Attack of the Bayport Beast

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Check this out.” I pointed to where the highway came closest to the trails. “We could park here and hike down to this trail here. It would be a lot faster than hiking through the main trailhead.”

  Frank shook his head. “I’m not leaving my car overnight on a blind curve.”

  “I’m not talking overnight,” I explained. “What if we park there just long enough to place one of the cameras on those trails?”

  Frank scratched the back of his head. “Not a bad idea. Though Mr. Johansson did tell us to forget about those sightings.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, but this is still our investigation, right? I know you want to check out the place where you had your sighting. Getting footage of these fresh ones seems like a no-brainer.”

  Frank raised an eyebrow. “Well, he did say he didn’t expect us to find anything.”

  I smiled. “It’s a plan then.”

  7

  SIGNS OF LIFE

  FRANK

  THE NEXT MORNING WE LOADED our gear into my car, and I drove us up to the blind curve Joe had pointed out the previous day. It took Joe navigating several mountain roads and heavy reliance on the GPS on his phone, but we finally made it.

  “This is it!” Joe announced.

  “I was afraid you were going to say that,” I said.

  The two-lane road was cut into the side of the mountain. I pulled to the right and onto the narrow shoulder. To our left, the landscape dropped off into the national forest below. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be anyone else traveling the road.

  We climbed out of the car. Fresh skid marks on the pavement reminded me that this wasn’t the safest place to leave my car. I pointed them out to Joe. “Let’s make this quick,” I said. “Looks like someone already wiped out here.”

  Joe threw a leg over the low guardrail. “No kidding.” He knocked on the shiny metal. “This section looks like it was recently replaced.”

  My brother and I can’t help but see clues wherever we go. Evidence of a past accident couldn’t have been more apparent if we had read about it in the paper. When we gazed over the side, we saw snapped and splintered trees pointing down the mountainside. The crashed vehicle had been removed, but its path of destruction was still there.

  “Whoa,” Joe whispered.

  The accident did make our trip down the steep incline a bit easier; there was no thick underbrush to climb over. My brother and I moved down the cleared path with relative ease.

  Once we made it to the crash site, I forged ahead through the woods. I wasn’t ten feet in before it opened up onto a hiking trail.

  “That was easy,” Joe said. He took off his pack and dug inside for a game camera.

  I pulled out the map and marched to part of the trail that marked one of the sightings. I pointed to a tall tree just off the trail. “How about there? We could aim it back at the trail.”

  “Shouldn’t we choose a less conspicuous game trail or something?” Joe asked. “Wouldn’t the beast want to stay away from people?”

  I shrugged. “Here’s the way I see it: if any animal was spotted here, it will probably be back. Creatures of habit and all that.”

  “True,” Joe agreed. “And an animal that large would make use of the big trails anyway, especially these secluded ones.”

  “Exactly. And if it’s just some guy in a suit, he’d stay on the main trails too.”

  “Another good point,” said Joe.

  I glanced back up the way we had come. “Besides, I don’t want to leave my car up on that blind curve while we search for just the right game trail.”

  Joe strapped the camera to a tree and stepped back. “What do you think?”

  It took a second for me to spot the device. Its camouflage casing made it blend seamlessly into the bark and surrounding foliage.

  “Perfect,” I replied. “Let’s get back.”

  Climbing back up to the road took about twice as long, but we made it without incident. My car was right where I’d left it (not rear-ended by a speed demon) and we climbed in.

  “One down, four to go,” Joe said.

  I drove back to the national forest visitor center. After I parked and we unloaded our gear, we consulted the map once more. The night before, we had circled all the locations where we wanted to place cameras. The second stop on our list was near where I’d had my sighting.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. “A text from Benny. He wants to know when we’re heading out.”

  Joe shrugged. “Ignore?”

  “That’s rude,” I replied.

  “We’re on a case,” Joe explained. “Completely justified.”

  I nodded and returned the phone to my pocket. Benny would have to wait.

