by David Wood
“Finally, there are the castings I made of the prints.” He carefully removed two bubble-wrapped objects from the briefcase, closed the case, and set it on the floor. “The prints do not show the telltale signs of fakery.” He went on to describe the same details Slater and Bones had discussed at the bar.
When Gambles finished his analysis of the print castings, Slater asked a final question.
“Do you believe the skunk ape is real and lives in this area?”
Gambles looked directly into the camera and gave a firm nod.
“Absolutely.”
Chapter 5
They parked in a gravel lot just inside the Myakka River State Park and hiked from there, following a walking trail south along the river bank until it ended. After that, they relied on Gambles’ directions and a topographical map he had provided. Bones had plenty of experience with this sort of thing so they had little trouble making their way to the spot the researcher had described — a place where a rutted dirt road, little used, met the river.
Here, the Myakka River made a sharp bend. A sandy shoal protruded out into it, and a mud bank lay on the other side of the water, rising in a gentle slope up to the dense forest beyond. Birdsong and the gentle rush of the river filled Bones’ ears. He could almost forget they were only a few miles from civilization.
“Do you think this is the right spot?” Slater asked, looking around.
“This is definitely it.” He pointed to the location on the topographical map where the winding blue ribbon of the Myakka formed a loop. “Here’s where we are on the map. It matches perfectly.”
“In that case, let’s get started.” Slater took up a position near the water’s edge and waited for Dave and Carly to get their equipment ready. Dave had left his large camera locked in the trunk of his car and was now using a small, handheld video recorder, while Carly opted for a portable digital recorder.
When Dave gave Slater the thumbs-up she recorded a brief segment, introducing this as the spot where Gambles had found the skunk ape tracks and describing the setting. Once the recording was finished, they began a search of the area.
While the others scoured the shoals and the bank on their side of the river, Bones waded across to inspect the opposite side. The water was shallow, little more than ankle–deep, and it felt cool and refreshing on his bare feet. When he was halfway across, he turned and called back to Slater.
“What do you say we let those two keep looking around while you and I do a little skinny dipping?”
“Keep dreaming.” Slater didn’t even look up from her searching.
“Maybe later then.” Bones turned around and froze. Even at a distance of twenty feet or more he could clearly make out a set of long-toed footprints on the mud bank. At first glance they appeared to be the twin of those Gambles had found.
“No way. Hey, Slater, get over here!” He turned and beckoned to her.
“Give it a rest. I’m trying to work here and I don’t have time to…”
“I found a track.”
“Really?” Slater looked in the direction he pointed and her jaw dropped. “Fantastic! Dave, get over…” She paused and cocked her head to the side. “What’s that noise?”
From somewhere in the distance came the low rumble of an engine, growing louder as it drew near. Moments later, a monster truck bounded into view, bouncing on its raised suspension as its oversized tires rolled through the ruts of the overgrown dirt road. Dave and Carly leaped to the side as the truck shot down the bank, fishtailed on the sand, and sped into the water. It roared past Bones, drenching him in cold river water.
Bones cursed and sprang back. He shook the water out of his eyes just in time to see the truck rumble of the mud bank, lose traction, and slide backward.
Right over the footprints.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” he yelled. He stomped toward the truck, but the driver threw the vehicle into reverse and back straight at him, forcing Bones to spring out of the way again. The driver did a donut, churning up a wall of water that wash the mud bank clean and sprayed Bones with another cold, wet wave. The truck shot back across the river toward the old dirt road but skidded to a halt in the sand when Slater ran directly into its path.
“What the hell do you idiots think you are doing?” she screamed. “You almost killed three of my people.”
The doors opened and two men stepped out of the truck. The driver was bald with a bushy red beard and a bowling ball body. The passenger was a tall, brown-haired man with a rat tail and several gaps in his teeth.
“You got a problem, girl?” Rat Tail folded his sinewy arms and spat a wad of phlegm on the sand.
Slater didn’t give an inch. She stood with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes, staring daggers up at the taller men. “I just told you what my problem is. Are you deaf or just stupid?”
“I didn’t expect no sass from a girl as pretty as you,” Rat Tail cackled. “Maybe for Miss Short-haired Lesbian over there.” He inclined his head toward Carly, who held out her hands, frowned, and mouthed, I’m not gay.
Slater trembled with rage. “We’re conducting research here and you morons just screwed it up. I’ve got half a mind to sue you. I hope your mom’s double-wide is worth something, or else we’ll have to take your neon beer sign and your NASCAR memorabilia.”
“This one’s got a mouth on her,” Bowling Ball observed. “I think somebody should shut it.”
“I can’t tell you how much I’d love to see you try.” Bones said, stepping up behind the men and giving each a shove in the back. He didn’t put much force into the effort — just enough to divert their attention from Slater.
The two men rounded on him in unison but hesitated when their eyes fell on him. Bowling Ball was as broad of shoulder as Bones and Rat Tail nearly as tall, but neither had his combination of height and breadth. This, however, did not stymie them in the least. They exchanged grins.
