by E C Hunter
"I want to kill him" she ground out the words like a road roller. "The swine, the heartless, evil, son-of-a-bitch." Archie felt it better not to reply, it chimed with his own feelings a little too closely and he was uncomfortable enough with those as it was.
"Let's just watch." Both his father and Georgie lived by the maxim time spent in reconnaissance is never wasted and indeed it had served him well at home many times. Archie watched as Billy Murphy inspected the vehicle, looked in through a loop-hole and nodded his satisfaction to the two brothers. He put an arm around each of them and led them indoors, emanating an air of self-satisfaction. The time ticked by slowly as Archie sat and watched and waited. All the while he was thinking, trying to work out the fine details. He studied the van with infinite care, trying to spot a way of disabling it, a way of releasing the captive. Try as he might nothing would come to mind. He was focused on the side of the van when suddenly a bulge appeared in the aluminium cladding, followed by a second and a third. Then, a moment later three deep thuds followed, the sound separated from the picture by the distance.
"Someone's awake, and he's not a happy bunny." The captive turned his attention to the door, Archie watched as it slapped against the padlock, the latch useless. It was then that the idea firmed. No more thinking time, he withdrew the Blaser from its carrying position, dragged his rucksack in front of him and lay down behind it. Then he remembered the blocked barrel. He removed the bolt assembly and with a willow wand cleaned the barrel as best he could. Archie rested the rifle securely on top of the rucksack and settled comfortably. Now all he had to do was wait. That and hit a target smaller than a pop can at two hundred metres. With open sights. With a short barrel. Downhill. Moving. In a fraction of a second.
"Can I have a Pepsi, if there's any left?" "Sure", Milly popped one and passed him the can.
"Just out of interest, who are you planning to shoot?"
"Not who, what." Archie replied.
"OK, what then?"
"The padlock from the back of the van."
"From this angle the bullet will go straight into the back of the van, not a good plan." Milly dismissed it.
"That's why I'm waiting until the van turns out of the gate."
"So it'll be moving, yeah, right. Buffalo Bill couldn't hit that."
"Faint heart never won fair maiden, well, ugly ape man anyway. I'm going to try. It's a complicated shot, for a start it's fairly steeply down-hill which means the bullet is less affected by gravity and so will strike about three or four centimetres high. Then there are the thermals coming up the rise, then there is the big heavy bullet with a trajectory like a rainbow and a handful of other stuff too. It's all just physics. Trouble is, it's my worst subject." Archie smiled at her.
He knew that with his 6.5mm Sako at home he could turn the scope up to 15x magnification and put the light bullet through the logo on a pop can at 200 metres but this was different. This Blaser was a short range rifle and the 9.3x62 was a short range calibre and above that were so many variables. He was overthinking it and he knew it but couldn't stop himself.
"Can you sing? I need to stay relaxed" he asked Milly out of the blue.
"That's more than a little random, but yes. I'm pretty good actually. We learn some Gaelic songs at school, I could sing you a traditional song if you like? How about Dèan Cadalan Sàmhach? It's about early Gaelic settlers in America" Milly started to sing and the sad sounds of the half understood language of his homeland carried Archie into a place of calm and tranquillity. He let the glorious sounds wash over him and felt his pulse rate drop and his breathing settle into a regular, relaxed pattern. With all of his attention focused on the scene below him he snuggled down and brought the rifle into his shoulder. The sights were all wrong. They were big and chunky, designed to deal with things like a car-struck moose lying by the road. Not padlocks in the distance. They were designed for rapid target acquisition, a white triangle rear sight, on which you sat the red dot of the foresight, made a three point line with your target and bang. Archie assumed that the sights would be regulated to 100 metres, at ranges shorter than that the bullet might strike a couple of centimetres high but at ranges longer than that it would start to drop off rapidly. If you plotted its flight on a graph, the bullet would show an increasingly steep downward curve. Archie tried as he might to recall the ballistics chart on the cartridge box but nothing would come. It was pointless comparing it to his own rifle, they were chalk and cheese. His thinking time was suddenly cut short as the office door opened and out came the brothers, one of them clutching a road atlas, the other a blue cooler. Looked like they were planning a long journey. It was now or never. Archie decided to go with gut instinct – hold over a bit, then a bit more and shoot. The van pulled away, paused at the gate and turned out slowly on to the main road.
