Bigfoot Hunters Read online

  As far as they were concerned, though, the law could go bugger itself sideways. It wasn’t like they were hurting anyone. So what if they had a small herbal garden close to their cabin? They weren’t selling the stuff to school kids, so why should anyone care? A few tokes after a hard day’s work wasn’t going to kill anyone. And was it really a big deal if they occasionally poached a few animals above their license limit? Would anyone really complain about a few less coons tipping over their trashcans?

  Speaking of coons, Kurt thought, Stanley should be just about finished skinning those big fat suckers from yesterday. They sold the pelts to a local furrier, then shipped the skulls out to souvenir shops along the highway. It wasn’t big money, but it kept their fridge stocked with beer. As far as Kurt was concerned, it was a good, honest living. They kept to themselves, didn’t bother anybody, and minded their own damn business. If only everyone lived by that credo, he often considered, there’d be a lot less trouble in the world.

  He entered the clearing where their cabin stood. It appeared somewhat ramshackle on the outside, but was sturdy and warm inside. It was a solid dwelling, more than enough for the brothers. As the cabin came into view, Kurt stopped. He didn’t see anything coming from the chimney of their smokehouse out back. Stanley should have been boiling those coon skulls by then.

  Goddamned lazy sonofabitch, he thought, continuing toward his home. He wouldn’t put it past his brother to have drunken their last six-pack and then gone off for a nap. Kurt loved his younger brother, but sometimes Stanley needed a boot in the ass to remind him that work wasn’t going to take care of itself.

  Kurt walked up to their cabin and then, seeing no sign of his brother, decided to go around back just to give him the benefit of the doubt before assuming he was loafing off again.

  He was halfway to the smokehouse when he spotted the remains of fur and flesh on the ground. He went over to investigate. It was one of the raccoons they had caught, or at least he thought it was. It had been ripped to shreds, like someone had tossed the thing into a wood chipper. Forget skinning it – there wasn’t enough left to wrap around a toothpick.

  That in itself was odd. It hadn’t been eaten, just torn apart. Most wild animals wouldn’t do that. A pet was another story, though. Kurt considered that maybe some fool’s dog had gotten away. That hot-titted bitch who ran the general store owned a hound, he remembered. If that were the case, he’d put a load of shot in its ass the next time he saw it. It’d serve her right for not keeping a closer eye on the thing.

  Though he had never married and never planned to – “What’s the useless piece of skin around a pussy? A woman.” was his favorite joke – he was still a man. The thought of the store clerk brought a nice stirring to his crotch. After he found his brother and chewed him a new asshole, he might have to go sit back and rub one out in her name.

  All thoughts of masturbation fled his mind, though, as he spied the mess lying in the grass about ten yards away. As he got closer, he saw blood and entrails strewn about. It was like something had stepped on a landmine. This was no raccoon. Hell, he noted, you’d need to gut five raccoons to make this mess.

  That was when he saw the hand, the letters S T A N tattooed across the knuckles. It had been Stanley’s joke. He had seen it in some stupid movie years back and had gotten it done. It had irked him to no end when Kurt refused to do the same.

  “H-holy s-shit!” he managed to sputter right before his breakfast came bubbling up out of his mouth. He doubled over and emptied his stomach’s contents. When the realization hit that he was vomiting onto parts of what used to be his brother, he began retching again. He backed away from Stan’s remains and fell to his knees, still coughing up bile.

  Soon, all he was left with were dry heaves, and in a few moments even those ceased. Finally, he was able to rise, still shaky, but at least his knees didn’t buckle.

  He slowly walked back over to his brother’s remains. Kurt was usually not squeamish, nor was he a particularly sensitive man. His pa had beaten that out of him and Stan at an early age. No tears came to his eyes. He reacted the only way he knew how. He began to inspect the carnage, the woodsman in him coming to the forefront, looking for signs of what had done this. There would be time to get shitfaced to his brother’s memory later, the only form of grieving Kurt Bachowski understood. For now, there was work to be done.

