by Alan Monroe
Leaves shook from limbs as impact after impact pounded the trunk; Wallace gripped the branch with both hands and held the nugget between his knees. The tarp started to slip from over his head without available hands to hold it in place until its edge hung well below the limb. A sudden snatch from below ripped the vinyl tarp from around his body nearly pulling him from the limb. The scream filled the air again while Wallace heard the tarp shredding in the dark.
Blows rained upon the truck again like the thunderclaps filling the sky, but the ancient tree held firm. Wallace looked over the edge of the branch only to see a shadowed hulking shape slamming its body and fists into the unyielding wood. Yellow eyes turned upward locking with Wallace’s own eyes; the man’s bowl’s emptied. A vibration shuddered down the hairy body and the smell of death emanated through the rain and Wallace’s on filth until he could feel the creature’s musk cling to his own body.
The Sasquatch jumped towards Wallace reaching with its clawed right arm and leaving five gauges in the tree far short of the cowering man. It walked further from the base of the tree gazing at the limb holding its prey; the branch dipped toward the ground after almost twenty feet. Muscular legs exploded upward allowing hands to wrap around the branch suspending the huge creature several feet off the ground.
Wallace pressed his back hard against the trunk, and the limb began to slowly rise and fall by only an inch. Veins bulged through hair covered muscles as the undulation increased; blood dripped from bare fingers seeking purchase in the rough bark. The far end of the limb moved in arc ten feet from top to bottom, and Wallace felt the wood try to slide from under him at the bottom of each cycle. The Bigfoot’s body moved in unison with the swinging adding force to each movement.
With an earthshattering crack, Wallace felt the limb disappear beneath him; fire ran up his spine when he landed on top of the new snag on the forest floor. His body convulsed sending the gold nugget to the ground and into the flashlight’s beam; gold reflected on his eyes while he struggled to lift an arm towards the nugget. A dark form stepped between the light and the gold casting Wallace’s face into darkness, and a single step shattered the bulb.
Thursday, May 16 3:00 a.m.
Hugh leaned back against the wall of the cave allowing the pressure on his knees to subside briefly; the cool air and constant rain begged him to lie down and sleep giving the weary bones time to recover. The big man shook the cobwebs from his mind and walked back across the cave; muscles in his legs and back cried out in protest with every movement. He turned and looked at the row of sleepers in the back of the cave.
Hugh put the big shotgun across his back and shoulders with one hand on the barrel and one hand on the stock. He walked to the mouth of the cave and leaned his face into the cold rain. The water climbed down his face and into the neck of his jacket allowing small rivers of water to run across his chest and back. Just as he allowed the smile to work its way across his face, a pile driver struck his chest. The air immediately left Hugh’s lungs, and he fell back onto the rocky floor. The shotgun slid several feet away as Hugh wheezed and grabbed his chest desperately searching for oxygen.
As he started to feel an almost imperceptible amount of air creep back in his lungs, he opened his eyes to see a mask of deformity inches away from his own face. The tumors covering its face forced one eye to remain closed while stretching its mouth open to one side in permanent grin. Hugh felt the wretched breath from the mouth full of rotten teeth on his own face; black drool dripped in a thick stream onto Hugh’s face. Leathery hands gripped Hugh’s throat cutting off the breath that just began to flow back into his body. Pounding the Sasquatch’s forearms with fists had no effect on its grip. Hugh groped wildly for the shotgun, but he only managed to bat it further away.
The shotgun slid across the rough floor of the cave until it tapped the heel of a hiking boot near the cave wall; Davis lifted his head just enough to see the shotgun by his foot. After raising his eyes a few inches, he saw Hugh’s hands clawing the fur covered fingers around his neck. Davis immediately rolled to his feet and raised the double rifle to his shoulder, but he lowered it just a quickly when the Sasquatch’s body proved too close to his friend. The sheriff charged across the cave floor and struck the creature in the back of the head with the butt of the big game rifle; a red crack split into the surface of its head allowing blood to run down its skull. Clawed hands released Hugh’s throat, and the twisted thing slowly turned its head toward the frowning Davis. With incredible speed, the Sasquatch rotated its torso and struck Davis in the side of the arm with the back of its hand. The cave walls spun when Davis feet left the ground, but the cave wall brought his spin to abrupt stop allowing him to slide back to the ground.
