A Curious World

Sasquatch Sagas, The Prequel

W R wildwood

SASQUATCH SAGAS

THE PREQUEL

W.R.Wildwood

1

The juvenile Sasquatch leapt and ran through the dark forest, using his arms as much as his legs to propel himself through the trees at an exhilarating speed.

For almost four winters now he had been exploring this amazing world of woods, rivers and mountains he had been born into… eager to experience every last bit, his curiosity the constant concern of his young parents.

Tonight his mother was far ahead, occasionally giving a low whistle to keep him on track.

Somewhere behind was his father… well at least he thought his father was somewhere behind.

His sire was always suddenly there out of nowhere if his young, inexperienced hands lost their grip on a tree branch, or a rock ledge.

As he bounded along the young Sasquatch was even more excited than usual. He could sense the tension in his parents even though he did not know why it was there. All he knew was that tonight there was something new to learn, and he was excited.

Then he began to smell it… faint, biting fumes of something very strange. He wondered if it had anything to do with the small, bright lights he had seen the night before. They had been moving far off down in the valley and he had wondered at their source.

This night, after sleeping the day away next to a tiny bubbling stream, his troop had been steadily moving down the valley towards where he had seen those interesting lights. They, as always, had been following the waterways so he had not gained enough height above the trees to see any sign of the strange lights again.

Then he had heard a distant, grumbling roar that slowly grew before fading again. Whenever he stopped to listen his mother's whistle always called him on.

Suddenly he saw something exceedingly strange through the trees. It was very wide and low, pale like sand under the starlight. Bounding up to it he could see it was a small, sloping cliff, rising to a point not far above his head, level with the lowest branches of the trees behind. To his right and left it stretched until it curved out of sight and its long, pale expanse was only broken by a perfectly round hole through which water trickled.

What was it?

He reached out and touched its surface, it felt sandy, but hard… much like the soft stone left by ancient beaches, but alien somehow. He sensed it did not belong. For some reason touching the unusual stone sent a chill through his bones and he looked up.

Had his mother gone over the top?

Or through the hole?

Although he could easily run through it on all fours, he doubted his mother's hairy bulk would have fit.

Another whistle carried to his ears over the strange cliff. That answered that question. It was steep, but nothing to a Sasquatch, even one as young as he, and in short order he was standing on the edge above.

Immediately in front of him was another, even more alien obstacle. It came to his waist and was shiny bright! In the moonless night even the stars reflected their distant glow along its length. The thing ran along the edge of the small cliff, disappearing over a low rise on his left and around a curve to his right. No matter, he could easily step over so he did. On the other side was a strange, flat rock, its long black expanse broken only by perfectly straight, white lines.

His head was spinning. What could this be?

Another whistle.

He looked up and saw his mother in the trees on the other side of this bizarre obstacle. She was only a few bounds away, but his attention was focused on what he was standing on. He studied it again. Not a single blade of grass grew anywhere on the thing's black length. On either side the forest stopped abruptly at its edges, as if the trees had been grazed by giant sheep.

Another whistle… more urgent this time.

He looked again at his mother, who had come out of the trees a little.

But before he could start across the strange rock towards her his attention was diverted again. This time by a low rumble, quickly growing, as if a large hornet was flying towards him through the forest.

He looked back to his left. The sound was growing louder and he could see a glow forming over the crest of the hill.

What could be causing that? In an instant the glow became two bright eyes, brighter than the noonday sun. His eyes widened in sudden terror and he tensed to bolt. But his body would not move.

The brightness was all-consuming, the rest of the world forgotten as it rushed towards him. The growling grumble becoming a roar that echoed off the trees and in his head.

Suddenly his father was there.

But rather than sweep him up in his great arms and go flying back into the forest, his sire scrunched down low over his son, protecting the youngster with enormous, hairy arms… providing instant relief for his eyes.

Time slowed as the roar became impossibly loud and the light even flooded into the cave of hair through the gaps between his father's muscled arms.

The youngster began to panic and looked up to see his father's firm eyes commanding him to be still.

Every Sasquatch from birth knew how important it was to be motionless if you wanted to live. One of the very first things his father had taught him was to tune into the earth and become as motionless as a tree or a rock, something he had always found hard to do.

Trying with all his might, the juvenile Sasquatch stopped his breath and attempted to be a boulder.

At first he could not find the earth beneath his feet, there was too much of the strange rock between him and it, so he tried to contact the earth through his ears. But the roar was too deafening as the monster approached. He could not stop the panic from rising and was about to try and run, despite his father's protective embrace... but then the beast passed by and that awful bright light was gone, followed by a reddish glow that quickly faded.

The roar faded too, and soon it was gone, leaving the acrid smell of its passing poisoning the cool night air.

He forced himself to remain as still as the earth, waiting for his father to assure him the danger had truly passed.

Abruptly his father straightened and pointed to where his mother was waiting under the trees on the other side of what he now sensed was a path somehow made for the loud, smelly, fume-belching monster that had passed. In a handful of quick bounds he was across it and into his mother's welcoming arms. Together they faded into the shadowed embrace of the trees.

His father watched him go, standing still on the far edge of the road.

The youngster had to begin learning about the Hairless Ones soon. Born able to crawl almost immediately, Sasquatch young learnt very fast about the world around them if they wanted to survive, and the Hairless Ones were a part of that world.

But his son seemed incapable of learning the most important skill of the Sasquatch… how to be still. And staying motionless was essential if one wanted to be invisible to the Hairless Ones.

The huge Alpha male knew, or hoped at least, that to the occupants of the speeding car he and his son would have been nothing more than a bush flashing by in the night.

2

Vicky Armstrong blinked her tired, red eyes.

Her memory held a flash of an image in her mind… a huge, hairy figure crouching over something. Right beside the road.

Her eyes must be playing tricks on her. Serves her right for trying to drive all night.

Now, as she sped on her eyes drifted to the verge… strange, the forest she was speeding through was kept well back from the road. That bush had been right beside the tarmac. Close enough to almost scratch her paintwork.

She could have reached out and touched it as she sped by.

For some reason she felt a small chill run down her spine.

Vicky shook her head. It worked, the image fled.

She needed some more coffee. The next town should have a road stop.

She glanced in her overhead mirror. Both children were sound asleep on the back seat. Her heart ached as she looked at them… poor things, they had been through so much. As had she.

She fought the tears that threatened to come… not yet! Dammit, not yet!

Not until her children were safe and secure with her deceased husband's parents. Only then would she allow the tears to flow.

She knew instinctively that if she allowed even a single tear to escape, the dam would break and she doubted they would ever stop coming once they started.

Thankfully the bright lights of a truck stop appeared around the next curve, distracting her from the torrent of emotions that constantly threatened to overwhelm the flimsy wall she had somehow managed to build.

Pulling into the empty bays she did not even allow a moment to gather her thoughts before opening the door and stepping out, an action she immediately regretted as a cramp clenched at her calf muscle from the sudden change of position.

"Mom?" Sophie’s tired eyes squinted at her through the closed window. The cessation of forward momentum had woken her older child, "Are we there?"

Rubbing her calf she bent to the window, "No sweetheart, just stopping for a bit. Do you need to use the restroom?"

"No," her daughter rolled her head and went back to sleep.

Simon was still asleep… thankfully. Vicky could not bear the darkness of his empty stare right now. He had not uttered a sound since the accident... not a single word since he had watched his father die on the side of that awful road barely 6 months ago.

He had been such a happy child too. The memories once again threatened to overwhelm her as she swung open the glass door, the bright interior of the truck stop painful to her tired eyes.

A bell tinkled and an old man slowly rose to his feet behind the counter.

"Howdy, you people are driving late."

Vicky managed what she hoped was a smile, "Yeah. How far to Hell's Canyon is it?"

The old man smiled an almost toothless smile, “You're there, pract’lly… just past the State Forest turnoff ahead is city limits… an that's bout 2 mile down the road. If’n you’re wantin’ to stop fer the night though, hotel's on the other side of town."

"Thanks, but I’m trying to get to a road called Stepson Road. Do you know where that is?"

“Sure, its just past the Park entrance, afore you even get to town. Not many houses along that road though, who you lookin’ fer?"

Vicky sighed with relief, they were almost there, "My husband’s folks, Frank and Mary Armstrong. They bought a place there only a couple of years back."

The old man’s eyes narrowed with thought. Vicky imagined she could hear the cogs turning in his head, "Oh yeah… they bought the Williams property, come in here from time to time coz we’re closer than town, you their daughter?"

"Daughter-in-law... I am… was," she felt the tears threaten again NOT NOW, “…married to David, their son."

His eyes softened, "Oh yeah, I heard ‘bout that… terrible thing… ‘specially him bein’ a 9/11 hero an all."

Vicky felt crazy laughter threaten to over-ride the verging tears, thankfully driving them away a little. Did the whole town know? "Yes, it was a terrible thing," her voice cracked and she quietly cleared it, "Do you have any coffee?"

"Sure, but it tastes like shit." He pointed to a coin-operated expresso machine next to the drinks refrigerator. Vicky did not care. Suddenly, now she was so close to her destination her bones seemed unable to even carry her weight as she walked over to the machine and dropped some coins in from her purse.

The old man’s voice followed her, "Sorry to hear ‘bout your loss miss, an your boy." Jesus, how much did he know? “If'n you ever need a hand with him, come see me. My cousin was in a wheelchair too… cerebral palsy… I knows how to push a chair round."

Vicky paid furious attention to stirring some sugar into the paper cup. Now she was so close, and combined with this old man’s innocent kindness, it was almost too much to bear. She fumbled with the stupid plastic lid and managed to croak a reply, "Thanks," and tossed a quick glance in the old man’s direction as she almost fell out through the glass doors and staggered back to her car.

The memory of David’s smiling face teased at her vision, which was suddenly so blurry she misjudged the car door handle three times before managing to get it open.

NOT NOW!

NOT YET!

She almost broke the paper cup getting it into the cup holder on the dash and lifted shaking hands to the wheel. Her fingers squeezed it like it was a rope to salvation, the pain in her knuckles focussing her mind and forcing back the tears once more.

Finally her vision cleared enough to drive and she started the car.

The noise woke Sophie once more, "Mom?"

"We're almost there sweetheart. Just down the road a bit and we'll be at Grandma's."

3

The Alpha Male Sasquatch felt his eye lids growing heavy.

The warmth of the summer sun filtering through the trees combined with the brightness of the noon-day sun in coaxing him to sleep. His small troop were in an excellent bedding spot... high enough on a steep hill to easily maintain watch over any possible intruders from the valley below, yet low enough to make the most of the cool breeze that flowed over the creek.

The forest was thick here, with tall trees that had never been touched by the Hairless Ones and their noisy machines.

He allowed his eyes to close, just for a bit.

He was not technically acting as Sentinel. That was a task he had recently assigned to his fast-growing son, but he could not help himself. The youth was a little too inquisitive for his own good.

The Alpha remembered well his own forays and adventures as a youth... when he was supposed to be the acting sentinel for the troop. No doubt his own child would do the same, which was fine, life on this world was a constant learning experience... as long as he made sure to be there to protect him when he inevitably went wandering and exploring.

He glanced once again at the sentinel position from where he lay. The youngster was still there, sitting on a low branch and poking at the bark on the trunk with a stick. The Alpha let his eyes close again, the sun's light was so bright and he was very tired.

He allowed sleep to take him, just for a little...

4

In the Sentinel position the Young Sasquatch was bored.

The sun was hot through the trees and he was getting thirsty. Surely it would be okay if he went down to the creek for a quick drink? Glancing down into the bedding area he saw both of his parents were asleep. He could duck down and be back again before they noticed he was gone.

With a leap he was into the branches of the tree immediately downslope of his position and hurtling through the forest in a combination of leaps and swings that got him to the water in mere moments. He bent and dunked his whole head under the cool water, then lifted it out and joyfully shook the water out of his hair. Then cupping his hands he drank deeply of its refreshing clarity.

Satisfied, he reversed position and sat on the bank, the flowing water stirring the longer hairs on his shins and cooling his feet.

Here a deep pool separated him from the far bank and he contemplated taking a quick swim before returning to the sentinel position.

Perhaps he could even catch a fish or two to take back for his parents?

But before he could move a strange noise reached his small ears.

With adrenaline flooding his young veins he jumped up from the bank, but he did not run away. Curiosity overcame his fear and he swung up into the tree overhanging the water where he could get a good vantage point to see what was making the approaching noises.

It was speech of a type he had never heard before, slow but high pitched. Strange figures were coming towards the creek through the trees on the far bank, their approach noisy and clumsy like no animal he had experienced before.

They came out of the trees and stood looking at the water for a moment. On their bodies they wore strange skins of many colours that were so bright they almost hurt his eyes. Chattering excitedly they began peeling off the skins, exposing pale, delicate looking flesh like that he had seen on the big round mushrooms his mother would often find and bring to him to eat.

One of the strange animals lifted another, smaller creature from its shoulders and gently placed it on the bank before it too started peeling off layers of colourful skins.

Curiosity racking his tiny body, the young Sasquatch peered at these bizarre animals from the safety of his tree.

He immediately saw two of them were female. The taller one who had lowered the small one to the ground was obviously a male, though much smaller than the Young Sasquatch's own father and much older, with grey hair on its head.

All but the small one on the bank, which for some reason sat unmoving, got into the water with much splashing and talking, obviously excited.

He leaned out for a better look.

5

"I told you it was worth the hike," said David's father, a big grin spread over his face. He had not complained once at having to carry Simon all this way on his shoulders.

Even Simon himself seemed happier than normal, though he still did not smile nor speak as he sat on the bank watching the three of them swim.

"Yes, it is beautiful," replied Vicky as she playfully splashed water at her daughter.

"Mom, stop it!" Sophie splashed water back at her, laughing as she did so. Vicky had not seen Sophie laugh for months, not since Vicky had told her that her father had not survived that horrible car accident. For once, the black clouds of sorrow seemed to have parted over their souls… if only Simon would talk, or at least smile.

The boy simply sat, now not even looking at them in the water. He was staring across the water into the trees on the other side. Vicky noticed his usual 1000 yard stare was gone? He seemed to be concentrating on something, a small frown creasing his 4 year old brow.

Vicky turned in the water to see what he was looking at but could see nothing. Oh well, at least he seemed to be finally engaging in the world around him… a little.

"This creek was the main reason we bought this property," David's father, Frank caught her attention, "It runs right out of the State Park so it's pure and clean."

Vicky took a a big breath and dove to the bottom. He was right. The water was very clear, not even their swimming had stirred it up. The bottom was gravel and boulders, small water plants filling the gaps between the larger rocks. Swimming underwater for the width of the creek she came up and looked back to the bank where Simon still sat, looking up into the tree that was now over her head.

"What are you looking at Simon?" Vicky called, not expecting an answer and not receiving one. He did however lift one arm and point, up into the branches behind and over her head. Turning again, she looked up, but could not see what it was he was pointing at. For some reason a small chill ran through her bones and she quickly swam back towards Frank and Sophie, who were both treading water and squinting up into the tree, trying to see what Simon was pointing at. The slight frowns on their faces and darting eyes told her they too could not see whatever had Simon's attention. Reaching them she turned and looked once more, was that a shape amongst the leaves? An animal of some kind?

For some reason the memory of a small, monkey-like image from the night before flashed into her mind. The image of it standing on two legs with a much larger one towering over it, right beside the road. She blinked, and the image was gone.

"Do you guys see what he is looking at?"

Sophie answered first, "Nope."

"Can't see a thing," Frank replied. He turned to Simon, "Hey boyo, you wanna come in for a swim?"

Simon ignored his grandfather, still staring into the tree, the slight frown still on his face. Was that also a smile she saw touching the corners of his mouth?

Vicky climbed out of the water and squatted beside her son, "Simon, what are you looking at?"

He turned and looked into her eyes, something he had not done in months, but he still did not answer, just stared at her, the slight frown still twisting his brow. He opened his mouth, as if to speak. Her heart skipped a beat, please speak… but then he closed it again and went back to looking into the tree.

"What is that?" Sophie had likewise climbed out and picked up her clothes. Vicky looked at her daughter and saw she too was staring into the tree across the water.

“What's what?" Frank also came up onto the bank, using his hands to brush off the bulk of the water for they had not brought any towels. As he dressed he too was staring, trying to see what they were looking at.

Vicky looked but could not see anything, "What do you see, Soph?"

"Dunno, there's definitely something there though, up in the tree…’

"Monkey." It took a moment for Vicky to register that it had been her son who had spoken, his voice so quiet she doubted she had even heard it.

The tree and any possible occupants forgotten, she bent down to her son who moved his body, trying to see around her, "What did you say? Simon, did you say something?" The hair rose on her arms and she felt a thrill course through her soul, Had he truly spoken? After all these months?

But he did not answer. Instead, the boy lifted his arm again and pointed, nodding his head in the direction of the tree. Vicky looked up at Frank and Sophie, but both had either not heard or not registered the importance of what she had heard. Both were intently staring into the tree.

"What is it Grandpa Frank?"

"I'm not sure, Sophie… no monkeys around here… maybe a bear?"

Vicky stood up to stand beside her daughter, "Where is it?"

Frank pointed, "About two-thirds up the trunk, on the left."

Suddenly Vicky saw it. A dark shape was barely visible through the leaves. For some reason an icy chill ran through her body, "Do bears climb trees, Frank?"

"Sometimes, yes… but I didn't know there were any bears around here."

Through a gap in the leaves Vicky imagined she could see a dark face with big black eyes, looking right at them. The hair stood up on her neck.

Suddenly there was a loud KASPLOOSH as something large and heavy hit the water.

"Goddamn!" Frank yelled as a shower of flying water hit them all. Everyone turned to look but whatever it was had gone, sunk straight to the bottom… a rock?

Suddenly very scared, Vicky looked at Frank, whose eyes were wide and puzzled.

"Mom?" Sophie's voice was frightened, "Can we go now please?"

She looked at Frank, who nodded. He bent to pick Simon up, who was now scanning the tree as if he had lost something. Vicky turned to look but the dark shape was gone as if it had never been. Was the rock a distraction? If so, who… or what, had thrown it?

With chills coursing through her veins like particles of ice, she swooped up her shirt and skirt and trotted to catch up to Frank and Sophie, Simon twisting to look back at the tree from his perch on Frank's broad shoulders.

6

From his position in the bushes across the creek the Alpha watched the Hairless Ones leave.

Thankfully his son had recognised the opportunity he had presented with the thrown rock and leapt down from the tree as soon as they had looked away. The boy now ran to his father, who swooped him up in his enormous, hairy arms. But instead of being apologetic for leaving the Sentinel position his expression was one of curiosity and excitement… and endless questions.

As he carried his son back up the slope to the bedding area they flowed from the youth like a chattering torrent. The Alpha grunted a few replies which went no way towards slowing the flow. Even when they entered the bedding area and the child leapt from his shoulders to run to his concerned mother, the questions did not cease nor slow.

His mate looked up at him, exasperation replacing her concern. He shrugged his immense shoulders. What could he say?

The Hairless Ones were the Hairless Ones, like them but not like them… very different… and very dangerous. The lack of information obviously frustrated the youngster and eventually he gave up and went back to the Sentinel position. The Alpha and his mate watched him go and position himself back where he could watch down the valley below.

Looking at his mate, the giant Alpha male Sasquatch shrugged his shoulders again before laying down to go back to sleep. His mate moved to where she could better watch their child, making sure there would be no more explorations that day.

