by E C Hunter
"No Archie, I'm not going to let you take pictures, if the world sees them cannibalising each other then petty minds will misconstrue it and make it seem like they are blood thirsty killers bent on destroying the human race. You know it will happen, it's what people do. Then there will be calls for their eradication and God knows where it will end." She stood hands on hips, legs apart. She looked fighting mad. It was Archie's turn to think. He too could see the sense in the other's argument.
"OK, no photos but we have to do something." Archie agreed but made a mental note to record his observations in his journal later. Not that he would ever forget what he had witnessed.
"The thing we need to do Archie, is rescue their other child and we need to do it yesterday."
"No problem with that, shall we go?" "Saddle up pardner." Milly had done one of her rapid mood flips. The horses were impatient and restless when they returned.
"We'd better get these guys to some water and a bit of grazing." Milly said "before they fall over." They backtracked to the forest road. It took them an age to get there, following the Sasquatches had been so absorbing they had not noticed just how far they had come. There was a pool nearby and they led the horses over to it. A sense of familiarity overcame Archie; it was the pool where he had first met Milly.
"Ach, hells teeth, back here again. This is getting ridiculous". He shook his head, looking despondent.
"Archie, look at me." Milly lifted his chin and turned his head towards her. "It's going to be alright. We're going to find your dad, get Stinky out and see that my dad pays."
"What about you though, where will you go? I mean, it's a few years yet before you can legally live on your own. What about money, I'm sure...." Archie trailed off, realising he was about to make a promise his dad might not want to cash.
"Oh I'll find a long lost aunt or something. None of them liked mum marrying my dad so I'll bet they'll be only too happy to see me away from him. I'll be just fine." Archie thought for a few moments and realised that whatever this girl did, she would excel. She'd be okay. Milly gave him a whisper light kiss on the cheek and stood up. "Come on, time to go."
Chapter 28
For Magnus, the dawn was an unwelcome sight. It made the world visible, it made him visible. The only way to combat that would be to become invisible, he would have to keep to the trees, stay out of sight and if necessary, lie up during the day. After consideration he decided to continue riding along the forest roads until a time he judged to be ‘after breakfast’ and then duck into the woodlands. He would have to lose the horse of course but that might be an advantage. A horse was easy to track and if he could encourage it to move off at a tangent to his own course then it might fool those who would be following him. As the day grew warmer Magnus started to loosen up. A good time to part with his pilfered pony and have a look at the injuries he’d sustained in the container battle.
Magnus slipped from the animals back, wincing as he hit the ground. He led it by the head collar until it was facing the way they had come and let it go. “Off you go wee girl” he said, slapping it’s rump with all the strength he could muster. The horse needed no second asking and shot off at full tilt until it rounded a corner in the track and was lost to Magnus. In a shady clearing he found a bed of sphagnum moss and pulled up handfuls of the dripping bryophyte. He stripped off the rags of clothing he wore and used the moss to clean his wounds, knowing that the small amount of iodine it contained would help to act as an antiseptic. When he was done he cast a critical eye over what parts of his body he could see. It was not a pretty sight. His arms had multiple lacerations and abrasions. Blood and lymph still oozed from some of them. His torso and legs were a mass of bruises, some older than others and starting to create a spectrum of vile colours. He needed rest, food and pain relief, the adrenalin of the escape had worn off leaving him shaky and hungry.
At the edge of the clearing was a clump of stunted willows. Magnus broke a young branch and with his fingernails stripped the outer bark away. Underneath was the pale green inner bark, he pulled off a section of this, folded it up and stuffed it inside his cheek. The bitter astringent flavour was the result of the plant containing salicylic acid, pretty much the same as taking an asprin. The bitterness also helped assuage his hunger.
