Bigfoot Hunters
Page 24
“Are we talking about the one that fellow from that TV show shot?” he asked with a dubious tone.
“When you put it that way...” Allison grinned sheepishly.
“Obviously, not the same one,” Danni chimed in. “But maybe it had family. I don’t know, and I don’t care. The bottom line is that it’s out there somewhere. Listen, even if you don’t believe us, call the cops. If we’re lying, they can arrest us. We’ll go quietly, happily even.”
Allison added, “Yeah. If you hand me your cell phone, I’ll even dial 911 for you.”
Richard shook his head. “Don’t own one. Damn things give you cancer.”
The two girls exchanged worried looks when he said that. That went a long way to allaying his fear of them being burglars. Thieves normally didn’t look scared after hearing you had no way of contacting the police. He decided that even if they were on drugs, it was probably that harmless stuff the hippies used.
He put the poker down and stood up. “Now, don’t be worrying. I didn’t lie when I said I didn’t own one of those mobile phones. I got enough aches and pains without needing to worry about a brain tumor. But I do have an old rotary in the kitchen. You’re both a little young to remember them, but they run off the juice in the phone lines. Kate ... she’s my daughter ... has been bugging me to replace it with something newer. Damn glad I’ve been holding out. Once the power goes out, them things are as useless as tits on a bull, excuse my language for saying so.”
“That’d be great!” Danni said, brightening up. If it worked, they could call the authorities and get some help out here. For the first time in hours, she was beginning to feel a flicker of hope.
“Okay, then,” he said. “You both sit tight, and I’ll go see if I can round up the deputy.”
“Kitchen you said, right?” Allison asked. “I don’t suppose you have anything to drink? I mean, like water or something,” she quickly added. “Danni and I have been running for a while. I’m parched.”
“There’s some lemonade in the fridge. Don’t know how long the power’s been out, but it should still be cold.”
“That would be wonderful, thanks,” She stood to follow him. “You want a glass?” she asked her friend.
Danni shook her head. “I’m good. Well, maybe not good, but no thanks.”
* * *
The kitchen was a neat little room near the rear of the house. A long counter ran along two sides of it, forming an L shape on the right side of the room. Richard placed a few lit candles on top of it. They illuminated the space just enough to see what one was doing. To the left of the entrance was the refrigerator, where Allison found the pitcher of lemonade Richard had mentioned. She found a cup in the dish drain and filled it.
There was a small table on the far side of the room. It sat in front of a large picture window, currently covered by a thin curtain. Under better circumstances, Allison thought it might be nice to eat breakfast there while looking out at the yard beyond. Right now, though, with the exception of a little bit of moonlight, there was nothing to see outside but darkness.
Richard was seated on one side of the table, the receiver of the phone to his ear. She walked over with her drink and sat across from him. Even in the dim light, she could see the frown on his face. He reached over to the base and clicked on the cradle a few times. The frown deepened. At last, he put the headset back down.
“No good. Can’t get a dial tone,” he told her.
Allison almost choked on her drink. She started to speak, but he held up a hand.
“Don’t go getting all panicky. Phone lines run on the same poles as the power. Probably a tree down somewhere. It’s happened before.”
“Yeah, but...”
“But nothing,” he said, his voice stern. “We’ve had plenty of blackouts over the years. As far as I know, none of them were caused by monkey men.”
“First time for everything.”
“So you and your friend keep saying. I’ll tell you what, though. My daughter should be home soon. Darn girl loves to work late. Once she gets here, we’ll fix us up some supper. You and your friend are welcome to stay the night. We don’t have much space, but the living room is warm enough. Come the morning, one of us will drive you over to the deputy.”
“You have a car?”
He chuckled in response. “‘Course I have a car. Bonanza Creek may be small, but we’re not cavemen here.”
“But I didn’t see a...”
“Got a garage in the back. I keep my Buick in there. One of the good things about a small town, everything’s in walking distance.”
“Well then, let’s go get it.” She stood up and leaned across the table toward him. “We can find your daughter and then get help.”
“Settle down, missy. My eyes aren’t so good at night. I’m just as liable to put us in a ditch as keep us on the road. And before you ask, nobody drives my baby but me and Kate.”
“Fine, then when Kate...”
“Enough, girl,” Richard said, rising to his feet and facing her. “Matter’s settled. Morning will come soon enough. If you and your friend can’t wait it out, then I may just have to ask you to leave. I don’t want to. It’s easy to get lost in the dark if you don’t know the area, but I will if you push me.”
Allison was about to protest, but she could tell he’d made up his mind. She could see it in his eyes as a shadow crossed over his face. In fact, his whole body seemed to darken.
It took a second for realization to set in. It wasn’t just him. It seemed as if a wall of gloom had settled over their spot in the kitchen ... as if something was blocking out the meager starlight from outside.
Richard noticed it, too. His eyebrows raised in surprise right before the window shattered. Shards of broken glass flew everywhere, one cutting a nasty furrow across his right cheek. It was the least of his worries.