Closing his enormous dark eyes with relief from the bright afternoon glare the Alpha contemplated the night ahead. Perhaps it was time to teach the youngster about the Hairless Ones, and how dangerous they could be?

He knew this area well, having travelled through many times in seasons past. Early that morning while his family slept and he had watched over them himself from the sentinel position he had heard far off peals of thunder, faint with distance. He knew such sounds indicated the presence of Hairless hunters and their weapons.

Maybe when night fell he would try and find some of those strange contraptions they placed in trees from which to hunt? It was always dangerous approaching hunters but it was the best way to satisfy his son's intense curiosity.

And with some luck they might even be able to steal a kill?

Despite his troubled thoughts, sleep soon overtook the Alpha once more.

7

Vicky watched Simon eat his dinner.

For once her boy seemed to be enjoying it instead of simply going through the motions as he had since watching his father die. Something had happened today. Something she did not understand but was grateful for, despite her foreboding and unreasonable fear of what she thought she had seen in the tree. Or what she imagined she had seen.

The memory of a similar imagining beside the road the night before teased at her thoughts as she watched her son polish off Mary's excellent apple pie. At last he had his appetite back. And he had spoken, or had she imagined that too?

"Simon?" his dark, unreadable eyes looked across the table at her. They reminded her so much of David's eyes. She felt her throat tighten and forced the dam of tears to stay at bay, "What did you see today, Simon?"

He stopped chewing and looked away, towards the window over her shoulder. She resisted the urge to turn and look. He swallowed his food and opened his mouth, as if to speak. Vicky felt her heart flutter with hope, but he closed it again and pushed the empty bowl away, struggling to turn and get out of his chair with his useless legs.

Frank, Mary and Sophie had all watched the non-exchange. Frank jumped to his feet to help Simon into his wheelchair and manipulate it away from the dining table, "You ready for bed son?"

Simon shook his head and pointed to the door.

"You wanna sit on the porch for a bit?"

He nodded and Frank wheeled him outside.

Vicky turned to Sophie, "Did you hear him speak today Soph?"

"I think so Mom. I think he said “monkey”?"

"That's what I thought too," Vicky looked at Mary, "Did Frank tell you what happened this afternoon?"

Mary's sad, kind eyes penetrated into her heart as she answered, "Yes dear. He said there was a bear in a tree? And that Simon saw it first?"

The pity in Mary's eyes was too much to bear and Vicky thought if she tried to speak her voice would break so she simply nodded.

"How long has it been dear? Since Simon has spoken, I mean?"

Thankfully Sophie answered for her, "Not since the accident. He hasn't said a word."

"What did the doctors say?"

Sophie continued to answer, her words very grown-up for a 9 year old, "That it was a-typical for someone having gone through such a traumatic event. That it will take time. They did not know how long. It could be days, weeks, even years."

"And his legs? Will he ever walk again?"

"They didn't know. The tests showed nothing seriously wrong… that they could find anyway. The breaks healed up fine."

"So it's psychological?"

"They thought so, didn't they Mom?"

Vicky nodded again. She couldn't bear this, her daughter talking so matter-of-factly about the accident that had torn her father from her and destroyed their world. The dam of tears was threatening to break. With a great effort of will she held it at bay.

Mary turned those sad eyes back to her, "And you dear? Are you coping?"

She could take no more. Vicky pushed away from the table and lurched outside to get some air.

Frank and Simon looked at her curiously but neither spoke. Both seemed content to just sit there in the darkness and quiet. For some reason the sight of the two males sitting companionably in the dark, one old and grey, the other young and dark, calmed her. She felt the waves of emotion subside, for now, and took a deep breath of the cool night air. Vicky did not want to break the quiet but she needed to know, "Frank, what did we see today? And please don't say bear. We both know it wasn't a bear. It had a face… could it have been a monkey?"

The older man did not answer immediately. The silence dragged out.

He shook his head, "I don't know. Maybe Simon is right? Maybe somebody's pet monkey escaped and is living out there?"

"OK, but what threw the rock?"

He looked at her again, "I don't know that either… maybe it was a branch falling into the water? Maybe it just choose that time to break off a tree and fall?"

"But there was not a tree overhanging that part of the creek. And if it was a branch, why didn't it float to the surface?"

"I don't know Vicky," he looked down at Simon beside him in his wheelchair, "But it was a fun day, wasn't it Simon? Did you have fun? Do you want to go back tomorrow?"

Vicky shook her head. She didn't care if they never went back again. The thought of it gave her the creeps, but Simon was nodding, with a smile on his face. It was so good to see him smile but she had to be the spoilsport, "Sorry Simon. We can't. Not tomorrow. We have to go to town and meet your new doctor."

"Oh yes, Dr Hugo. I haven't met him, but the locals think highly of him. Apparently his family has lived in Hell's Canyon for generations."

Hell's canyon, what a name… Vicky hadn't thought about it before, but now, after the day's incident, hearing the name spoken out loud sent yet another chill down her spine. If only David was here.

Once again, the waves of tears threatened to burst the dam wall she had so carefully built. Ignoring Frank's concerned look, she stared out into the darkness of the trees. The forest was so close to the house, much closer than it had looked in the daylight.

Thankfully she could at least see a little of the shadows under the trees for the waning moon was high in the night sky.

8

The same moon shone down on Percy Barnett, who was terribly bored.

He used to like hunting with his brothers, but the very next day after the Twin Towers had fallen both had signed up to go and fight the Taliban.

Percy would have signed up too but he was still only sixteen. Compared to the thought of getting some payback for 9/11 hunting was now very boring indeed. For the umpteenth time he hoped the war would still be going when he came of sign-up age himself, though he doubted it. Those damned Taliban had no chance against the might of the US Army. The war would probably be over before anyone knew it had even properly started.

His new-found lack of enthusiasm had meant a later start than usual too and the falling light had forced him to miss his favourite hunting time. He would now have to wait through the night for a morning kill and was forced to find his way to the stand in the dark. Pa would be really pissed if he didn't get a deer, without his brothers the freezer was empty.

Despite the threat of Pa's words, Percy was tempted to call it quits and go home to his nice soft bed.

The lazy old drunk could go and get his own damned deer!

Guilt at his disloyal thoughts did nothing to assuage the discomfort of the tree stand. He swatted at a mosquito and poured some coffee from his Pa's old thermos. Falling asleep and missing the dawn would be disastrous, though there was no danger of that. He felt so full of coffee his bones were vibrating and his bladder was complaining to be relieved yet again.

Looking to the east he saw the stars were beginning to fade. He debated whether he should make the effort to go now so he could be back in the stand in plenty of time or hang on. The sun would soon be rising, he better wait.

Sure enough, in moments he could make out the game trail from the shadows of the forest behind. Now all he needed was a nice fat deer to come down the trail before his bladder burst.

He squeezed his thighs together and gritted his teeth, trying not to make any noise or movement that would give away his position.

The blaze on the distance marker tree was now visible, it would soon be light enough to take a shot… if a deer came.

Then as if his thoughts had called it, a big buck stepped into view. Oh yes!

Percy slowly raised his rifle, but the buck had stopped, just shy of entering the clearing. In the darkness under the trees he could barely make out its head, looking backwards down the trail, ears twitching. Come on, just a few more steps. Please.

It took another step and Percy sighted where he thought its heart must be, but it was still too dark where it stood in the shadows to be certain. Come on! Two more steps.

As if his thoughts had commanded it the buck took another step and Percy thought, The hell with it, and took the shot.

The crack of the rifle shattered the quiet and the buck jumped and crashed off into the trees.

DAMN!

Knowing he had rushed the shot, Percy swore out loud as he climbed down the stand and trotted over to where the buck had been standing. Kneeling he saw drops of darkness on the leaves, at least he had hit it. With relief he unzipped his pants and vent his complaining bladder, the sky growing noticeably brighter in the time it took. Finally finishing he zipped back up, slung his rifle, unclipped his flashlight and followed the path the buck had made into the trees. By the amount of blood on the leaves Percy could tell that at least he had made a pretty good shot. It shouldn't get far.

The sun would be coming up proper soon, he barely even needed the light anymore to follow the blood trail. Percy turned it off.

But then the trail stopped. Hang on, where was the deer?

Turning his flashlight back on again, Percy scanned the ground, backtracking a few steps to where he had last seen the blood. There was a flattened area on the leaves with a small pool of already drying shiny blackness where it had finished bleeding out. But where was the deer?

Scratching his head, he looked all around, even up into the trees overhead.

What the hell?

Where was his damned deer?

Had someone took it?

Pa would be furious. Tearing his cap from his head he flung it to the ground and stomped on it in frustration.

9

Eyes wide, the Young Sasquatch followed his father through the trees, back to where his mother waited in the chosen bedding spot for the day.

Over his broad shoulders was slung the deer they had stolen from the Hairless hunter, its lolling head clearly visible in the growing light against the long black hair on his father's back. For most of the night he and his father had waited and watched, as the Hairless hunter had fidgeted and squirmed with obvious impatience and discomfort in its tree.

Obeying his father the youth had squatted perfectly still behind a large rock, his motionless form invisible in the dark to all but the owls. With the patience only Sasquatch possessed, they had waited the night away until finally the hunter had perked up at an approaching deer, and lifting its strange weapon had made an awful noise that the Young Sasquatch could not help but jump at. The noise had made the deer jump and run, and silently he and his father had quickly followed it. Not very far into the trees it had dropped and died from a strange hole in its chest.

After inspecting the hole his father had then showed the young one some old scars on his own chest, made from the same type of weapon. The lesson had been learnt, Hairless Ones could be very dangerous, despite their apparent ignorance of the forest around them.

The hunter had not once been aware of their presence. Not even when it had come looking for its kill, grumbling noisily to itself. His father had quickly lifted the deer and moved two trees deeper into the surrounding forest to watch. With a touch he commanded his boy to be perfectly still again and they both watched the hunter's confusion at his stolen kill.

The Young Sasquatch found its antics amusing and almost laughed out loud. But he caught it just as it was about to burst forth. Intently he focussed on the ground he could feel under the skin of his feet. This time, unlike the road the night before, the connection came quickly and he immediately felt rooted in the earth, like the trees. The desire to laugh ebbed away and he had watched with fascination as it yelled, tearing something off its head and stomping on it.

With great fuss and noise the Hairless hunter had then stormed off through the forest. Watching it leave, the youngster wondered at how these strange beings could manage to kill any prey at all. They were so clumsy in their strange wrappings. He noticed it even had heavy looking things covering its feet! How was it possible to feel the ground and know where to step with those things on them?

Yet again, endless questions teased his brain but his father would not stop, leaving him to follow his broad back through the trees to where his mother waited.

She was delighted with the deer, expertly ripping open the chest cavity with her powerful hands and dividing up the softer innards to eat first. As usual the still-warm heart was offered to his father. And as usual, the big Alpha only took half, offering the remainder back to his mate, who in turn offered a smaller portion to her son.

He watched his parents interact as he chewed. The care they felt for each other, and for him in turn, was very obvious, even to his young, inexperienced eyes. They shared a very strong bond, which made the Young Sasquatch feel very safe and secure in his world. To him, they were his world. In his four short winters he had never seen others of his kind, though he knew they existed. Out there... somewhere.

And now he knew another kind existed as well. A very strange kind, but still so similar to his own. They had faces much like his own, and like his own, they walked on two legs… and spoke to each other.

He assumed because they looked so similar to his parents they must be like his parents, careful and watchful, protective of each other and him. The young Sasquatch had no idea how soon he would learn otherwise.

10

The sun was hot on her head as Vicky pushed Simon's wheelchair across the parking lot to Frank's old Ford truck. She had already dropped off the hire car before the appointment with Simon's new doctor.

Frank stepped out and helped her with the chair, "So? How was the doc?"

"Fine. He seems nice."

"What about you kiddo? Did you like the doc?"

Simon smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. The progress that had materialised the day before seemed to have melted away like it had never been. Vicky sighed with resignation as her boy turned to look out the small back seat window. She climbed up into the passenger seat while Frank hopped in and turned the key, "I just have to stop at the hardware store, hope you don't mind?"

"No of course not Frank. Thanks for picking us up."

"Well you are family, even though we never got the chance to meet you before now."

"Yes, sorry about that. David was always so busy. I often tried to talk him into bringing me to meet you but he always had excuses. I had been wondering if he even had parents… Or if you were the local KKK Grand Dragon."’

Frank sighed, "That would be my fault. We had a rather big argument when he joined the army. And then when he was shipped to Iraq for Desert Storm, he even stopped talking to his mother."

Vicky suddenly felt very uncomfortable, "David never spoke of it. But I could tell he loved you both very much. He is... was, a workaholic you know. As soon as he was discharged he became a firefighter… that's when we met." She felt her throat tighten but forged on, "Life just seemed so busy in New York, especially for David… always doing something… and then when the towers fell last year…’

Frank glanced across at her as he pulled up out the front of the Hardware store. His voice was so quiet she could hardly hear it, "I never felt so scared in my life watching those buildings burn… I knew he would be there, trying to save people… and then when they fell…’

Vicky saw the worry etched deep in Frank's forehead, reliving the moment that was still so fresh. She felt compelled to reach across and touch his arm. The tough old man's voice broke as he continued, "But he survived… only to die so soon after anyway…’ He looked at her again, patting her hand on his arm, "Sorry… I didn't mean to bring it up…’

For some reason her own tears did not threaten… for once, "That's okay Frank." She looked back at Simon, who seemed oblivious to the discussion.

Realising his error, Frank cast a guilty look back at Simon too, "Sorry kiddo. Do you want anything while I am here? A slingshot? Gun? Rocket Launcher perhaps? They sell it all in there."

Simon ignored him, still staring blankly out the window.

"No? … Okay, back in a jiffy."

"I might come too. You wanna come Simon?" Almost imperceptibly the boy shook his head, "Okay, don't run off."

Kicking herself for her choice of words, Vicky followed Frank in through the narrow glass doors of the hardware store.

She had never been in a small town hardware store before. Old shelving contained a huge variety of stuff she didn't even recognise. An equally old counter ran the length of the rear, manned by a bald man with glasses and something on his chin that was pretending to be a goatee.

Sitting on a stool in front of the counter was a teenager talking to a man who looked to be in his sixties. The teenager was saying something about a deer he had shot, "Big buck it was too Mr Gurney, woulda weighed a bit… too much for a bear or cougar to cart off so quickly."

"You don't say," the man turned to watch Frank and Vicky approach, "Hi there Frank. How's the little lady?"

Frank smiled, shaking the man's offered hand and patting his belly with the other, "As you can see, Bob, still obsessed with cooking. You should come over for dinner again soon, take some of the pressure off me to eat it all. ’

The man switched his eyes to Vicky, "Looks like you've brung in some help for that," he offered his hand, "You must be Miss Vicky."

Vicky accepted the offered hand. It was gnarled and tough, like an old leather baseball mitt, "How do you do? Mr Gurney is it?"

Frank rolled his eyes, "Me and my manners. Vicky, this is Bob Gurney. He lives just down the road from us, right on the edge of town."

Mr Gurney nodded, "That's right, an this rude youngster is Percy Barnett. Percy, remove your hat, you're in the company of a lady."

"Whoops." The boy smiled sheepishly, "Sorry Mr Gurney." and whipped off his camouflaged baseball cap, "Sorry miss."

Vicky laughed. She suddenly felt like she was living in a 60's sit-com, "That's perfectly fine Percy. You look like a hunter… are you?"

The boy's chest swelled, "Sure am… damned fine one too. Only this morning I shot a big buck."

Bob Gurney smiled, "So you say… haven't seen no evidence of it though."

The boy's face flushed red, "Only coz somethin’ stoled it!"

For some reason Vicky's curiosity was suddenly aroused, "Stole it? You shot a deer and something stole it? Was it a bear?"

“Ain't seen no bear in these woods for years."

"Could it have been a mountain lion?"

"Nah, my grandaddy shot the last lion in these parts before I was even born."

Frank was paying the shop assistant and spoke without looking up, "Vicky's boy said he saw a monkey yesterday, up at the old swimming hole."

Out of the corner of her eye Vicky noticed the man called Bob Gurney suddenly straighten and become alert.

Percy laughed, "A monkey? Definitely know theres none of them round here."

Frank replied, "Think I saw it too, probably not a monkey, but it was up in a tree… just a black shape in the foliage."

"How big was it?" Vicky picked up a strange tone in Bob Gurney's voice. He was trying a little too hard to sound casual. There was a hint of excitement there. He seemed to notice her attention and deliberately looked down at the counter, avoiding her curious eyes.

"Oh, bout the size of a small bear… wouldn't you say Vicky?"

"I suppose… though I have never seen one in the wild before… not many bears in New York." She kept her eyes on Mr Gurney but he avoided looking at her. The man was acting very badly at studying something under the glass counter top. He definitely was hiding something. What did he know?

"Whatever it was, it disappeared quick enough. Looked away for a second and it was gone, just like that." Frank clicked his fingers, "Nice seein you again Bob. Come up for dinner soon. Mary would love to see you."

The man looked up, "Might just do that Frank. Thanks." His composure regained he offered his hand again to Vicky, "Nice to meet you Miss Vicky."

She tried not to study his face too obviously, "And you Mr Gurney. See you around Percy."

The teenager lifted his cap as she turned to follow Frank out to his truck. She hoped the man would visit. She had some questions to ask him.

11

Percy had put off going home all day.

He knew his Pa would be very angry but without his elder brothers there to take the brunt of Pa's anger he did not feel like being the old drunk's whipping boy.

As darkness fell he even considered spending another night in the tree stand. Perhaps if he got another deer Pa's anger would not be quite so painful. But dammit he was tired as hell. Surely by now the fool would have drunk himself into his nightly stupor… perhaps even be asleep?

No lights were on and he could not hear the TV. He might be in luck after all?

Quietly opening the door he stepped inside, careful to avoid the creaking floorboard next to the stairs.

In the kitchen he turned on the light and made himself a sandwich from stale, almost inedible bread and scrapings of dry peanut butter from a practically empty jar. Pa hadn't done any shopping for weeks now and wouldn't give him any money to do it.

Damn he missed his brothers. When they had been around they made sure the old fool at least had food in the house. No wonder they had joined up so quick, any place was better than home.

He walked through into the front room and sat on the lounge with relief. He was so tired he didn't even notice Pa sitting in the other chair in the darkness until he turned on the TV with the remote he found on the cluttered coffee table.

"Where you been boy?"

"Jesus Pa, you scared the crap outta me!"

"Watch your language you little shit!" His voice was slurred to about a half-drunk. Damn, drunk enough to get violent but not drunk enough to have passed out! "You will upset your mother!"

"Pa, Ma's been gone almost six years!"

"Don't matter! Where's the goddam deer I sent you to get boy!?"

Pa hadn't moved from his chair, maybe he could avoid a beating tonight? "I got one Pa, a big buck, but somethin'stoled it offa me!"

"Whaddayamean, somethin'stoled it? What kind of somethin? A human somethin?"

"Didn't see nobody out there Pa. I shot it, followed the blood trail, found where it bled out an it was gone! Just gone!"

"Aha!" It was not the response Percy was expecting, "I knew it! I knew one of you boys would ‘ventually see what I seen!"

"Pa, what in hell are you talking about? I didn't see nuthin' out there."