“Well, it looks like it’s going to be a good day after all,” bowling ball said. “You see, we came here to drink beer and…”
“I know, I know. Drink some beer and kick some ass and you’re almost out of beer. Dude, do you know how old that movie is? Come up with some new material or go back to kissing your boyfriend.”
The man frowned, trying to process the insult.
“You know, you talk pretty big for a man who’s outnumbered two to one, Indian Boy,” Rat Tail said.
“I’m surprised you can count that high,” Bones said. “I guess that second grade education was good for something after all.”
“And it’s not two to one. It’ll be two on two.” Dave handed his camera to Carly and made to join Bones.
“Thanks, Bro, but it’s not your fight. How about you get the girls out of here?”
Dave hesitated. Bones could tell the young cameraman was struggling between a sense of duty and the natural aversion to of violence common in most people. Normal people, that was. But Bones was hardly normal.
“Seriously, dude. You don’t need to watch this and neither do they.”
Bowling Ball chuckled. “You don’t want your little girlfriend to see you get your ass kicked?” he taunted as he and Rat Tail advanced shoulder-to-shoulder.
Bones looked the man in the eye and smiled. “Not exactly.”
He lashed out with a vicious sidekick that caught Rat Tail in the gut. Taken by surprise, the tall man folded forward and crumbled to his knees. He knelt there, arms pressed to his stomach, struggling to catch his breath.
Bowling Ball’s reaction time was better than that of his friend. He swung a wild haymaker at Bones’ head. Bones moved back just enough for the blow to miss his chin by half an inch, and then he drove his fist into the exposed temple of his off-balance opponent. Bowling Ball wobbled backward. Bones followed with a knee to the man’s groin, a blow which sent him to the ground, and then a roundhouse kick to his head that turned out his lights.
He turned on Rat Tail, who had regained his feet and was charging at Bones.
Rat Tail lowered his head and tried a tackle, but he wasn’t strong enough to bring the larger man down. Bones flung him to the ground, jumped onto his back, and caught him in a chokehold. Rat Tail struggled and clawed at Bones’ forearm, which was locked around his neck in a Python grip, but his efforts were futile and he soon went limp. Bones let the man fall to the ground.
“He’s not dead is he?” Carly asked.
Bones shook his head. “Just unconscious.” He strode over to the still idling truck, took the keys from the ignition, and pitched them into the river. He then searched the glove compartment and found a 38 revolver. He emptied the cylinder, tossed the bullets into the water, and put the weapon back where he’d found it.
“Come on,” he said to the others. “Let’s get out of here before these idiots wake up. If I have to deal with them again I might bruise my knuckles.”
Dave chuckled. “That was crazy. You took them out in, like, thirty seconds.”
“It only took that long because I decided to choke the dude out.” He looked down at Dave. “It’s not like the movies. A real fight is short and nasty and somebody almost always gets hurt. That’s why you should try to stay out of them if at all possible.” He turned and walked back out into the river.
“Where are you going?” Slater asked. “They destroyed the prints.”
“Were going to do this old-school. Something left those prints and I’m going to track it down.”
Chapter 6
Bones was an experienced tracker and he was able to follow the signs left by the passage of whatever had passed this way with little trouble. The ground was thick with undergrowth, but here and there he spotted a partial footprint, broken branch, or a twig or leaf pressed down into the soft earth. The first couple of times he spotted something, Slater had him point it out and explain it for the benefit of the camera, but after that they moved on as quickly as they could.
The path they followed, if it could be called that, plunged deep into the swampy forest, occasionally bending back in the direction of the river, but generally following a southeasterly course. Bones lost the trail a couple of times and was forced to double back again, but always managed to find it. The farther they went, the quieter their surroundings grew. It was hard to believe they were only a handful of miles from a decent-sized city.
Spirits were high during the first hour or so of their trek. The crew was duly impressed by his tracking skills and never voiced any concerns that he might be steering them on the wrong course. By the second hour, though, their enthusiasm began to wane.
“Is it dangerous here?” Dave asked. “I mean, aside from crazy rednecks?”
“It can be if you’re not careful. While we’re in the woods, you’re not likely to run into anything. I guess there’s an outside chance we could stumble across a black bear, but the odds of one of them messing with us are pretty slim. They just want to be left alone. If we do see one, just follow my lead and it’ll be cool.”
“You said ‘while we’re in the woods.’ What about when we get to the swamp?” Dave smiled as he spoke, but Bones could hear a tremble in his voice.
“Snakes and gators, but just keep your eyes open and you should be fine. And try to stay out of the water. I don’t want to have to pull you out of quicksand.”
“I hear there are giant pythons in the swamp,” Carly said. “People buy them as pets and set them free when they grow too big.”
Bones donned his most patient smile. “Tell you what. You guys take a break from worrying and stay close to me. It’ll be fine.”
“How far are we going to go?” Carly asked, glancing back the way they’d come.
“Until we find something, I guess,” Bones said. “Or until the boss tells us it’s time to knock off for the day.”