  He examined the offal, then began looking for tracks of whatever had done this to Stan. Surely it had been some animal. As much as it looked like his brother had simply exploded, he knew that wasn’t the case. They kept plenty of ammo in the house, some of it fairly heavy caliber, but nothing that would have done this to a man. Besides which, there were no scorch marks on the ground.

  As for a person, it would have taken far more than one to do this. Even then, the ground would have shown signs of a struggle of that magnitude. That left a predator ... a big one.

  The only question was: what? The damage didn’t seem consistent with anything he had ever seen before. It was too much violence for a cougar. A wolf pack could have done it, but they didn’t kill what they didn’t eat, and while he couldn’t say for certain that his brother hadn’t been gnawed on, there was far too much flesh remaining for that to seem plausible.

  That was when he saw the footprint.

  How he had missed it before, he had no idea; probably the shock of finding his brother like this. Under normal circumstances, he would have found it with his eyes closed. Now that he did see it, though, he noticed others, too. They were huge. His first thought was a bear, but he didn’t see the telltale claw marks. No, these looked human ... almost anyway. They were broader than a man’s, and a lot deeper, too. Whatever made these must have weighed hundreds of pounds.

  Studying the prints, he began to get an idea of what had happened. Whatever made these tracks had emerged from the woods behind the smokehouse. From the look of things, it had first gone after the coon. His brother had most likely hung it up, then gone back into the house for a skinning knife. As Kurt viewed the scene, Stan’s fate began to take shape in his mind. His brother had come out to find something tearing into the dead raccoon. Either he had been too stunned by what he saw, or the dumb sonofabitch had decided to stand his ground. Stan could be stupidly stubborn when he wanted to.

  Either way, the thing had come for him. Judging by the length of the stride, it had been fast, too. His brother never stood a chance. The thing had been on him within seconds.

  He examined the area where he believed his brother had stopped upon first seeing the intruder. Sure enough, lying a few feet away in the tall grass was one of their knives. He picked it up. There was a thin smear of blood on the blade. His brother had only enough time for one slash before being disarmed, literally.

  There were no more of Stan’s prints between there and his final resting spot, only the creature’s. Perhaps it had picked him up and carried him there, or maybe it had thrown him. Either way, it had been hell-bent on finishing the job. As much as it pained Kurt to do so, the tracker in him began to piece together what happened next. From the look of things, the intruder had fallen upon his brother and torn him to shreds. Judging by the splatter, this had been no feeding. Whatever had done this to Stan had grabbed handful after handful of his flesh and thrown it to and fro until there wasn’t anything left of the man.

  It was over quickly, but there was no doubt it had been an utmost brutal way to die. What the hell possessed either man or beast to do such a thing? Even in Kurt’s sickest fantasies, he had never envisioned doing something like this to another man. He could imagine gut-sticking someone, then watching them die. Hell, he could even picture dismembering another person. But this? This was an act of such pure violence and hatred that even he could barely comprehend it.

  Whatever this was, he’d be doing the world a favor by hunting it down and killing it. Hell, they might even give him a medal – not that he cared much. All he cared about was making sure his brother’s killer m
et a violent end of its own. He planned to go inside, arm himself with as many guns and traps as he could carry, then set off in the direction it had gone. It had left a clear trail leading back into the woods.

  He’d find it. It couldn’t hide from him.

  He turned back toward the cabin and froze in his tracks. He didn’t need to find it. It had found him. The creature was standing at the same corner of the house he had just come from. It watched him, neither moving nor making a sound. Kurt wasn’t an easily frightened man either, but he felt the hairs on his arm and neck stand straight up. Somehow, it had doubled back on his trail and done so without him ever suspecting it. How could something so large be so quiet?