The old man, with some effort, got to his feet and pointed a wavering finger in his youngest son's face, "You mightna seen it, but I sure damn guarantee it seen you!"

"What? What in hell are you talking about Pa?"

The slap across Percy's face was hard. "I tol ya, watch your goddam language!" Pa slumped back into his chair and lifted the almost empty bottle of Jim Beam to his lips, draining the last few drops. Lowering it again he tried to focus his red eyes on the lack of contents in the flickering light of the TV, "Goddam! I need some more drink. This deserves a drink. Boy, go get me nother drink."

"No Pa. First you tell me what in h…," Percy caught himself just in time, ‘…what you're talking about."

Pa focussed his bleary eyes back on him, "Tell me you seen it boy! You gotta have seen it!"

"Pa, I don't got no idea what you're talkin about!"

"The beast boy! The goddam hairy monster in those woods! The same damned evil sonofabitch that done run me out! Back afore your mother left me!"

"Monster? You're crazy you old fool! Aint no monster in those woods!" Percy stood up, his cheek still stinging from the slap and his face burning with anger. He was sick of this shit! "I'm goin' to bed. An tomorrer I'm leavin, I've had enough of your abuse!"

As he stormed out he realised with a shock he was hearing his Pa crying in the near darkness, the flickering light from the TV his only companion.

12

The Genoskwa studied the long valley and the lights of the town below.

Overhead the moon hid her face behind the slowly moving clouds, causing his night eyes to adjust. The lights of the Hairless town were distant yet still they hurt to look at, especially the slowly moving lights going in and out along the winding highway through the forested hills.

Like most of his kind he was a loner, preferring to hunt and eat alone rather than share his kills with others. The town below meant food. Cats and dogs and even livestock on the few outlying farms. He licked his sharp teeth in anticipation and nervousness. Only recently had he risked coming close to Hairless Ones and their stinking above-ground caves of wood or hard stone and steel. The risk had been worth it and he had fed well... now he was tempted to do it again.

Unlike his Steyamah brethren the Genoskwa exclusively ate meat, preferring fresh, hot blood to dull, cold fruits and berries. He even avoided when possible the lush mushrooms of the dark forests, only partaking of them if absolutely necessary to stave off hunger.

But the plentiful food he knew to be in the town meant coming close to its bright lights… and the Hairless One's guns. He had been shot before. It had hurt and he had bled for days before the wound had finally scabbed over and healed. The sour taste of the hunter's heart had done little to ease his thirst for vengeance.

To the north of the town he noticed much fainter lights, clustered in a small, tight group. Such lights usually meant campers, and with so many lights it would not be a hunter's camp. Experience had taught him that at this time of year Hairless campers often clustered together in areas of thick forest they seemed to set aside for the animals. In such places the Hairless Ones did not hunt, and animals often grew lazy and careless, coming in close to the camps to steal and beg food from them.

The lights there were less bright and the lack of guns should make it safer to hunt and feast.

The Genoskwa knew there was a small troop of Steyamah in the area. He had smelt them and seen the tree breaks. By the sign the Alpha was a big one, at least as big as he, and the Genoskwa had no desire to fight for territory. Hoping the troop was not near the Hairless encampment he started to make his way down the hill towards the lights.

With some luck he may even be able to snag a Hairless One itself.

Their meat was tangy, almost bitterly sweet from the strange foods they ate. Only a few moons ago he had snagged up a hiker wandering alone in the mountains to the north. The memory of its strange, intoxicating flavour teased at his taste buds and triggered his saliva to flow as he carefully made his way down the valley, his enormous hairy arms pushing aside the brush as he slid through the trees like a shadow of death in the darkness.

13

Bob woke up to pounding on his door.

He looked at the bedside clock. The blue LEDs told him it was not even 5 am. Who would be knocking on his door at this time of the morning?

Almost falling over as he put his pants on, Bob went to the front door and opened it. Standing there with a face as pale as his t-shirt was the unmistakeable six foot five bulk of Sam, The Park Ranger!

"Sam, what's wrong? What are you doing here? The sun isn’t even up yet."

The light of the morning to come was seeping around and through the trees in his yard, casting that soft pre-dawn light over Sam's ashen face and wide, frightened eyes. The man looked around as if expecting the devil Himself to be shadowing him, "Sorry to wake you Bob, can I come in?"

Bob noticed he was carrying a hunting rifle, "Sure Sam, come in."

Backing away from the door he turned and headed towards his small kitchen in the back of the house, "You want some coffee?"

Sam firmly closed the door behind and checked to make sure it was latched, "Sure do. Thanks."

In the kitchen Bob gestured to the single seat, put the pot on the stove and leaned back against the sink, crossing his arms and tilting his head curiously, "What's going on Sam? What happened?"

Sam glanced around. He had known Bob Gurney for years but never been in his house. He turned his pale, wide eyes to him and opened his mouth to speak but snapped it closed again.

"Come on Sam, you woke me, you might as well tell me… what's going on?"

"Er, I don’t know where to start…’

"Take your time."

Sam looked around again, stopping to stare for a long time at the window. He shook himself, as if trying to shake off a nightmare, "Bob, you've always been around. I've seen you passing through The Park countless times on your, what do you call them, Investigations?"

"Yeah… so?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest… please don't take this the wrong way… I've always thought you must of had a screw loose or something, asking me if I had ever seen anything I couldn't explain and such… specially when you asked me about Bigfoot."

The pot had started boiling. Bob rinsed out a couple of mugs in the sink, "How do you want your coffee?"

"Er, black please. Two sugars… and er, you got anything to er… strengthen it a little?"

Bob raised an eyebrow, "Sure," and poured a capful of his precious whisky into Sam's cup before handing it to him.

Sam took a grateful sip, "Oh... that's good stuff. Thanks."

"Not a problem. So why this early morning visit to a crazy old man?"

Sam glanced back at the window, "Well I seen something I can't explain tonight," he shook his head, "At least I think I did… unless I'm going crazy too… but if I am, so's Betty."

Bob felt his curiosity stir, Betty was Sam's wife who lived with him at the Ranger Station, "What did you see Sam, tell me every last detail."

There was a long pause as Sam took another long sip of his strengthened coffee. He looked up at Bob, who took a sip of his own cup.

"Okay, please don't think I'm crazy…’

"What, like me?" Bob smiled, "Come on Sam, what happened last night?"

Sam looked down into the coffee he was nursing, as if seeing visions stirring in its blackness, "Okay, well sometime around midnight there was a pounding on my door. It freaked Betty out, and pissed me off. There were voices chattering madly outside… campers, from The Park… it's always busy this time of year. I thought someone must've gotten drunk and hurt themselves or something stupid like that. I got dressed and opened the door and standing there was a group of terrified looking people, all in pyjamas and dressing gowns. Bloody fools shone their flashlights right in my eyes soon's I opened the damned door, near blinded me! … All of em started shouting at once. Some were scared, some were angry, as if whatever had happened was my fault… most were scared though, even the angry ones."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah, uh-oh… took ages to sort out what was going on. Sounded like someone had been playing a practical joke, running around in the dark in a monkey suit scaring people. But then it turns out the guy in the monkey suit was at least eight feet tall. Well, I thought, these people have let their imaginations get away with them is all… easy enough to do at night… misjudge things like height."

"So what happened next Sam?"

"I grabbed my Maglight an my gun… just in case it was a bear… and went on up to take a look."

"And what did you find?"

"Not much, some broken open ice boxes, a couple of footprints… those made me wonder… I mean they were big prints… a good 17, 18 inches long and about half that in width… heavy too. The ground's pretty hard up there you know, this time of year? But these prints had sunk into the ground a bit, something heavy had made them… real heavy…’

Bob felt his excitement, and his concern grow, "What did you think had made them?"

"I thought someone had gone to a lot of effort to scare people, especially when I saw the coon."

"Coon?"

"Yeah, a coon, ripped clean in half it was, the guts and vital innards were taken but the rest was left, layin' there on the ground. I thought whoever was doin' this was sick in the head or something."

"Sam, you saw something more than a dead coon to come wake me up…’

"Yeah, yeah I did." Sam took a sip of his fortified coffee, "Ah, that's good."

He glanced at the window again and took a deep breath, "I looked around some but didn't see much else so went home. When I got there I knew somethin' was wrong. The door was locked. We never lock the door… unless we're goin' to town. I was angry at first… tired and grumpy I guess… banged on the door and shouted for Betty to let me in, but then when she finally opened the door I saw her face… white as a ghost, I asked her what happened."

"Uh oh."

Sam looked back down into his cup, "She broke down and cried… couldn’t answer me for a while. Then she started telling me that after I had left she had went into the kitchen to get a drink… Told me she felt like someone was watching her and turned around to look at the window."

He looked up at Bob, "You know the Ranger's cabin Bob? You know how it has a porch on three sides, but not on the side where the kitchen is?"

"Yeah, I know it Sam."

"Bottom of that window is at least six foot off the ground. She told me at first she couldn't see anything… but then realised she really couldn't see anything! Like it was blocked. No moonlight, no nothing. Then she said she saw eyes, looking in at her from near the top of the window. Whatever it was must've been over eight feet tall… maybe over nine! I got really angry then. Whoever it was prankin’ everybody had gone too far, prankin’ my wife."

"So what’d you do?"

"I told her to go to bed, turned off the lights and sat there watchin’ the window. I guess I was hoping the idiot doing the prankin’ was gonna come back," Sam took another swig of his coffee and sat staring into it again, like he had forgotten all about Bob.

Bob prompted him, "Did he?"

Sam looked up, "Huh?"

"Did he come back Sam? The prankster?"

"Yeah… yeah he did. I must've dozed off. I was leanin' back in the chair… against the wall… where I could light the bastard up with my Mag. Suddenly Betty screamed… woke me right up she did. I went runnin’ into the bedroom and she was curled up in the corner, hidin’ her face and sobbin’. I looked right at the window and there it was, lookin’ in at us like it hadn’t a care in the world!"

"You said ‘it’, not ‘he’. What did you see Sam?"

"It was a monster Bob! Scariest damned thing I ever seen!" Tears were flowing from Sam's eyes now, "I screamed too, couldn't help myself. Damned well wet myself too!"

"Don't blame you Sam. What happened next?"

"Goddamned thing just smiled and walked off, calm as day… it was like it enjoyed scarin us! Soon as light broke I came here. You always told me these things were out there, wish I hadda believed you now," He looked back into his coffee and shuddered.

Despite his concern for the man, Bob felt excited. He had been tracking a small Sasquatch troop in and out of The Park for years. This year he had neither seen nor heard any sign of them. They must have used a different route.

"It's okay Sam. I know it's a shock seein’ one for the first time, but they won’t hurt you… or Betty. Not unless you threaten them in some way."

Sam stared at him for a long while before answering, "You sure about that Bob? I mean this thing was real ugly, real mean lookin’… an those teeth! Good god, those teeth will haunt me for the rest of my life, I know it."

Bob was confused, "Teeth? What do you mean?"

"The damned thing smiled at me Bob. I could barely see it in the dark, just a shadow it was, blocking out the entire goddamned window! Then I saw the eyes, deep, burning red they were, like coals in a fire… full of hate," Sam swallowed, sweat beading on his forehead, "An then it smiled… probably snarled is a better word… an those teeth…’ his voice broke, "So sharp they were, like somethin’ from a movie…’

Now Bob was really confused, "Sharp? Weren’t its teeth like ours, just bigger?"

"No they damned well weren’t nuthin’ like ours! They were sharp, like somethin’ outta an alligator’s mouth! Or a T-Rex from that movie, Jurassic Park!"

Bob felt a chill run down his spine, "Are you sure Sam? You were badly scared… are you certain about the teeth?"

"Goddamned right I’m sure! Never been surer of nuthin' my whole life! They weren’t no herbivore's teeth, that’s for damned sure!"

"Oh no… that’s not good."

"Whaddaymean? What was it?"

Bob looked out the window. The sun was rising and light was streaming in through the trees, "I don't know. But it wasn't one of my Boogers."

"Whaddayamean Bob? I thought you knew all about these things?"

Bob looked back at Sam's scared eyes. He did not bother to hide the worry in his own, "I don't know everything... nobody does... but I do know there are more than one type. I've only ever seen two… none of them had teeth like that. But I have heard tell from the tribes of a really mean, bloodthirsty type. Up north they call them a Wendigo and they are exceptionally rare."

"A Wendigo? Isn’t that an Alaskan spirit creature?"

Bob sighed, “That's what we are led to believe… a cannibalistic spirit that possesses people, but I have long suspected they are very real animals, largely confined to the frozen north… thank goodness."

"Well, what in hell is it doing down here? In my park?"

"I have also heard of a southern version… even rarer. The tribes down here call it Genoskwa. They say if you see one, leave… fast... because if it sees you first you will be its meal."

"Oh great! Camping season is in full swing and I have a bloodthirsty cannibal monster running loose! What do I do?"

Bob thought about it, "You better close The Park, send everyone home."

"I can't do that! What'll I tell people?"

"Tell them a rogue bear has come into The Park."

For the first time life came into Sam's eyes. Perhaps it was the whisky in the coffee, "Yeah… yeah, that should work. But then what? Should we tell someone? The Feds perhaps?"

Bob rolled his eyes, "Only if you want to lose your job Sam. Nobody will believe you. No we have to keep this quiet and hope the bear story doesn't get any traction with the locals. Just send everybody home, try to keep it quiet."

"Okay, and then what?"

Bob looked at Sam with thoughtful eyes. He wondered if the ranger had it in him to do what needed doing... but then did he? "We hunt it. Run the thing down… or run it out of The Park."

Sam's eyes were still scared, but there was an edge of steel in them. He looked down at his old hunting rifle, "I better get a bigger gun."

14

The Young Sasquatch sat bolt upright from his position in the sentinel tree.

He had been daydreaming, almost asleep himself while he knew full well he was supposed to be keeping watch... especially in this new spot. His father had made it very clear he was to be extra alert as just over the hill was a home of the Hairless Ones.

The sound that had woken him from his doze had come from that direction. Holding his breath he listened for it again.

There! A faint, cracking bang... much like the tree knocks his parents sometimes used while hunting. But this was different... sharper, and repetitive, tap tap tap.

There was a pause and it came again, tap tap tap.

Intrigued, he wondered what it could possibly be.

He looked down to where both parents were sleeping at the base of the tree he was in. The warning from his father was stern, he was not to go exploring.

The sound carried faintly to his ears again, tap tap tap.

Maybe if he just went to the top of the hill he could see what was making it? He would stay in sight so technically he would not be abandoning his task of watching over the troop. And was it not the duty of a sentinel to watch for unusual things that might pose a threat?

What if whatever was making that noise should come closer?

Would it not be better to know in advance what it was?

Mind made up he leapt into the branches of the neighbouring tree as silently as he could. From there he dropped to the ground and on all fours to keep his profile low he was on top of the hill in no time.

From atop a large boulder he peered down into the small valley beyond.

Something strange was glinting through the trees. It had to be the dwelling place of the Hairless Ones his father had mentioned.

The tapping came again, louder and clearer now he was on top of the hill. But he could still not see what was making the sound.

He looked back to where the bedding area was. Although he could not see the spot itself he could still see the sentinel tree above. What to do?

The tapping came again, drawing his eyes back towards that strange structure he could see through the tree tops.

He had to see... maybe if he got just a bit closer?

15

"Sophie, run and grab that two by four for me please?"

"What is a two by four Grandad?"

Frank looked up from where he was lining up the next board and pointed, "That long piece of wood over there. It's two inches by four inches thick, hence two by four."

"Oh, I see. Okay," Sophie ran to the small woodpile her grandfather had dropped nearby earlier. Most of it was already used up on the ramp they were building, "This one?"

"Yes, that's it. Can you manage it?"

"I think so," she dragged it over.

"Thanks Sophie. Simon, can you hold that end please?"

The boy wheeled his chair closer and held the timber in place while Frank placed one of the boards he was using as an upright against it. Three hard whacks with his hammer and the job was done. He repeated the action on the other end and he was finished. He stepped back to judge his work, "There you go boyo, one ramp for your chair. It's a bit rough but it’ll do. Try it out."

Simon wheeled over and using his small arms clumsily tried to push himself up the ramp into the low treehouse.

Sophie saw him struggling and moved to help but Frank stopped her, "He can do it Sophie. Let him be."

Sophie gave him a concerned look but stepped back.

Sure enough, with quite a bit of effort the boy managed to pull himself up the ramp using the makeshift handrail Frank had just placed.

Sophie and Frank clapped as he turned his chair at the top to smile back down at them.

"There you go boyo. I know the treehouse is old but it's still strong... your very own fort!"

Simon was all smiles as he waved for his sister to join him. She ran up the new ramp and clasped him in a big hug, laughing the whole way.

Frank felt his breath catch. He had known his grandkids for only days yet those days had been some of the happiest he could remember… At least since David had been a child at any rate. He felt his eyes burn and not wanting the kids to see his tears he turned towards the house, "This deserves a drink. Stay there you two... I'll bring out some lemonade."

Sophie smiled at her little brother, "Grandad's nice, isn’t he?"

Simon nodded a reply, the smile still on his face, his eyes more alive than she had seen them in a long while. She walked back down the new ramp, "Stay here. I’m going to go help."

As she followed Frank back towards the house, Simon explored the tree house, which meant rolling his chair a couple of paces to the other end of the small platform that overlooked a thickly forested wash.

The tree itself was huge and old, it's low, wide branches covering a span wider than the equally old looking barn that stood nearby. Many years of rain had eroded at its roots on the side that overlooked the wash, which meant that although on the house side he was only a few feet off the ground, on the other he was quite high in the air, right up amongst the branches of the smaller trees that filled the wash.

He felt like he was Tarzan in his tree house. It was exhilarating. Back when he could run and play, before the accident when Daddy would take him to the park, sometimes he would climb the smaller trees. But never did he climb this high.

Suddenly with a cracking sound something landed on the boards beside him, bouncing against one wheel of his chair.

He looked down and saw it was an acorn.

Looking up he tried to see where it had come from.

Had a squirrel dropped it? He couldn't see one. And the tree didn't look like the ones he remembered in the park back in the city. Those ones had always been dropping acorns.

Another one hit the boards and bounced off the edge of the platform.

Simon looked around but could not see what had thrown it.

Ow! Another acorn hit him on the arm, making him flinch and rub the spot with his other hand.

Confused he looked in the direction it must have come from but still he could see nothing.

But then two eyes blinked and suddenly he realised he was looking right at it!

It was the big monkey he had seen two days ago at the creek. It was sitting in a tree growing up and out of the wash, barely twenty feet away. He smiled at it and it smiled back, its white teeth bright in the darkness of its face.

Simon lifted one hand and waved. It copied him and waved back, perfectly mimicking his movement. He motioned for it to come closer and it did the same in reply. Shaking his head he motioned more vigorously. Once again it perfectly copied his movement, making him laugh out loud.

Looking back towards the house Simon could not see Grandpa Frank, nor Sophie coming back with the lemonades yet. He turned back to look again at the monkey but it was gone!

Heart sinking with disappointment he looked for it but could not see it anywhere.

Then another acorn dropped right on his head and looking up he saw that it was now in the same tree he was in, right above his head! Wow, it must have moved fast. And quietly.

He smiled at it again. It returned the smile and lightly dropped onto the boards right next to his chair!

Now it was close he saw it was very big for a monkey. Bigger even than Sophie. And it's face was different, the nose more like his own than what he had seen on TV and in the Central Park zoo when his father had taken both he and Sophie there for his sister's birthday last year.