“It’s still early,” Slater said. “Plenty of daylight left.”
Carly didn’t seem pleased. “Are you sure we’ll be able to find our way back?”
“I’m sure I can get us back. All I have to do is follow the tracks you three have trampled into the ground. Seriously, it’s like an elephant walk back there.”
“What if we get separated from you?” Dave chimed in, unabashed by Bones’ commentary on his woodcraft.
“Don’t.” Bones turned away and resumed his trek, but Dave wasn’t satisfied.
“No, really. What do we do if we get lost?”
Bones stopped and counted to three before replying. “Seriously? The kind of show you do and you’ve never spent any time out in the woods?”
“Not in such a small group, and not with a guide who can follow invisible trails through the middle of nowhere. Besides, this place is…”
“…creepy,” Carly finished.
Bones shrugged out of his backpack, took out a bottle of water, and took a long drink, buying time for his annoyance to subside. “All right. Listen carefully. If one of you wanders off, head east until you hit the river and then turn right. Follow it until you get back to the park. It’s really that simple.” He supposed he should explain to them how to determine which way was east. “To know which direction is east, you just…”
“It’s cool,” Dave said. “Our cell phones have compass apps.” His countenance suddenly brightened. “Wait a minute!” He took out his phone and tapped it a few times. “I’ve got a signal. That means I can use GPS to get back. Looks like there was nothing to worry about.”
Bones pressed his lips tightly together until he could speak without cursing. “That’s just…awesome.” Not trusting himself to say more, he turned on his heel and plunged forward, double-time.
Bones continued to follow the signs left by whatever had passed this way. The occasional partial print kept his spirits up. These were no shoe or boot prints. They were tracks left by large, bare feet. He was finally beginning to consider the possibility that the skunk ape was, in fact, a reality and not a mere legend. Of course, he was predisposed to wish that such things were true, but that didn’t change what he saw as he moved through the forest. Tracks were immune to personal bias.
“Do you think we might actually find something?” Carly’s tone indicated she wasn’t exactly thrilled by the possibility.
“I hope so,” Bones said, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him.
“What if we come across an actual skunk ape?” Dave asked.
“No offense, but as clumsy as you white people are out here in the woods, any woodland creature worth its salt is going to hear you coming a mile away and clear the hell out of the area until we’re gone.”
“Somebody’s snippy today,” Slater said.
“Sorry. I get that way when I concentrate. It hurts my brain to think too hard.” He grinned at his three companions, hoping to break the ice a little.
“We’ll try to be quiet, won’t we, guys?” Slater glared at her crew, who nodded in unison.
Bones knew it wouldn’t do much good. None of them were practiced at woodcraft, but at least they were making an effort. He supposed he might as well give them some pointers.
“A few things to keep in mind. First of all, don’t step on anything that will make noise, like twigs, dry leaves, or loose stones. Try to step where I step.”
“Because we’re all seven feet tall.” Slater gave him a wink.
“Just do your best. Also, try not to brush against anything. That makes unnecessary noise. Ideally, the only thing you’ll touch out here is soft earth with the balls of your feet. And try not to talk so much. Got it?”
“It ain’t going to help.” A new voice rang out from somewhere up ahead, amused, with a touch of youthfulness. A young man, freckled and sandy-haired, stepped out from behind a live oak. He wore overalls with no shirt underneath and carried a .22 rifle. Bones put him at about thirteen years old, give or take a year. “Either you’re a woodsman or you ain’t.” The boy cleared his throat and spat on the ground. “You are,” he nodded at Bones, “but they ain’t.”
“They’re trying,” Bones said. “You live around here?”
> The boy shrugged. “Not real close by, but I spend a lot of time out here.”
“What’s the gun for?”
“Squirrels or whatever else I might feel like having for dinner.”
Bones nodded. He enjoyed squirrel meat from time to time, though he had to go home to North Carolina to get any. “You got a name?”
“Yep.” The boy’s face cracked into a wide smile and his eyes sparkled. He seemed to think he’d made a great joke.
Rednecks, Bones thought. I can’t even stand the juvenile of the species. “I’m Bones; this is Slater, Carly, and Dave.”
“I’m Jack.”
“You said you spend a lot of time in these woods?” Bones asked.
The boy raised his eyebrows. “Is Danica Patrick a race car driver?”
“I have no freaking idea.”
“She is and she ain’t. She drives a race car but she’s a woman so she ain’t no race car driver.” The boy threw back his head and cackled.
“Youthful misogyny,” Slater mumbled, “such a sight to behold in its nascence.”
“I actually understood that,” Bones said. He turned back to Jack. “We’re tracking something,” he said. “Something that moves on two feet. You haven’t seen anything unusual, have you?”
The boy froze, his eyes suddenly hard and his expression blank. “That ain’t a good idea. You should just go on back where you came from.”
“Can’t do it. You got any idea which way we should go? I’m going to find the trail one way or the other, but it would save me some time if you’d point me in the right direction.”
“There’s twenty bucks in it for you,” Slater said.
