Praise for
Eric S. Brown
“Eric S. Brown’s writing creates a visually stunning image within the mind of his readers. His books are some of speculative fiction’s best.”
—Dark Discussions Podcast
“… Mr. Brown seems to have an instinctive understanding of how to put fiction down on the page … He knows how to craft an effective novel!”
—James Robert Smith, author of The Flock, The Clan, and The Living End
“Mention author Eric S. Brown’s name, and more than likely the first thing you’ll think of is the undead as he’s become the rather undisputed ‘King of Zombie Stories..’”
—Debi Moore of Dreadcentral
“(In his Bigfoot War series), I love Eric’s premise for combining Bigfoot AND zombies – what could be more terrifying than that?”
— Donna Galanti, author of A Human Element and The Dark Inside
“Eric is the author of over thirty novels. His work ethic is second to none, and his originality even more so.”
— Jason L. McPherson, author of The Gorge
“Eric S. Brown is one of the busiest authors I’ve had the pleasure of conversing with. This guy is always, always, always working on something. From Bigfoot to comics, he’s got his hands in more than one cookie jar. I’ve read Eric’s work and I can honestly say I’m always entertained.”
— Rhiannon Mills, author of Bone of Willow Wake and The Demon King”
“Like the undead, Eric S. Brown is an unstoppable force in the genre. His fiction consistently delivers jolts to the heart and mind.”
—David Dunwoody, author of Empire and Dark Entities
“Eric S. Brown has made a name for himself around the world as one of the finest horror writers on the market. With the pop-culture phenomenon of zombies and public obsession over an apocalyptic society at the end of its rope, the timing couldn’t have been better for the fast-paced, violent worlds created by Brown.”
— Garret K. Woodward of The Smoky Mountain News
“There is one CONSTANT with the works of Mr. Brown, and that is his books and stories will entertain.”
— David Bernstein, author of Machines of the Dead and Amongst the Dead
“With Eric Brown you will always get first-class action, tight writing & fast-paced dialogue. (He) is becoming a major influence in modern zombie writing & (his zombie stories) are a giant step in this process.”
— Sean T. Page, author of The Official Zombie Handbook and War Against the Walking Dead
“Eric S Brown is a whirlwind of talent, dedication, and good old fashioned scares.”
— Brian Keene, Author of TheRising
“I am always up for a zombie story … (Eric S. Brown’s) writing skills are of a good quality and I would not hesitate to try out something else that (he has) written.
— Patrick S. D’Orazio, author of The Dark Trilogy
Sasquatch Lake
BY ERIC S. BROWN
GREAT OLD ONES PUBLISHING
NEW HAMPSHIRE
U.S.A.
Published by Great Old Ones Publishing
New Hampshire, U.S.A.
http://www.greatoldonespublishing.com
No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, scanning, recording, broadcast or live performance, or duplication by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations with attribution in a review or report. Requests for reproductions or related information should be addressed to Great Old Ones Publishing at http://www.greatoldonespublishing.com.
Sasquatch Lake
Copyright © 2015, by Eric S. Brown
Edited by Natalie Kirkes
Manuscript to book by Philip C. Perron http://www.darkdiscussions.com
The tale within this work is a work of fiction. All characters, products, corporations, institutions, and/or entities of any kind in this book are either products of the author’s imaginations or, if real, used fictitiously without intent to describe actual characteristics.
First Great Old Ones Publishing trade paperback printing, 2015
Great Old Ones Publishing
For information regarding special discounts for bulk purchases or editions for a library of your choosing, please contact Great Old Ones Publishing through the website http://www.greadoldonespublishing.com
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0692483195
ISBN-13: 978-0692483190 (Great Old Ones Publishing)
GREAT OLD ONES PUBLISHING
NEW HAMPSHIRE
U.S.A.
Introduction
Eric S. Brown
Sasquatch Lake represents the first post-Bigfoot War series project of its type I have worked on. It comes on the heels of another, new Mythos book I wrote for Dark Silo Press entitled The Taint. While both The Taint and Sasquatch Lake contain elements of Mythos horror, the two books couldn’t be more different. One is the tale of the apocalypse, Lovecraft style, raging full swing and the other is more focused on the root of the evil that will soon rise and destroy our world. Sasquatch Lake has all the fun of a normal Bigfoot War book, but fans of the series will find a startling difference within these pages. I won’t spoil the fun for you readers but I will say that Sasquatch Lake was a blast to write. Many thanks to Great Old Ones Publishing for the amazing cover to this book. In truth, the cover inspired the book itself (as I was able to get a glimpse of it before I ever started work on the project). Many thanks to you as well for purchasing this book and supporting not only an indie writer (with kids to feed) but also for supporting such a fantastic and growing publisher as Great Old Ones Publishing as well.