It looked at him curiously, studying his face, his clothing, his useless legs. It reached out and touched the wheelchair, feeling the rubber of its tyres with long, leathery fingers. Then it touched his leg, right above the knee, prodding at it and pulling at the material of his jeans.

Simon reached out his hand to touch its arm and the monkey pulled back out of his reach, its eyes wide in wonder. Then slowly it reached its own arm out towards Simon's outstretched arm, its eyes glued to his fingers with their paler skin. Their fingertips touched and Simon could feel its warmth, just like any human. He laughed again and it dropped its arm back to its side. Then lifted it again and scratched its head, dark eyes wide in amazement, just like Simon's own blue ones.

Simon copied its motion, scratching his own head, and the monkey froze, staring deep into Simon's eyes. Lowering its arm it instead scratched at its butt.

The action made Simon laugh again, louder this time. The monkey smiled again, and then did something truly amazing.

It spoke!

The soft chatter was an endless flow of sounds, all merging together and mixed with a strange clicking sound that seemed to be coming from its tongue.

Simon was amazed. He didn't know monkeys could talk! He knew they made sounds, not so different to what this animal was making, but he sensed this was very different. It was talking to him, trying to communicate!

All he could do was laugh again. For some reason he found this chattering monkey which kept scratching its butt, extremely funny. The last time he had laughed like this was with his father, before the accident. Tears started welling in his eyes as he continued to laugh.

Then the monkey copied him, laughing softly along with him. The tears flowed harder as Simon felt something deep inside give way. Some wall that he had unconsciously built in an attempt to protect his young mind fell aside like it had never been. He laughed harder, louder, tears streaming from his eyes so badly he could hardly see. He tried to wipe them away but they kept coming.

"Simon?"

It was Grandpa's voice and he realised he couldn’t hear the monkey laughing with him any longer. His own laughter slowed and stopped and he wiped away the tears until he could see. The monkey was gone, as if it had never existed. He turned his chair and saw Grandpa Frank and Sophie were standing at the bottom of the ramp looking at him, their eyes wide with curiosity.

Grandpa Frank had a broad smile on his face but Sophie's mouth was hanging open and she was looking into the trees.

He came up the ramp and squatted down in front of Simon's chair, "What were you laughing at Boyo?"

Simon pointed into the trees where Sophie was staring. She did not come up the ramp, "The monkey. It came back."

Frank's eyes widened in surprise, both at hearing Simon speak and at what the boy had said.

He stood and looked into the trees, eyes searching the forest.

To the west the sun had already sunk below the mountains. It would be dark soon and for some reason he felt a chill run down his body.

16

In the trees the young juvenile stayed perfectly still, trying with all his might to resist the temptation to flee.

He knew any movement would draw the eyes of the Hairless Ones instantly.

His father's teachings were firm in his mind and he closed his eyes and connected with the tree he was clinging to, feeling its bark under his skin, becoming one with it, a part of it, just like a branch.

Had they seen him?

He was fairly sure the girl had spotted him bound off as the two approached.

Opening his eyes he saw all three peering into the trees, trying to spot him in the branches.

He focussed his eyes off to one side a little, knowing instinctively not to look at them directly for to do would draw their attention. He was just a branch, part of the landscape itself.

They soon gave up trying to see him, even though he was sure they had looked right at him several times in their search. The older male grabbed the back of the strange thing the boy was sitting in and pushed it back down the ramp towards their dwelling, the girl running ahead and the boy twisting in his chair to look back at where he clung in the branches.

The Young Sasquatch had felt no fear, no trepidation at the small Hairless One. Curiosity overwhelmed him though. Why was it not walking about like the others? Not once had he seen its legs move, not even when he had pulled at the strange material covering them.

He had to know more.

Finally moving once they were all out of sight in the house, he leapt from his position in the tree and followed them.

Night was coming. It emboldened him and despite his youth he sensed there was safety in the darkness. And none of them carried a weapon like he had seen the hunter use.

Leaving the trees he quickly crossed the small yard towards the bright light that was streaming from a big square hole in the wall. It was way above his head because the dwelling was off the ground, leaving plenty of space underneath in which to hide while he listened to the movements and chatter within.

He had not been there long when he heard a whistle.

Looking back he saw his father standing just inside the tree line in the swiftly darkening shadows.

His curiosity and wonder at the strange Hairless boy had completely distracted him from his duties as Sentinel. His father whistled again, low and soft, just loud enough to get his attention without alerting the Hairless Ones inside.

The young juvenile could tell from the continuing sounds over his head the Hairless Ones were none the wiser. What was his father worried about? He had not seen any of these Hairless Ones carrying weapons. they seemed friendly… at least the boy did.

He considered his next move. His father was obviously anxious but the encounter with the Hairless boy had only increased his desire to know more about these strange animals.

For the first time in his short life, he ignored his father and turning, scampered under the dwelling and out the far side.

As he went he heard his father hoot angrily, loud enough to instantly stop the chatter over his head. There was a medium sized tree on this side, which would give him a vantage point to see into the house and observe what was going on, so in two quick leaps he was up into its branches and peering into the windows, his blood pumping with adrenaline and excitement.

Frustratingly, from this side he could not see far enough into the dwelling, but he clearly heard the door on the other side slam open and over the roof of the house he could see light flashing through the trees. Maybe if he got up on the roof?

In three more leaps he was up on the roof and bounding up to the highest point, his feet and hands slipping on the strange surface. He caught himself before he could slide over the peak and down the other side. From his new vantage point he could see a bright light had come on and lit up the whole yard. There was another bright light flashing through the trees as the Hairless Ones chattered away, obviously searching out the source of his father's warning call.

The light flashed across his father's form, catching and reflecting his eyes a bright, burning red. It went past, then quickly flashed back, holding on his father's eyes for a moment.

There was a scream from underneath his feet and the reflection of his father's eyes instantly disappeared.

By now night had fully fallen and even though his own night eyes could clearly see his father drop to his belly and crawl backwards into the darker shadows the Hairless Ones obviously had lost sight of him for they chattered amongst themselves noisily while the light swung back and forth through the trees above his body.

The youngster watched as his father quietly moved sideways on his belly and looked right up at him on the roof. Even from here the youth could see the angry scowl on his face as he again whistled a command.

The light jolted and swung back and forth, seeking out the sound's source with no success, for it stayed at the height his father's eyes had been. The chattering mixed with not a small amount of fear coming from under the youngster's feet.

Suddenly a new sound reached his ears and he remembered it from a few nights ago when he had discovered the road. Looking back over his shoulder he saw two more bright lights approaching the dwelling from the side he had just come. The two lights came right up to the house and stopped beside what he now saw to be a similar type beast to the one that had zoomed by that night. The lights suddenly went off and he saw they had been coming from yet another metallic beast, now silent and still.

Panels on both sides of the newly arrived beast opened, and two more Hairless Ones stepped out, carrying what he recognised as the long weapons that killed deer from a distance!

A flash of fear joined the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he watched them approach the house. Thankfully they did not look up. Instead they climbed the steps to the door and banged on it.

On the other side the roaming light went out and soon there was a bang as the door slammed closed.

The youth looked back to where his father lay, hidden behind a tree trunk, intently watching him.

What to do?

If he leapt off the roof and ran to his father he would be exposed in the bright light the whole way. He had seen what those weapons could do. Maybe he could leap back into the tree in front once the two men had gone inside?

But before he could make a move bright light came on this side as well, flooding the tree he had used as a pathway to the roof. There was more chattering as the door opened, then another bang as it closed with a slam. But the lights stayed on.

Now he did not know where they were in the house. Whichever side he went down he would be lit up like it was day.

Suddenly he felt very scared.

Looking back to where his father still lay he saw him gesture with one arm to stay where he was.

17

"Bob!", Frank's eyes were wide and his voice excited.

"Hi Frank. I hope we haven’t interrupted you folks?"

"No, no, in fact I’m very happy you’re here. Come in."

"Okay, thanks. Have you met Sam? He’s the resident Ranger from down at The Park."

Frank pumped Sam’s hand, "No, we haven’t met. Please come in. Both of you." Frank led them through into the kitchen. Bob looked around at the wide eyes and pale faces crowding the small room, "Hi Mary, Miss Vicky… is something going on?"

He noticed Mary flick her eyes to Frank, then her daughter-in-law, then two kids which must be Vicky's children, the youngest in a wheelchair, "Er, we don't know Bob." The lady was obviously quite flustered. Gathering herself she asked, "Would you both like some coffee?"

"No thanks Mary. This is Sam, The Park Ranger."

"No thanks Miss, if I have any more coffee my eyes will vibrate outta my head." Sam reached out his hand.

Mary gripped it with both hands, "Nice to meet you Sam. This is my daughter-in-law, Vicky… and her children, Sophie and Simon."

Bob noticed then that the boy in the wheelchair was the only one who did not look scared. He asked again, "Is something going on?"

Frank spoke up, "We're not sure. Er, why are you guys here?" He pointed to the rifles they carried, "And why are you carrying those?"

Sam and Bob exchanged glances, Bob nodding for Sam to explain.

"Mr Armstrong, there is a rogue bear in The Park. It scared some campers last night, tore up their belongings, raided their food. We," he gestured to Bob, ‘…Bob, tracked it for a way. It seemed to be headed this direction so we came along to warn you."

"A bear?" It was Miss Vicky who had spoken up. She looked at Bob with suspicious eyes, "I thought yesterday in the store you said there weren't any bears around here?"

Bob tried not to avert his eyes, "That was young Percy Barnett who said that miss, not me. They are rare in these parts, yes… but they still show up time to time."

Sam spoke up, "You folks look stressed out. Did you see something?"

"Er yes…’ Frank started but Vicky interrupted, "Yes, but it wasn't a bear Mr Gurney. It was much bigger than a bear."

Bob felt a chill run down his back. He had been feeling those all day, tracking the suspected Genoskwa through The Park. It had been extremely hard to track and he had been going mostly by instinct assuming it was headed this way. Looks like his instinct was right.

"What do you mean miss? What did you see? When did you see it?" Sam lifted his rifle as he spoke. It was a brand new 50 cal Barrett he had bought that morning in town. A hell of a weapon. One that could take down an elephant if necessary.

Frank spoke up again, "We don't know, caught some eye-shine just now, out the back… whatever made it was pretty big, about nine foot in the air."

"Just now?" Bob pushed past the man to look out the window into the back yard. It was lit up pretty good but the trees were black shadows beyond the light, "Where? Show me the exact spot."

"Sure." Frank opened the door and the three men went out into the yard, Frank using his flashlight to point to where he and the others had seen the eyes, "Just inside the tree line it was, right there."

Bob grabbed his arm to stop him approaching closer and lifted his shotgun with his other arm, "Cover me Sam."

Sam stepped a few paces to the right and lifted his new Barrett to his shoulder.

Bob pulled his Maglight off his belt, turned it on and held it alongside the shotgun barrel. Every instinct screamed at him to not approach those dark shadows but he resisted them and slowly stepped closer, panning both the light and the shotgun back and forth into the trees. He had never seen a Genoskwa and had been hoping like hell the damned thing had passed on through all day, but he had to make sure. The hair on his neck was in full salute along with the ones on his arms. Despite the cool air of the night sweat soaked his shirt and beaded on his forehead, getting in his eyes and making them sting. He stopped to wipe them clear and forced himself to take another step.

Then another.

Frank's voice almost made him jump out of his skin, "Just there, right past where you're now standing."

Bob panned the forest, noticing an old tree fort just above ground level to the right. It had a new looking ramp leading up into it and the darkness beyond was filled with densely packed trees. They danced in his shifting Mag light, filling his imagination with giant, shifting figures.

"Careful Bob." Sam's voice made him jump again and he forced another step, into the tree line itself.

His ears seemed to be filled with roaring and he swallowed, or tried to, his throat seemed so dry it would crack with the effort.

Distantly he heard the boy, Simon, "Mummy, they're not gonna shoot the monkey are they?"

Monkey? Did the boy say monkey? He remembered Frank saying the boy had seen a monkey the day before, in the store.

In amongst the trees he stopped and scanned all around.

"Right there Bob. That's right where the eye shine was."

He pointed the Maglight down at the ground. Was that a print?

The leaves were crushed here. Something big had definitely been standing here, and recently too. As he watched he saw a bent twig straighten and lift free of the flattened earth, the sight lifting his own hairs on his neck even further.

Studying the ground he saw where a larger area had been flattened. It had dropped to its belly! Probably when Frank had lit it up with his flashlight. There! It had gone back into the trees. Trying another swallow, he followed it and saw where it had then gone sideways.

Suddenly a branch snapped, barely yards away!

The roaring in his ears was abruptly replaced with crashing brush and frantically he swung his shotgun and torch up to see a cacophony of whipping and falling branches as something very big fled away from him through the trees.

"JESUS!" He heard Sam scream and an almighty roar erupted as Sam fired his 50 cal.

But whatever it was was gone, crashing like a freight train into the gully and up the slope beyond before Bob could fire a single shot from his own gun.

Good god, it moved fast.

Soon the crashing sounds faded and disappeared altogether and Bob realised he was not breathing. He took a deep breath and suddenly felt his knees go weak.

With some effort he returned to where the others were standing, clustered around the back door of Frank's house.

"No way was that a bear!" He looked at Miss Vicky's accusing eyes. She seemed furious. At him, for some reason. He then heard sobbing and looked up the steps to see the boy, Simon staring at him through the screen door. The boy's eyes were filled with tears.

For some reason Bob felt compelled to apologise, "Sorry son."

18

On the roof the juvenile Sasquatch was terrified.

The weapons the Hairless Ones carried looked much bigger than the one he had seen the hunter use. The one that was fired certainly sounded much louder. He didn't blame his father for running off and leaving him.

He knew he should take advantage of the distraction and jump down back into the tree out front but the fear of being seen kept him frozen to the spot, despite the fact he was very exposed up here with no foliage for cover.

The Hairless Ones all went back inside. Thankfully not one looked up to where he was silhouetted against the stars. Trying not to make any noise on the slippery material he crept across to the end of the house and looked down. It was a longer drop up here from the peak but not much to a Sasquatch, even one as young as he.

The problem was the distance here was even further to the trees and light from both the front and back of the house spilled around and into the area. He judged the distance, weighing his chances of getting across unseen.

He sat there for a long time, trying to settle his fear and calm his nerves.

Remembering his parents’ teachings, he closed his eyes and tried to connect with the earth but he was not touching it, nor a tree. He was on slippery, shiny metal. Never before had he felt so far away from the world, isolated and alone on this foreign, strange surface. Forcing his breathing to slow down he finally managed to calm down a little. His heart stopped racing and he opened his eyes again.

Making his mind up he grasped the edge he was sitting on with one hand and swung himself over to lessen the drop a little. But before he could drop to the ground a light came on right next to his feet!

There was another one of those square holes on this side he had not noticed.

The light from it streamed out into the yard, making the few shadows that had been there instantly disappear.

Voices came from within and flattening himself against the wall he leaned down and across to have a look.

It was the smaller ones… the boy in the thing with wheels, the girl and the adult female.

He watched with fascination as the female undressed the boy and placed him onto a long, soft looking thing. It looked like some kind of nest.

The girl went out and returned wearing different skins before climbing into yet another strange nest of her own.

The female sat on the edge of each nest in turn, spending longer with the boy to stroke his forehead and softly talk in their strange, high-pitched, yet slow tongue.

Finally, she got up and went to the door. One hand motioned against the wall and the light instantly went off, plunging the room into darkness and relieving his squinting eyes from the glare at last.

He leaned over further to get a clearer look and saw the boy's eyes go wide as he noticed him. Glancing at the girl the young Sasquatch saw she had her back to the window and could not see him.

The boy smiled and lifted a finger to his lips.

19

Frank looked up as Vicky returned to the kitchen, "Isn't it a bit early to send the children to bed?"

She sighed as she sat on one of the stools near the bench, "Probably, but they have had a big day… should go to sleep easily enough."

She turned to where Bob sat nursing a coffee, both he and Sam had given in and accepted one from Mary. She noticed his hands shaking almost imperceptibly.

The frown returned to her face, "Mr Gurney, I think we deserve an explanation. We all know that was not a bear," she looked at Frank, who nodded in agreement, "So what on God's Good Earth was it?"

Bob looked across at Sam, who shrugged and took a sip from his cup.

"Okay Miss Vicky… Frank, Mary," he took a sip from his own cup and stared down into it for a moment before looking back up. The man suddenly looked old and tired, "You're all gonna think I'm crazy, but what the hell… half the town already thinks so anyway."

"That's very true," Sam smiled and took another sip.

Bob rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well… anyways, it's like this see… for a few years now I've been tracking… at least, trying to track, a small family troop of Sasquatch, most call them Bigfoot… Every year around this time they come through The Park as they migrate through their range."

Bob paused and looked at all three Armstrongs in turn. Their eyes were wide, but none were laughing.

He soldiered on, "I missed them this year. They must have come in via a different route this time. I had a suspicion they were in the area.. remember Percy?" He looked at Vicky, who nodded, "He had a deer stolen from under his nose… fairly typical behaviour. They hear a shot and it's like a dinner bell ringing… bears can be the same way. I've had kills taken by Brown Bears more than once, specially up north."

He paused again for another sip and looked across at Sam, who was staring down into his cup.

"Anyways, early this morning, just before sunup Sam comes pounding on my door. Sounded like the Alpha had been raiding campers up at The Park. At least that's what I first thought… but then Sam described what he had seen and I knew it wasn't my troop."

Sam shuddered, obviously recalling the vision. He still did not look up.

"Sam seen something much, much worse than a member of my Sasquatch troop. He described what to me could only be a Genoskwa."

"A what?" Frank asked.

"A Genoskwa."

Vicky spoke up, anger in her voice, “What in hell is a Genoskwa Mr Gurney?"

"A particularly vicious type of Sasquatch, Miss Vicky. I have never actually seen one but the tribes talk of them… and warn about them. Apparently, unlike the other types, who are omnivorous, they are strictly meat eaters… and will not hesitate at snatching up a careless lone human from time to time."

"Jesus," Vicky's eyes were no longer angry. Bob saw they were now scared like the others, "And was that it? That… thing… that went crashing off through the trees tonight?"

Bob thought about it. He didn't know why but he sensed what they had chased off was not the Genoskwa, "I don't know. There is no way of knowing. It could have been… or perhaps it was one of my troop."

"What?" Sam finally looked up. His eyes were tired and red, "Bob, you trying to tell me what we run off wasn't that damned monster?"

Bob shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know Sam. It could have been. Come morning I will look for tracks… until then we have to assume that it could still be around. Remember there is a good chance my troop is somewhere in the vicinity, and the shot you fired could have been interpreted as the dinner bell ringing too."

"Ah Christ," It was unusual for Sam to swear, but the man was obviously worn out. He looked at Frank, "You people have any guns?"

For once Mary spoke up, "No, no we don’t. Frank doesn’t hunt and I don't like guns." She looked worried, "Can you two stay? I can make up a couple of spare beds in the living room?"

Frank put his arm around his wife's shoulders, “We'll be all right Mary. Sam better get home to his wife. His duty is to protect The Park."

Sam waved his hand, "Betty is staying in town tonight. And I've closed The Park, there's nobody there. If Bob is right and I've just rung the dinner bell, we better stay put. Hopefully the damned thing will come running… that's if we didn’t already run it into the next county. What do you think Bob?"