A set of frying pan-sized hands came through the broken portal. One seized the back of Richard’s head in a vice-like grip. The other grabbed a fistful of Allison’s hair. Before either of them could comprehend what was happening, much less struggle against it, the hands swung together with unearthly strength. Their faces rushed toward one another, as if overeager to meet in a kiss. Bone and cartilage were crushed in the impact.
As she died, one of Allison’s arms flailed out and struck her lemonade. The glass fell to the floor, where it shattered and became indistinguishable from the remnants of the window.
* * *
Danni desperately wanted to run. The sound of breaking glass and the dull thump afterwards were more than enough. Now there were other sounds, too – thick grunts followed by a wet slurping. She didn’t want to fool herself that things might be all right. She had seen far too much that day. However, her rational mind childishly insisted that it was probably nothing. They just dropped a glass and maybe the man had a dog that was lapping it up.
Only, there had been no dog. One would have surely barked earlier when they had feebly attempted to pick the lock on the door. There was no denying that something was very wrong. Yet, she was unwilling to leave her friend behind. She had already done that too many times today. If there was any chance that Allison was still alive, she had to take it.
Danni grabbed the poker from the fireplace. She stood up with it held out before her. She was just one frightened girl making a stand against the unknown, thus she would’ve been quite surprised to know that the shadows cast by the fire told a different story. In them, she appeared a mighty warrior of days’ past, wielding perhaps Excalibur itself.
She slowly made her way to the kitchen. Nearing the entrance, the slurping became louder and somehow more frenzied. A small thought flitted through her head: what if they had stumbled upon the home of some deranged serial killer? That would be just their luck, to run from one monster and end up in the arms of another. All things considered, I’d probably be happy to deal with a psycho. She stepped through the doorway, the poker held out before her.
In the candlelight, she could see far more than she ever wanted to. Allison and Richard were both slumped at a table in front of the window, the same window in which the creature was leaning in. The same table that it had its face pressed to. It appeared to be lapping something up. She didn’t need to get any closer to make an educated guess what that something was. In the flickering light, she could see the ruined remains of their heads. Whatever it had done, it had nearly decapitated them, and now it was eating the remains with a gusto that bordered on manic.
Danni couldn’t help what happened next. She hadn’t had much to eat that day, but whatever was left in her stomach came rushing out of her. She staggered back, retching. The creature heard the sound and looked up.
Their eyes met. It took one last greedy slurp from its awful meal, then bared its teeth. It was still hungry. A growl escaped from its lips, the remains of its last mouthful dripping out onto the table.
That was enough for Danni. She began to back out of the room, her eyes never leaving the creature’s. It held her gaze, but didn’t move. She took another step, but then her foot landed in the gorge she had just vomited up. It slid out from under her, and she went down, cutting her hand on a shard of glass as she landed.
The standoff broken, the creature sprang into action. It began to climb in the window. Danni watched in horrific fascination as the beast pulled its body inside, revealing its full bulk. My God, it’s huge! Upright, it would be over eight feet tall.
As the creature clambered in, one of its feet became caught in the remains of the window frame. For one almost comical moment, its eyes widened in surprise. Then it came crashing down face first, shattering the table and sending the bodies of its two victims tumbling away. It landed on the floor only a few short feet from where Danni still sat.
She dimly realized that if it reached out with one of its hands, she would be caught and it would be all over. Something else about hands flashed through her mind, but in her terror she had no idea what her subconscious was trying to tell her.
The creature lifted its head and growled at her. It raised itself to its hands and knees, and that’s when Danni’s mind clicked. It wasn’t the creature’s hands, it was hers ... more specifically, the one still holding the poker. Quickly, without truly realizing what she was doing, she jabbed her arm forward with a snarl of her own. Her aim was true, and the point of the fireplace poker punctured the creature’s right eye.
There was a strangled screech of pain from the beast. It attempted to pull back, but one of its legs slipped in the very gore it had been lapping up only seconds ago. Before it could escape, Danni leaned forward and put her entire weight behind the makeshift spear, driving it in deeper.
“Eat this, asshole!” she screamed, grabbing the handle with both hands and giving it a sickening twist.
The creature began to convulse. It reared up, pulling the weapon from her grasp in the process. She scuttled back as far as she could while the monster struggled to make it back to its feet. It finally stood, and then, just as suddenly, stopped. Without further warning, it pitched forward and fell face first onto the floor. The poker was driven through the back of its skull by the impact. Its body spasmed once, then all was still again.
Danni waited, unmoving, for a few minutes. At last, she realized that the creature wasn’t playing possum. It was dead. Inching closer, she was surprised by the calm coldness she felt inside. She supposed she should be hysterical. Despite the fact that one of her best friends was lying brutally savaged less than ten feet away, she couldn’t bring herself to cry. Instead, she actually began to giggle. It wasn’t a mirthful laugh, though. It was a hard chuckle with little humor behind it. She had stared down the devil, and the devil had blinked.
No, that wasn’t right. This creature wasn’t the devil. It wasn’t even a monster. It was just an animal. It was big, strong, and fast, but it could be killed just the same. That realization brought resolve to Danni. She had run enough for one day – enough for one life, perhaps. She was done with that. She still had a brother out there who needed her.