  Joe and I started up the main trail. We passed several hikers along the way, both coming up and going down. Even though traffic on the path wasn’t too heavy, we’d have to be careful to make sure nobody saw us place the cameras. The last thing we needed was someone swiping one of them.

  It didn’t take us long to reach our first spot in this area, the place where I had seen . . . whatever I saw.

  Joe spun around so that his back was to me. “You place this one and I’ll keep a lookout.”

  I pulled the camera out of my brother’s pack and he quickly hiked farther up the trail. He positioned himself on a rise so he could look out for any hikers approaching from either direction. I stepped a few feet into the woods, away from where I had seen the creature. I wanted to make sure the camera caught not only the spot where the thing had been hiding but also the trail itself. After checking the angle one last time, I strapped it to a tree and switched it on.

  Before returning to the trail, I scanned the woods, but the thick underbrush and dark shadows hid most of the sloping terrain. There were so many places to hide. The Bayport Beast could be out there watching us and we wouldn’t even know. I listened for any signs of movement but heard only birdsong, the breeze whistling through the treetops, and the distant drumming of a woodpecker.

  No sooner had I stepped back onto the trail when I heard two short whistles—a signal from my brother that someone was coming. I made a show of checking the straps on my pack as a family of four hiked past. I nodded a greeting and then hiked up to join my brother.

  “Done,” I told him.

  We spent the rest of the day setting up the cameras. There were only three left, but we wanted to space them as far apart as possible. We took our time, keeping an eye out for the Bayport Beast (or whatever it was I saw that day).

  “They could be aliens,” Joe said as we hiked.

  “What could be aliens?” I asked.

  “You know, the Bigfoots,” he replied.

  I sighed. “How do you figure that they’re aliens?”

  “Maybe they were sent here to observe us,” he explained. “But they’re too big and hairy to blend into human society. So they have to live in the woods.”

  “What could they observe about us while they hang out in the forest?” I asked. “The latest style of hiking boot?”

  Joe laughed. “I didn’t say it was a good theory. But it is a theory.”

  “Barely,” I said.

  Once the last game camera had been strapped into place, we made our way deeper into the woods to set up camp. We found an open space off the main trail, and I assembled the tent while Joe built a campfire. Before long, we were digging into the hot foil packages of our rehydrated dinner.

  “I’m starving,” Joe said in between steaming mouthfuls of noodles.

  I was halfway through my meal when my phone buzzed for the twentieth time that day. I didn’t have to look to know who it was. “Benny again,” I said between bites.

  Both Joe and I had received texts from our friend all day long. We’d had reprieves in the valleys or thicker parts of the forest where there was no cell reception. However, as soon as we crested a hill, both of our phones had buzzed with missed texts from Benny.

  “He’s not taking a hint, is he?” Joe asked.

  “I’m s
tarting to feel really bad now,” I said. “I’m not even reading them anymore.”

  “How about this?” Joe suggested. “We’ll text him back tomorrow and tell him we’re on our way home. Tell him there was spotty cell reception in the forest.”

  I held up my fork. “At least part of that is true.”

  Joe wolfed down the last bit of his dinner. “Let’s get some more hiking in while there’s plenty of light,” he suggested.

  “Good idea,” I agreed. “We can hit some of the other sighting locations.”

  We packed away our trash and grabbed our cameras. Without heavy backpacks, we made better time through the narrow trails. I enjoyed the hike, but we didn’t spot anything.

  “Maybe it’s the beast’s day off,” Joe suggested.

  We topped another rise and saw that the trail divided below us. I checked the map. “These trails meet again on the next hill,” I said. “Want to split up?”

  “Sure thing,” Joe replied. “Never a bad move in a horror movie.”

  I laughed. “Good thing this isn’t a horror movie.”

  I veered right as my brother disappeared behind the foliage to my left. I kept a steady pace, stopping only to take a photo of a small woodpecker on a nearby tree. After it flew away, the woods were silent around me.