Spots started to form in front of Davis’ eyes until thundering echo of Clint’s .30-06 rifle brought him back from the edge of consciousness. Three of the most popular hunting rifle rounds in the country slammed into the Bigfoot’s chest forming blood rimmed circles in the thick dark fur; it raised its arms in the air and howled. Clint emptied the rest of his six round magazine into its body while it walked towards him; Rachael screamed only to be drowned out by the roaring Sasquatch. Jared tried to drag Dr. Smith deeper into the cave.
The Sasquatch scream echoed through the small cave, and it slowly walked toward Clint as he fumbled for a second magazine to slap into the bottom of the rifle. The unarmed Tom picked up a thick stick and stepped next to his brother. But as the beast stepped over Hugh’s legs to move toward Clint and Tom, the big man’s right foot shot upward in between the Sasquatch’s legs. The creature immediately reacted by grabbing its groin, but the pain morphed into a tremor that coursed through its bleeding body. It stood tall with its arms above its head, and the deafening scream bounced back and forth between the cold stone walls of the cave. An explosion ripped through the screaming, and the Bigfoot dropped to the ground dead beside the still wheezing Hugh.
Davis sat on the ground with his back to the cave with the both barrels of the double rifle smoking. “Well Hugh, you discovered this one’s a boy.”
“Yeah,” wheezed Hugh.
Clint ran to the mouth of the cave when he finished reloading his rifle and scanned the dark rainy woods at the edge of the clearing. “I can barely see the trees much less anything else through this rain.”
Tom ran to the sheriff’s side as he sat against the wall of the cave with the big gun still pointing to where the creature stood. “Are you alright sheriff?”
The sheriff lowered the rifle and rubbed the left side of his arm where the creature’s blow struck him. “I feel like I've been hit by a train. I’m just lucky he caught me in the arm with that backhand. If he had hit me in the head, I’d be dead. Go check on Hugh.”
Hugh sat up. “Just ignore me please; I am only the one who almost got choked out by Bigfoot here.”
Tom responded. “You’re breathing, you’ll live. Those are some nice marks on your neck though.”
Hugh touched the red marks on his neck. “Yeah, he just about had me out. I’d be gone if the sheriff hadn’t hit him with that rifle. Thanks boss.”
“Any time. Your wife is going to think those are hickeys.” The sheriff stood and reloaded his rifle. “I just hope it’s a long time before we have to go through that again. Tom, take my rifle and watch the mouth of the cave with your brother.”
The sheriff kneeled down beside the disgusting looking corpse. “Hugh, this one is even uglier than the one we shot yesterday.”
“Yep, and he's bigger too. And I can testify that he has quite a grip.”
“Yeah, he's about your size Hugh.”
A frightened Jared helped the injured Dr. Smith approach the creature’s dead body. The inflatable splint Jared placed on the leg after setting the broken bone did not stop the pain, but it gave the doctor a little mobility. As soon as the doctor moved close enough to sit down, Jared walked to the back of the cave and turned his face toward the wall. Dr. Smith stared at the body for a moment, and then he placed b
oth hands on the creature’s corpse.
After a long silence the doctor looked up at Hugh and the sheriff. “I was hoping that I was wrong.”
“Wrong about Bigfoot existing, or wrong about these inbred things?” the sheriff asked.
Dr. Smith shook his head. “The inbreeding, of course. I hoped what you shot yesterday was just a one time thing. I hoped it was a victim of some rare genetic deformity, but that does not appear to be the case. I think that every Sasquatch in this area is a victim of generation after generation of inbreeding just like I initially supposed. The facial deformity is even more obvious in person, a clear sign of inbreeding. It is also very small for its age.”
