Chapter 1

The name's Jack Kramer, and I have perhaps one of the strangest stories to tell you. It's so odd that it sounds like something off of one of those internet story sites, but it DID happen to me. Before you hear my story though, you need to know some of my background.

I was born in Packerville, a small town in the Rocky Mountains east of Helena, Montana. We weren't a large town by any stretch of the imagination, maybe 650 to 700 people calling it home. For the most part we're simple farm and ranch folk, just doing our best to make a nice home and life for our families. I grew up just outside of town on the Diamond Circle, a nice little ranch with about 150 acres of fine grass. I've got nothing but good memories of that place. I lived there with my dad, John Kramer, my mom Ruth, and my two little brothers James and Jordan. My dad grew up in Packerville and he was definitely what you might call an outdoorsman or a woodsman. He seemed to know everything about hunting, tracking, survival, you name it. He left town at 19 to become a Marine and not long after he finished boot camp he was assigned to Force Recon. He learned things there that later in life would save his butt many times over.

He met our mother Ruth just after boot camp, and according to both it was love at first sight. Like dad she was of German descent and believed heavily in the bonds of family. I remember mom with nothing but love. She loved my brothers and me nearly as much as she loved our father. She was a short plump woman who lived to make her family happy. I still remember the smells and tastes of her incredible meals, the care she always put into keeping our house looking clean and inviting, and the unconditional love and support she always gave to us. When dad decided to teach I and my brothers how to hunt and survive I really wasn't interested. I was just 5 at the time for God's sake. But I remember mom pulling me aside one day and telling me that it was important that I learn everything dad could teach me. She said that you never knew what life might throw at you and that one day I might need the skills dad was trying to teach us. She also told me that it would make her proud if I learned well, and one thing I always wanted to do was make mom proud. So that's how I started learning things that most young boys, except us rednecks, never learn.

Tragedy struck when I was 12 and mom came home from the doctor's office one day crying. It wasn't until later that night we found out why. It turned out mom had breast cancer and it was far enough longer that there wasn't a thing the doctors could do to stop it. I remember how afraid I was. I knew we were gonna lose mom, but I just couldn't imagine a life without her. It took nearly six months before the cancer claimed her. I still remember the day it happened. She was just so weak and frail by that point that she could barely move. On September 23rd, 2002, mom lost her battle at home in her own bed surrounded by her loved ones. I remember the tears and the crying; I remember the feelings of heartache and loss; I remember the pain of knowing she was never going to be there anymore. But most of all I remember her final words to me that day.

She had me come close and in a voice barely a whisper she told me, "Jack my handsome son, I'm going to leave you today. Just remember that no matter what you're doing or where you are, I'll be with you watching over you from above. Be a good man like your dad, he loves you just as much as I do. He'll need your help after I'm gone baby. He won't admit it, but he will. Look after him and learn well what he teaches you. He is a man that few could ever hope to be like. He has always made me proud, just like you have. I love you with all my heart." Not ten minutes later, she was gone.

It turned out that mom was right. Dad did need my brothers and me after she was gone. He was like a dead man walking for the longest time. A piece of his heart was gone and it was like he didn't want to be alive anymore without her. I think that if the three of us didn't still need him, he would have joined mom not long after her passing. As it was we still had a hard time getting through to him. It was like there just wasn't anybody home in his heart anymore. For the longest time he didn't do much of anything and I had started to worry we may lose him anyway, when I accidentally stumbled on the answer. After months of being trapped in a home with the man, I was starting to go stir crazy with boredom and fear. I needed to do something, anything other than normal ranch chores. So one day after dinner I asked dad when he was going to start training us again. That surprised him as I didn't really have much enthusiasm for the training before. I think the surprise more than anything is what finally snapped him out of his depression. The next morning we were out of the house headed into the woods to train.

I threw myself into the training for two reasons really. One was because it seemed to help dad. The more he trained us the more he seemed to come back to life. It was almost like having the old dad again, just a little less happy and little bit withdrawn. But it was a price I was willing to pay to have him back. The other reason was my mom. To this very day I believe she's up there somewhere watching us and sending us her love. If she was watching, then I had to do all I could to learn what my dad could teach me. I remembered her words and I wanted her to be proud of me. I needed it like the very air I breathed.