  This bitch ape killed my brother, he thought as the shock started to wear off – for surely this thing was female. It was over seven feet tall and covered in matted brown fur, but what he noticed most were the large breasts that hung from its chest nearly down to its waist. Someone needs a little support, his mind quipped before the dire seriousness of the situation set in. Red eyes peered at him from its ape-like face. As they locked gazes, its blood-stained lips peeled back to show teeth that looked very sharp.

  Slowly, so as to not provoke it further, he unslung his rifle from his shoulder. It was all he could think to do. There was no way he could make it inside before this monkey intercepted him and repeated what it had done to Stan. Unfortunately, he grimly noted, the rifle he had with him that day was only a .22 varmint gun. He’d be lucky to do much more than annoy it. There was no way it was going to be enough to stop this thing.

  The beast watched him shoulder the rifle, then let out a howl. My God! It knows what I’m doing! The monstrosity charged forward. Before it got to him, he pulled the trigger.

  He was right. It wasn’t enough.

  Chapter 19

  “There are the cars,” Harrison said, pointing toward a break in the trees.

  “It’s about time,” Mitchell replied, eager to get back to the town, if one could even call it that. He wanted to make sure the injured got off their feet, but, just as important, he also wanted to get to their van and start running tests on the samples. He had been dismissive to Derek earlier regarding his thoughts of illness. However, the squatch’s behavior had been so far out of normal that there had to be something wrong with it. He intended to find out what that something was.

  “Heh! With our luck, that squatch got to the rides first,” Chuck joked, hobbling up alongside of them.

  “Don’t jinx us, man,” Harrison said. “I’d like to think we’ve had our fill of bad luck today. Anymore and I’ll start to wonder whether I pissed off someone important in a previous life.”

  “Maybe you angered the Great Spirit,” Paula said from Phil’s side.

  Harrison and Rob both rolled their eyes at her. They assumed she was joking.

  She wasn’t.

  * * *

  They found the vehicles sitting just off the logging trail, right where they’d left them. Both were thankfully untouched.

  As they reached the cars, Danni said, “Don’t forget we have two extra people to fit.”

  “And two injured bodies,” added Greg, his face pale from exertion.

  Danni put a hand on his good shoulder. He gave her a tired smile in return, then she continued, “I’m thinking Greg and Chuck get the back of my car. We’ll tie as much as we can to the roof rack to free up some space.”

  “Good idea,” Harrison said. “Allison, Phil, why don’t you guys join me? If you all smoosh yourselves, I think we can fit three across in the back.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Danni. “I can probably hold one more.”

  “I’ll go with her,” Rob replied with almost no hesitation. “I have a few more questions for Mitch.”

  Mitchell, for his part, managed to not sigh. The kid had been talking nonstop since they had started walking. He was all for enthusiasm, but this was getting crazy. Oh well, he thought. No matter what way you put it, the accommodations aren’t exactly going to be ideal for the next hour or so.

  “Do you mind, hon?” Rob quickly asked Paula. She gave him a grin in return and shook her head. He turned back to the others so quickly, he didn’t register that the smile never reached her eyes.

  * * *

  They finished loading up as quickly as possible in the fading light of the afternoon. Though it was unspoken amongst them, none of the campers were particularly eager to still be out in the woods come nightfall. They had seen enough adventure for one day.

  Danni got behind the wheel of the Xterra while Mitchell took shotgun. Chuck and Greg took up the majority of the back while Rob managed to wedge himself into a corner.

  Over in the Wrangler, Paula suggested Allison take the front with Harrison. She had agreed, and everyone took their respective seats. As they started to drive, neither of the two upfront noticed Paula’s hand slide across the back seat to entwine with Phil’s.

  * * *

  They were too late. Their sense of purpose, of clan, had been dulled by the fever. It had taken far longer to intercept the two-legged things than it might otherwise have. They were still hundreds of yards away when the growl of the two-legged things’ beasts filled their ears. To the Alpha’s now overly sensitive hearing, it was like something sharp had been speared into his brain. He growled in frustration, then turned and swiped his claws at a female who had wandered too close. She fell back with a hiss, blood welling up from her freshly ruined eye socket.

