before Christmas. I was at the office working through a stack of paperwork that had piled up during the investigation when my personal cell phone rang unknown number. I almost didn't answer, Sheriff Patterson, I said, Sheriff. The voice was familiar, smooth, controlled, with an undertone of menace that I recognized immediately. It was one of the men from that night, the one who'd done most of the talking. What do you want to

give you? One final warning? The documentary you're helping produce it needs to stop. The footage needs to be destroyed, The investigation needs to end or what or there will be consequences, consequences for you, for your partner, for everyone involved in this project. You've already threatened me once it didn't work, then it's not going to work.

only things you should be afraid of. There are forces at work here that you can't begin to understand, Forces that have been managing this situation for longer than you've been alive. Managing it how by covering up disappearances, by threatening anyone who gets too close to the truth, by keeping the public safe, by maintaining order, by ensuring that

certain complications don't destabilize society. Complications you mean bigfoot. I mean things that are better left unknown, things that would change the way people see the world, things that certain interests have decided should remain hidden. And you're the ones who decide what people get to know. You're the ones who get to play god. Someone has to The alternative is chaos, I laughed. I couldn't help it. Chaos. A few big hairy creatures in the woods, and you think

that's going to cause chaos? People have been reporting these things for centuries. The world hasn't ended. It's not just about the creature's sheriff. It never has been. The creatures are just one piece of a much larger puzzle, a puzzle that you're not equipped to understand. Then explain it to me. Another pause. When the voice came back, it was softer, almost sad, I can't. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. You'd never believe me. And even if you did,

the voice stopped started again. Walk Away, Sheriff, for your own sake, for your partner's sake, walk away while you still can. I can't do that. Then I'm sorry for what's going to happen. I truly am. The line went dead. I sat there for a long time, staring at my phone, trying to process what I'd just heard, trying to understand what he meant about larger puzzles and things. I couldn't understand.

What wasn't he telling me? What was so big, so dangerous, that the existence of sasquatch was just a small piece of it? I didn't know, but I had a feeling I was about to find out. That night, I told Daniel about the call. He listened without interrupting, his face growing more concerned with every word. When I finished, he

was quiet for a long moment. Maybe we should listen to them, he said, finally, What I'm serious, Brian, Whatever this is, whatever they're protecting, it's bigger than us, bigger than this investigation. Maybe they're right, Maybe some secrets are better left buried. You don't believe that. I don't know what I believe anymore. All I know is that I don't want to lose you. I don't want to wake up one morning and find out that you've disappeared like

all those other people. That's not going to happen. You don't know that. You can't know that. He reached from my hand, Brian, I love you, I love our life together, and I'm terrified that this investigation is going to destroy everything we've built. I pulled him close, held him, felt his heart beating against mine. I know, I said, I'm scared too, but I can't walk away from this. I've spent my whole life running from the truth, pretending things didn't happen, burying my head in the sand. I can't

do it anymore. I won't even if it kills you, even if it kills me. Daniel pulled back and looked at me. His eyes were wet. Then, I guess we're in this together, he said, Whatever happens, whatever comes next, we're in it together. Always, I said always. We held each other for a long time after that, and outside in the darkness, something howled. Chapter fifteen, The Pieces Fall

Christmas was quiet. We spent it alone, just Daniel and me, trying to pretend that everything was normal, even though nothing was normal anymore. Mama called from Georgia. She was doing well, still in remission, living her best life with the new husband she'd met a few years back, a good man, finally, someone who treated her the way she deserved to be treated. You sound tired, she said, her voice crackling through the phone line. You working too hard, just busy, I said,

share of stuff? Uh huh. She wasn't fooled, she never was. You know, you can tell me anything right, whatever's going on. I'm here. I wanted to tell her, wanted to unload all of it, the investigation, the threats, the creatures in the forest, the men who watched our every move. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. She'd been through enough. She'd spent her whole life worrying about me, taking care

of me, putting my needs ahead of her own. She deserved peace now, she deserved to enjoy her retirement without her son's problems weighing her down. And stay tuned for mor sasquatch yat to see. We'll be right back. After these messages, I know, Mama, I said, everything's fine, just the usual craziness. If you say so, I love you, baby, You know that, right, I know I love you too. After we hung up, I sat by the window for a long time, watching the snowfall and thinking about everything

that had led me to this moment. The move to Liary, the encounter in the woods, Mama's cancer, daddy's abandonment, coming out, becoming a cop, meeting Daniel, moving to North Carolina, running for sheriff. Every step of the journey had brought me here to this house on this mountain, in the middle of an investigation that might get me killed. Was it fate? Was it coincidence? Or was it something else, something larger, something I couldn't understand. I didn't know, but I had