Hugh interjected, “Felt pretty big when it was sitting on my chest and choking me.”
“I am sure it did,” Dr. Smith replied. “We have always assumed that Sasquatch would have many characteristics in common with other great apes in particular the gorilla. It is no surprise that, like the gorilla, they would be incredibly strong. But it is still small for a Sasquatch. I am guessing that this creature is in his thirties; he should be much larger. And smaller adult size is another sign of inbreeding.”
“So at least these things are relatively small,” the sheriff said.
Tom spoke without turning his head from the cave opening. “That thing that chased us wasn’t little; it made Hugh look like a baby. It had to be over seven feet easily.”
Clint nodded his head. “Based on the depth of its tracks, it’s got to weigh at least six or seven hundred pounds.”
“I imagine that is the alpha male,” Dr. Smith said. “And even the alpha is relatively small for a full grown adult Sasquatch. This one is probably the son of the alpha, and the one from yesterday is probably the grandson of the alpha. But I would guess that they both have the same mother. That could after multiple generations account for the continually decreasing size.”
Hugh’s lips turned into a frown, “Gross.”
Smith looked at Hugh. “I quite agree. This area around the Little Chopaka Mountain has always been isolated, even for Washington State. These creatures may have been isolating themselves for hundreds of years, far longer than I expected. The violence is far more pronounced than in any reported Sasquatch. It has to be a result of the isolation and the inbreeding.”
Davis stood and brushed the dirt from his cloths. “Don’t you have any good news for us, Doc?”
“As a matter of fact I do. Another result of inbreeding is a low birth rate and a high infant mortality rate. There should not be more than one or two other Sasquatch besides the alpha male in this area.”
Davis raised his eyebrows. “That is good news; at least we have them outnumbered. I’m glad you snapped out of your depression, doc.”
“Well I would rather die trying to live than die in this cave having given up. These are not the creatures I was looking for anyway. They are are mutations, genetic aberrations that God and nature never intended to exist. Seeing one in person made me realize that. I am afraid I have some bad news though. The way these creatures have attacked us suggests their aggressiveness will now increase since their younger members have been killed. They may see this as the end of their race.”
“That can’t be good,” Hugh said.
“No it can’t,” Tom agreed.
Davis stood and looked out the mouth of the cave. “We leave at first light.”
In the dark night across the rainy sky, a deep roar echoed across the mountain.
Thursday, May 16 5:30 a.m.
The sun finally began its daily battle to end the long dark night as the light pried its way through the dispersing clouds, but shadows still clung to the edges of the clearing in front of the cave and in the small trees beyond its border. Davis’s breath formed thick clouds that seemed to hang in the air each time he exhaled; he and Clint stood on opposite sides of the cave entrance peering into the ragged trees. Water clung to every rock and tree within their field of vision; mud stretched before them covering every piece of open ground
“Body’s gone,” the sheriff said.
The stench of the dead Sasquatch had been too overwhelming for it to remain in the cave overnight. Davis dragged the corpse out of the cave while under the armed and watchful eye of Hugh and Clint.
“Yeah, I can see the big footprints where its daddy walked in and carried it away,” Clint responded.
“And we never knew. How can something so big be so quiet?”
“I'm willing to bet he's fast too.”
Hugh and Jared stood by the collapsible stretcher with Dr. Smith’s body strapped down in four places; Jared pumped the older man full of pain killers only minutes ago hoping he would be able to stand the jarring of being carried with an unset broken leg. Both men kept their weapons slung over their shoulders; Dr. Smith only recently opened his eyes from a fitful sleep.
Davis took a step back and unstrapped the gun belt that held his 1911 Colt automatic and its spare clips; he tossed them to Tom. “This might come in handy in the next few hours.”
Tom fastened the belt around his waist and made sure a round sat in the chamber. “Thanks. I’ll take it even though it’s old.”
Davis rolled his eyes. “You’ve got fourteen rounds of 255 grain hard cast bullets in the clip plus one in the chamber. You can pay the rental fee when we get back.”