Moving carefully and minimising his effect on the undergrowth Magnus moved deeper into the bush. Food could come later, right now sleep was the answer. A bed of tempting blueberry bushes provided a comfortable mattress and Magnus was asleep within moments. He did not lie worrying about Archie, it was pointless, he knew that the only way he could do anything about the situation was to be fit; and that meant sleep. Magnus slept through the day and night like a dead man and woke as the light was building the following morning. The waking up process was slow and painful, his muscles were tight, his joints stiff. His skin felt like it had been wire brushed all over. A lack of nutrition had given him a thumping headache and he had a thirst like an elephant.
Clean water had to be his priority. He had no equipment of any kind with him so would just have to rely on his knowledge and a bit of luck. Magnus removed his shirt carefully, it had stuck to some of the scabs and they pulled painfully, some re-opening. Fresh blood oozed from one or two. Bending stiffly he ran the shirt through the dew-damp grass. When it was thoroughly soaked Magnus folded it up, put his head back, held the shirt high and twisted. A thin trickle of sweaty tasting water ran into his mouth. It was nectar. It wouldn’t be 100% safe but it was a darn sight safer than drinking from a stream. Magnus repeated the operation until the dew began to dry and collecting a shirtful became increasingly difficult. When he put it back on the shirt was soothing against his wounds.
Food now became a priority. Magnus could not remember the last time he had eaten. Thirst and hunger are the enemy of rational thought and with his thirst at least temporarily assuaged Magnus started the search for food. There were a few blueberries remaining on the bushes he had slept on and he scoffed them down quickly. There was nothing else to be found in the immediate area. Magnus decided to forage on the move.
Having seen the sun rise over the sea he was able to orientate himself to set off in an approximate westerly direction. Magnus skirted tracks and kept to the margins, at all times he was alert to signs that his captors might be following him. Within a couple of kilometres Magnus began to detect an out of place smell, or rather collection of smells. The further he went, the stronger it got. There was bacon for sure, maybe baked goods, sickly sweetness and more than a hint of the dog kennel.
Magnus stumbled out of the maples into a clearing maybe 20 metres across. In the centre was a shallow depression. To his disbelief from it protruded a selection of items more appropriate to the bakery isle of Sobey’s Supermarket. Some items appeared in better condition to others, at a glance Magnus could make out croissants, doughnuts, dinner rolls and what might have been raspberry Danish. Bemused he walked across the clearing. After a couple of steps his foot met something unpleasant. He looked down. He was standing in a large, black and very smelly pile of bear turd. Suddenly all became clear. This was a bait station. He glanced around. Sure enough on the other side of the clearing was a crudely constructed wooden ladder made from raw timber rungs wired to long uprights of native poles. Atop this rickety structure was a piece of board, furnished luxuriously with an old bucket. Around the tree against which it leant was a frayed rope. Bear meat was highly prized in this area Magnus recalled Lee telling him. The locals would set up high seats, like the dodgy one he was looking at, use the rope to tie themselves to the tree in case they fell asleep and wait for the hapless bear to come along, intent on filling up on the tasty snacks. It wasn’t what Magnus called sporting, but each to their own.
Whatever the ethics of this type of bear hunting, the bait pile was a windfall for Magnus. He walked over to the bait pit, carefully avoiding more bear scat and began to rummage through the pile. The pit must have been replenished at first light as some of the goodies were still pretty fresh. M
agnus pulled out a couple of half decent looking doughnuts out and quickly gobbled the first one down. Bavarian cream, not his favourite, but not bad. The second one tasted slightly odd, salty and greasy. It was then that Magnus realised that bacon grease had been poured over the bait, coating some things and not others. Disaster. The salt would increase his thirst and slow him down further while he looked for water. Quickly Magnus rooted through the pile and found some non-greasy pastries, stuffed them into the side pockets of his trousers and started west again.
Chapter 29
With the track stretching out in front of them, the horses fed and watered and no immediate threats Milly and Archie settled comfortably into their saddles. Perhaps the motion of the horses and the warm sunshine lulled them into a false sense of security, perhaps it was a reaction to the stress of the past few days but their guard had dropped. They failed to see the potential ambush points ahead of them. After the horror of the Sasquatch cannibalism they had forgotten about the shooter, the unknown person who had taken the shot.