a feeling I was about to find out. New Year's came and went. The documentary editing continued, and then in the second week of January, everything changed. It started with a phone call from Zack. You need to come see this, he said, I found something, something big. What is it? I can't explain over the phone. Just get here as soon as you can. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. Daniel was at work. He'd taken an extra shift at the pizza place to cover for someone

who was out sick. I texted him to let him know where I was going, then climbed into my truck and headed for the ranger station. Zach was waiting for me in his office, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. When I walked in, he closed the door behind me and locked it. This can't leave this room, he said, not yet, not until we figure out what it means. What did you find? He sat down at his computer and pulled up a document, a PDF heavily

redacted but still partially readable. The header said Department of Defense classified. How did you get this? One of my contacts she's been digging through old archives looking for anything related to the cover up. She found this buried in a file that was supposed to have been destroyed in the nineteen seventies. I leaned in to read. Most of the text was blacked out, but a few passages remained visible. Ongoing surveillance of subject populations in designated wilderness areas evidence

suggests intelligence levels significantly higher than previously estimated. Recommendation to maintain current containment protocols until further study can be completed, potential implications for national security cannot be overstated. I looked up at Zach, what is this. It's from nineteen sixty two, a report on a military operation called Project Threshold, and from what I can piece together, it was all about them, the creatures. The Department of Defense was studying Bigfoot, not

just studying managing controlling. Zach pulled up another document. I found references to similar programs going back to the nineteen forties. After World War II, when the government started getting serious about national security, they became aware of these creatures, and they decided to keep them secret. Why That's the part I'm still trying to figure out. But based on what I've read, it wasn't just about public safety. It was

about something else, something bigger. He scrolled to another passage, this one even more heavily redacted than the first. Connection two redacted confirmed through redacted analysis. Implications for understanding of redacted and redacted remain under investigation. Recommend continuation of suppression protocols until redacted can be contained. What is that, I asked, What are they talking about? I don't know, but whatever it is, it scared them enough to spend sixty years

covering it up. Zach leaned back in his chair. Brian, I think we've stumbled into something much bigger than Bigfoot, something that the government has been hiding since before we were born, and whatever it is, they're willing to do anything to keep it secret. I stared at the screen, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. A sixty year cover up, military involvement, national security implications. What the hell had we gotten ourselves into? I took copies

of everything. Zach had already made backups. He wasn't stupid, but I wanted my own set. If something happened to him, if something happened to his files, I wanted to make I'm sure the information survived. On the drive home, I kept turning it over in my mind. The creatures were real. We knew that the government was covering them up. We knew that too, But there was something else, something they were even more afraid of than the creatures themselves. What

could be scarier than Bigfoot? The answer came to me as I was pulling into my driveway, and it stopped me cold. What if Bigfoot wasn't the only thing out there? What if the creatures we knew about were just the tip of the iceberg. I thought about all the strange things that had happened since we'd moved to North Carolina, the vocalizations, the lights in the night, the sense of being watched by something we couldn't see. What if it

wasn't just sasquatch watching us? What if there was something else. I didn't tell Daniel about the documents that night. He came home exhausted from his shift, and I didn't want to pile more worry on top of his fatigue. Instead, I made dinner and we watched TV, and I tried to act like everything was fine. But I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to

Daniel's steady breathing beside me. My mind was racing, jumping from thought to thought, trying to connect dots that didn't want to be connected. The creatures, the cover up, the men in black, the redacted documents, the references to things that the government considered national security threats. What wasn't I seeing? What piece of the puzzle was I missing? Around two

in the morning, I gave up on sleep. I got out of bed, quietly, trying not to wake Daniel and went to the living room, pulled up my laptop started searching. I searched for Project Threshold, for government programs related to unexplained phenomena, for military involvement, ENCRYPTID research, for anything that might explain what I'd seen in those documents. What I found shook me to my core. There were others, not just Zach and me, not just Amanda and her documentary crew.