  After such an uneventful day, I began to question my earlier sighting. It had seemed so real at the time, but maybe I had been imagining things. Like most memories, the image in my mind seemed to grow fuzzy with the passage of time. Maybe it had been just a bear.

  I pushed away all thoughts of Sasquatch and took in a deep breath, smiling as the earthy air filled my lungs. I loved being out in nature, away from civilization and the sights, sounds, and smells that came with it. Here it was just me, the tweeting of distant birds, and the steady rhythm of my hiking boots crunching along the trail.

  The path ahead dipped across a dry creek, then jutted up another hill and disappeared to the left. As I hiked down to the creek, I saw I wouldn’t have to worry about mud on my hiking boots. The soil was merely soft from a rainstorm—not slippery or muddy.

  However, just before I stepped into the dry bed, I spotted something that froze me in my tracks.

  There was a footprint in the soft earth—a very big footprint. It had the shape of a human foot, but it was close to two feet long.

  It couldn’t be a Bigfoot footprint . . . could it?

  8

  SIGHTING

  JOE

  DID I ACTUALLY THINK WE would spot the Bayport Beast? I don’t know. But if we did, I was ready. My camera was clutched in both hands as I moved briskly down the trails.

  After Frank and I had split up, I figured I would cover more ground than him. Keeping my eyes open for anything strange, my competitive side kicked in. I knew I could beat him to the place where the trails rejoined.

  The path dipped and crossed an old creek. I hopped over the dry creek bed and was getting ready to lean into the climb ahead when I heard a rustle in the woods to my right. I slowed to a stop and scanned the woods: nothing but trees, trees, and more trees. The undergrowth was thick, but I didn’t think a full-grown Sasquatch would hide so close to the trail.

  I waited and listened a bit longer. Nothing. I turned and began climbing up the steep trail.

  There was another rustle and what sounded like a twig snapping. I halted again, but all I heard were chirping birds. Then another snap. I slowly turned and searched the woods again. Nothing.

  Movement caught the corner of my eye. I widened my view to include the spot where the trail crossed the creek bed.

  A dark shape lumbered past thick tree trunks and behind leafy undergrowth. Branches swung and more twigs snapped as whatever it was crept closer to the trail. The dark form shrank momentarily as if ducking under a branch before moving closer. Then the thing emerged from behind the last tree and stood in the center of the dry creek bed. Out of the woods, unobstructed, there it was—the Bayport Beast!

  I felt two conflicting emotions: elation that I was actually looking at a mythical figure, and pure fear. Even though I was partway up the next hill, this thing was massive: at least seven feet tall. It was covered with matted brown hair, and its two dark eyes seemed to bore into me.

  The detective in me was ready to gather evidence, but my primal self was ready to drop the camera and get out of there.

  Luckily, the detective part won out as I slowly raised the camera to my face. Either the creature wasn’t a fan of paparazzi or my movement spooked it. Whatever it was, the beast turned and thundered back into the woods. I barely got a shot off before it disappeared down the dry creek bed.

  I ran down the hill, trying to get another shot, before realizing that it was heading straight for my brother. I had to warn him!

  I dug out my phone and checked the coverage—only one bar. I hoped the signal would hold as I shot Frank a quick text.

  After I sent the text, I almost pursued the creature into the woods. Almost. Now my primal half took over. I didn’t want to corner that thing between my brother and me. Instead, I ran up the hiking trail. Hopefully, I could reach the split and then double back to my brother’s trail.

  I just hoped Frank could hold it together until then.

  9

  NO JOKE

  FRANK

  I TOOK A STEP BACK and snapped what seemed like my hundredth photo of the footprint. I didn’t know if it was real or some kind of joke. The impression had five toes and was shaped exactly like a human footprint—only twice as large. It looked as if Shaquille O’Neal’s big brother had hiked through.