Bob opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak there was a scream from the children's room.

Vicky jumped to her feet, "Sophie!"

20

The Juvenile Sasquatch dropped to the ground and on all fours bounded across the lit up yard, the girl's scream ringing in his ears.

She was still screaming when, with relief, he made the safety of the trees. Ducking sideways and dropping low in imitation of his father earlier, he turned to look back.

The light had come back on and figures crammed into the square of light, blocking out most of it. There was much shouting and he could hear the boy's voice as the girl's screaming finally stopped. He was shouting and crying at the same time and from where the juvenile lay he could see the boy in the window, tugging at a man's arm. The man was trying to lift his weapon but the boy kept pulling at his arm and shouting frantically.

There was the now-familiar slam of the back door and the other man came running around the corner, holding a jerking, jumping light in one hand and his weapon in the other.

The juvenile tried to lower himself even further into the ground, his mind racing. Should he run? Or should he freeze and try to become invisible? Indecision froze him to the spot as the man ran closer, skidded to a halt, lifted his weapon alongside his light and began scanning the trees, thankfully well above the juvenile's head.

But then it lowered, lighting up the soft grass he had just run across. The light froze for a moment and the juvenile realised the Hairless One had seen his tracks! Slowly the light moved in fits and starts, coming closer to where he had run into the brush, the man followed his light, getting closer and closer. Adrenaline flooded the juvenile's veins but he stayed put. It was too late to flee now. He would be shot for sure.

In the window the boy was still shouting and crying, his voice getting higher and higher. Flicking his eyes up the juvenile saw the boy was looking out towards the hunter and where he lay, hidden in the brush.

The light reached the brush and began scanning towards him!

Remembering how his father's eyes had glowed red when light had hit them, he snapped shut his own, just in time too for through his tightly squeezed eye-lids he was suddenly flooded with bright, all-consuming light.

Willing the brightness to pass on he kept his eyes closed, trying desperately to merge into the ground, to become one with the earth he lay on. He was a bush, just like the others all around him. Every muscle tensed in anticipation of the thunderous roar he knew must come soon.

With tremendous effort he stayed still. He was a rock. As still as the bones of the earth. The light seemed to stay on him forever.

Then it abruptly passed on and the juvenile felt instant relief, his mind screaming to take the chance and run. But it was only for a moment, because the light came back almost straight away and locked on him again. He was seen! He sensed the hunter's eyes locking on him. Despite his efforts to be still, he could not stop himself opening his eyes and the brightness instantly overwhelmed him with its intensity. He knew his eyes would be glowing red like his father's had done but he could not close them again, nor run. All he could do was wait for the crash and the death that would follow.

Instead there was a loud cracking of tortured green wood off to one side.

Instantly the light left him and shone instead into the woods where the noise was coming from. The cracking quickly grew louder and a large tree came smashing through its neighbours to hit the ground with an enormous crash that the juvenile could feel shaking the ground under his body.

Recognising his chance, he leapt to his feet and took off, as fast as he had ever run before.

For a moment he felt the light hit him again and braced for the thunderclap… but it did not come and he was gone, beyond its glare and into the darkness and safety of the trees.

Suddenly his mother was there!

She swept him up into her warm, hairy embrace.

Then his father joined her.

He had come back!

He was safe!

Tears streamed from his eyes with relief and his body started shaking as his breathing and heart finally slowed, clearing his veins of the adrenaline that had seemingly forever been coursing through them.

His father patted his head and smiled before turning to make his way through the quiet darkness of the trees. Still clinging to his mother, she and he followed, once more in the safety of the starlit forest.

21

Vicky hugged her daughter tightly as her sobbing started to slow.

From where she sat on the bed she could just see past the ranger at the window as the tree came crashing down through the other trees, the very top reaching even into the yard. What the hell was going on out there?

Simon was still shouting, “Don't shoot it! Don’t shoot it!" and tugging at the man's arm, tears streaming out of his eyes.

Suddenly it dawned on Vicky that her son was standing, using his weight to try and pull down the weapon's barrel. How had he got from his bed to the window?

"Simon?" she left her daughter and went to her son, dropping beside him onto her knees.

He turned his sobbing face to her, "Don't let them shoot the monkey Mommy." Her heart breaking, she wrapped her arms around her son.

The ranger turned from the window and dropped one hand to his shoulder, "Don't worry son. It got away. Nobody shot anything." before leaving the room.

It was all Vicky could do to not break down as she hugged her boy. Pulling back from him she wiped away the tears and stroked his hair, "Simon, you walked. You walked. Thank god, you walked."

Tears still weeping from his eyes he attempted a smile, "I know Mommy. I didn't want the man to shoot the monkey."

Her eyes filling with her own tears, Vicky helped him back into bed and tucked him in, "Nobody shot anything my dear, baby boy."

He looked up at her, "Sorry to make you cry Mommy."

She wiped her eyes, "I'm not sad, Simon. I'm really, really happy. I can't believe you walked again." In just one day her son was talking again and walking again. It was almost too much, too overwhelming. She looked across at Sophie, "Did you see that Soph? Simon walked!"

Sophie attempted a smile, eyes wide and scared, "Yes Mom. I saw." Pulling herself away from her children, Vicky went to the window to close it, making sure it was locked before pulling down the blind, then moving to the door she lifted her hand to the light.

"Please Mom," pleaded Sophie, "Don't turn it off. Leave it on. I'm scared."

Running back to her daughter, Vicky gave her a big hug, "Sure sweetheart. I will leave it on… but don't worry, whatever it was it's gone now. And I will be just down the hall in the kitchen okay?"

She paused again at the door and blew kisses to them both, "I'll leave the door open too okay?"

"Sure Mom. Thank you."

Wiping the tears away Vicky headed back to the kitchen. Everyone was there, sitting as they had been before. She took her place on the stool once more and looked directly at Mr Gurney, "Will someone please tell me what is going on?"

Mary spoke up first, "How are the kids?" She had been the only one who had not left the kitchen at Sophie's scream, "Did I hear Simon shouting?"

Vicky looked at her mother-in-law's worried eyes, "Yes, he did… and not only that, he walked!"

"Oh my, that is good news."

"Yes, it is," Frank said, "I saw him. He jumped out of bed as if nothing had ever been wrong with his legs. It was amazing!"

Sam looked confused, "Hang on. What was wrong with the boy's legs? I thought he was paralysed or something?"

Vicky sighed, "He was in a car accident several months ago with his father," she felt her throat close up and the tears push once more at the walls she had built. Forcing them back she continued, "Both his legs were broken and he was trapped in the vehicle. It took them two hours to cut him free, during which he was forced to watch his father die," her voice sounded distant to her own ears, as if she was listening to someone reading a news report, "They fixed his legs and said there was no lasting nerve damage but he couldn't walk. The doctors said it was psychological and not unexpected considering what he had gone through. Until two days ago he had not even spoken out loud, let alone walk," her voice cracked at the end, the tears threatening once more. Not now, not yet!

"Ah yes, the day he saw his monkey," Bob Gurney's eyes were boring into her.

"Yes," Frank took over, thankfully giving Vicky a chance to recover, "And then today he was laughing. Sophie and I left him in the tree fort for a moment. We came back out and he was laughing his head off… thing is," he looked thoughtful, as if remembering something forgotten until that moment, "When I heard him I coulda swore I heard another voice… someone laughing along with him? Sophie thinks she saw something leap into the trees as we approached. When I asked him what he was laughing at he spoke again… said the monkey had come back."

"Did he say how big this “monkey” was?" asked Bob.

"No, no he didn't. We went right inside because it was getting dark. Hadn't been inside long when there was a strange hooting sound. We all went out to investigate and that's when I saw the eye-shine… just before you two showed up."

"And ran whatever it was off," Vicky had gotten control of herself. With perhaps too much anger in her voice she focused once more on Mr Gurney, "So please tell me… tell us, Mr Gurney… what in heaven's name is going on? What are these things? And why did it come back? Your friend shot at it for God's sake!"

"I told you. It is… they are Sasquatch… Bigfoot. More than one. The one we run off was probably the Alpha, but he didn't go far before circling back for some reason. Probably for his kid."

"His kid?" Sam spoke up at last, his voice incredulous.

"Yes, his kid. I told you all, I've been tracking this troop for a few years now. It's a family group, Alpha male, female and a single youngun, I estimate somewhere around three, four years old. The younguns are always curious, sometimes too curious for their own good," Vicky remembered the vision she thought she had seen that first night, on the road into town.

Bob continued to speak, "It would have been the youngun your son saw at the creek, and then today. I spect it was fascinated with him, bein’ around the same age an all, and then bein’ in the wheelchair as well. Goin' by what just happened I would guess it had been peekin in at him through the window just now. That would have been what made your daughter scream I would guess."

"You would guess?" Vicky felt like she was in a dream. Surely she would wake up soon.

"Well yeah, considering what I seen when I went out there just now."

The ranger spoke up again, "What did you see Bob?"

"The youngun, Sam. It was hidin back in the trees a bit, real low, pretending to be a bush or somethin. They do that. It's why people rarely see them. They stay perfectly still, and their hairy bodies are the perfectly camouflage… a natural ghillie suit. If you don't know what to look for you look right at them without seein them… Unless you catch their eyes with a light. This one was smart, he had his eyes closed tight. I wasn't even sure I was lookin at him til he couldn't help himself no more and opened his eyes," he looked at Frank, "The one you seen would have been his Daddy. The eye-shine you caught… it was up about eight, nine feet, right?"

"That's right. But it just disappeared all a sudden and I couldn't see it anymore."

Bob smiled, "It dropped and belly-crawled away a bit. They do that… amazing sight if you ever see them do it. Real quiet and fast, literally on their fingertips and toes. He was still there, watching you the whole time… til I came along."

Frank shuddered and his face paled, "You mean there was an 8 foot monster within feet of me the whole time I was out there? Without even a gun?"

Bob smiled again, "This big boy is just over 9 foot, and at least 7 or 800 pounds, I've seen him… once, from a respectful distance, thank God. If he wanted you he would have got you Frank. …Rest assured, he didn't want you, nor your family. He was probably looking out for his kid is all."

"What about the tree?" Vicky enquired, "That was one big tree. Surely the young one could not have pushed it over?"

"No, that was Daddy. Like I said, he must have circled around and come back. He pushed over the tree to distract me so his kid could get away. I had his youngun dead to rights. Could have shot him if I wanted to."

"So why didn’t you?"

"Why would I? They weren’t trying to hurt anybody. The youngun was curious is all. Believe me, if these things want you they're gonna get you… and you most likely would never even know what got you. In my experience they are very rarely aggressive… protective of each other, but otherwise not as dangerous as they look."

"That's not what you said earlier," Mary spoke up from where she stood near the sink, quietly listening the whole time, "You said they take people. Your friend the ranger closed The Park to protect people, didn't he?"

"Ah yes," Bob coughed, "The Genoskwa. Those things are a different story altogether."

Vicky stared at the man, trying not to blame him for what was going on, "And where is your Genoskwa now?"

Bob looked at Sam, suddenly feeling dog-tired, "I wish I knew."

22

The Genoskwa felt his anger and frustration grow.

He had resisted the urge to take one of the Hairless campers, instead content with raiding their ice boxes and getting some amusement from scaring them silly. He had even resisted taking one of the two hunters that had tracked him the following day, instead leading them away south towards the town he knew to be nearby, then circling around back to the camps.

But now he was hungry again and the camping area that had been packed with Hairless Ones the night before was empty. Even the bins were empty.

He knew that animals usually grew careless around such areas but there had been so many campers there even the animals had seemed to abandon the area completely.

In frustration he headed for the dwelling where he had amused himself scaring the Hairless female the night before. As usual the night was silent as he ghosted through the trees, even the crickets seemed aware of his hungry presence. As he approached he noted the house was dark and even before he got close he sensed it to be empty. The bins here too proved empty and his frustration grew in tandem with his hunger. Perhaps he should not have resisted and taken one of the children the night before. He could have hung it in a tree to keep for tonight and he would have fed.

But like all of his kind he knew taking a Hairless One usually meant lots more would flood the area looking for it, which meant he would have had to leave anyway.

After leading the hunters away he had sheltered from the noonday heat in the lower branches of a giant tree, where he could catch some breeze wafting up the valley. From his vantage point he had observed the town in the near distance. Perhaps he should go there? It was dangerous with so many Hairless Ones about, but it would also be plentiful with food... bins, pets, and maybe he might give in to temptation and enjoy the tangy meat of one of their young?

Making his mind up he headed for the road that led there. He would follow it, just inside the tree line. Who knew, maybe he would not have to enter the town itself? There might be one out walking a dog? The thought of dog meat was almost as intoxicating as that of savouring the flesh of a Hairless One itself.

Sure enough, as if his thoughts had called it, he heard the drone of one of their machines approaching. Quickly he positioned himself behind a large tree, close enough to step out when it came past.

The noise grew and around the next corner came one of the smaller machines they rode like a horse. Its rider was coming fast, he had to make the decision whether or not to take it quickly. His rumbling belly made it for him and he stepped out onto the road, his arms outstretched, ready to grab it as it went by.

23

The sun was peaking through the lower branches of the trees as Bob and Sam drove back towards The Park.

They had agreed to stay the remainder of the night at the Armstrong's mainly because the family was unarmed, but it had proven uneventful, thankfully. After a quick, quiet breakfast they departed for The Park, determined to persist in driving out the Genoskwa before another night fell.

Bob was staring into the trees while Sam drove, both men lost in their own thoughts, when he noticed something out of place, "Stop!"

He was out of the vehicle before it had even stopped and jogging back down the road. They were not far from the turnoff to The Park, though well within its borders. Getting closer he saw a long skid mark on the Tarmac. It curved off the road right into the gap in the low brush he had noticed from the truck. Slowing to a walk he saw the reason why, just inside the gap and laying on its side was a motorbike. He recognised it right away as the one Percy Barnett rode, but there was no sign of the teenager.

Sam joined him at the edge of the road, "Isn't that the Barnett boy's bike?"

Bob nodded and scanned the ground for sign before getting any closer. He didn't want to damage any tracks. Sam made to walk towards the bike but Bob grabbed his arm, "Wait."

The ranger stepped back. Watching Bob the day before he had learnt new respect for this crazy old man. He somehow read sign that Sam couldn't even see, and he had always thought himself a fair tracker, "What do you see?"

In answer Bob just held up a hand and gingerly stepped towards the bike, but off to one side, well away from the path it had made into the low bushes that spotted the road side. That now-familiar chill ran up and down his spine as he studied the ground. Foolishly he had left his shotgun in Sam's truck, "Get the guns Sam."

Sam paled and raced back to the truck, quickly returning with both weapons. Being careful to follow Bob's footsteps he handed him his shotgun. It didn’t help his nerves when Bob pumped a round as soon as it was in his hands, although the man's eyes did not leave the ground.

Nervously Sam studied the surrounding trees, chambering a round into his 50 Cal as he did so.

He whispered, "What do you see Bob?"

"Looks like the boy came off his bike." Squatting Bob placed a hand on the engine, "It's cold. Must have happened couple of hours back. The question is why? Why did he come off? And where did he go?"

He studied the ground some more and began slowly walking further into the trees, "Looks like boot prints... running... but into the trees. Why would he do that? Why not go back to the road?"

Walking slowly, studying the ground as he went, Bob continued into the trees, away from the road. Sam followed, the hair on his neck raising as he saw for himself the unmistakeable sign of the teenager's boots.

The tracks circled back towards the road where they lost them on the Tarmac. Bob looked back down the road. The teenager had run perhaps two hundred yards in a big semi-circle, and by the length of the stride and occasional broken branch he had been going flat out, with little regard for possible injury. Twice he had fallen and regained his feet. Obviously something had been chasing him.

His eyes nervously scanning the trees all around, Bob walked back down the road towards where the bike had left it. Several feet before it he noticed some random leaves on the tarmac in one spot. Bending he picked them up. They were dry and long dead, litter from the forest floor. Looking to his left he saw a very large tree. The leaves around its base had been disturbed by something standing there.

Walking towards it he knelt and brushed aside a couple of broken twigs that had fallen into a depression.

Sam looked over his shoulder, "That print looks familiar."

"Yup." It was the Gensoskwa they had tracked the day before.

He looked up, into the brush paralleling the boy's frantic path through the trees. Here there were many broken branches, some two or more feet above his head. Studying the ground he noticed many more large, deep impressions in the leaf litter, several feet apart. It looked like a small tractor had smashed its way into the forest, one unconcerned with making noise. Several large fallen branches looked like they had been purposely stepped on.

He shuddered at the image that formed in his mind... the boy, terrified, running for his life, while a bipedal beast, at least eight feet tall, toyed with him, crashing through trees and branches, stomping on logs, breaking tree limbs, spurring the lad on to greater efforts.

Bob remembered reading a theory years before... on how certain predators toyed with their prey in order to increase adrenaline flow and thus make the meat richer in taste. He shuddered again and reaching the point where it had burst out onto the road again he turned to Sam.

The man's face was pale as a ghost, his eyes wide, sweat pouring from his brow despite the cool morning air, "Sam, better call the Sheriff. Ask him to contact Hank Barnett, Percy's father. Also ask him to get some tracking dogs out here right away."

Sam swallowed, "Okay Bob. What do you think? Think he got away?"

Bob shook his head, "I doubt it Sam. If it was a regular Squatch, maybe. Some like to scare folks. They get a kick out of it. But a Genoskwa? … if that is what it is... and your description of the teeth leaves little doubt in my mind."

"What'll I tell the sheriff? Should I tell him what we're chasin?"

"Not if you want him to take you seriously. Stick with the rogue bear story, for now."

24

The Genoskwa was a male in his prime, his strength and power in the forest was unrivalled… except by another Sasquatch.

Concerned his night's activities by the road might make that pathway towards the Hairless town dangerous, he instead decided to follow the waterways. He had not traveled far when he became aware of the Steyamah troop somewhere up ahead. He saw the signs and marked the size of the few prints they left as they passed through.

The male he estimated to be equal to him in size, another Alpha in his prime. He did not want to cross him and risk injury, yet he had now been forced to follow the troop in order to safely approach the Hairless town.

No Sasquatch risked injury if it could in any way be avoided. Injury often led to hunger and death, the former of much more concern to the Genoskwa than the latter, which was typical of his kind. If it came to a showdown he would not fight. All he wanted was to pass by and find more easy meals closer to the Hairless town.

The Steyamah were more cautious as a rule, avoiding Hairless Ones as if they were afraid of them. Generations had taught the Sasquatch Clans that the puny, noisy creatures were indeed to be feared when in large numbers. And the taking of one often meant large numbers of them armed with deadly weapons would come in pursuit.

But the Gensokwa knew they were easily outwitted in the forests and mountains of the world. They were slow and clumsy, easy to outrun and outdistance. He had taken several over his lifetime and had not received more than a scratch for his efforts.

Watchful, yet confident in his power, he made his way down the valley's side, avoiding the creek itself for that would be where the Steyamah Alpha would be, but still following the water towards the town downstream.

25

Vicky rubbed her eyes as she entered the kitchen.

Mary was at the stove cooking up her usual overlarge breakfast of pancakes, bacon and eggs.

Frank was nowhere to be seen, neither were the two men, Bob and Sam.

"Where is everybody?"