There were researchers all over the country who'd been piecing together the same puzzle. Some of them had been doing it for decades, and they'd all come to the same conclusion. The cover up wasn't just about Bigfoot. It was about everything UFOs, cryptids, paranormal phenomena, everything that mainstream science said

was impossible, everything that the government officially denied. It was all connected, all part of the same vast system of suppression that had been operating for more than half a century. And at the center of it all was something that nobody understood, something that the people in charge were desperately trying to keep hidden, something they were afraid of. I sat in the dark, staring at my laptop screen, feeling

the weight of it all pressing down on me. This was bigger than I'd ever imagined, Bigger than Austin Mercer, bigger than the missing people, bigger than everything I thought I knew, and I had no idea what to do about it. The knock on the door came just before dawn. I was still in the living room, still staring at my laptop when I heard it, three sharp raps, deliberate and precise, the same knock i'd heard before. I closed the laptop and stood up, grabbed my rifle from where

it rested against the wall, moved to the door. Who's there? No answer. I opened the door, the rifle raised and ready. Nobody was there. The porch was empty, the driveway was empty. The morning was gray and cold, the mountain still shrouded in pre dawned darkness. But there was something on the door mat, A thick Manila envelope, no markings, no indication of where it had come from, just a single word

written on the front in block letters, truth. I scanned the tree line, looking for movement, looking for whoever had left this package. Nothing, no sound except the wind in the pines, no motion except the gentle swaying of branches. I picked up the envelope and carried it inside, set it on the kitchen table. Stared at it for a long moment, wondering if this was some kind of trap, a bomb maybe, or anthrax or some other threat designed to take me out before the documentary could air. But

my instincts said otherwise. Whoever had left this wanted me to see what was inside, wanted me to know something that someone had gone to great lengths to keep hidden. I got a knife from the drawer and carefully slit the envelope open, taking care not to touch the contents directly in case there were fingerprints worth preserving. What I

found inside would haunt me for years. The envelope contained a stack of documents, maybe fifty pages, some original, some photocopies, all of them bearing the stamps and classification markings of official government records. The first page was a cover sheet. The header read Project Vulcan Classified Eyes Only. Below that a date May eighteenth, nineteen eighty. I felt the hair

on my arms stand up. May eighteenth, nineteen eighty, The day Mount Saint Helens erupted, The day that fifty seven people died in the largest volcanic event in United States history, The day that changed the landscape of the Pacific Northwest forever. But according to these documents, something else had happened that day, something that had been hidden from the world for over forty years. Daniel came into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes. What's going on? I heard you up. Someone

left this on the porch. I held up the envelope. You need to see this. He sat down beside me, and together we began to read. The document was a field report from something called the Biological Containment Unit, a team I'd never heard of, operating under the authority of agencies I didn't recognize. The report described a deployment to the Mount Saint Helen's disaster zone in the immediate appa after math of the eruption, but they weren't there for

the human casualties. Following confirmation of multiple Type B biological entities within the primary blast zone, the report read BCU teams were deployed via helicopter to conduct recovery and containment operations. Initial surveys identified seventeen deceased specimens and three specimens exhibiting signs of life but severe trauma consistent with exposure to pyroclastic flows and associated volcanic phenomena. I read the sentence

again and again and again. Seventeen deceased specimens, three severely injured. The report continued with clinical precision. Living specimens were extracted to Field Hospital Delta for emergency medical treatment. Standard containment protocols were implemented. Two specimens expired during transport due to severity of thermal injuries and respiratory damage. One specimen survived initial triage and remains under observation at the field facility.

All deceased specimens were transported to redacted for analysis and long term storage. Jesus Christ Daniel whispered. I kept reading the document described in clinical detail the physical characteristics of the specimens. Height seven to nine feet, weight estimated six hundred to nine hundred pounds, covered in dense hair like follicles, coloration ranging from dark brown to reddish auburn. Bipedal locomotion,

opposable thumbs, cranial capacity significantly exceeding Homo sapiens parameters. There were photographs, grainy, washed out images that looked like they'd been taken in field conditions. Helicopters in the background, men in military uniforms standing beside shapes, covered in tarps. The quality was poor, but the scale was unmistakable. Whatever was under those tarps was massive. But one photograph was different, clear, unmistakable. A creature on a stretcher being carried by four men

in hasmat suits. Its eyes were closed, its massive chest was wrapped in bandages, soaked through with something dark. One arm hung limply over the side of the stretcher. The hand five fingered, with thick black nails, nearly touching the ground. The face was visible in profile, heavy brow, ridge, flat nose, lips pulled back to reveal large teeth. Hair covered most of the visible skin matted and singed in places from

the volcanic heat. It was real, it was documented, it was undeniable, and the United States government had covered it up for over forty years. This changes everything, Daniel said, This changes everything. I agreed. I turned to the next page, and the next, and the next. Each one added another piece to the puzzle, another layer to the cover up. Another reason why the men in black had been so determined to keep us silent. Weren't just hiding the existence

of these creatures. They'd been studying them for decades, and according to these documents, they'd learned things that would shake the foundations of everything we thought we knew about the natural world.