Prologue
Sweat and blood slicked Dave’s skin as he lay in the near total darkness of the cave. The only light that reached him was from the far distant entrance the beast had dragged him through hours ago. Even with his eyes adjusted, it was not enough to truly see by. Dave didn’t need to see though to know that his legs were shattered. The beast had made sure of that before it left. He had learned the hard way not to investigate just how badly his legs were smashed. His two attempts at doing so had wracked his body with fresh waves of pain and sent the world around him into a spin of nausea and dizziness, nearly causing him to black out. Jagged shards of bone poked through the flesh of his upper legs and the area around him was damp with his own blood. Before the pain and blood loss had weakened him, he had felt around the spot where his body rested. The cave floor was covered in a sea of skulls and random bones. Still, he counted himself lucky compared to Joan. The beast had gotten her too despite his efforts to lead it away from their campsite.
The two of had them planned this trip for months, counting down the days to their wilderness vacation. It was supposed to have been their second honeymoon, not a descent into Hell itself. When the day finally came, they’d packed up and drove the ten hour drive out of the city to these woods. They had talked, reconnecting in the car, blasting music out of the windows like teenagers, and hit every dive and truck stop for greasy food they could along the way. It was all as perfect as they imagined it would be. Even when they parked the SUV at the outskirts of the vast woodlands that stretched onto the Canadian border, they were laughing and enjoying the hike that stretched from the early morning hours into the late afternoon. They came upon a stream and Joan insisted they came next to it. He happily agreed. The sound of running water in the twilight hours as they made camp only added to the atmosphere of the beautiful and untouched land around them.
It wasn’t until the sun started to set that things started to go south. They heard a distant, rhythmic thudding among the trees as if someone was beating
the thick trunks of the forest with large pieces of wood. The sounds made them uneasy, but Joan did her best to keep their spirits up. At one of the truck stops they had stopped at, she had purchased a book entitled “The Big Book of Bigfoot Facts”. As the last rays of sunlight vanished from the sky and Dave got their fire going, she flipped it open.
“That’s just some Sasquatch out there,” she smiled. “Those noises are how they communicate over long distances. The book says it’s called ‘knocking’.”
Dave had known she was joking but her joke backfired putting them both more on edge. Her mention of Sasquatch turned their minds to the very real threat of bears. Dave had never owned a gun in his life. Having grown up in the city and becoming an IT tech straight out of college, he never saw the need to. By nature, he wasn’t the paranoid sort. Joan had suggested getting a gun for the trip, but Dave had shot down that suggestion. If a bear wandered into their camp, they had no defense beyond playing dead or offering it a sandwich. He had doubted very much that either would save them.
The clanking in the trees stopped an hour or so after dark. Joan tried to keep up their spirits with more Bigfoot talk as neither of them really believed in the hairy giant, and thinking about him was far better than thinking about a real, live, angry bear being nearby.
“There’s no actual, documented evidence of a Sasquatch ever attacking someone without cause,” she told him.
“Why does that not make me feel any safer?” Dave forced a grin.
“You should,” Joan grinned back at him. “We haven’t done anything.”
“Except for being here,” Dave pointed out. “Aren’t they supposed be extremely territorial?”
“Sasquatch aren’t killers Dave,” Joan argued, waving her book at him. “It says so right here. They’re peaceful giants who keep to themselves.”
Dave grunted, dropping the subject.
The two of them went to bed early, hoping the bear or whatever was out there would wander away to another part of the woods, and the rising sun would erase their memory of it so that they could enjoy the new day.
Somewhere around midnight, Joan had woken him up, roughly shaking him by the shoulders. At first, Dave had been angry, wondering what was wrong with her, but before he could even form the words to complain, he heard it too. The cries echoed through the woods around their camp and seemed to be getting closer with each passing second. The shrieking was like wailing animals, but it had an almost human element to it. There was some trace of something Dave couldn’t put his finger on that hinted at an intelligence greater than that of a simple beast within those cries.
He and Joan stayed in the overly large sleeping bag they shared listening, and praying that the cries would stop like the earlier knockings had… but they didn’t. They only continued to grow closer and louder, the cries themselves more shrill.
“What do we do?” Joan asked in a panicked whisper.
Dave had no idea. The whole situation was so far out of his realm of experience and alien to him he could only answer, “You stay here. I’ll go see what’s out there and take care of it.”
He felt the nails of Joan’s fingertips digging into his chest as he started to get up.
“Don’t,” she pleaded.
Though somewhat roughly because of the fear growing inside him, he did his best to lovingly remove her grip on him. “This trip may have been your idea but whatever is out there…,” he gestured in filtered light of the moon at the woods outside the tent, “Dealing with it is on me.”
Joan grabbed a hold of him again. “Don’t,” she said more vehemently.
Dave hefted the long, metal flashlight he had picked up from beside their sleeping bag. “Look, I’ll handle whatever it is. If I can’t, you’ll know it, I promise. And if it comes to that, I want you to run. Run as fast and hard as you can back to the car. Don’t stop for anything. You understand me?”
