Praise for Frank Peretti’s Writing “. . . Peretti is a bona fide publishing phenomenon.” —BookPage, regarding The Visitation “In the world of Christian fiction, the hottest novels are those by Frank Peretti.” —Newsweek, regarding The Visitation “The king of the [faith-based fiction] genre is Frank Peretti.” —Time Magazine, regarding The Visitation “Potboiling adventure is combined with a distinctly conservative theology.” —The New York Times, regarding The Visitation “One of the biggest surprises in publishing . . .” —People Magazine, regarding The Visitation “Not only is Peretti the country's top selling Christian fiction author, but he has become, by any standard, one of current fiction's biggest stars.” —Chicago Tribune, regarding The Visitation “. . . Peretti's book set a suspenseful standard in spiritual warfare story-telling that has rarely been met by his contemporaries.” —Amazon, regarding This Present Darkness “. . . plenty of spine-chilling mayhem . . .” —Amazon, regarding The Visitation “. . . the world's hottest writer of spiritual thrillers.” —www.bookbrowse.com monster monster FRANK Peretti Copyright © 2005 by Frank Peretti All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by WestBow Press, a division of Thomas Nelson, Inc. WestBow Press books may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected]. Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Peretti, Frank E. Monster / Frank Peretti. p. cm. ISBN 0-8499-1180-X (hard cover) ISBN 1-5955-4032-6 (IE) 1. Northwest, Pacific—Fiction. 2. Wilderness areas—Fiction. 3. Supernatural— Fiction. 4. Monsters —Fiction. 5. Hiking—Fiction. I. Title. PS3566.E691317M66 2005 813'.54—dc22 2004030836 Printed in the United States of America 05 06 07 08 09 RRD 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 To Barbara Jean, my true love, and my best friend through it all. Dear Reader— Six years is a long time. It’s especially too long for a Frank Peretti fan to wait for his next major novel. But that's how long it’s been since his last epic thriller. Now the wait is over. And Monster finds Frank Peretti at the absolute top of his writing game. Be prepared to enter into deep wilderness where the rules of civilization no longer apply. A world where strange shadows lurk. Where creatures long attributed to overactive imaginations and nightmares are the hunters . . . and you are the hunted. To reveal anything more would reveal too much. As Publisher, I’ve gone to great lengths to keep this novel’s key plot points under lock and key so that you —the reader—could savor every page. I promise you this—you’re in for quite a ride. At the end of each chapter, you’ll find a custom map to help you keep track of all the action. Even with maps, however, you still will find it hard to guess where things are headed. Just when you think you have things figured out, Peretti’s imagination takes you down an unexpected route, a trap door opens, and you realize there are more layers to the story than you imagined. Enjoy the read—but don’t blame me if you find yourself sleeping with a flashlight at your side for the next several months . . . because this time, the monster is real. More real than you can imagine. Publisher WestBow Press Contents acknowledgments one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty epilogue behind the scenes acknowledgments It's not so easy finding capable people who can get excited about somebody else’s book when they have their own projects and commitments. These guys are special, and I thank them profusely for making this whole story such a pleasure to tell: Jonathan Wells, postdoctoral biologist and senior fellow at the Discovery Institute, whose book, Icons of Evolution, first got my creative wheels turning, and who helped me clarify my main story idea over a pleasant lunch. Dr. David DeWitt, director of the Center for Creation Studies at Liberty University, who, besides being a brilliant scientist and technical advisor, is quite an imaginative story crafter in his own right. Dr. Paul Brillhart, my family physician, who loves to tell stories and went beyond the call of duty to provide me with medical details. Nick Hogamier, a real, honest-to-goodness tracker, whose knowledge and fascinating stories became the model for the character Pete Henderson. Thanks to all of you for making Monster such a great adventure! Frank E. Peretti April 2005 one The Hunter, rifle in his hands, dug in a heel and came to a sudden halt on the game trail, motionless, nearly invisible in a thicket of serviceberry and crowded pines. He heard something. The first rays of the sun flamed over the ridge to the east, knifing through the pine boughs and morning haze in translucent wedges, backlighting tiny galaxies of swirling bugs. Soon the warming air would float up the draw and the pines would whisper like distant surf, but in the lull between the cool of night and the warmth of day, the air was still, the sounds distinct. The Hunter heard his own pulse. The scraping of branches against his camouflage sleeves was crisp and brilliant, the snapping of twigs under his boots almost startling. And the eerie howl was clear enough to reach him from miles away, audible under the sound of the jays and between the chatterings of a squirrel. He waited, not breathing, until he heard it again: long, mournful, rising in pitch, and then holding that anguished note to the point of agony before trailing off. The Hunter’s brow crinkled under the bill of his cap. The howl was too deep and guttural for a wolf. A cougar never made a sound like that. A bear? Not to his knowledge. If it was his quarry, it was upset about something. And far ahead of him. He moved again, quickstepping, ducking branches, eyes darting about, dealing with the distance. Before he had worked his way through the forest another mile, he saw a breach in the forest canopy and an open patch of daylight through the trees. He was coming to a clearing. He slowed, cautious, found a hiding place behind a massive fallen fir, and peered ahead. Just a few yards beyond him, the forest had been shorn open by a logging operation, a wide swath of open ground littered with forest debris and freshly sawn tree stumps. A dirt road cut through it all, a house-sized pile of limbs and slash awaited burning, and on the far side of the clearing, a hulking, yellow bulldozer sat cold and silent, its tracks caked with fresh earth. A huge pile of