“What’s the rental fee?” Tom asked.
Davis allowed the crooked smile. “A week of not hearing you talk.”
Even Rachael managed a short laugh.
“Well Clint, it’s now or never.” The sheriff turned to the rest of the group. “Clint and I are going to walk around the edge of the clearing. If that goes well, we're going to all head straight for the trucks at the edge of the firebreak.”
Dr. Smith lifted his head. “Sheriff, your nose may well be your best defense. All Sasquatch eminate a powerful odor, especially if agitated. Size also plays a factor.”
The sheriff responded. “Thanks Doc, I bet that big one stinks a whole lot.”
Tom interjected. “The forest was also dead quiet before it attacked us the first time. Almost as if nature new something bad was about to happen.”
The sheriff nodded as he mumbled to himself. “That’s not exactly comforting. It’s quiet as a graveyard out there now.”
He and Clint moved slowly out the mouth of the cave staying near the mountainside to the right of the cave entrance; Davis inhaled deeply through his nose while he walked. The muddy ground parted with each step threatening to pull boots deep in the muck if they lingered in one place too long; the sound of the suction with the mud filtered across the clearing with each step. Larger clumps clung to their boots.
“I should have stayed in bed,” Davis said.
“Sheriff, I'm seeing four sets of tracks,” Clint said.
“Four? I thought it was just one little one and maybe a couple of bigger ones.”
“No. Four different tracks, four different sizes.”
“Any chance some of those tracks belong to the two we have killed?”
“One set belongs to the thing you shot last night. It looks like there are two big ones now. One a little bigger than the other. Probably an alpha male and a female.”
“Great,” Davis said sarcastically. “Does the fourth set of tracks belong to the one I shot yesterday?”
Clint shook his head. “No way. You won’t believe this.”
“There’s not much you could tell me right now that I wouldn’t believe.”
“The tracks are tiny. And there are only tracks of it leaving this area; no tracks of it walking in. It was carried in. My guess is that it’s a baby. No more than forty or fifty pounds.”
“That’s a big baby. What happened to the family structure breaking down that the Doc was talking about?”
“I don’t know. Higher animals that have gone crazy or not they still have some level of God given instinct.”
The sheriff and Clint finished their circle of the clearing, and returned to the mou
th of the cave.
Davis kept one eye on the tree line as he addressed the group. “Well, this is as clear as it’s going to get. No sign or smell of anything. Remember, no talking or noise of any kind that is not absolutely necessary. Clint, Tom, we want the fastest most direct trail back to the trucks. We’re headed downhill most of the way. That will help speed things up. Let’s move out.”
Hugh looked Davis in the eye. “You had better have eyes in the back of your head. I bet that alpha male is eager to take a bite out of you.”
Davis looked at his friend. “Don’t worry. I may be the last man in the column, but there’s no way I am going to let that thing take a bite out of my tail.” Then the sheriff’s mouth curved into a crooked smile. “Besides, you outweigh me by a good sixty pounds. You’d make a better meal.”
“With my luck, these things like dark meat.”
Clint led the group through the clearing and into the ragged trees at the edge of the plateau, followed closely by his brother and Rachael. Hugh carried the front end of the stretcher while Jared followed. The sheriff paused for a moment and tried to attune all of his senses to the forest. Taking one last deep breath through his nose and searching for any hint of the stench that accompanies the creature, Davis headed into the woods.
Thursday, May 16 9:00 a.m.
Six Ford Crown Victoria police cruisers drove down the main street in Nighthawk, Washington; the special operations van and the Mobile Command Unit followed closely behind. The deep mud filled potholes covering Main Street splashed water across the light brown cruisers each time the tires slammed into them. Tires struggled to grip wet gravel when the MCU pulled into the parking across the street from the inn while the cruisers parked in a diagonal several yards away. Deputies climbed out of cars and quickly attached a canopy to the side of the MCU creating large shaded area; chairs, tables, and two gurneys quickly filled the shade.