And it wasn't just my dad's teachings that I threw myself into. I learned all I could from anything available to me. I think I read every book in the little library our town had, even the dictionaries, the history books, and the technical books. I studied everything I could at school. I worked so hard that I skipped a grade and was taking three college level classes my senior year. I hadn't even graduated high school yet and already had course credits for college. I knew mom would be proud of this and that's what mattered. I had been taking some karate classes in town before mom died and I'd really just been coasting through them. With my new determination I threw myself into them. By my senior year I had fourth degree black belts in karate, akido, and kempo. I also knew most of the fighting techniques that the Marine Corp had taught dad, stuff they don't regularly teach in the dojo. I even bugged old Doctor Raven into teaching me what she could about medicine. It was nowhere near knowing enough to be a doctor, but I learned enough I could have been an EMT by the time my senior year rolled around. I even talked her into teaching me everything about the herbal medicines she knew from her time on the reservation. It didn't matter where the knowledge came from, if it was available then I learned it.

My story starts now though, the summer of my senior year in high school. I was a strapping seventeen year old young man at that point in time. I stood just over six feet, six inches tall with a heavily muscled body that comes only from long hours of hard work on a ranch. The last time I weighed myself I came in at 285 lbs. I had my mom's dark black hair and my dad's blue eyes. The girls and ladies in town always told me I had a very handsome appearance just like my dad. Maybe they were right but I never really took the time to find out. I do admit that at that point in time I think I was the only seventeen year old in my school who was still a virgin. But I remembered mom telling me once that sex wasn't something to take for granted and that it was something that should be shared between people who loved one another. So although I had dated some I never tried to push a girl for things. I think that made me more popular than my looks, but I was never sure.

Anyway, my story starts in April of that year. It was unseasonably hot already, and a lot of the snows in the upper mountains had started to thaw early. That made hunting very good at that time. Normally we would have to wait another month before traveling up into the high mountains to hunt for large Elk or Moose. But not that year. I had gotten my dad's permission to travel up into the mountains for a week on my own. My dad and brothers would come up after they made sure everything on the ranch was running smooth enough that it could last without us for a few days. I would meet them after a week at the usual spot. So I packed my kit with two weeks of supplies (cause you never know when you might need extra- another of dad's lesson's), got my gear together, made sure my new hickory composite bow was well oiled, and headed up into the mountains. Hunting is one of the many lessons that my dad taught us well. It was also one of the lessons I actually did enjoy from the word go. For me there's something truly primal and passionate about hunting. I love it. I could hunt using just about any weapon, from bow to rifle. I knew how to set snares and traps, and how to track just about any prey over any type of terrain.

This was going to my first trip up into the mountains alone and I was so excited about that I could barely get to sleep the night before I was supposed to leave.

The next morning I dressed in my best hunting gear and grabbed some breakfast. As I ate, I went over what I had planned for the week I would be gone. I knew I had everything I would need and the few pieces of gear I wasn't bringing myself, my dad and brothers would bring when they came up later. I would be traveling relatively light so as to make the best possible speed. It was my hope that I would be able to track and take down my own Elk before the rest of my family got there. I had helped bring down a large number of prey before, but never on my own. This would be my chance to prove that I could do it by myself. It was a chance I wasn't willing to give up. Once I finished eating, I cleaned up my mess and grabbed the rest of my gear, than I headed out on foot just as the sun was breaking over the mountain tops.

All that first day I pushed myself as hard as I safely could, and it paid off too. By nightfall I had reached the upper mountain passes and valleys. I made camp that night looking up at the stars and prayed for good hunting over the next couple of days. I went to sleep that night with visions of my brother's faces as they pouted in jealousy at the rack of antlers I would be claiming.

I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and ready to hunt. After eating and breaking camp I set out up the mountain again. This time I followed some of game trails that my family and I had used in previous years. These small trails are really hard to find and only those with a lot of experience or those with the right type of training stood even a chance of finding them, let alone using them. Me, I had both. I kept my bow at the ready the whole time and moved as quickly but as quietly as I could. I kept my eyes and ears open for any signs or tracks of the wildlife. I spotted tracks of numerous animals. I even spotted a whole set of tracks that indicated a large herd of deer had crossed the trail recently. I hesitated at those. Large herds weren't common anymore and something like that is hard to pass up, but in the end pass them up I did. It was Elk I was after on this hunt, not the local whitetail deer.