  Finally, the noise of the beasts diminished. They were leaving the clan’s territory. A fading memory in the Alpha’s mind reminded him they had once considered that a good thing – that not too long ago they had been glad when the two-legged things left their lands. However, the memory was cloudy and scattered. The rage was taking over, and it had different motives. It whispered to the Alpha that the two-legged things mocked him by escaping. It said that he should not allow such a thing, that he should pursue them. The existence of the two-legged things had been tolerated for long enough. He would tolerate it no longer.

  He turned to his subordinates and growled to them in his guttural tongue. Soon, the rest of the clan grunted in return. They would follow him as they had done before, but this time he would lead them on a trail of blood and death.

  By the time they were finished, there would be screaming ... so much screaming.

  * * *

  The Wrangler slowed as they came upon the same debris field from the previous day. Harrison eased the vehicle into low gear as he prepared to cross the sea of downed logs once more. “Guess now we know what caused this.”

  Phil remained quiet. Paula merely grunted in acknowledgement.

  Harrison tried not to envision the potential fate that could have befallen them had Derek and his crew not arrived when they did. Maybe Rob had a point after all. Once they got back to school, he might even make an effort to try and watch that crappy show ... maybe.

  “Hard to believe one creature did all of this,” Allison answered. “We got off real lucky back there.”

  “Depends on what you mean by ‘lucky,’” Paula responded in a small voice. It was the first words she had spoken in a while.

  Allison gave Harrison a worried glance out of the corner of her eye. She was concerned Paula had been more deeply traumatized by the experience than she was letting on. Despite her anger at Phil, she wondered the same about him, too. Regardless, their continued silence was starting to creep her out. She needed a break from them. “Why don’t I get out and spot you?” she said to Harrison.

  “Good idea. It’d be just our luck to get a flat on the way out.”

  She opened the door. “Once you’re across, I’ll do the same for Danni. Just don’t leave without me.”

  She quickly found a comparatively smooth path and started to wave them on. He nodded and gave the Jeep some gas.

  * * *

  The ride across the logs was slow and bumpy. Harrison’s full concentration was required to
keep things slow and steady while following Allison’s directions.

  The jeep bounced with each tree it crossed. As they were passing over one, Phil decided to take a gamble. While the car rocked up and down, he slowly took his hand from Paula’s and moved it over her crotch.

  She glanced down at it, then back at him, but did nothing to remove it.

  * * *

  While they waited for the Wrangler to cross the debris field, Rob asked, “So do you think the squatch did all of this by itself?”

  Mitchell grinned at his adoption of their nickname for the creatures. He was nerdy and a little annoying, but despite his earlier thoughts, Mitchell found himself warming to the boy. He didn’t normally see enthusiasm like his in this field, so he decided it shouldn’t be squashed. “I’d say so. Sasquatches are closer to humans than gorillas, but they still exhibit ape-like behaviors. They’ll break branches and knock down small trees to mark their territory, during mating season and sometimes to show off to rivals.”

  “This guy must have had lots of rivals,” Danni commented as she once more surveyed the destruction.

  “I’ll admit, this is a bit extreme.” Upon looking into the rearview mirror and seeing Chuck glare at him, he added, “Well, okay, a lot extreme.”

  “They don’t normally act like this, do they?” Rob asked.

  This kid definitely isn’t stupid. “As I said, squatches are closer to people than apes. In a lot of ways, they act like people, too. For the most part, they want to just mind their own business. If you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone. But, just like people...”

  “Some are assholes?” Greg offered.

  “Not how I’d normally put it, but essentially correct. These creatures are smart and have distinct personalities. Unfortunately, that means sometimes you wind up with one with a mental disorder.”

  “And when that happens?” Danni asked.

  “When that happens, we get called in.”

  Rob asked, “Just you guys, or the rest of the Department of Cryptid Containment?”