Deonovich holstered his weapon, but made no move to voice an answer. Sagli decided not to push the larger man at this time because he had sustained enough embarrassment delivered by the very much smaller woman.
“Now, we will press into the woods a hundred yards before dark, no farther. We cannot afford to stumble upon our quest in the twilight as that could be fatal. Do you understand?”
Deonovich tuned once more to face his old friend. This time he nodded once and turned to join his men on the perimeter of the camp with the camps doctor walking beside him, trying in vain to place a bandage on his neck.
“Gregori?” Sagli said, looking down at his feet.
Deonovich stopped walking, slapping the hands of the doctor away, and then he turned to look back. Sagli finally looked up at him.
“You are originally from the Urals, as are some of the men. Have you ever heard anything like that before—that animal cry?”
Deonovich looked around him slowly. He knew Sagli was never more than three miles away from Moscow growing up as a child, so he had never before heard the sounds that emanate from the forests. The way they can play tricks on your brain, the direction could be totally opposite of where you thought the roar came from, or the sound itself could have been any number of animals. Instead of saying this, he decided to let Sagli stew in his own confidence of being master of his domain and a slave to his false bravery.
“No, comrade, I have never heard such an animal cry before. It was if a thousand lions roared at the same moment.”
As Sagli watched Deonovich turn and walk away, hiding his knowing smile, he turned and watched the sway at the top of the large pine trees as the wind sprang up. The blow was coming from the north and it brought a sour, primitive smell with it; but of the horrific sound, they heard no more.
“Holly shit, what in the hell was that?” Will Mendenhall asked as he held the cold MRE dinner out to a stunned and staring Charlie Ellenshaw. The beef stew was cold and since a moment before when the sound of the animal reached them across the river, was much anticipated by the cryptozoologist.
Charlie finally lowered his eyes from the trees surrounding their once-again cold camp. He swallowed and turned and looked at the offered freeze-dried ration as if it were a cow patty being held out by Mendenhall, who finally lowered the Meals-Ready-to-Eat package, and then looked into Ellenshaw’s eyes.
“I assure you, Lieutenant, I never really witnessed the animal that lives in these woods, so that noise was as mysterious to me as you. As much as my natural inquisitiveness compels me to investigate, my common sense says to wait until a fresh sun has risen.”
“Doc, do you know what could have possibly made that sound?” Everett asked as he stepped back into the small clearing they were calling camp for the evening with Farbeaux in tow.
Ellenshaw was about to answer, when Jack and Punchy Alexander entered the clearing from the opposite direction as Everett.
“Okay, we need to talk,” Jack said as he took the cold meal from Will’s hand and started eating.
“I would think we would talk about what made that cry across the river, Colonel,” Farbeaux said as he knelt and rummaged through the small box of MREs looking for something palatable.
Jack tossed the bag of cold stew over to Mendenhall, who caught it on the fly, but not before spilling some of it on his green plaid hunting shirt. He shook off some of it by shaking his hand, and then looked at the colonel who acted as though he didn’t even notice what he had done.
“That’s what the doc is along for; I’m sure he’ll come up with something to put in his report,” Jack said, watching the others, his eyes finally falling on Punchy Alexander and then moving on. “You will all be staying on this side of the river tonight.” Jack held up his hand as Will and Everett started to protest. “At ease. This is my thing, my sister, my mission.”
“And if you fail to bring her back?” Everett said as he stepped toward Jack, “We’re supposed to pull up stakes and go home?”
Collins smiled. “No, I want you to kill every one of the sons-a-bitches—but not until I and my sister are dead. After that, you do what you want. Personally, I would avenge your colonel’s death.”
Everett shook his head and Mendenhall looked away.
“I can’t accept that, Jack. I was there when your sister was taken by these bastards and I want in on going after her. I’ve come too far for you to take that from me,” Punchy said, finally speaking up. “Besides, this is all happening on Canadian soil. It’s my bailiwick.”
Jack eyed the large Canadian without saying anything. He then tossed Everett a small chunk of something.
“What do you make of that, Captain?” he asked.
Carl caught the lightweight material in his large hand. It was crumpled and looked as if it had sat in the sun for years. The aluminum was once painted black, faded now to a dark gray.
“Could be anything,” he said.
“May I?” Farbeaux asked standing with his MRE in his hand. He caught the piece of metal when Everett tossed it.
“Aircraft aluminum,” Henri said as he looked it over. “I found several more pieces myself; it’s not gold, and so I didn’t care to report it.”
Jack watched Farbeaux and saw that he didn’t meet his eyes, which meant in Collins’s opinion the man was lying, but ignoring it for the moment, nodded his head and then looked at his watch. “Punchy, in answer to your request—denied, you’ll stay on this side of the river with my people.”
Alexander didn’t say anything, he just shook his head.
“May I presume, since I am not under your command, I may accompany you in the pursuit of my payment?” Farbeaux asked as he opened his plastic MRE and poured a small amount of water inside to mesh the dehydrated food into the mashed conglomerate that it was.
“If you attempt to come across that river before I return with my sister, Colonel, Mr. Everett will shoot you in your head until you are convinced to stay put.”