Mary turned with a big smile on her face. The woman was impressive. Why was her world not turned upside down like Vicky's?, "Mr Gurney and the Ranger have already eaten and left for The Park. Frank's gone into town to buy a gun. Are you hungry?"

Vicky went to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup, "No thanks Mary. I don't feel like eating right now, still digesting what happened last night."

"Nonsense, here, get this into your belly," a large plate of pancakes was placed on the table. Not wanting to appear ungrateful, Vicky sat in front of them and took a sip of the coffee.

She stared at the pancakes. Why her mother-in-law was not fat herself puzzled her. She was always cooking and shoving food down her and the kids' throats.

Before she could even pick up her cutlery Sophie walked in and sat opposite, rubbing her eyes with one hand, "Hi Soph, where's Simon?"

"I thought he must be here. Haven't you seen him?"

A chill instantly coursed through Vicky's body and she jumped to her feet, running down the hall towards the kids' bedroom. His bed covers were thrown back, the wheelchair sitting against the wall unused. Frantically she looked for his shoes. They were gone. Then she noticed the window. It was open. She clearly remembered closing it last night.

Growing frantic, she ran outside and called, "Simon? Simon! Where are you?"

There was no answer.

She ran to the tree fort but he was not there. A quick look in the old barn proved it empty as well, "SIMON!" She screamed, her voice cracking with the effort.

Mary and Sophie came to the door, "Mom? What's wrong? Where is Simon?"

"I don't know!" Vicky felt the waves of tears thrusting against her carefully built walls again, "I don't know! SIMON!"

She felt panic threaten to overwhelm her body. With tremendous will she forced it down and screamed at herself to think! Calm down and think!

She remembered Bob Gurney talking about the small Sasquatch he had seen last night and ran across the yard.

Where had he been standing when he was shining the torch? Frantically she scanned the grass, trying to see tracks. She looked at the window to the kid's bedroom and tried to work it out.

There! It must have been there! She thought she recognised the shape of a tree but it looked so different in the daylight. The frustration added to the panic and tears she was somehow just managing to hold back.

The tree that was pushed over!

She ran across the lawn to the top of the fallen tree. She could see where some of the branches had broken from the impact of it hitting the ground, crushing smaller trees and brush beneath it. Forcing her way through the undergrowth she made her way to the trunk and there in the disturbed earth was one clear, small shoe print. Simon!

It was pointing away, into the thicker brush that filled the small gully beside the house yard. Looking closer she saw what might be another track where the leaves were crushed down.

Then she looked again at the earth near where the tree's roots had been and a chill ran down her spine. The leaves were crushed flat in several places. The soft earth under them was pressed deep into a group of depressions, each one longer than her forearm and half as wide... footprints! Very big footprints. My god, whatever made those had to be enormous!

She followed them with her eyes and saw where a large body could have passed through the thick trees in the same direction as Simon's shoe print had pointed… if it pushed aside the smaller branches.

She began to follow but a voice halted her.

"Vicky?" It was Mary, "Wait until Frank gets back with a gun!"

She turned and saw the woman standing near the fallen tree top.

Vicky shook her head, "It might be too late by then! Send him after me!"

"Mom?" Sophie appeared beside Mary, "I'm coming with you."

"No! Stay here with your grandmother!" Mary placed a hand on the girls shoulder, "I won't be long!" Turning, she began purposely making her way into the trees, following whatever had been powerful enough to push over such a large tree.

At least, that was the plan. Surely such a large animal should be easy to track, even for she, a girl from the city. But within a dozen yards she had no idea if it had gone on straight ahead or turned.

She scanned the ground, looking for tracks, either the monster's or her son's.

Desperately she held her emotions at bay. With every inward breath they threatened to overwhelm her.

Her little boy was out here, somewhere. She had to find him. But which way?

She opened her mouth to call once more but the sight of a broken branch caught her breath. Stepping closer she studied it. The leaves were fresh and green. The break was about head high and halfway down its length, as if something had grabbed it and snapped, something with hands!

Looking at the ground she noticed the dry fallen leaves in one spot had been flattened, like she had seen back near the house. Three paces further there was another one. Now she knew what she was looking for she noticed more, smaller areas of flattened and crushed leaves, but even the smallest was too big to have been Simon. In fact, she had seen no indication of Simon's passing since his clear shoe print back at the fallen tree. Panic fluttered its wings in her chest but with great effort of will, she forced it down. She took a deep breath and hoping her instincts would guide her she followed the path of least resistance through the brush and up the far side of the wash.

Thankfully the trees were very thick. Surely a large creature could not pass through if she could not and there seemed to be only one direction that she could.

Taking her time and testing each direction constantly for resistance she slowly made her way up and over the ridge into another low, lush valley.

Here the trees were larger, less dense, but she still could not see very far. She was higher up though so she tried another call, "Simon! SIMOOON!"

Cocking her head and trying to slow her heavy breathing she listened for an answer.

There was none.

Making her way down the valley wall she realised she must be well downstream of the creek they had all gone to two days before. Occasionally she caught glimpses of the water through the trees.

She stopped again, cupped her hand to her mouth and repeated her call, "SI-MON!"

Her ears ached for a response. The forest was silent except for a sharp knock from across the creek, as if a branch had been blown by the wind to hit on a tree.

But there was no wind?

With no other choice before her she started to walk down hill towards where the sound had come from. As soon as she moved there was another knock, from the same spot.

"Simon!"

Starting to run she almost ran into a low branch, the twigs tearing at her face like the ghostly claws of some animal.

Backing up and taking a deep breath she forced herself to slow down.

God she wished David were here. He would know what to do. She had no idea, no option other than to head towards the sound.

Suddenly tears welled in her eyes at the thought of her lost husband. Once more she forced them back. No! Not now!

Gritting her teeth she started to work her way down towards where she thought the sound had come from.

26

The Genoskwa heard the warning tree knock from where he stood on the lowest branch of an ancient tree even wider than he was, watching the Hairless Woman stumble through the bush, screaming a sound, over and over again.

Prey was indeed plentiful even this far from the town for here was a Hairless female, wandering about the forest, alerting the whole world to her presence.

The Genoskwa's constant hunger was temporarily satisfied from the night before so he was content to follow the female until his hunger grew again. But now she was heading for the tree knock and he did not want to fight a Steyamah Alpha for his next meal, there would be more than enough to satisfy his hunger closer to the town.

The Hairless female screamed the sound again.

Despite not understanding the word used the Genoswkwa felt the female's terror under the desperation. She seemed to be searching for something. Maybe that was what she was screaming for… calling another one of her kind? Or perhaps a pet?

For some strange reason Hairless Ones allowed dogs and cats around them, even fed and housed them! Having observed how they looked after other animals only to feed on them later, the Genoskwa had always assumed they must eventually eat the dogs and cats that followed them around as well.

Many times in the past he had beaten them to it, growing to enjoy the taste of dog in particular.

Maybe he could find the subject of the female's calling, and let the Steyamah have the female?

Or maybe it would not want the female and instead scare it right into his arms?

He knew the Steyahmah were cautious about drawing more Hairless Ones to them and rarely took one for that reason, but being a Genoskwa his hunger almost always had priority over caution.

The female was out of sight in the trees now, heading right down towards where the creek slowly meandered its way towards the town.

Making his mind up he stepped off the branch and followed it.

27

Frank pushed open the door to the hardware store. It always amused him to do so. It was now the 21st century and the store still did not have automatic doors.

Good, the place was empty. Frank knew absolutely nothing about guns but after the events of last night he was determined to finally own one.

The attendant was nice enough, and very helpful.

His eyes went wide when Frank asked to buy a gun, a big one.

He stroked the stubble on his face as if it were a full beard, "Whatever for, Mr Armstrong? You plannin’ on takin up huntin’?"

"No Leroy. It's for protection."

"Okay, what you want is a shotgun, that way aimin’ don’t have to be a worry… you just point it in the general direction and pull the trigger."

"That sounds perfect. Do you have one that fires automatically too?"

Leroy smiled, "Ha, no but we do have a pump action one. I'll go get you one."

The bell over the door rang and Frank turned to see the town Sheriff enter. He nodded at Frank and called out to the attendant, "Leroy! We need your dogs! Barnett boy's come of his bike and gone missin!"

Frank felt his stomach drop, "Oh no, where sheriff?"

"Somewhere's along Park road. The ranger just called me."

Leroy returned with a long box, "Sure Sheriff, I’ll just close up when I'm done with Mr Armstrong here."

"Thanks Leroy. I just gotta go tell Hank his boy's gone missin. I'll see you out there." The bell rang as the door closed again.

In a few minutes Leroy had shown him how to load and operate his new shotgun. While he was filling out the paperwork the phone rang and Leroy picked it up, "Hi, Hell's Canyon Hardware?… Yeah sure, he's right here," Frank looked up, "It's for you… your wife."

"Ah, okay, thanks," he lifted it to his ear, "Mary?"

Mary's usual calm voice was frantic on the other end, "Frank, oh thank God. You gotta get back here, Simon's gone missing and Vicky's gone looking for him! With those things out there!"

28

The hair on Vicky's neck could not be any straighter as she made her way down the hill towards the tree-knocks she had heard. For some reason they didn't sound quite natural to her hypersensitive ears. And anyway, she was now hopelessly lost so had no better options.

If they had been made by Simon, why didn't he answer her calling out?

If not him then maybe he had heard them too? And was heading towards them right now, like she was?

For the first time she wondered why the boy had not felt danger when seeing his "Monkey’. Indeed, he had spoken… and walked! For the first time in months!

Which then made her wonder how a four-year-old who had not used his legs for months was possibly able to walk this far?

Reaching the slowly flowing creek she saw she could get across it here using the rocks so did not hesitate. The sounds had come from a thick stand of saplings on the other side. Now she was closer to them she could just make out the trunk of a massive tree in the centre. For some reason her eyes were drawn to it. She forced herself to look away, seeking an easy way in to it. On the left looked like a larger space between the many small, thin trunks so she headed for it.

Her eyes flicked back to the enormous tree. Huh? Had it moved?

Suddenly she became aware of a buzzing in her ears, which seemed to form a word, "Vicky!"

The voice froze her in her tracks. It was David's voice! Her eyes instantly blurred. No it could not be! She had to have imagined it! But why? And so clear?

The waters of her emotions had been building and building for all this time, now their weight suddenly massed against the dam she had so carefully built.

He eyes were too blurry to even see as she held her breath, refusing to allow the intake that she knew would catch in her throat and crack the wall. Her ears were ringing and movement to her right blurred through the tears. David!

He was there! Walking towards her! The shock forced her to breath and sure enough, it caught in her throat and she felt the crack instantly form and start to spread.

Oh God, David!

Desperately she wiped at her eyes.

Something was wrong! Why was he wearing football pads?

And David was not that big! As he got steadily closer he loomed over her, his enormous frame blocking the light.

Finally her eyes cleared a little and she saw she was not looking at her dead and buried husband. This person was huge!

And hairy!

And female! Vicky saw sagging breasts under the hair!

Her head was slung low into her shoulders and Vicky sensed enormous power and strength in the muscle definition under the straggly hair.

Vicky looked up at the giant hairy woman's expressionless face. At first she could not even see the eyes beneath the heavy brow, they were so dark. But then a tiny reflection of light glinted and with surprise Vicky thought she saw concern in them.

Rather than flee screaming, Vicky felt the crack in her wall suddenly become a gaping chasm and the waters exploded free, instantly overwhelming her. She fell to her knees as the waves crashed over her, pummelling her to the ground with their irresistible force. Great heaving gasps provided the air for her anguished moans as the flood of tears poured forth.

On and on the waters flowed, eroding away all traces of the wall she had so carefully built over so many months.

Finally, the flood slowed and faded to a trickle, leaving in their place an emptiness that sucked at her soul. She took in one more, massive gulp of air, threw her head back and howled her pain to the world.

As the sound left her she squeezed tight her eyes, trying to somehow shut out the world and shield what little was left of her soul from its misery. From the far horizon of the empty plain of her sorrow, something small grew in her mind as it came towards her. She desperately focussed in on it and it formed into a face… the face of her son, Simon!

She opened her eyes and looked up to see the huge, hairy woman take a step back.

She was looking at something behind her! Simon?

Vicky felt her heart lift and she spun around.

But it was not Simon.

It was an enormous, straggly-haired monster!

It stood just yards away, one long, boulder-filled arm parallel to the ground, leading to a hand like a pitcher's mitt made for Andre the Giant. The hand's long fingers were wrapped around a small tree trunk. The other arm was hanging by its side, almost to its knees. Its shoulders were wider than her car and rippled with massed ropes of muscle thicker than her wrist. A chest that would have suited a bull lifted and expanded in one long, endless intake of breath.

Then she saw its teeth as it smiled!

They were pointed and sharp, and she knew whatever this thing was it was not a vegetarian.

Behind her the female growled and Vicky sensed it was directed not at her, but at this creature from her worst nightmares. A spark of hope tried to ignite in her mind. Maybe the female would protect her from it?

But the hope faded as the monster let go of the tree, took a step forward, and returned the hairy woman's growl with its own.

At first Vicky felt rather than heard it as her chest began to vibrate, but then the sound finally reached her ears. So low to be barely audible it nevertheless seemed to fill the air around her, thickening it to soup and her head involuntarily sagged as she felt her neck muscles go suddenly weak.

On and on the growl sounded, rising and falling like waves on a beach, pounding and eroding away at her sanity.

Finally it finished and she somehow managed to straighten her neck and look back up at the demon sent to devour her. Deep within its heavy brows two bright coals flared into life, focussed on some deep part of her soul that she was until now unaware of.

But then her bones began to vibrate again and the monster snapped closed its toothy smile and lifted its head to the right.

With tremendous effort Vicky managed to turn her own head and follow its gaze.

Out of the saplings stepped the tree she had seen before! But now she saw it for what it really was… Another gigantic, hairy monster! It snarled and she saw this one's teeth looked like her own… only much, much bigger.

As it advanced it reached out and grabbed a tree as thick around as her thigh and with one twisting snap of the wrist, broke it free as if it was a celery stick.

A strange, barely audible humming seemed to fill the air as her bones vibrated faster. Suddenly Vicky's bladder involuntarily loosened, soaking her calves and ankles. The advancing monster swiped one hand down the tree trunk it carried, ridding it of its branches. Then it snapped the thinner end off and held it there, letting go with its other hand and swinging it experimentally.

All the time the humming grew and finally a low, bass growl began to rattle in Vicky's ears.

Suddenly her stomach clenched and she folded up again, violently throwing up between her fists, which were clenching the ground in pain.

Somehow she forced her head back up to watch these two enormous monsters facing each other. The air was heavy with what she knew must be rumbling growls that even vibrated her eyeballs, causing the incredible scene to shift and blur like she was watching it through rippling water.

More movement entered her field of view and tearing her eyes away from the incredible tableau before her she managed to focus on yet another creature! It leapt into the branches behind the one she had thought was a tree to watch the proceedings wide-eyed… Simon's monkey!

The thought of her boy sparked some life to return to her body and with tremendous effort, Vicky somehow got to her feet against the weight of the sound that was filling her and her world around her. But the effort was too much and she collapsed again, all strength gone from her body.

What was wrong with her?

Suddenly the growling stopped. Instantly the pressure lifted and the air cleared as both monsters straightened and turned their heads, or rather, their upper bodies to look in the same direction upstream.

Vicky realised she could hear a dog barking!

The sound, reassuringly familiar to her tortured ears, came from across the creek and it was swiftly coming closer!

29

Bob Gurney stayed well back from the others.

The sheriff had been suspicious when two of the dogs had refused to track once they had smelled the Genoskwa. To be frank, he was surprised the big old coonhound cross of Leroy's had persisted in giving it a go. It was either incredibly brave or simply the more stupid of Leroy's three dogs.

Ahead of Bob Sam and the sheriff followed just behind Leroy and his dog, Sam constantly scanning the surrounding trees as he walked. Bob didn't know if the sweat under the ranger's arms was from the tension or the effort of constantly swinging his heavy weapon from one side to the next.

By the sound of the dog's excited barking they were gaining on the booger, encouraging Bob to hang back just a little further where he could watch for any sign of being ambushed.

As he had expected they were following the creek downstream towards town. Boogers almost always followed the waterways when they could. Not only was food concentrated around water, so was cover. But this booger followed along the side of the ridge some distance above the creek, rather than in the creek itself. For some reason it maintained a cautious distance from the flowing water, even though it was much hotter in the sun on the side of the ridge.

And it had not bedded down for the midday sun either?

Did it know it was being followed?

But if so, surely it would be in the creek, using the water to erase its trail?

He knew the Armstrong's property lay over the ridge, maybe the Genoskwa was aware of the Bigfoot troop in the area?

The barking grew even more intense and he had to trot to keep up with the sudden increase in speed of the tracking party. He rounded a bend and came across a scene he would never forget.

The sheriff and Sam were frozen to the spot, Leroy struggling to hold his lunging hound. All three men were in total shock, eyes wide and mouths hanging open in disbelief. Even Sam, who had seen the Genoskwa before, seemed rooted to the earth, his weapon forgotten in his hand.

The monster itself seemed equally surprised, as if it had only been expecting the dog to appear by itself, not four heavily armed humans.

At the monster's feet was a woman, slumped to the ground on her knees. Her face was pale and with her hair in total disarray it took a moment for Bob to realise he was looking at Vicky Armstrong!

She had obviously been crying and by the small puddle in front of her knees, vomiting as well.

On the other side of her was another booger, equal in size to the immense Genoskwa that towered over her! It held a tree trunk fashioned into a rough club in one hand.

Bob had seen this one before, a couple of years ago, though not this close. It was the Alpha male from his troop!

The entire scene took only a split second for him to take in. He seemed to be the only member of the tableau not frozen to the earth.

He lifted his shotgun but for some reason it felt too heavy, the movement painfully slow. His movement triggered more, from a branch behind and above the Alpha.

The youngster was there as well! And off to one side his peripheral vision detected yet another! The female!

Somehow he managed to lift his weapon to aim it towards the main threat, in his eyes at least... the Genoskwa. It felt as heavy as a car engine and the barrel seemed to take forever to aim. The air itself had taken on the consistency of treacle. Even the dog's barking seemed to have slowed.

He roughly sighted along the shotgun barrel and the Genoskwa looked directly at him!

It lowered its head, hunched it massive shoulders, and roared at him in defiance!

The sound was all-consuming, blasting deeply into the very marrow of his bones and rattling his skull.

Even at this distance Bob felt hot air blast his body from its immense lungs.

The dog yelped and ran away, finally jerking its lead out of Leroy's hands and tearing off, back the way they had come.

The yelp seemed to break the trance the other men were in. Leroy lost it and followed his dog. Bob didn't blame him as the man wasn't carrying a gun.

Sam raised his 50 cal, but like Bob, seemed to be struggling with its weight. The sheriff was faster. The man's training kicked in and he dropped to a crouch and pulled his pistol, firing three shots directly into the Genoskwa's chest.

The thing didn't even flinch. It finished its roar as if nothing had happened, leant sideways, picked up a rock the size of a grapefruit and flung it underarm in one fluid, lightning quick movement. The rock connected with the sheriff's chest, the impact throwing the man several feet backwards to the ground. Bob clearly heard the sickening crunch of breaking ribs as the man fell, dropping his pistol.

Bob and Sam fired at the same instant, even though Sam was still lifting his weapon. The double roar was deafening in the small clearing.