  I smiled. Joe was going to be so jealous that he didn’t find it first.

  My phone vibrated; probably another text from Benny. I almost ignored it, but I felt too guilty. I pulled out my phone to find a single text from Joe.

  BEAST COMING YOUR WAY! DOWN CREEK BED. LOOK OUT!!!

  I shook my head. Enough with the pranks! I was about to reply when a sound distracted me—something moving along the creek to my left. The sound of rustling branches grew louder. Was Joe serious?

  I dashed down the trail, back the way I had come. When I was about fifteen feet away from the creek, I slid behind the trunk of a tree just off the path. I crouched down and aimed my camera at the creek and focused the telephoto lens.

  A massive creature plodded into frame and I pressed the shutter release. My camera clicked away as I captured frame after frame what looked like the Bayport Beast! The thing was huge and hairy, with a mix of human and simian facial features. It looked exactly like every description of Bigfoot I’d read or heard about.

  The beast swung its head from side to side as if making sure no one was on its trail. Its movements were puzzling. It leaned forward and put its hands on its knees, just like a human trying to catch their breath. The beast’s fur-covered chest rose and fell as it panted.

  I slowly got to my feet. This thing was acting very human.

  The beast glanced over its shoulder at the creek behind it before reaching a hand to its neck. It tugged on the fur, seeming to stretch its skin. I cringed. As it pulled its skin farther and farther out from its body, it became clear: this was a mask. Sure enough, the “beast” was just a person in a suit!

  The imposter’s back was to me, so I couldn’t get any facial features. I took a couple more photos before stepping out onto the trail. “Hey!” I shouted.

  The person fumbled with the mask, pulling it back down over his or her head before glancing back to find me standing in the middle of the trail.

  The “beast” took off, running up the trail in long, loping strides. I had to pour on the speed to keep up. Luckily, the uphill trail slowed the imposter down.

  The counterfeit beast skidded to a stop as Joe came into view. My brother froze, not ten feet away from the creature, his eyes wide with shock.

  “It’s okay,” I said as I jogged up the hill. “It’s someone in a suit.”

  Joe leaned forward and squinted. “No kidding.” He stepped clos
er.

  The phony giant shot looks at me, Joe, and then back at me. It turned as if it were going to make a break for it.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I warned.

  I didn’t know what I would do if the imposter tried to run. Whoever was wearing the suit was huge. One thing was for sure: without our heavy backpacks, Joe and I could make our way through the thick forest much faster. We might not be able to hold him, but we wouldn’t lose him.

  The beast turned back to Joe, raised its arms, and took a giant step forward as if it were about to attack.

  Joe crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not buying it!”

  The beast rounded on me. I didn’t back down either. Instead, I raised my camera and snapped a few more pics. “Smile.”

  The creature’s shoulders sank. Two hairy hands reached up and pulled off the mask to reveal a familiar face.

  “Benny?!!” Joe shouted.

  I looked him up and down. “You grew!”

  10

  ANOTHER MINOR ADJUSTMENT

  JOE

  I WENT FROM SOARING EXCITEMENT (okay, with some fear mixed in) to crushing disappointment in a matter of seconds as I hiked down to join my brother and the surreal Sasquatch. It was as if our friend’s head had been plopped on top of a Bigfoot body. Even brown face paint surrounded his eyes—no doubt to keep his pale skin from showing through the mask’s eyeholes.

  “Hi, guys,” he said with a nervous laugh. “How’s it going?”

  “How’s it going?” I repeated, throwing up my arms. “We just found our friend running around pretending to be Bigfoot.”

  “So that’s why you’ve been texting us all day?” Frank asked. “You wanted to find out where we’d be so you could prank us again?”

  “Not cool, dude,” I added.

  Benny shook his head. “It’s not like that. I really wanted to go camping with you guys. You know, to look for the beast.”

  “Wait a minute.” I crossed my arms. “You wanted to look for the Bayport Beast, dressed as the beast?”