by Hunter Shea
“Stay outta the damn trees!” Rooster yelled over the rumble of thunder and roar of the rain. “You don’t know what’s in there waiting for a fool like you to walk right in. Unless you’re that witch from The Wizard of Oz, a little rain won’t hurt you.”
Mick was shocked. He realized that if Rooster (did he really say his name was Rooster?) wanted to get rid of them, the last thing he would do is warn them about going places that could get them killed and out of his hair.
But he did still hold on to his guns.
So they stood away from the trees and the metal boat, riding out the deluge. The sun had been obliterated and it was almost as dark as night. Mick knew these storms were as short-lived as they were vicious, but it was unnerving nonetheless.
He jumped when he heard the scream. The sudden movement brought a fireworks display to his cracked skull.
When he tried to steady himself with the girl, he saw that she had grabbed hold of Rooster’s arm.
Now everyone was screaming, most of all the Italian kid who couldn’t stand.
Something big was dragging him off, and it didn’t sound happy.
Rooster had perfect eyesight, but he still couldn’t make out the tall, broad figure through the wall of rain and gloom. It had to be a man, and one hell of a big one at that. If Rooster was right, it was over seven feet tall, if not eight. It was hard to tell with it all hunched down, wrangling the kid.
“Noooo! Noooo! Noooo! Somebody help me!” the Italian kid bawled.
He was being lugged away from them by the ankle. He clawed at the sand in a futile attempt to halt his progress into the total darkness beyond the trees.
“Angelo!” his buddy shouted, running over to help.
Rooster was suddenly hit by an overwhelming odor that made the ball of mess in the water smell like potpourri. It was like a combination of gasoline, body odor, wet dog and the inside of a baby’s diaper. Everyone else must have smelled it, too, because he saw a lot of crinkled noses.
Suddenly, there was a loud roar, like what Rooster would imagine a tiger caught in a bear trap would sound like, that turned the piss in his bladder to ice.
And it was coming from the thing carting the kid off.
The kid’s friend was almost on top of him, and there was another roar, followed by a hard slap, and the kid went down like Tyson had given him an uppercut.
Rooster pulled the gun from his belt and cocked the hammer back.
A pair of red eyes cut through the murk, pausing for a moment on each one of them, taking them in, daring someone to make a move.
He took a few, slow steps forward, refusing to blink despite the irritating rivulets of water burning his eyes. The girl kept by his side.
“Oh shit,” Rooster hissed.
That wasn’t no man holding the kid.
He couldn’t recall any man being over seven feet tall and covered with hair. Its hair was long and matted, and he realized the awful stink was coming off of it in repulsive waves. There was a small, hairless patch of what looked to be rough, sun-scorched skin just around the nose, eyes and mouth. But those eyes. Dear God, it was like looking into the eyes of Satan himself!
“Let me go!” the kid shouted, breaking the stare-down. He tried to kick the beast with his free leg, but it twisted his body with the ease of flicking a jump rope, causing him to miss badly. There was a loud crunch and the kid wailed so hard, Rooster thought his throat would burst.
“Was that his ankle?” the girl whispered.
Rooster nodded. He sure as shit couldn’t think of any man who could crush another man’s bones like that.
“Shoot it,” the girl said.
He didn’t need to be told twice. Rooster raised the gun and squeezed the trigger. The gun went off at the exact same time as a flash of lightning lit up their world, temporarily blinding him. When he opened his eyes, the beast and the Italian kid were gone.
A swath of sawgrass waved from side to side, the fading sign of the monster’s quick escape. The only sound was the pounding of the rain on the water and the long, heavy leaves of the trees.
How did I miss it? There was no way it could have ducked his shot. Nothing on earth was that fast. Nothing.
He looked down at the girl. “Stay right here.”
Everyone else was huddled together by the wrecked boat. Rooster strode over to where the other kid lay, keeping his gun well out in front. His finger applied enough pressure on the trigger to make the gun go off with the slightest provocation. Bending down on one knee next to the kid, but keeping his eyes on the tree line where the monster had taken off, he gave him a soft slap on the cheek. The kid answered with a dull moan.
“You good enough to get up?” Rooster asked. His guts were pulled tight and his nose wanted to call it quits. The smell was even worse here.
“I…I think so.”
“Then do it quick. It ain’t safe here. I’ll help you.”
He lifted him with his free arm and walked backward to the rest of the group.
The relentlessness of the rain eased up, signaling the beginning of the storm’s end. Less than a minute later, it had passed, leaving them soaked, confused and frightened. And true to Mick’s word, the heat came back with a vengeance, as did the mosquitoes.
“Anybody got a fucking clue what the hell that was?” Rooster said. His head swiveled in every direction, waiting for it to reappear. His heart was beating so hard he thought it was going to turn his rib cage to dust.
All heads turned when the little guy stammered, “I think I do, but I sure do hope I’m wrong.”
Part Two
Fright
Chapter Ten
“My name’s Jack Campos. I was just taking a break from a conference, wanted to get a chance to see firsthand what the Everglades were like, you know? All I expected to see were some alligators and birds. You all might think I’m crazy, but I’ve seen that thing before.” Because of his missing teeth, he whistled a good deal of the words.