Farbeaux looked at Carl as he mashed the contents of the MRE together as Everett just nodded his head as if to say Jack was not lying.
“I’m sure that would break the captain’s heart,” Henri said, finally opening his meal.
The sun had about fifteen minutes until it disappeared over the western edge of the plateau above them. Sagli was pleased so far with the artifacts they were finding. Small pieces of metal that his non-Spetsnaz men had yet to notice were gathered and placed inside of a pack so the rest of his men couldn’t see. As most of the trusted commandos stood guard around the perimeter of their search area, Deonovich kept regaling the mercenaries from the regular army about the tales of gold and diamonds to be found. The Spetsnaz pretended not to listen, even though they would prefer the stories of gold over what they knew to be the real truth. To Sagli, none of it mattered as he looked through the direction finder at the next signal that the detector had picked up.
“We keep picking up these trace amounts of aluminum and steel, nothing of a major volume. Have you thought that maybe the trace amounts of uranium we are picking up is just residual, and that what we are looking for may not be intact?” the radiological technician said as he looked at the LED readout as Sagli looked through the directional scope.
“My concerns are that you keep within your parameters of expertise. Do not go into territory that is none of your business.” He finally looked up at the tech. “You are being paid handsomely either way.” He watched the man until he returned to his clipboard. Satisfied, he returned his right eye to the scope. As he refocused the lens that shot a laser across the hundred yards ahead of him, he caught what looked like a shadow through the scope mounted above the laser. The darkness was large and seemed to disappear into the shade of the giant trees. “What?” he said as he tried to find the strange shadow once more.
As Sagli was searching for his phantom shadow, a Spetsnaz standing near a technician’s small field table looked up just as a warning beep was heard. He watched the technician move the laser he co
ntrolled left, and then right.
“What is it?” the former Spetsnaz asked.
“I don’t know; our passive motion detectors have picked up movement, about a thousand yards ahead.”
“Where exactly?” the commando asked as he waved Deonovich over.
“I’m not sure—everywhere I think,” the technician said anxiously.
“What do you have?” Deonovich asked.
“Possible movement ahead of us, we don’t have an intruder count yet.”
“Silence that weapon and take a man forward, only a hundred yards, take our little friend here with you,” Deonovich said, slapping the tech on the shoulder and tossing a silencer to the Spetsnaz.
The experienced soldier smiled as a look of apprehension came across the tech’s face. He removed his handgun from a shoulder holster and then started screwing the silencer onto it. The man next to him did the same, and then the first man reached out and took the tech by the arm and made him rise from the small field desk.
“Gather your sensors and let’s go.”
The movement caught the attention of Sagli who had failed to see the shadow again. He nodded his head at Deonovich in approval of his action. Once he saw the three men walk forward of their line, he leaned back to the scope. After all, if they ran into something, it would give them far more knowledge than they had at that moment.
Ten minutes later, the technician had not recorded the same motion as he did earlier. The trees ahead were still and the area totally silent as he swept the area with his handheld detector. He shook his head at the nearest man. The sun was now gone and twilight had set in.
Just as the lead Spetsnaz was going to motion them back to the rest of the group, he caught wind of something on the breeze. It was a pungent odor, an earthy smell that came from all around them. Then he strained his eyes as he caught sight of a large tree ahead of them. He had sensed it more than actually seeing movement. He raised a hand and caught the attention of the other commando on the far side of the technician. He waved him forward. As he approached the large pine, the shadow broke free of its cover. It moved so fast that the Russian couldn’t react. He brought the automatic up and shot three times, but he knew his silenced bullets struck nothing but the tree and the air. The shadow shot back into the trees in a frenzy of dark motion.
The commando eased forward and then leaned against the same tree where he had seen the strange shadow. He saw a bullet hole where one of his rounds had struck, and then he looked down. His eyes widened when he saw the soft sand around the base of the giant tree. The footprint was larger than two of his feet, in width and length. He kept the pistol’s aim outward as he kneeled down to examine the impression. The toes were distinct and the heel had been planted hard enough to leave a depression eight inches deep in the soft earth and had actually crushed one of the thick, exposed roots of the giant pine tree. He looked up in more wonder than fear. Whatever had made the print had to weigh in access of a five hundred kilos. He straightened, and then he saw a darker area on the tree where he had seen the shadow. He touched a finger to the spot and it came away with rich, copper-smelling blood. The soldier wiped the redness onto his pants and then motioned the others back toward the camp. His weapon never wavered from the area to their rear as they moved south toward the very welcoming sounds of men.
The forest was silent as the men moved. The breeze didn’t seem to penetrate the woods on this side of the river as much as it had on the south side. The absence of wind made the forest seem depressive.
As the three men finally turned away and made their retreat faster than before, twenty more of the shadows broke free of their cover and went north. The forms were large, twice the size of most men, and they moved with an upright gate that made them swift and confident in their long strides.
The forest north of the Stikine River was coming to life.
