Bigfoot Abomination

by Dane Hatchell

  Kam’bu rose slowly, probably his pride more injured than his body. He turned and locked gazes with Zax.

  Extending two open palms toward Kam’bu, Zax offered a sign of respect.

  Though Kam’bu hesitated, he placed both of his hands on top of Zax’s.

  The tribe howled with approval.

  Cha’nu first went to Kam’bu and touched her forehead to his chest, to let him know she respected him too.

  The Chief gave a wreath made from mistletoe and placed it on Zax’s head. The crown didn’t declare him a winner of the match. It was a sign that he was now part of their tribe.

  The females took turns touching their heads to Zax’s chest, and then the males offered him the open palm acceptance.

  Later that night, they all gathered for a final feast before heading back to their individual territories.

  Zax felt more alive now than any other time in his life.

  He no longer had the dread of being a bigfoot abomination.

  The End?

  Read on for a free sample of Bigfoot War

  Prologue

  The smell was terrible. Jeff stood behind his brother, Scott. The younger boy knelt, poking at what looked like a liver with the stick clutched in his hand. Other odd bits and pieces of the cow lay scattered about the field around them. Jeff was struggling not to be sick. “Stop that,” he managed to order Scott. Scott looked up at him. “Come on, bro. This is awesome!”

  Scott got to his feet. “This had to be aliens! Look at this. I doubt even a grizzly could have torn the thing apart like that.”

  Jeff felt anger welling up inside him. There was nothing cool or awesome about death. The poor cow had been literally ripped to shreds. He wondered if it had suffered or if whatever did this gave it a quick death before this pointless mutilation. Scott noticed his reaction and punched his shoulder. “You nerd. Why do you always have to spoil everything by thinking about it too much? Don’t be such a loser.”

  Jeff stared at the blood drying on the grass as Scott went back to his examination of the cow’s remains. He wished he had never followed Scott and his father out here. He didn’t need this junk. There was a math test tomorrow and he should be in his room studying for it, not babysitting Scott, but he knew his father needed him. Without him riding herd on Scott, his younger brother would be out there in the woods shadowing his father and making it impossible for him to find the animal that did this and kill it before whatever it was could attack more of their livestock.

  Another man might have called the sheriff, finding a mess like this in their pasture, but their father was a third generation farmer and the gruff, hardheaded type of man who firmly believed you dealt with things yourself. Jeff wasn’t worried about him. He remembered the time his dad hit the bottle too hard a few weeks after his mother died. It had taken the sheriff and four deputies to take his dad down and restrain him. Even with that many of them, it had been a fight. Jeff also knew his dad was one of the best hunters in Haywood county and that tonight, the man was stone sober and on his game.

  Scot's head snapped up. “Do you hear that?”

  Before Jeff could ask what, he heard it too. The sound of something large that was tearing its way through the trees towards the field they stood in. A gunshot rang out amid the noises of snapping trees branches and the rustling of the brush.

  Their dad broke from the tree line running towards them. His face was pale and ashen, covered in the sweat of fear. “Run!” their father yelled at them. “Jeff, get Scott in the house now!”

  Jeff grabbed Scott by the arm, jerking him into a run for the house. He was nearly dragging the younger boy along through pure adrenaline and force of will. He didn't look back as an animal like roar shook the night. It was so loud that it seemed to echo all across the valley. It sounded like a cross between a really ticked off bear and an angry man screaming at the top of his lungs. He could hear the sound of its footsteps, the loud thunderous impacts of its feet smashing into the ground at the end of each its long strides. Jeff's breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself on, dragging Scott with him. The house was in sight now. He could see the kitchen screen door swaying slightly from the evening's breeze where it hung partially open. The porch light still burned above it. So close, he thought. Once they were inside, they could lock the door against the terrors of the night and everything would be fine. Jeff felt Scott fighting against his hold on him. “No, Dad!” the younger boy wailed. A second gunshot cracked in the darkness behind them, followed by their father screaming obscenities in a frightened and desperate voice. This was followed by a wet, thumping noise that reminded Jeff of the noise made by a deer being hit with the hood of a speeding car. It was the last he ever heard of his father that night.

  He reached the door to the kitchen, crying and dragging Scott in tow. He steeled himself, refusing to turn to see what was chasing them or what had befallen his father as he flung Scott in front of him and sent his brother sprawling onto the kitchen tile. He stepped inside, jerking the door tight behind him. Only then, did he allow himself to turn enough to lock the door and brace his shoulder against it. Instinct took over as a fist burst through the thick wood of the door, splintering it and sending shards flying. Jeff threw himself backwards, barely avoiding the huge, groping, hair covered hand as it reached for him. His backside erupted with pain as he hit the floor. He heard Scott yelling, but his brother's voice sounded distant as if it came from another world. The hand withdrew itself, tearing the door from its hinges in the process. Jeff caught a glimpse of something enormous and covered in brown, blood-matted hair before he rolled onto the living carpet. Scrambling to his feet, he was on the run again, heading for the stairs that led up to the second floor. His dad's bedroom was an arsenal, but the thought of the weapons stored there didn't even cross his mind. Jeff's only thought was to hide. Hide and pray the monster went away. He hit the stairs, leaping up them two or three at a time with each fear-induced bound, half crawling and clawing his way to their top. The house was full of noise. Screams, breaking wood, creaking floors, then came the roar shaking the walls. Jeff whirled his head around, suddenly realizing that Scott wasn't with him. His face and forehead smashed into the stair’s guardrail and then there was only blackness. When he awoke, the night was silent and still. His nose felt…wrong. It hurt like the blazes. His trembling hand found the swollen lump on his forehead and withdrew itself as fresh waves of pain poured over him. The house's lights were out and the air smelled of blood, death, and other feral things. Heart pounding in his chest, he lay there in the darkness, listening.

  Questions which longed for answers ran through his mind. Where were his dad and Scott? Was the monster gone or was it still down there in the shadows somewhere waiting? After what seemed like an eternity, Jeff hauled himself to his feet, using the railing to keep his balance. Not willing to risk venturing down the stairs, he made for his father's bedroom. He felt around in the pitch black of the night until his hands found one of his dad's shotguns. He checked the weapon, making sure it was loaded by pumping a fresh round into its chamber, and sat on the edge of his father's bed as a gentle rain began to fall outside the house from the clouds the evening breeze had blown in. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he prayed for help to come and the nightmare to end.

  That horrible night was fifteen years in the past now but it still haunted Jeff Taylor. He fiddled with the car's radio trying to find some music he liked to help drive the memories away. Finally, he settled on a station that was playing “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC. The song was certainly appropriate. He nodded his head along with the beat of the song. This was going to be his first time back on the streets of Babble Creek, North Carolina, since his father and brother's funeral all those long years ago.

  He reminded himself he wasn't a frightened, nerdy little boy anymore. Two tours of active duty in the army had made him into a man his father would have accepted and been proud of. This time, he was going to be the hunter and the monster of his nightmares was goi
ng to pay for what it did to his family.

  Bigfoot War is available from Amazon here.