Everyone had gathered in a circle around him. Jack wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and their incredulous looks weren’t making things any easier for him.
As he struggled to find the right words to say, the man with the gun said, “I find it hard to believe that anyone has ever seen anything like that before.”
Jack cleared his throat. “Now, I…I didn’t say I had ever seen one with my own eyes. Don’t get me wrong on that. What I am saying is that I’ve heard about that particular creature and saw some artist renditions and a few grainy photographs. I’m a—” He paused. “I’ve always been fascinated by cryptozoology. If I thought I could make a living off of it, I would have traded in my desk job a long time ago. Plus, I have a nephew, Tobi, who’s really into all that paranormal stuff. He’s got good reasons to be. Kid’s got gifts.” He lost himself for a moment, thinking about Tobi, then shook his head. “Being his favorite uncle, I get exposed to a lot of it.”
“What the heck is cryptozoology?” one of the pretty blonde girls asked.
“It’s the study of animals that have yet to be discovered. Most people call them monsters, like the kinds of things you hear about in myths and legends,” the middle-aged man answered. Now all eyes were on him. “I like to watch those crazy shows on the History Channel. Name’s John, by the way, and this is my wife, Carol. Since we’re all going to be together for the foreseeable future, probably makes sense to know each other’s names.” He pulled his wife closer to him, and she gave a weak hello.
The guy with the gun raised his hand. “Before this turns into an AA meeting, I’d like to let Jack here finish what he was saying. Now, you said you knew what that was. Spill it.”
Jack’s heart palpitated when he looked into the man’s hard, cold eyes. A torrent of sweat seeped from every pore. Incompetent marketing managers he could deal with. This guy was way out of his league.
“Well, from what I could see, combined with that terrible odor, I think what we just saw was a skunk ape.”
The I
talian kid’s friend, who had been quiet and looking down until now, shouted, “You think we’re gonna believe my best friend just got taken by a fucking smelly ape?” He grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt and shook him. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kick your ass.”
The barrel of the pistol slowly descended between them.
“Is this one?”
The pilot took off his hat and rubbed his bandaged head. “Shit, I’ve heard of skunk apes, but I thought that was just a load of crap. Far as I knew, it was just a story to scare kids from going into the woods and swamps at night.”
“So this thing that dragged that kid off and dodged my bullet is part skunk and part ape? That just doesn’t sound possible.”
Jack shook his head. “The name is misleading. It actually has nothing to do with skunks or apes. The skunk part comes because of that awful stench. I suspect being a large biped in this kind of climate would lead to a certain degree of, well, stink. The term skunk ape is just a localized version of a much more well-known creature. I’m sure you’ve all heard of Bigfoot?”
There were a few nods, but most looked at him like he had sprouted fairy wings and a golden horn from his forehead. He patted his messenger bag.
“I’d show you more about skunk apes and Bigfoot on my laptop, but something tells me I’m not going to get a Wi-Fi connection out here. There’s this podcast called the Paranormal Podcast. Guy called Jim Harold has interviewed folks about the skunk ape. It’s really fascinating stuff.”
One of the girls turned to the pilot and the thug and asked, “You think it’s related to that?”
Her head turned to an area near the water.
“Mind if I see what it is?” Jack asked.
“Sure. Come with me.” Walking behind her, he could catch the fading odor of her perfume, a welcome relief. One side of her hair had been hacked to hell, but she still made it look good. A mosquito tried to wriggle up his nose, and he almost broke it trying to slap the annoyance away.
She turned to him and said, “I’m Maddie. My sister back there is Liz.”
“Nice to meet you, Maddie,” Jack said, then added, “well, as nice as it can be under the circumstances.”
“I’m going to warn you, it’s pretty grisly.”
She fixed him with her gaze and he straightened as best he could. He’d seen that look countless times before. Just because he was small in stature didn’t mean he couldn’t handle the ugly parts of life.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, and moved past her.
She was right. It was grisly. The furry body looked like it had been tossed in a man-sized blender and put through the chop cycle for ten seconds.
“You might want this,” Maddie said, handing him the stick the pilot had used before.
Jack poked and prodded, not even noticing that everyone else had come down to watch. Everyone but the Italian kid.
It smelled rancid. Blood-soaked hair covered every square inch of it. Definitely looked like a pair of legs, and there was a fleshy area that could have been a hand.
He gave a start when he turned and saw the group was just inches from his back.
“If I saw this alone, I wouldn’t try to attempt to classify it, but, when you add in what just happened, I’d definitely say it looks, and smells, like a skunk ape. A young one at that.”
Maddie’s sister, Liz, moved in closer.
“Are you saying we ran over a Bigfoot baby?” she said, bending at her knees to get as near as she could without getting into the tainted water.
The pilot looked back at where the kid had been taken. “If that’s true, then we have one pissed-off momma Bigfoot on our hands.”
“Skunk ape or Bigfoot or not, we can’t stay here and wait for it to come back,” Rooster said. “Before you all attacked me and sent this boat to shitsville, I was fixing to get to my father’s safe house. Last I remember, he had a ham radio and crank generator, and usually canned food and water. The food and water are probably spoiled by now, but the radio is the key. I’d guess it’s about another five miles north of here, which ain’t gonna be easy to navigate on foot.”