The bullet would take a shade over a second to reach the van, how far would the van move in that time? Not far. The van was in first gear, pulling away. It was at the perfect angle. Archie's vision was like crystal, every detail of the padlock seemed to be visible over the distance, he suddenly felt invincible, Olympian. He fired.
Chapter 45
Archie had never had an X Box, a Wii or a Play Station. He had not sat indoors and watched movies or TV. He had spent his spare time outdoors, he had fired his first air rifle at six years old, his first shotgun at nine and first proper rifle at about the same time. He knew this stuff, he could do it. Instinct alone could do it. It didn’t.
Archie watched as the bullet struck ten centimetres low. He did not feel the punishing recoil of the heavy cartridge, just a huge sense of disappointment. He worked the bolt, slamming another cartridge into the chamber. The van was accelerating now, second gear, another few metres further on. Archie compensated for the low strike and the increasing forward speed without thinking and fire a second shot. It missed. It missed the padlock and struck the hasp, fracturing it at its weakest point, where the staple came though its slot. The door did not fall open but it took only a fraction of a second for the occupant to get the idea.
Stinky shoulder charged the door, stumbled on the step and fell into the road. He was on his feet in an instant, looking around. The tree line caught his eye and he was off, pounding up the slope, crashing through the brush and brambles as though they didn’t exist. The van slammed to a halt and the brothers tumbled out. One of them pulled his dodgy revolver and loosed a cylinder full in the general direction of Stinker. It had not the slightest effect, none of the bullets went anywhere near their target. In seconds he was lost to them and they turned their attention to each other, it wasn’t long before blows were exchanged and one of the brothers was sprawling in the dust. Milly and Archie could clearly hear them shouting at each other but it was nothing compared to the din when their father came out of the office and found out what had happened.
“What now?” Asked Milly.
“Er, I hadn’t got that far.” Admitted Archie. “I think the best thing we can do is retreat smartly into the forest and wait things out a bit, come on.” They crammed their remaining food into the rucksack and set off at a jog back down the moose path. “Do you think they heard the shots?” Archie asked Milly.
“Did you hear the pistol shots?”
“Well, yes but they were in the cab and your dad was in the building when I fired.”
“As my ears are still ringing I think it’s a pretty fair bet that they know something happened involving a large cannon, or small nuclear device. That thing is awful. I think I’ll have some kind of permanent hearing damage. My guess is that they heard something but probably won’t think it came from up here.”
“It can be difficult to put direction on a gunshot but I’m not going to hold my breath, we’ll keep going until we can get into the trees and vanish.”
“OK, but I warn you, I can run a long way.” Milly told him.
“Oh yeah? I’m one of the top ten cross country runners in my school. We’ll see shall we?” It was just the kind of competition they
needed, something extra to act as a goad to keep them moving. Even though the threat was not apparent, they both knew it was there, they had to keep going. It could be minutes, it could be hours but sooner or later it would come and when it did it would be worse than anything they had experienced. They would work it out, how the door had come open, where the shot had come from, they would take a pretty fair guess who had taken it. They would know he was armed. They would escalate.
The pair ran on for a few minutes until Archie began to sense something. It was vague to start with, a faint vibration in the air. Nothing he could put his finger on for certain.