Blood flew from the Genoskwa's shoulder and from just above the knee, forcing it back a step.

Its expression instantly changed from fiery rage and confidence to shock and surprise. Bob pumped another round and from his peripheral vision saw Sam lift his weapon higher to take a better shot, but before either could pull the trigger again it was gone, crashing back across the creek and through the dense brush leading up the opposite ridge.

It was only then Bob realised the Alpha and his young-un had also disappeared, quietly vanishing into the trees as if they had never been.

"Sheriff?" Sam was crouched over the fallen man, who Bob could hear moaning in pain. He stepped closer and looked down.

"He all right?" He knew it was stupid question, he had heard the breaking ribs. The man was lucky to be alive. Bob looked carefully at his mouth, there was a thin stream of blood trickling from one corner.

Sam had noticed it too, "He might have pierced a lung. Help me get him to his feet."

With some effort and a lot of obvious pain they managed to get the sheriff standing. He ground his teeth, trying to hold back a scream as Sam put one of the man's arms over his shoulders, "Give me my gun, Bob."

Bob picked up the Barrett and handed it to him, "I gotta go after it Sam, finish the job... or at least make sure it doesn't want to come back."

Sam stared at him for a moment, then sighed, "You're right. I'll manage here, get going before it gets too much of a head start on you."

"I'm going with you Mr Gurney." Bob had forgotten all about Miss Vicky. The woman had picked up the sheriff's fallen handgun and was standing there with a determined look in her eyes, "My son is out here somewhere and I want to find him before that thing does."

Bob felt that familiar chill run down his spine, "What do you mean?"

"Simon climbed out his window sometime early this morning. I've been trying to find him, but all I found was monsters." She quickly told Bob what had happened, how they had confronted each other and growled and how she had lost all bodily control and been violently sick.

"Infrasound, you've been hit with infrasound."

"What? What do you mean?"

"They often communicate in sound levels so low we can't hear it. It makes some people physically sick when hit with it. Are you okay? Most need a full sleep cycle to recover."

Vicky ignored her swirling head and blurred vision. She needed to find her son, "I'm fine. Let's get that thing before it gets my boy."

Sam spoke up, "That pistol won't do anything. You saw. Here, take my gun."

Vicky shook her head, "Don't think I could even lift it, Sam. Anyway, you might need it."

Sam nodded, "Okay, we better get moving. Good luck." Without another word he struggled away, practically carrying the full weight of the groaning sheriff on his shoulders.

Bob grimaced.

The look in miss Vicky's eyes was blue steel.

He took a deep breath, "Right, let's do it then," and turned to follow the blood trail left by the wounded Genoskwa into the trees.

Frank Armstrong was struggling to control his fear, hefting his new weapon and hoping he could use it if he had to.

He had heard the roaring and gunshots down the valley and wondered about their source. Too bad, it was far off and he knew from the occasional track he had seen he had made the right choice. When he had gotten home Mary had been beside herself, frantic with worry, but he had forced himself to not go plunging off into the bush in pursuit of his daughter-in-law.

Instead he had stopped and thought about it. If he was a four year old boy looking for his monkey friend, where would he go? The first place he had seen it of course, the swimming hole.

Barely a hundred yards down the trail his reasoned thought had proven correct for there, in a part of the trail that was dirt he had seen Simon's tracks, as plain as day. Then again when the trail crossed over the ridge that bordered The Park and the valley with its creek and swimming hole beyond he had seen one edge of Simon's small runners crisp and clear in the dust and his spirits had lifted again. He would find the boy, unharmed, return him home, then set off in pursuit of his mother.

But then that not too distant roar had sounded, followed by three sharp gunshots that echoed up the valley towards him. Two more, much louder and heavier reports had then sounded, so close together to be almost one sound.

They had come from down the creek, approximately where Vicky would have been if she had continued her path. Frank was at once frightened for her and reassured.

He knew she had no weapons and the gunfire could only mean somebody else with guns was close by. He had to assume it was the sheriff and not hunters for it was well within The Park's boundary... But it also meant there was something there to shoot at.

Hoping his daughter-in-law was okay, he adjusted the small back pack he had thrown together and continued on his way. Finding Simon had to be his priority for now. The swimming hole was only another fifteen or twenty minutes walking.

The thought occurred to him that whatever they had been shooting at could have run off in his direction so he picked up the pace.

30

The Genoskwa was furious with himself.

He had underestimated the Hairless Ones.

And their Weapons..

Initially the barking of their guns had barely even stung as they hit and the striking down of the one firing at him had been intensely satisfying.

But then the two with the bigger guns had fired, punching through his tough hide and making his blood gush forth.

As a Genoskwa he had never known fear. Caution, yes, for even the mighty Genoskwa had to be cautious to survive the dangers of life in the world, but fear, no. Not fear like this.

He had been shot before, several times, but not by guns that bit as deeply as these ones did.

The wound in his shoulder was worse than the one above his knee, but the lower one caused him more fear for it slowed him down, forcing him to limp and grimace in pain whenever the leg took his weight.

At first he had noisily headed for the ridge line but that had been an intentional ruse which he hoped would allow him to double back down to the creek and give him time to find moss with which he could plug the wounds and slow the flowing blood.

Approaching its trickling course he moved cautiously and quietly, and for good reason for he soon heard sounds of movement and dropped low behind a bush to observe.

It was the one he had struck down with the rock, being helped along by one of the others.

He considered attacking them and removing their heads but the one with the big gun was looking all around as he struggled along, one arm around the wounded one's waist and the other swinging the barrel of the gun back and forth as he scanned the surrounding trees.

The Genoskwa had learned his lesson. He would not risk the deadly sting of that weapon again.

With his life blood oozing into the earth he patiently waited until the two had passed before carefully approaching the creek.

Looking under the rocks closest to the running water he soon found enough moss to plug the wounds, having to awkwardly hold it in place until the congealing blood could keep it there.

The shoulder wound was deep into his muscle, rendering the entire arm practically useless. Luckily the wound on his leg was only a deep graze, though it tore at the muscle with every step.

He drank deeply, trying to replace fluid lost by the constant bleeding, before moving on.

Wanting to stay near the water he followed it upstream, being careful to move quietly up the creek bed itself. Thankfully the two Hairless Ones had been some distance up the valley wall, likely trying to avoid the many twists and turns of the creek.

He stopped to drink often, but no matter how much he gulped down his mouth remained dry, never seeming to quite be able to replace the lost fluids.

His head swam but he dared not stop to rest. Although it was beginning to lower the sun was still high in the sky. It would be some time before night fell and he could be safe from the daytime eyes of the Hairless Ones.

He had to assume he was being tracked by the one who had shot him in the shoulder for he had not seen it with the others. No matter, as long as he could stay ahead of it until nightfall, when he would wait in ambush to seek some revenge for his wounding.

He stumbled again, his head spinning. His weakness made him angry. The Hairless Ones would pay for doing this to him.

At least the bleeding had almost stopped, the moss finally doing its work.

Leaning against a tree he allowed the rage at his weakness to shift to the Hairless One tracking him. He had to stay ahead of it until darkness fell. The problem was his weakness slowed him down too much. Even a Hairless One could catch him at this pace. He needed to eat and fuel his body desperately but he dared not take the time to fossick in the water let alone attempt a daytime hunt. Anyway he had not seen any sign of wildlife all day, until that juicy looking female had shown up. He should have eaten of her heart when he first spotted her.

Even the dog she had been calling turned out to have hunters in tow... unless she had been calling something else? With luck he might happen upon it before his pursuer caught up?

Forcing himself to wait for his swirling vision to steady a little he continued up the creek.

31

Leroy was surprised at how quickly he got all the way back to the road.

He had run like the hounds of hell were in pursuit, ignoring his gasping lungs and thumping heart that were now struggling to catch up to his exertions as he staggered to his truck. His dogs were all in their cages where he had left them after they had refused to track the so-called rogue bear. All except for Diesel, his old coonhound had not been afraid, at least not until that damned monster had roared. He was lying underneath the truck, whimpering and not coming out despite Leroy's coaxing.

Crouching there, trying to get the damn dog out, Leroy felt the hair on his neck prickling. He turned his head to look at the trees. They were full of shadows. He gave up the coaxing, damned dog could stay there then. He needed to get in the truck.

He jumped into the cab, making sure to lock the doors, though he seriously doubted it would make any difference. Damn, those things had been big!

Trying to force his breathing and heartbeat to slow, he stared out the windscreen. What in hell had just happened?

Leroy had heard of Bigfoot. As a kid he had watched the movie, Boggy Creek at the drive-in, but had been more interested in the girl with him at the time than the actual movie. He vigorously rubbed his face. Goddam, Bigfoot was real!

Then he remembered hearing the gunshots and the sheriff's scream as he had run away and a tinge of guilt sprinted through his mind.

Had he heard more shots? Yes, yes he had. Loud, heavy shots. Bob Gurney's shotgun and what had to have been the ranger's 50 cal. Leroy had wondered why Sam had been carrying such a heavy weapon when earlier that day he arrived at the spot where Percy had come off his bike.

He had only sold it to him the morning before. He had wondered then why the man would buy such a heavy weapon to hunt a bear.

It dawned on him now. The ranger had known what they were tracking! It also explained Bob Gurney's presence. Most of the town knew Gurney had a screw loose. He almost never spoke of his obsession, but most everyone knew the man was heavily into Bigfoot.

Goddam! The man wasn't a nut after all!

Leroy shook his head and laughed crazily. Or maybe he had gone nuts now too?

Distantly he heard Diesel whimpering under his feet. Dammit, he had to get the dog out from there! Which meant getting back outside his truck!

Looking all around, the forest seemed overly dark and unusually close, he cautiously opened his door, "Diesel! Come boy!"

Thankfully this time the dog obeyed. He scrabbled out from under the truck and leapt through the open door into the cab, one foot crushing Leroy's balls, "Goddam Diesel!"

Eyes stinging with pain, Leroy started his engine and began to drive off. As he crawled past the sheriff's cruiser and the ranger's truck he felt that tinge of guilt again. Too bad, he was unarmed. And they had misled him. At minimum Gurney and the ranger had known what they were tracking.

They should have warned him.

Leroy put his foot down on the gas but hadn't even made the next corner when he was confronted with another truck, two men holding rifles standing on the back.

He recognised the faces as regulars from the bar in Hell's Canyon and slowed to a stop.

The truck pulled up beside him and he saw that Billy Baxter, the bar owner was driving. Hank Barnett, Percy's drunk of a father, was in the passenger seat. Billy leaned out his window, "Hey Leroy! What's happening?"

Leroy reluctantly wound down his window, "Billy. What are you doing out here?"

"We heard what happened to Percy. And that Sam closed The Park coz of a rogue bear. We all decided the sheriff might need a hand."

Looking at the truck full of heavily armed men, Leroy felt some of the fear subside... a little.

"We found it," Leroy looked across at Hank Barnett. He had thought the old drunk crazy like Bob Gurney… til now. The man had given up hunting several years back and taken up drinking instead. All because he thought some monster had chased him out of the woods. Suddenly he felt very sorry for Hank. He had been telling the truth all along. More than once Leroy had laughed out loud at somebody's joke told to the man's face. Goddam, the man's wife had even left him over it!

Leroy's mind raced. If he told these men the truth, they would think him crazy too. But Billy was right. Maybe the others did need help.

He swallowed and went for it, "We found the bear Billy... but, you gotta believe me... it ain't no damned bear!"

Hank Barnett's face lit up, "Aha! You seen it didn't you?"

Goddam, the man's son was missing and he was smiling like a kid off to the fair, "Yeah Hank, I seen it. And if what I seen run Percy off his bike, your boy didn't stand a chance."

The smile slipped... a little, "Did you find my boy?"

"Not hide nor hair Hank. No sign of him nor what happened to him. He might be alive somewheres, holed up..."

"Doubt it. I seen what's in these woods and he didn't have no gun." He held up Percy's hunting rifle. Leroy knew it well, having sold it to the boy himself many years back.

One of the men on the back of the truck spoke up. The voice was slightly slurred and for the first time Leroy realised these men had been drinking, probably heavily, "What in hell's name y’all talking about? If it wasn’t no bear, what was it?"

Leroy swallowed again. He scarcely believed what he had seen himself, "None of my dogs would follow the scent, ceptin ol Diesel here," he pointed to his coonhound cross, who was lying in the passenger footwell, still quietly whimpering, "He tracked it over into the next valley. Thing looked to be headed down the valley towards town, followin the valley wall."

"Get to the point Leroy."

"I am. Finally it crossed the creek an we caught up to it... two of em actually, looked like they was arguing over some woman."

"A woman? Who?"

"Frank Armstrong's daughter-in-law... no idea what she was doin' way out there..."

"Two bears? Arguing over a woman?" It was the man in the back of the truck again.

Leroy felt his cheeks flush red, "No goddamit! They wasn't no bears! They was two Bigfoots!"

"Bigfoots!" It was the man on the back of the truck again. Leroy didn't know his name but recognised him as one of the hanger-ons from the bar. The man laughed out loud, "Was they ridin’ in flyin' saucers?"

One of the other men sniggered but nobody else laughed. Billy looked deadly serious, and suddenly very sober. Billy looked at Hank, then up to the man who had made the remark, "Shut up Pete! Leroy don't make shit up!"

He looked back at Leroy, reading his eyes, "Do you Leroy?"

Leroy shook his head.

Billy spoke again to the men on his truck, "Look at his face for Crissake! Looks like he seen a ghost!" Turning back to Leroy he asked, "What happened Leroy? Where's the sheriff?"

Leroy couldn't meet the man's eyes any longer. He looked down, "Dunno. One of em roared at us an I ran... couldn't help it. I heard gunshots and a scream, think it was the sheriff maybe... heard Sam and Bob firin. Know the sound of that Barrett, only sold it to Sam yesterday... ran alla way back here... no idea if they won out or got they're heads tore off."

It was too much. Leroy felt tears forming in his eyes but was past caring. At least no one was laughing anymore.

He heard the bolt on Percy's rifle slide back. Hank had just chambered a round, "Let's go kill us some damned boogers."

The man's eyes held a crazy light and maybe it was embarrassment, or maybe Leroy was tired of being scared, but he found the craziness catching, "Sure, you got a spare gun?

32

The female Sasquatch was in a quandary.

After the Genoskwa was shot and the Hairless Ones had separated, it had been quickly decided that she and her young one would follow the two males out while her mate would follow the Ones tracking the wounded Genoskwa.

When armed Hairless Ones were in the area it was always best to keep track of them and thus be less likely to suffer should they be encountered by surprise.

She and her young one had stayed back at least several trees deep while the two limped away. The Hairless Ones had moved very slowly, one in obvious deep pain by his many, barely-contained moans and groans. At one point the Genoskwa had circled back and crossed their path but had been suffering too badly itself to dare another confrontation. While it hid and watched the Hairless Ones pass, she and her youngster had done the same, watching it watch them.

She had waited patiently until it had long passed before moving on, cautioning her child to remain still and quiet to avoid detection.

That had been some distance back and now they crossed yet another trail.

She recognised the sign as being of yet another adult Hairless One, following at least a half day behind a lone young one. The young it followed could be none other than the one her child had shown so much interest in the night before, though now it was walking on its own legs rather than riding in the strange contraption with wheels. Its trail was very scuffed, the feet dragging with weariness.

Her curiosity was raised. What could a lone young Hairless One be possibly doing way out here by itself? Did it not know how many dangers there were for one of its kind? Especially one so young?

The trail she knew lead down and upstream into the valley, ending at a large pool of water the Hairless Ones sometimes visited to swim in. The very same pool where her child had watched them a couple of days ago.

Her maternal instincts kicked in, causing indecision to enter her mind. Should she change course and follow the new tracks? If the new Hairless Ones, particularly the youngster, encountered the Genoskwa they would undoubtedly die. It had obviously been circling back down to the creek. If it decided to go upstream it would inevitably meet them.

Although she felt some pity for the Genoskwa it must have committed a wrong against the Hairless Ones for them to pursue it so. The Genoskwas were a bloodthirsty clan, and few in number as a result. Too often they fed on Hairless Ones and thus were the cause of their own destruction.

She looked ahead through the trees. The two Hairless Ones she was following had almost disappeared from sight. She looked back and watched with pride how her young one intently studied the new tracks.

He looked up at her and quietly questioned something he had noticed about the adult's tracks. She looked again and her pride in her youth's intelligence grew some more. He was right. She had not noticed until now how the adult's tracks showed a slight lopsidedness. It was carrying something weighing on its right side... perhaps a weapon? A heavy one, like the uninjured Hairless One she was following carried?

If so, perhaps it would be able to defend the young one it pursued if they encountered the wounded Genoskwa? Or perhaps the Genoskwa would see the weapon and avoid confrontation itself?

Her mind made up she moved off to follow the two she was tasked with escorting out of the area.

Pausing to look back she saw her child had not moved. Instead he was looking down the path in the direction the new ones had gone.

She had to whistle twice to get his attention.

Finally he obeyed and followed her. They moved fast and soon caught up to the two struggling Hairless Ones and were able to slow down again, making sure to keep well back and out of sight.

As she followed them her thoughts drifted again to the young Hairless One her child was so fascinated with.

Hopefully it would be okay and the elder pursuing would soon catch up with it.

Hopefully the two Hairless Ones tracking the Genoskwa would catch up to it before it happened upon them.

Hopefully her mate would be there to interfere if things turned for the worse.

She felt little concern for herself or her child. The ones she followed were obviously focussed on one thing only... getting out and getting care for the wounded one.

After all there were only two of them, and only one was armed.

33

Bob lifted his eyes from the trail to judge how much day was remaining.

He held one arm out straight, bending his fingers to measure the distance from the sun to the horizon. Each finger was approximately 15 minutes, which meant they only had around 45 minutes before the sun touched the ridge.

He looked back at Miss Vicky. Her face was still pale and her eyes wide but the look in them was determined.

"It will be dark in just over an hour Miss Vicky. It is at least half an hour back to my truck from here and I don't particularly feel like wandering around out here without a light, do you?"

Her jaw clenched, "I'm not leaving without my son."

"I understand, but the Genoskwa will have a distinct advantage over us once night falls. We don't really have a choice. I didn't bring a flashlight, did you?"

"If you want to go back, fine. I'm not stopping."

Bob saw there was no way to change her mind, "Okay, we will keep on. Just make sure you keep that pistol pointed down. I don't want you to shoot me by mistake."

She attempted a smile, "If I shoot you Mr Gurney, it won't be a mistake."

Rolling his eyes, Bob turned back to the trail. The blood sign had stopped some way back downstream but he instinctively knew the animal would stick to the creek. Blood loss made you thirsty, it would not stray far from the water.

At least Sam and the sheriff were safe. He had seen where the Gensokwa had hidden while they crossed its path back towards the water. The amount of blood was amazing. Surely it had to be in a bad way. Bad enough to give them a slight advantage once night fell?

Nervously glancing back at the lowering sun, Bob picked up the pace. If only he had thought to grab his flashlight from his truck.

34

Simon was exhausted.

For the umpteenth time he considered turning around and going back.

It had not seemed very far a few days ago when he had ridden on Grandpa Frank's shoulders to the swimming hole. But now, on his own tired legs, unused to walking for months, each turn in the path seemed miles ahead.

And he was desperately thirsty.