Into the road ahead of them stepped a figure. The man was slim and strong looking, a soldier. A rifle with a bulky sound moderator was slung over his shoulder.
Chapter 30
Archie and Milly stopped their horses, the figure was too far ahead of them to make out features. Archie uttered one of George’s most foul oaths. There was nowhere to go. The trees on either side were dense, impenetrable. Behind them the track was straight. It would be an easy matter for this obviously expert rifle shot to shoot their horses from under them…or worse. The only answer was to confront him. Archie nodded to Milly and clicked his horse into a walk. Milly followed a pace or two behind. Archie felt a sense of apprehension deep in his gut. This had to be the end of the line. It was over. They’d done their best. They rode on. Milly pulled level with Archie and reached across to take his hand and together they faced the inevitable.
There was a certain familiarity about the man’s lean frame, his sandy hair. Another few paces closer and Archie could make out the features.
“Dad!” Yelled Archie “Dad it’s me”. Archie kicked his horse up to a trot for the last few metres. As he closed in on his father Archie could see that all was not right. His face was a mass of scabs and bruises, lips split and bloody. He was limping and his clothes were filthy tatters. Archie threw his leg over the saddle while the horse was still moving and sprinted the last few paces. His father swayed and lurched towards him. His voice, when it finally came was a croak, barely audible.
“Hi Arch.” Magnus toppled forward, face planted onto the dusty track and lay still, his chest making shallow breaths.
“Jesus, Dad!” Archie knelt beside his father and shook his shoulder. There was no response. Archie quickly undid the QD swivels holding the rifle sling and tossed the cumbersome weapon aside. He was then able to roll Magnus onto his back. There was a pulse, weak and slightly fluttery but there. Breathing shallow but at least happening. “What the hell’s happened to him?” Archie looked round at Milly, not really expecting an answer.
“My family, that’s what’s happened to him.” Milly looked down at the ruined form of Archie’s father. A wave of guilt washed over her. “We’ve got to get him to a hospital.”
“Where’s nearest?” Asked Archie.
“There’s the Buchanan in Ingonish but it’s probably not a good idea to go there…dad’ll be looking for him and if he knows he’s injured like this the Buchanan is the first place he’ll look. Only other place near enough is Cheticamp.” Archie groaned at the news, he would have to retrace his steps again. Then another thought popped up.
“Milly, the guys we took the horses from, we left them in that direction. I reckon that if they are coming for us, they’ll be close by now. Easy for them to set an ambush for us. Anyway, how the hell do we get my dad to stay on a horse?”
“That’s the easy bit Archie, he doesn’t ride, we drag him behind”.
“Be sensible.”
“I am, go and cut two long poles and I’ll show you, but check on your dad first.” Magnus was still the same, but with the addition of a little dry snore. Archie put his hand briefly on Magnus’s cheek the collected the Sabre Cut pocket chainsaw from the pilfered saddlebag and set off into the trees. He selected a couple of young maples, straight and about 10cm thick at the bottom. The saw bit in easily and it took less than a minute to cut each tree. Cleaning them up took a couple of minutes and he dragged them out to the track. Milly had been busy too. She had cut a shorter, thinner pole and an armful of willow wands.
“Archie, cut some notches into the thin ends of the poles, work quickly.” Archie did as bidden. Milly chose Archie’s horse as the quietest and hung the saddlebag over the horse’s withers, in front of the saddle. She strapped the thin end of one of the poles to it and repeated on the other side with the second. The thick ends of the pole stuck out behind the horse. She then tied a cross piece between the two legs and began to weave the willow wands to make a platform.
“It’s a litter!” realised Archie, a little slow on the uptake. Archie went over to check on his father, no change.