“We’re nearly at the junction with the main track” called Milly over her shoulder. They rounded the last curve and burst on to the forest road. Instantly they both knew what the noise was, quads, four wheelers, two of them. Big Polaris models, masses of power, guns in clips on the racks. Archie noted without conscious thought a Browning semi-auto shot gun and an old Winchester lever action rifle. The brothers were bearing down on them, fast. Just metres away. They stood, transfixed, not able to move, it was all over. Then, with appalling suddenness the were scooped up, hoisted off their feet and carried without regard for the dense brush into the trees. Branches whipped against their faces, thorns tore at their arms and legs. All they could do was close their eyes and hang on to the hairy arm which pinned them, one each side, to Stinker.
He pounded on regardless of their discomfort, seeking only to get as far from those other two creatures as possible. This was not the gentle, contemplative ride Milly had previously experienced; this was a display of raw power and energy. A demonstration of one of the reasons this species had stayed hidden for so long, their extreme toughness. There were shots, almost lost in the snapping of branches but nothing came near them, the brush was so dense that there were lost to the brother’s sight in moments.
Stinky pounded on relentlessly, never flagging, never resting. To Archie and Milly reality became an ethereal thing, untouchable and insubstantial and when they did finally come to a halt it took some minutes before they were able to either stand or speak. They had sore ribs from the crush of the hairy arm, a slight disorienting motion sickness and were covered head to toe in cuts, grazes and bruises. They just lay, looking at each other, exhausted and hurting. It took Archie some time to realise what they were lying on. It was a bed of branches, clearly not freshly cut, at least a few days old but with much older stuff underneath. The smell of the balsam fir was unmistakable and reassuring. Their rescuer left them without ceremony, heading once more into the dense maple forest. Archie raised himself on on his elbows and looked around. One thing caught his eye immediately, something familiar but totally out of place. It was the sole of a boot.
Archie hobbled over to it and picked it up. It was more than a sole, it was sole, rand and insole of a familiar boot. The Vibram sole instantly recognisable as the type Meindl used for nearly all their boots. The high rand told him it was probably from a Dovre, the distinctive splash of green paint was the colour of the gates to Strathnuin. He remembered the day it got there, in one of his sudden fits of enthusiasm Magnus had announced that the place was looking scruffy and he and Archie must paint anything that didn’t move. They had ended up flicking paint at each other. Mrs Urquhart had been furious as much of Archie clothing had needed to be thrown away. Archie felt a lump rise in his throat and fought hard to suppress it.
“My dad was here. Why’s his boot destroyed?” He looked around. Boot laces, a few scraps of filthy blood-stained clothing. “Oh no.” Archie felt his heart sink and his knees start to buckle. Slowly he collapsed on to the bed of balsam branches. Milly squatted next to him and placed a hand softly on his shoulder. This small but precious act revived Archie a little.
“All you have here are some scraps of clothing. You know his clothes were in tatters last time you saw him so really nothing has changed. Come on, there might be something else here.” She helped him stand. It too only a few moments to find that something else. It lay gleaming in the sun, bone white, small pieces of pink flesh still adhering to it. Flies noisily buzzing round, looking for a home for their eggs.
Chapter 46
The bone was pretty fresh. Archie recoiled from the sight of it, his heart leaping to conclusions that his mind did not agree with. Without Archie getting involved with the thought process, his brain had already worked out that this was the femur of a deer, almost certainly a whitetail. There was no way it could be human. He picked it up and sniffed it. Fairly fresh, not yet putrid. Certainly more recent than the scraps of clothing. Lying a couple of metres away was its friend, same condition, stripped of meat and connective tissue. Someone’s dinner. It seemed obvious whose. They had been brought to the Sasquatch home, such as it was. Suddenly Archie was hungry and he knew just what he wanted. He thought it best not to consult Milly over this one so he busied himself making a fire while she was searching the area. Soon he had a bed of glowing coals and placed the two bones on top. They would take a while so he joined Milly in the hunt for, what? Further signs of his father, Sasquatch evidence? A way out of this? He wasn’t sure, everything was starting to get jumbled in his mind.