Danni got to her feet and walked over to the dead creature. She grabbed the end of the poker sticking through the back of its head and gave a yank. The only movement was an involuntary twitch from the dead sasquatch. The makeshift weapon was stuck fast in its thick skull.
No matter. She spent the next fifteen minutes searching the now quiet house. She felt a little guilty about doing so, but realized the owner was beyond caring at this point. Unfortunately, her search didn’t turn up any firearms as she’d hoped. Richard Barrows appeared to have been more fisherman than hunter. However, she did find a hand axe and a sturdy looking filet knife. It wasn’t much, but she tucked them into her belt nevertheless.
She turned, meaning to go, but then hesitated – finding she couldn’t just leave Allison lying there in the kitchen. The thought that the beast had been eating her friend threatened to make her retch again. There was always the possibility that something else might make its way into the house to finish the job. The smell of blood and death might lure another of the creatures. She wouldn’t allow that.
Danni took a candle from the kitchen and placed it beneath a curtain in the living room. Within seconds, it ignited and began to spread. She felt a momentary twinge of regret in doing so. She was wantonly destroying someone else’s property. Didn’t Richard say he had a daughter ... Kate? A vague memory reminded her that had been the name of the woman running the general store. Were they the same person? Sadly, she had no idea. Whoever Kate was, though, assuming she was even still alive in this damned town, Danni felt that perhaps she was doing her a small favor. Burning the place to the ground was kinder than leaving her to find her father’s remains. The sight in the kitchen would probably be enough to unhinge anyone. No, it was better this way – a fitting funeral pyre to her friend and the man who had welcomed them both into his home. It was the best she could do.
As the fire began to spread in the small home, Danni walked out the front door, not bothering to close it behind her. Her eyes were dry, a look of determination in them, as she strode into the darkness.
I’m coming, Harrison.
Chapter 31
The fire at the Barrows’ residence wasn’t the first in Bonanza Creek that night, nor would it be the last. At the edge of Main Street, the blaze at the late Ben Reeves’ bar looked like it might be starting to burn itself out. However, then the flames found several barrels of home-brewed liquor that he sold to a few of his regulars. This was hi-test hooch, more than capable of pulling double duty as both beverage and engine degreaser. The barrels exploded with a dull boom, the contents fueling the fire and causing it to flare up higher. Embers were thrown high up into the air, some landing on neighboring buildings, where they began to smolder.
Across town, something similar was about to occur. It would be more remote than what happened at the bar. Although, had the lone witness to its occurrence been able to speak, he would have certainly agreed that it was far more spectacular.
Kurt Bachowski, last of the Bachowski clan who had settled in Bonanza Creek over a hundred years ago, or so his father used to claim – despite having moved there just a year before Kurt’s birth, after a few run-ins with California’s finest – didn’t know that, though. He continued toward his destination with absolutely no thought as to whether it would be nothing more than a smoking crater just a few minutes later.
He saw the lights in the Clemons’ place from fairly far away. The trail he’d been following wasn’t particularly dense, and in the darkness of the night, their house had shone like a beacon. He’d never gotten along particularly well with either Grace or Byron, nor they with him. They considered the Bachowskis
to be little more than poachers. In turn, Kurt saw them as a bunch of sissified survivalists. As far as he was concerned, take away their fancy equipment and they’d be useless.
All things considered, though, he was glad to see their place. As long as they had a gun for him to use, and he suspected they had plenty, he could deal with them looking down their nose at him. He had heard via the Barrows bitch about the gun shows that they frequented. Supposedly, they were always coming back home with new toys. It didn’t matter much to Kurt. So long as they didn’t hand him some Chinese piece of shit that’d jam just as soon as shoot, he’d be happy. Then he could make his way back to his own place and get to his own stash of firearms. Maybe his weren’t as fancy, but they were well cared for and dependable.
He took a look around before abandoning his concealment. He didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary, so he made his way to their front door – giving a quick knock on it. “Grace, Byron,” he said in as loud a voice as he dared. He then knocked again. For a moment, he thought he heard movement inside, but it might have been his imagination. The blinds were drawn, so there was no way to be sure.
He decided to try the back door instead. Walking around the house, he noticed that their truck was missing from the driveway. That figured. They were out, probably off somewhere sleeping in one of their fancy tents complete with air conditioning. Shit on that. He wasn’t above a little breaking and entering if it meant saving his own ass.
He got to the back door, unaware that Grace Clemons’ mangled body lay in the grass only a few yards away. He’d been considering breaking a window or just kicking the damn door in, but it wasn’t necessary. The back door was ajar, lying closed against the jamb.
He was busy thinking damn fools are practically begging to be robbed as he pushed it open. Thus, he was caught completely by surprise when something charged out of the house at him. He fell back with a cry, raising his arms in a defensive gesture – prepared to give it hell for what it had done to Stan. It might kill him, but he’d do his damnedest to gouge its eyes out first.