10
WAHACHAPEE FISHING CAMP
Sarah had convinced Ryan that he would only kill them if he attempted to lift the large Sikorsky helicopter off the ground with only an hour of light left to them. So Marla had started to lead them back to the general store with the promise that whatever had disturbed them the night before would not return to cause further harm to the remaining helicopters. Even more skeptical than before, Ryan relented.
As they walked through the trees, Jason watched as Sarah confronted the girl.
“Now, are you going to tell us what’s out there, and how you can guarantee the safety of the helicopters?”
“Because, I think they left here. I believe they started north last night. I just don’t know for sure.”
“There it is again—they,” Ryan said, slapping at a low hanging branch. “Come on, who are they?”
Marla smiled as Ryan caught up with her and Sarah.
“You are not the believing kind, Lieutenant, but I’ll tell you. We are relative newcomers to this land. There were animals of every sort here many thousands of years before us. I’ve studied it as much as I could in the classes I have taken since I was a small child. I also have the stories passed down by my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Even the Tlingit have told me the stories of the old ones who live here.”
“You’ve hinted at that already,” Ryan said as he again moved a branch that Sarah and Marla had easily avoided.
“I never told you I am taking anthropology at school in Seattle, with my major being zoology, did I?” Marla asked.
Sarah smiled. “You know, Professor Ellenshaw is the tops in his field. You two should have hooked up.”
“I didn’t want to say anything to the professor at the time, but I have read every one of his published works. He’s really a brilliant man. Too bad his beliefs got him run out of three universities. That shows how the world looks upon certain theories as being heretic in many ways.”
“Doc Ellenshaw believes in a lot of things, but we’re not as closed-minded as you would believe,” Sarah said, reminding the girl of what she told her before.
Marla looked as though she were thinking something over, and then she stopped and faced Sarah and Ryan.
“We have something in the northern reaches that need to be left alone. They are ancient, far older than the men who have followed in their evolutionary slowness. They are animals, and then again they are not.” She held a hand up when Jason angrily rolled his eyes and started to speak. “You wanted the truth, so I am going to give it to you the only way I can.”
“Go ahead, Marla,” Sarah said, looking back at Ryan and shaking her head, indicating that he should keep his personality in check.
“The truth of what’s up here has been told since the time of early man, passed down by northern tribes, and even picked up by southern Indians as far south as the United States. They have been witness to the real truth of the Chulimantan for centuries upon centuries.”
“Chulimantan,” Sarah repeated.
Marla smiled and then relaxed, knowing she had at least one attentive person.
“Yes, Chulimantan, the old folk and Indians around these parts call them They Who Follow. The reasons why they were called this has been lost for millennia, but all the indigenous people take their legends as fact, and they don’t apologize for it. They Who Follow once inhabited the great northwest from the Arctic Circle to Washington, Idaho, Oregon, California, and Nevada. They were soon forced out by the growing American population.” Marla took a breath. “They have started to decline in their narrow lands now. Nature is weeding them out and, of course, they don’t understand their diminishing family state, and lately, at least the last hundred years or so, they have become far more aggressive in their behavior.”
“Can you tell me just what in the hell you’re talking about?” Ryan asked.
It was Sarah’s turn to smile as she finally understood without Marla naming her legend.
“She’s talking about Sasquatch, or as we think of it, Bigfoot.”
Ryan didn’t say anything, he just looked from Sarah and then to Marla. A slow, e
ver-growing smile crossed his lips and expanded until he raised his right index finger at both of the women.
“Okay, you had me going there for minute,” he chuckled. “Bigfoot—now that makes sense.”
“Remember the Amazon, Jason. Why is this so much harder to believe?”
Ryan did remember the Amazon, although he never saw the legendary creature, half man and half fish, that roamed in that dark, hidden lagoon. The colonel said it was there, so he himself never questioned the sanity of everyone who had seen it—but still, Bigfoot?
“No . . . fucking . . . way.” Ryan laughed out loud.
Marla smiled. “That is the attitude we hope the rest of the world takes, Mr. Ryan. With that widespread disbelief it will keep people out and far away from the Stikine.”
Before Ryan could comment again, the pounding of wood on wood sounded from miles away.
“You see, they are communicating. That’s their way.”
“Do you understand what they are trying to say?” Sarah asked.
“Don’t have to understand, they only do that when they feel they are threatened. The striking of wood means they are gathering.”
“Jack.” Sarah only said the one word.
“It would seem the Russians and your friends have attracted some unwanted attention,” Marla said as she turned to finish the walk back to the store. “And when pushed into a corner, the beast that legend, your own Professor Ellenshaw, and my family know as a possible link to a prehistoric ape called Giganticus Pythicus, they will prove what a survivor they truly are.”
“Will they attack?” Sarah asked as she hurriedly followed, wanting an answer.
Marla stopped and turned.
“Giganticus Pythicus had supposedly died off during one of the most tumultuous and dangerous times in all of history—the last ice age. They are survivors; they have adapted to a violent world, so in defense of their home, Sarah, they will plan and execute, and they will kill anything they deem a threat to their family.” Marla wanted to smile at the irony, but didn’t. “Almost like a human would react, wouldn’t you say? Maybe they have learned very well from watching our species.”
Primeval: An Event Group Thriller Page 32