It was getting close to dusk when I finally spotted the tracks I was after. The tracks were distinct and large, a male Elk for certain. From the depth and freshness of the tracks I knew he was large and not far from here. With dusk approaching I was hesitant to go after him. Just moving at night is extremely dangerous in these mountains. Rocks, roots, and other obstacles that are easily visible during the day are invisible at night. A simple trip and fall out here could lead to a sprained or fractured ankle, something that's no big deal when in civilization, but that can be potentially fatal out here. In the end my desire to get that elk and have it dressed out by the time my family showed up overrode my caution and I continued on, albeit at a much slower pace.

It was well into the evening with little light remaining when I finally spotted him. He was huge, easily several hundred pounds, maybe upward of a thousand pounds with a rack that was a good sixteen points. Just the sight of him gave me chills. I got lucky and had managed to approach him from downwind. He didn't know I was near and I wanted to keep it that way. Using all the stealth my father had managed to drill into my head, I quietly approached him, always staying downwind so he couldn't smell me. The closer I got the more excited I became. This was my chance. I would have to take the animal with one shot. If it bolted I would have a hard time tracking him in the dark. By the time I would be able to find him again his racing testosterone would spoil any meat. Once I hit seventy five yards I crouched into a firing position and nocked my arrow. Pulling back to my best strength I carefully took aim at his chest. Then I went through my father's exercises. Breathe deep, hold it for the count of five while making sure of my aim, then release. My arrow snapped loose of my bow string with a sharp whistle as it flew. My aim was true and straight and the arrow's razor sharp blades sliced cleanly and deeply into the elk's chest. It hit at just the right height to penetrate the chest and drive cleanly into the heart. The mighty beast fell as if it were a puppet that had its strings cut, dead before it even hit the ground.

I tell you when he fell I felt like shouting for joy.

Moving quickly I slit the beast's throat at both arteries then barely drug his carcass to the sturdiest looking tree I could find. Using a zip tie on his hind legs I got out my game tackle and slung it over a sturdy branch. I was so excited it took me three tries before I got the pulley attached to the branch properly. Once that was done I tied the Elk's hind legs to the rope then strained to pull him up till his belly was near eye level. Working quickly I gutted my prize and removed his organs. Once I had it cleaned and was sure the last of his blood had drained from him, I lowered the animal back down and retrieved my tackle. He was going to be hard to move because of his size and weight but I had to get him to an area away from the spilt blood and organs. Using two stout saplings and my spare blanket, I quickly fashioned a small travois, rolled the carcass onto it and moved out.

Hauling that much weight is a strain and trying to move through wilderness at night is extremely dangerous. Moving slowly but steadily I traveled the game trail for nearly another hour before I found the small clearing I was looking for. Once again I had to hang his carcass from a tree, this time to keep it safe from roving predators and scavengers. Once I was sure it was safely hung I made a small fire and set up camp. I cleaned myself up as best I could and made myself some dinner before crawling into my sleeping bag for the night. The excitement of the hunt and the thrill of the successful kill were finally starting to wear down a little and as they did my exhaustion finally caught up with me. I fell asleep quickly with a contented smile on my face. I just couldn't wait to show my family what I had accomplished.

I awoke to the sound of thunder in the distant night sky. It wasn't that the thunder was particularly loud or close that woke me, it was the fact that there was any thunder at all. The weather reports had predicted no storms of any kind for the next two weeks. All the signs my dad had taught me to look for that would show any storms coming in had for once agreed with the weather man. There just shouldn't be any storms, let alone any thunder. If there had been any indication of a storm or bad weather of any type I would have brought my tent, and not just my sleeping bag.

I climbed out of the old bag and looked to the direction the thunder came from. There on the horizon was a whole wall of storm clouds moving in. They were the weirdest looking cloud heads I had ever seen. Kind of an off green color in nature, they seemed to almost glow with an strange light from within. As I watched they spit for another huge fork of lightning that hit the ground far to the east of me. From the time it took the role of thunder that followed to reach me I could tell that I had maybe an hour before the storm hit me. I rushed to put out my low fire and gathered my gear up. I went to the tree were the elk carcass hung as it had the most leaves and thickest foliage. I placed my gear under the tree with the carcass and was digging out my emergency poncho when the wind hit. It was a strong biting wind that came up from nowhere and blew in from seemingly all directions. I hurried to don my poncho so I could get out in the middle of the clearing. I knew that I needed to put as much space between myself and the trees. If that lightning hit near me it would go for the trees before it hit the clearing.