“We call it a travois but it’s the same.” When the last piece of willow was woven Archie remembered his tarp and quickly dug it out of his rucksack. They fixed the lightweight tarp over the frame of willow. “OK, all we have to do is to get Thunder here to pull it.” The horse was unaccustomed to pulling anything but after some soothing and cajoling from Milly it calmed down and pulled the travois as though born to it. “OK, let’s load your dad up.” Archie was a little affronted at Milly talking as though Magnus was a mere cargo.
Milly led the horse around so that the travois lay next to Magnus.
“How are we going to do this?” asked Milly looking at the prostrate figure “I don’t think it’s going to be easy.”
“I’ll get behind him and lift under his arms, you get his legs”. Archie said. This proved not as simple as it sounded. They could just about take his weight but couldn’t quite get his backside off the ground. Already bruised and punished Magnus had to suffer the indignity of having his bum dragged across the stony track, not that he knew anything of it. The travois bed bowed enough to hold Magnus securely. The horse fidgeted a little but seemed to resign itself to its lot quite quickly.
“Archie, you lead the horse, I’ll walk behind to make sure he doesn’t fall out.”
“OK, but you’ll be higher than me so you’ll need to keep a sharp eye out for the horse’s rightful owners.” Milly looked at Archie with disdain.
“Of course” she said. “Let’s get out of here.” The travois worked perfectly. They stopped after a few minutes to tighten the straps. It must have been the sight of the straps that made Archie remember the rifle he had removed from his father after the collapse.
“Damn it.”
“What?”
“I left a rifle on the side of the track. Hell, anyone could pick it up, kids even. I’ve got to go back for it.”
“Archie, why did your dad have a gun?” Asked Milly.
“I, er, hadn’t thought about it. I guess he took it when he escaped.”
“Archie, did your dad shoot that Sasquatch?”
“No, he wouldn’t, I mean, he’s not like that. He’s not ever mentioned wanting to kill any cryptid.”
“Archie, he brought a gun with him.” She nodded at Archie’s pack.
“It’s for protection against bears, well, I think so…” Archie trailed off, not at all sure what he thought any more. “Anyway, he wouldn’t have fired with you standing there, he’s a gun safety nut. He probably couldn’t see you from there, perhaps all he could see was the Sasquatch.” Archie realised what he was saying, giving license to Milly’s worry. “No, he just wouldn’t.”
“Is he a good shot Archie, could he have made that shot? Even I know it was a pretty difficult one.” Archie looked down at his boots, hesitating before answering..
“Yes, yes he could have done it. He’s an incredible shot, even with a
rifle he’s never used before.” Archie was despondent, it was looking more and more likely that Magnus had taken the shot.
“That is not good Archie, sooo not good.” Archie could see a rage building in Milly, a rage like he had not seen in her before. “I’ll go back for the damn rifle, you stay here with your father.” She spat the word father at him, yanked her horse around and viciously kicked it into a flat out gallop.
Chapter 31
Archie stood alone once more, but for the unresponsive hull of his father. He looked down sadly at Magnus who was peacefully oblivious to this small personal drama. Archie kicked out savagely at a stone lying on the track.
The horse took off. It bolted away down the forest road as though the hounds of hell were in pursuit. It went from a standing start to full gallop in half a dozen strides. Archie looked on helplessly as his father was thrown mercilessly around in the travois. The dust obscured his view and in a shockingly short time the horse and Magnus were out of sight. Surely his kicking out at the stone hadn’t frightened it that much. What could he do but follow and hope to find his father without further injury? Why would the horse suddenly take off like that? It had been steady enough before. Yes the travois had made it nervous but it seemed to have settled down through the day. Archie could only think it had caught the scent of the remaining two Sasquatches. They would probably have finished their feast by now and might be looking for help to find their lost son again.
Archie kept a sharp lookout as he followed the runaway horse but saw nothing. Worry for his father made his steps heavy and the prospect of a rift with Milly made his heart heavier still. It seemed to take forever to reach the spot where he had lost sight of the horse. All he found were hoof prints and a faint suspicion of dust hanging in the air.