“That’s a long way to run in the dark,” Joan argued.
“You have a better plan?” Dave snapped unable to stop himself from doing so.
When Joan didn’t answer, he shrugged her off of him and crawled out of the tent. Despite the trees, the light of the moon was enough to see by, if barely. He considered turning on the flashlight but decided against it. If whatever was out there didn’t know exactly where they were yet, there was no sense in tipping it off.
Dave scanned the woods. The noises stopped the moment he came out of the tent. He couldn’t see anything but shadows and trees. Spotting his backpack, he moved to it and dug around inside of it until he fished out his cell phone. Cursing, he shoved it back into the pack. It had no bars this far out from civilization. He’d known the phone was a long shot but he had hoped…
As he looked up from putting the phone away, he saw it. Somehow the beast had managed to creep up on him despite its size. It stood only a few feet from him at the edge of the camp, just inside the tree line. The thing was easily over eight feet tall. Its entire body was covered head to toe with thick, dark hair. Yellow eyes full of hate and hunger stared at him in the darkness of the night. Dave could feel their gaze burning into him like some kind of supernatural force. Afraid to even breathe, he sat as motionless as he could, waiting on the creature to make the first move.
Seconds ticked by like decades as he held his breath, watching the beast.
“Dave?” he heard Joan call out in a whisper from the tent. “Dave, are you okay?”
Her voice set the monster into motion. With a roar, it sprang at him.
“Run!” Dave yelled at the tops of his lungs as he swung his flashlight to meet the beast’s jaw as it closed on him. The flashlight thunked against the monster’s face, the force of the blow drawing blood as the flesh of the thing’s inner lip was raked across its own jagged teeth. The blow did nothing to stop the beast though. With an almost effortless gesture, it shoved Dave aside, sending him flying several yards across the campsite. He landed hard on his back, his breath knocked from his body by the impact.
Through sheer willpower, he forced himself up to his feet. The beast was advancing on the tent as Joan was crawling out of it. Dave saw her wide eyes as she looked up at the thing.
“Run!” he croaked at her and charged the monster. His flashlight was gone, but he noticed the small hatchet they had brought for chopping up firewood. He grabbed it up from the log its blade rested in as he ran towards the monster.
Joan was on her feet now and running. For once, she was actually listening to him without arguing. She vanished into the trees as Dave buried the hatchet’s blade into the monster’s arm when it came sweeping towards him. The blade parted hair and skin alike, hacking into the bone of the beast’s arm. The monster let out a cry of pain and fury as Dave backed away from it and it tore the hatchet out of its flesh. Tossing the hatchet away, its head flicked about in search of Joan.
“Uh-uh, big fella!” Dave shouted. “It’s just you and me now!”
The beast growled, showing its teeth to Dave in a twisted snarl.
Dave held his ground like a boxer, refusing to yield. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against the thing in front of him, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to at least try to buy Joan some time. The further from the camp she got, the better her odds would be in making it to the truck before the thing caught up with her.
A hair covered fist collided with the side of his skull and that was the last thing Dave remembered before waking up here in this cave. For all of the horror of that encounter, it paled with what he had witnessed since those moments. He watched the thing return to the cave carrying Joan’s unconscious body over its shoulder after it had hobbled him. He was helpless to do anything but scream for it to stop as its huge hands gutted Joan, shoving strands of her innards and ripped away chunks of the meat of her body into its mouth.
Dave could still smell the rancid, decaying bits of Joan that the creature hadn’t consumed where they lay at the cave’s entrance. With all he had witnessed and the shape he was in, another man might
have given up and just laid there waiting for the beast to come finish him. Dave wasn’t about to give up though. He wanted revenge and the only means of getting that was to get out of the cave alive.
Battling the pain, he dragged himself, ever so slowly towards the cave’s mouth with his arms. He hoped the beast had wandered away, hunting again, and wouldn’t be back for some time. If he was lucky, he might advance far enough to at least make it less tempting for the beast to come after him, especially if it was busy with some other prey. Maybe there were animals in these woods that tasted better than human and he would be lucky enough for it to catch one of them and no longer feel the need to bother with him.
After half an hour or so of intense struggling, Dave reached the cave’s mouth. The sun was high in the sky now. Exhausted, he rolled over to stare up at it, knowing his effort had been in vain. He could hear the horrid sound of the beast’s rapid breathing close by. For all he knew, it could have been watching him the whole time, having a good laugh at the stupid human trying to get away.
He never heard the beast move but a massive foot appeared above his head and came downward upon it with such pressure that only cold and nothingness followed after.
I’m a ranger, Jason reminded himself, I can handle this.
He and Marcus followed the trail from the campsite to this cave. What they found certainly answered the questions as to what had happened to the two missing city folk, but it brought with it an entirely new set of problems.
Jason was no stranger to nature and death but the stuff in that cave…
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