“Stay over there if you wouldn’t mind Mr Hunter.” The call came from a small pond fringed by cattails. “I’m just freshening up in the en-suite bathroom.” He could hear the sounds of splashing and clothes being rubbed. The thought of Milly naked was all a bit much so Archie turned to wander back to the fire. There, clear in the mud was a foot print. Not a Sasquatch, to small, too fine. Not Milly’s, too big. His father, who else could it be? Surely there was no one else wandering around in the bush in bare feet? He felt his spirits soar, surely this must be some kind of proof that his father was still alive post boot destruction. The why of the boot destruction could wait, all that mattered now was that his dad had been here and was more than likely still alive.
With greater hope than he had felt for a long time Archie sat down at his little fire and gingerly picked up one of the bones. He gave it an experimental tap. Sounded about right. A few swift blows with a rock and the bone cracked, exposing the juicy sausage of marrow. With great relish Archie sucked down the first bit just as Milly walked over, combing her wet hair with her fingers. Her clothes were still damp from the pool, Archie tried not to stare. She took one look at what Archie was doing, turned and walked away.
“Must you, I mean, that’s disgusting.”
“It’s not disgusting, marrow is delish, try it.”
“No thank you, I’d sooner gnaw on my own foot.”
“Have it your way” said Archie, slurping down another piece. “Our house keeper makes the most amazing marrowbone soup. You ought to come and visit us some time and you can try the stuff she cooks. Liver and bacon, faggots, haggis, chitterlings.”
“Faggots? And what the hell are chitterlings?”
“Guts”
“What?”
“Chitterlings are pigs intestines, small intestine to be exact. Er, perhaps best leave it there.” Said Archie, suddenly remembering Milly’s problems with internal organs.
“Vile, anyway, we need a plan now.” She sat down and rummaged in the pack for some more conventional food. They still had quite a stash from the shop run but it wouldn’t last long. A couple of days, and that was at most. “Any ideas?”
“My priority is to find my dad now, and get out of here. Get home. Sleep in my own bed, eat good food, have a bath every hour or so…you know the kind of thing. I need a bit of normal. What about you?”
“I want to see my father in jail, all his henchmen in jail and my brothers in jail and me a long way from here. To get my father locked up we’re going to need testimony from your father, so I guess finding him is top of my list too. Then we go to the cops. They’re going to go down for murder and kidnapping at the very least.” This last statement caused Archie, for the first time, to think of Lee. He had, he supposed subconsciously pushed him to the back of his mind but the mention of murder brought the image of tha
t face, grotesquely pushed through the wire, back to life. He shook his head to try and clear it but it stayed there, resolute, demanding. Demanding what? Justice? He should have thought of that before he sold out thought Archie. Archie shocked himself with the thought and changed the subject.
“What about our new friends? Is there anything we should do for them do you think?” Asked Archie.
“Probably the best thing we can do for them is leave them well alone. I doubt we’ll see them again.” As she spoke there was a loud knock some distance off. Another followed it. Someone was beating on a tree with a lump of wood. The noise was so big that it seemed impossible that it could be a human made sound. The knocks kept going, evenly spaced, about four seconds apart, in blocks of about twenty. They sat and listened and if they both hadn’t recently been subjected to the discharge of a large calibre, short barrelled weapon they would have heard the answer. In the distance, a faint reply, a knocking in the same rhythm, same spacing, same type of sound. What remained of the Sasquatch family was reforming.
Another half hour had passed by the time Archie had finished his marrow bones and during a moment’s silence they heard it, faint but closer. Knocking. The same as the closer sound, The answer was immediate, from the same place.
“He’s calling them home, his parents.” Milly couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice. “Let’s wait”. Archie knew there was no point in arguing and naturally, he would like another chance to see them too. Nobody in the history of humanity had seen the things they had seen or experienced the things they had experienced. There probably wouldn’t be another opportunity. The wood knock continued sporadically, one source near-by, the other gradually getting closer. “That is so cool” Milly said. “it’s like a direction finder – Sasquatch sat nav!”