He left out how unsafe it would be, seeing as they were flipped out enough. Folks had been hiding out in the Glades for centuries. It was still one of the best places on the planet to up and disappear into. Even if they didn’t find his father’s rickety old cabin, they might come across another. Hopefully it would be one without a hostile hermit in residence with a penchant for shooting trespassers.
“You know how to get there without a boat? It’s not the same as navigating through the water channels,” the pilot said.
Rooster asked, “What do they call you, Mac?”
“Mick. It’s short for Michael.”
Putting a hand on the pilot’s bulky shoulder, Rooster said, “It’s either that, or sit here like a corn dog on a dinner plate. I’ve got a pretty good sense of direction, and I’d like to get our asses moving before nightfall, while I still have the sun to help me with my direction.” He unzipped the duffel bag of guns and showed the contents to everyone. “Now, I’m not saying you have to come with me. To be honest with you, I’m sorry I got you stuck out here, but I can’t take all the blame.” He took a moment to look them each in the eye. “All I can do is try to get us somewhere safe. Seeing as none of us are in any kind of shape to go mano a mano with a swamp ape…”
“Skunk ape,” Jack interrupted, looking immediately regretful.
“Skunk ape sounds stupid,” Rooster said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m calling it a Bigfoot from now on. Anyway, I have enough pistols in here for everyone. Problem is, I don’t have enough bullets to fill them, but you’ll each have a few shots, should you need ’em.”
They eyed the bag of guns, then him, deciding whether it was a test or not. Sighing, he reached in, grabbed a handful and put one in each of their reluctant hands. Even the upset Italian kid came over to get his piece. When he went to take it, Rooster tightened his grip. He whispered to him, “I know you’re upset about your friend, but something about you tells me I have to add a little word of caution. Trust me when I say, I have far more experience when it comes to firearms, and lifetimes more when it comes down to killing a man. You use this to protect yourself from anything that ain’t human and out to get you. Do we understand one another?”
Rooster gently placed it in his palm. The kid hefted it a bit, surprised by its weight. Most people who’d never handled a gun before were.
“All I want,” the kid said, “is to get that fucking thing that took Angelo.”
“Which way is it to your father’s house?” John asked, breaking the tension.
Rooster pointed in the direction where the Bigfoot had slipped away.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” the girl with the half-Mohawk said.
All Rooster could do was shake his head. “Afraid not, sister.”
“We’re not your sisters,” the other one said. “We prefer Liz and Maddie.” She made a pinching motion and a phantom pain crept into his arm.
“Beg your pardon,” he said sarcastically. For all his bravado, he did not want to get in her grip again.
Liz turned to the Italian kid and said, “Hey, maybe Angelo is still alive. At least this way, we have a chance of finding him. Your name’s Dominic, right? I thought I heard your friend say that back on the dock. I’m going with you guys.”
The afternoon sun was making Rooster dizzy. He had to get them moving fast.
“Show of hands, who wants to stay here?”
To his surprise, none went up, but there was serious doubt in a lot of eyes.
Mick said, “We’re sitting ducks out here, and where there’s shelter, there’s safety.”
Carol said, “We could light a fire and wait for a rescue party to find us.”
“Everything around us is soaked. I doubt you’d be able to start a fire with a can of kerosene out here,” Maddie said.
Everyone gave a start when a high-pitched howl echo
ed across the swamp. It didn’t sound exactly like the Bigfoot from before, but it didn’t sound like any other kind of animal either.
“I think that pretty much decided it for us,” Jack said.
“Smart. Here, everyone load four, five for the ladies, into your gun and pass it around,” Rooster said, tossing the box of bullets to Maddie. She caught it with one hand, loaded the chambers and gave it a spin. Nice.
“At least when we get in the trees, we’ll be out of the sun for a bit. The less you sweat, the better off you’ll be. Grab those supplies and let’s go.”
Chapter Eleven
The early going wasn’t easy, what with the razor-sharp sawgrass making mincemeat of their legs. They followed the trail of blood and rank odor of the skunk ape until both evaporated into the cloying atmosphere. Liz hoped that Rooster’s shot had been true and the blood, or at least the majority of it, belonged to the beast.
The constant attack of mosquito hordes was getting on Liz’s last nerve. She’d slapped herself silly trying to squish their damned little bodies. It was important to her that they try to find Angelo. Her father had been a Marine, and he always taught her to never leave a man behind, even if you hated his guts. Enemy hands were no place to leave a fallen man. And the skunk ape was most certainly their enemy.
“What I wouldn’t do for some bug repellant,” she said, wending her way around a cypress tree.
Carol, who was right behind her, said, “I had some in my bag but it got crushed. I wonder how many bites a person can take before they start to have some kind of reaction.” There was heavy concern in her voice.
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Jack said. He slipped on a clump of moss and almost took a header.
John reached forward to stop him. “You gotta watch yourself, guy.”
Jack’s face flushed red and he continued on, this time with his eyes on the ground.