I was huddled into as small a ball as my large frame could make when the storm arrived. It was the weirdest thing. I could feel the fine hairs all over my body stand on end the air was so charged with static. The wind was blowing so hard I was afraid it might blow the elk carcass loose from the tree it was swinging so wildly. Man I hoped that it would be alright. That carcass would give me bragging rights over my little brothers for the entire summer. Oddly though, there was no rain, not even any real moisture. The conditions weren't right for an electrical storm but this definitely appeared to be some kind of weird electrical storm. As it passed over me I felt the storm build in intensity until suddenly I felt and heard the loudest explosion of my life. The next instant I was unconscious.

I woke up again, but thankfully this time it wasn't thunder that did the waking but sunlight streaming into my face. I must have passed out during the storm when I thought I had been hit by lightning. Thankfully it must have been a near strike but not enough to really hurt me. It took me a minute to really wake up and rub the sleep from my eyes. When I did the first thing I noticed was that it was quite a bit cooler than it should have been. Not life threatening by any means but definitely cooler. Weird but not enough to freak me out. Sometimes in Montana the weather could change faster than the best weatherman or outdoorsman could predict. I just hoped it wouldn't ruin the hunting trip.

With that thought I looked around and found the tree with the elk carcass thankfully still hanging from it. My pack below it had been knocked over but still seemed intact. I didn't know if anymore weird weather would be coming in so I decided to reset camp and get the elk carcass dressed down as fast as I could. It took me nearly an hour but eventually I got everything set back up including the collapsible drying rack for the elk meat. With quick work I had the carcass stripped down and the skin and meat stretched out and drying in the sun, a light rub down of salt worked in for preservation. The antlers were the hardest part to remove and in the end necessitated the use of the small hatchet I had in my pack. Once off, I knew that my brothers were going to be green with envy when they saw it. The unusable remains were packed up in a garbage bag I brought just for them. I would need to dispose of that before too long.

Once all the work was done I made something to eat and contemplated the weird electrical storm. It just shouldn't have been there. There was not one single indicator that indicated it was going to form. And the weird glow and greenish color? It was something I didn't think anybody had ever seen before. At least not that I knew of. Once dad and my brothers made it to the clearing I would have to ask about it. If it was something that my dad knew about and never got around to teaching me then he was going to be pissed.

After I was done eating I knew it was time to dispose of the elk's remains. Grabbing up my bow and quiver, I took the garbage bag and headed out of the clearing to find a suitable place to dump the remains for scavengers. When I stepped through the trees around the clearing and onto what should have been the game trail I stopped dead in my tracks.

The trail was gone! It was like the trail never even existed. And the plant life! Most looked like it should with huge evergreens and oaks, but there were too many of them. There were never this many before. And there were other plants I didn't recognize. What had happened? It was like I wasn't in the Rockies anymore. I had to find out what the hell was going on, and that meant exploring a bit. Not wanting to get lost in a potentially unknown forest, I went back to my camp and grabbed up a piece of neon orange marking chalk from my kit. With it I could mark trees as I traveled, leaving me an easily followable trail back to my camp. So equipped, I turned back to the trees and started walking.

I figured I must have walked for nearly two hours and it was still all strange territory to me. Nothing appeared in the right place. The strange plants, and even a couple of animals that didn't seem to belong. At least I'd found a good place to empty the garbage bag and dump the remains. I knew by the direction of the sun that it was getting close to midday, so I turned back to follow my neon trail back to camp. It was while walking back that I stumbled upon the one thing that let me know I wasn't just in the wrong place but the wrong time. I caught a slight movement out of the corner of my eye and when I turned with bow upraised to attack I nearly dropped it at the sight before me. There on the ground moving at an incredibly slow pace was a large brownish furred animal that I recognized only from some history books. It was impossible for it to be here as the creature was known to have been extinct for nearly 10,000 years! It was a giant ground sloth. But I knew it was impossible. They had died out not long after the end of the last ice age.