For the umpteenth time he wished he had brought a bottle of water with him when he had climbed out his window as the sun was rising that morning.

He had been forced to stop and rest his weary legs often and now the sun was lowering towards the far ridge.

It was mainly his thirst that kept him going now. The pool had to be just around the next bend in the path. But each bend just revealed another, then another. The trees seemed thicker, the air cooler as he descended and he sensed the water had to be much closer than the house would be if he turned back now.

Sure enough, he turned yet another corner and heard the sound of the creek bubbling through the rocks. He remembered this bit! Although it looked much different from this height. The other day he had been high in the air on Grandpa Frank's tall shoulders.

Reaching the water he looked down at the cool, clear water of the pool.

His legs felt so weak he doubted he could get down the bank just here so looked for an easier way down. Upstream where the water entered the pool the bank was lower and the boulders smaller so he headed towards the spot. His knees quivered and shook with weakness as he carefully climbed down the small boulders and knelt to cup his hands and finally drink deeply of the oh-so-cool water.

He used his cupped hands then to soak his hot head, the water trickling down his back underneath his t-shirt. Finally cooled somewhat and his thirst satiated he moved into the shade of a low tree that was growing nearby and sat with his back against it. He was so tired he had momentarily forgotten why he had come here.

Remembering his mission he began looking around into the trees.

Where was the monkey? He couldn't see it anywhere.

Once his legs recovered he would get up and look properly, but for now he was content to just sit where he was and relax.

The water was so peaceful. Cool air wafted across the pool onto his wet face. The bubbling was relaxing and he felt his eyelids begin to sag with heaviness. Maybe he should sleep for a bit first, then go searching for his monkey friend?

A chirping sound made him open his eyes and he saw a small bird on the downstream side of the pool fluttering about, catching bugs on the wing. He watched it for a while. It was so fast as it darted about.

His eyelids were still heavy though and they began to droop closed again.

Suddenly the chirping grew louder, faster, and more frantic. Simon opened his eyes to see the bird fluttering away, high into a tree, where it landed, fussing madly at something out of his sight.

Movement across the water in the trees drew his eyes and he saw one of the trees moving.

For a moment he was confused, the tree looked like it was walking!

It approached where the pool overflowed to continue its route down the creek and he realised it was not a tree at all!

Taller even than Grandpa Frank but covered in long, matted hair that hung off its arms and legs the thing knelt, cupped one hand and lifted water to its face to drink. It sort of looked like a giant version of his monkey but for some reason Simon felt terrified at its presence. He stayed as still as he could, hoping it would not notice him.

As it stood back up Simon heard it groan as if the movement hurt and he noticed one arm was hanging by its side. Its hair was black with speckled browns and greys and he noticed two darker patches of extra matted hair, one above a knee and one on the shoulder above the hanging arm. There was what looked like clumps of moss stuck to the hair and even across the water Simon caught the unforgettable smell of blood on the breeze. It instantly took him back to that horrible day when he was trapped in the car, his Daddy bleeding and dying in the front seat.

Tears flooded his eyes and he could not help but gasp as his breath caught in his throat.

The thing froze. It had heard him!

Slowly it lifted its head and sniffed the air, turning its face directly towards where he sat across the pool. Through blurred, terrified eyes Simon realised it was looking right at him, even though he could not see its eyes set way back under a thick, heavy brow. It smiled then, exposing evil looking teeth that reminded Simon of teeth he had seen in a documentary about crocodiles.

Keeping its eyes on where he sat under the tree, it began to slowly limp around the pool towards him! Simon's brain screamed to get up, to run, but his legs would not move.

His heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst out of his chest and his hands scrabbled at the ground, trying to do what his legs could not. He was crippled once more, with his legs once again totally useless lumps of awkward weight that refused to obey his brain.

The thing slowly and purposely advanced towards him.

It limped painfully slowly around the rocky edge of the pool's banks, its breathing loud and slow… almost gurgling like it was sick. In desperation Simon thumped his misbehaving legs, trying to punish them into taking action. There was a strange noise hitting his ears and distantly he realised he was screaming, over and over again with every breath as the giant, horrible thing with the smiling crocodile teeth came closer and closer.

"Simon!" A shout reached his ears then and uphill and behind the monster Simon saw Grandpa Frank suddenly appear, running down the trail that led to the pool. He was lifting a gun, trying to aim it as he ran, stumbling over rocks and uneven ground.

The monster heard the shout and swung its massive body around to face the threat. With relief Simon realised he was finally standing, one hand against the tree. His legs were working again!

"Run Simon!" Grandpa Frank shouted as he skidded to a stop and sighted along the gun barrel.

There was a tremendous crash that filled the air and the gun barrel kicked upwards, throwing Grandpa Frank back a step. The monster flinched, doubled over and clasped its belly, then lifting its head back up it roared even louder than the gunshot.

Grandpa frank pumped the action on the gun and as the roar faded shouted again, "Run Simon!"

The monster leapt towards his grandpa, blocking him from Simon's view. There was another tremendous crash of the gun as the monster swung its good arm and Grandpa Frank screamed in pain.

Simon turned and ran, blindly thrashing his way through the low brush on the far side of the creek. Behind him he heard the monster roar again, drowning out Grandpa Frank's screams... the horrid sound urging his tired legs on to greater efforts.

There was a crashing of trees and snapping of branches and he realised the thing was coming after him!

Trying to move more quietly he ducked to the left under some low hanging branches and dodged through a thick stand of younger trees. Suddenly a bigger tree was right before him. It had a low branch he could just reach and with no better idea he jumped up to grab it, swinging himself up higher and higher in the branches like he used to do when Daddy would take him and Sophie to the park.

Soon he could go no higher and holding tight to the trunk he turned to look back down. He was a long way up and on the ground he could see the smaller trees swaying as something very big moved through them, easily pushing them aside as it came towards the tree he was in.

Gritting his teeth, Simon forced his panicked breathing to slow and quieten. His heart was pounding so madly he was sure the monster would hear it.

It came into view and Simon froze, trying to hold his breath. But he could not. His chest strained and he forced himself to breath in as quietly as he dared, then exhale. Then in again, and out again. It seemed to work for the monster did not look up. But it also did not move on. It just stood there, looking all around, searching for him. Simon could hear it sniffing, the sound somehow more terrifying than its roaring had been.

He tried to will it to move on. Please go away, please go away. But it didn't.

It just stood there, staring at the branch Simon had leapt up to grab seconds before. Moving closer it bent and sniffed at it and suddenly Simon felt he needed to pee very badly.

Very slowly, it lifted its head and sniffed again at a higher branch, then another.

The urge to pee was almost uncontrollable now and for the first time Simon realised his mistake.

Climbing the tree he had trapped himself. there was nowhere to run.

The monster tilted its head back and looked up, directly at where he clung helplessly high above. Simon saw blood splattered on its face and some distant, small part of his mind beyond the terror briefly wondered whose blood it was… its own or Grandpa Frank's?

Its lips parted and it smiled, showing those awful crocodile teeth once more.

35

Bob and Vicky heard the gunfire, followed by the roar and shouting.

"That's Frank!" Vicky shouted and took off, risking a bad injury as she leapt and bounded up the boulders that filled the creek.

"Goddam!" Bob tried to keep up but soon fell behind. Luckily he did not have far to go and came to the swimming hole in time to see Miss Vicky run up the slope to where Frank Armstrong was lying, his body twisted into an impossible position upon the rocks.

"Frank!" she shouted and knelt by the man's side.

As he approached Bob noticed a pump action shotgun lying not far off, its barrel twisted and bent, the stock shattered into pieces.

Incredibly the man was still alive, though barely. His eyes were open as Vicky held his head up. One arm flailed, slapping against her side. The other was torn completely from his body, blood pumping from the shoulder onto the dusty ground.

"Oh God! Frank!" Vicky was sobbing, one hand trying uselessly to slow the pumping blood.

Bob felt the blood drain from his face as he noted the damage. The man's legs weren't moving. His back had been broken, twisted around and sideways at an obscene angle.

His eyes squeezed tightly shut then opened again and Bob heard him croak in pain, "Simon! It’s after Simon!" His eyes rolled sideways towards the pool and the one good arm flung in the same direction, "Go... Get Simon!"

Vicky and Bob looked down towards the creek. Across the other side and upstream a little they saw the tops of some young trees swaying. There was one taller tree with what looked like a monkey high up near the top, silhouetted against the sinking sun. The tree started to sway as if something was trying to push it over. Vicky lowered Frank's head and took off, lifting the sheriff's handgun as she ran, "SIMON!"

Bob called after her, "Wait!" but she ignored him, already charging across the creek and into the trees. He looked back down at Frank Armstrong. The man was a goner. He saw the man mouth one unmistakeable word, "Go!"

Nodding his head, Bob turned and ran as fast as he could manage without breaking a leg on the rocks. The tall tree was now whipping back and forth viciously, but the shape was hanging on. Somehow he got across the creek and was into the trees. He could hear the boy screaming in terror and Miss Vicky shouting at the top of her voice, "LEAVE HIM YOU BASTARD!"

He heard the sharp reports of the sheriff's pistol through the trees. Bob knew it was useless. He had to get there with his shotgun.

Just then he stepped awkwardly on a tree root and felt his ankle fold and give way under him. No!

He hit the ground hard, slamming his head into a tree trunk as he fell.

Despite his suddenly throbbing head and swirling vision he somehow managed to get back to his feet but his ankle could not take his weight. Sharp, unbearable pain ran from his foot up to his shin and his vision began to darken. His knees seemed to have no strength and despite his best efforts he sagged.

It felt like a giant hand was pushing him down and aside. He hit the ground again and the world went black.

36

The female Sasquatch paused to listen as the distant thunderclaps sounded.

She knew the roar that followed. It sounded like the Hairless Ones had caught up with the wounded Genoskwa after all.

The ones she was following heard the sounds too for they stopped and turned to look back down the valley. They were almost at the very top of the long ridge that bordered the eastern side.

Across on the opposite ridge the sun was sinking, casting a fiery red glow across the scattered clouds and filling the heavily forested valley with a crisp, clear light that almost sparkled to her night eyes.

This time of the day was always such a relief after the burning brightness of day, a calming reminder of the coolness of the coming night.

The two Hairless Ones turned back to their task and crossed over into the next, smaller valley. She knew that not far off was a road that snaked up the valley floor into the camping area and a small cluster of buildings where lots of Hairless Ones often stayed in their weird shelters of thin, colourful hide.

She and her young one paused before following them over the ridge, looking for a place to cross where they would not be highlighted against the red sky.

Suddenly there was more roaring and thunderclaps, these ones sharper, smaller than before. Whatever was happening she was too far away to do anything even if she felt so inclined. She had a task ahead of her, to ensure the two she was following had truly left the area. She would follow them to the road, then return. It was not far down the hill through the old growth forest.

Making sure her youngster was following close behind she started down the slope, but had barely gone halfway down to the road when she smelt death.

The Hairless Ones were far ahead, barely visible through the trees. They had obviously not smelled it themselves. Not surprising for she knew Hairless Ones had poor sense of smell. It seemed to be even worse than their sight and hearing.

The smell came from overhead and she tilted her head back to look up into the large tree that was in front of her. Her child did the same, tilting his head back and sniffing.

There. In a fork about six times her height off the ground she saw a dark shape that was out of place. From here she could not make it out in the growing darkness, despite her excellent vision.

Commanding her child to remain where he was she leapt up, grabbing the lowest branch and swiftly swinging herself up the tree towards the fork and the shape.

The smell of death grew steadily stronger as she approached. Reaching the shape she saw it was a Hairless One, draped carelessly over the fork. It was a young one, the staring eyes wide and unfocussed in death. Its chest had been ripped open, the heart, liver and stomach taken.

She instantly knew no bear or lion had done this. It had to have been the Genoskwa.

No wonder the Hairless Ones were tracking it. They always tracked Sasquatch foolish enough to take one of their own. And they never stopped until they had revenged their fallen.

Her previous pity for the Genoskwa fled and was replaced with anger. It had risked her troop by carrying out this deed. Hairless Ones were too stupid to know only a Genoskwa would do such a thing. They often blamed whatever Sasquatch were nearby and took their bloodthirsty fury out on any innocent troops that may be in the area, like her own.

They were very lucky there had been only a small handful of hunters tracking it. She knew that often the Hairless Ones would fill the mountains with uncountable numbers, noisy machines and barking dogs for days or even weeks after one of their kind went missing.

Maybe if she returned this one to them, or at least put it where it could be more easily found they would stop their search? Especially if they had already filled their bloodlust with the Genoskwa?

Whistling for her child to move back out of the way, she lifted the body clear and let it fall to the ground. But before she could begin to make her way back down the tree she heard voices and saw multiple beams of bright light shining through the swiftly darkening trees. The flashing, moving lights were coming fast, heading up the slope right towards them!

If she came down now she might get caught near the body. They would blame her!

She whistled for her child to get away, to hide. Frantically she scanned the nearby trees for one close enough to leap into and get away herself. There was only one close enough and it was towards the fast approaching voices! She would have to wait until they passed underneath before she could attempt the leap. But they would stop at the body for sure!

Deciding she had no choice but to stay put, at least for now, she tried to mould her broad body as close to the trunk as possible. She could not see her child anywhere. Hopefully he had obeyed her frantic whistles and had gotten far away already.

Sam was exhausted.

Upon meeting the men from the bar he had been tempted to continue on with the injured sheriff into town and medical care, but it was his park and he was concerned for Bob and Vicky. Night was falling fast and he knew neither did not have a flashlight.

Two of the men from the bar had agreed to take the sheriff on into hospital, leaving the bar owner, Billy, Leroy, himself and Hank.

It was only after they as a group had started back along the trail that Sam realised Hank was more than a little drunk. The fact that an intoxicated man with a gun was behind him did little to alleviate his anxiety as he led the men back again along the now-familiar route up the ridge towards the valley where he hoped the Genoskwa still was.

It was almost fully dark now but thankfully they at least had strong flashlights.

Leroy seemed particularly nervous, flashing his light backwards and forwards as if he was expecting monsters to ambush them at any moment. The moving light filled the trees with moving shadows and more than once someone would hiss, "What's that?” and all four would throw their weapons to their shoulders and stare into the shadows.

Twice Sam reminded them that Bob and miss Armstrong were out here somewhere as well. He hoped they had the sense to call out before approaching their lights.

Almost at the top of the ridge it happened again.

Leroy froze his constantly moving torchlight on the ground just ahead and hissed loudly, "What in hell?"

Ahead was a dark lump of what looked like a garbage sack. Sam had just come down this trail. It had not been there minutes ago? Where could it have come from?

Cautiously all four approached.

"Ah Jesus... Percy!" Hank dropped to his knees beside the lump and Sam realised it was the man's son, lying crumpled in a heap.

Sam was totally confused. The boy was obviously very dead and behind him he heard Leroy puking, making his own bile rise in his stomach. Where had he come from? They had passed by this exact spot twice, once with a tracking dog!

Hank looked up at Sam. There were no tears, only a brow furrowed in anger, "Thought you said you couldn't find him?"

Sam swallowed, "We couldn't. Came right past this spot... with a dog too. And he wasn't here a few minutes ago when we came past coming back."

Realisation slowly dawned, "He must have been dropped here in the last couple of minutes."

All four men instantly faced the surrounding forest, trying to cover all directions at once with their lights and weapons. Sam's mind raced. How did the body get there? And why? He knew some carnivores would stash their kills up in tree forks. Every hair tingling on his neck he tilted his head to look up into the tree they were standing under. It was a big old oak, full of knotted lumps and twisted, heavy branches. It could certainly take the weight of a large animal.

The others realised what he was doing and tilted their heads and lights up into the tree as well, the moving light making the tree's deformities shift and move like they were alive.

Was that a glint of eye shine? Something ducking back behind a particularly large bole halfway up the trunk?

The others had seen it too, for all four flashlights converged on the spot, "Is that..." began Leroy.

Right then something hit Sam in the shoulder, hard.

He swore and jerked his light down and around, just in time to see a young, green pine cone rolling to a stop a few feet away.

"Ow!" Hank swore and clutched his head and Sam clearly saw another pine cone hit the ground beside him. All four men were staring down at it, "What the hell?" Billy shouted.

Sam realised what was happening and shone his light back up at the lump they had been looking at moments earlier, it was gone! He quickly scanned the tree but could not see it anywhere. Bringing his torch back down he saw the others were again scanning the surrounding forest, trying to see what was throwing pine cones at them.

There was a thump so heavy the ground shook back behind them and they all swung their flashlights that way.

"Whatever was in that tree ain't no more!"

"Yeah," Hank replied, “It's on the ground with us."

He shouted, making Leroy jump, "Hey you bastard! You like the taste of my boy? Come get his daddy!" He took a swig from a small hip flask before lifting his flashlight alongside the barrel of his son's hunting rifle, panning back and forth into the trees.

Billy was facing uphill, "There, eye-shine!"

Hank and Leroy swung their flashlights uphill, zeroing in on Billy's light. Sam resisted the urge to look. He was pretty sure the pine cones had come from the direction the others were looking, obviously to distract them from what they had been looking at in the tree. His eyes searched the trees in the direction the thump had come from, but could see nothing. With a force of will he made himself turn off his light, maybe the animal would get overconfident?

Immediately he wanted to switch it back on but resisted. He heard Leroy behind him, his voice shaking with barely controlled terror, "I see it, that ain't no deer, but it's a lot shorter than what I seen today?"

"Could it be a smaller one? How many are out here?" asked Billy.

Sam remembered the young one he had seen in the tree with the others, "At least three, and there was a smaller one."

"I see it," Hank's voice was starting to slur a bit, "I'm takin the shot, right between the eyes."

Sam spun, "NO!" But it was too late. The rifle cracked, shattering the night, and Sam caught a glimpse of the eye shine, just as it winked out."

"GOT IT!" Hank lurched up the hill, pulling the bolt and chambering another round.

But before he could take another step Sam felt a wave of energy pass through his body, rattling the very marrow of his bones. Then it reached his ears, deafening them as it turned into a roar that blotted out the world with its power, rage and anguish.

Hank had frozen with one leg raised over a log, his head turned so far around it looked like it would twist right off.

Leroy and Steve's heads had also swung around to look behind them, eyes wide, mouths hanging open in their suddenly very pale faces. A wave of all-consuming fear stretched the moment into an eternity and Sam knew from the blast of hot air that hit him in the back of his head that whatever it was, it was right behind him!

An enormous hand fell on his shoulder and he was brutally shoved aside as a freight train passed by, still roaring its rage as it leapt through the men. As it went it reached out one arm and with one passing swipe sent Hank flying into a tree trunk with a sickening crunch, before disappearing into the darkness beyond.

The night went suddenly quiet, all that could be heard was Hank groaning in a clump at the base of the tree. Sam rushed over to check his injuries, but the man got to his feet, pushing him away, "Sonofabitch! What the hell was that?"

Sam was amazed, the man had hit the tree with a lot of force, why wasn't he in agony? Putting it down to the alcohol, he replied, "I think you upset it by shooting its youngun."

Leroy piped up, "It was a female, I think I saw titties... an it was nowheres near as big as the ones at the creek today."

"What do you mean?" Asked Billy, "You trying to tell me there's bigger things than that out here? It must've been over seven foot tall for christ's sake!"

Sam looked around, everyone's faces were deathly pale in the light... except for Hank's. His face was red, though from alcohol or anger Sam couldn't tell, "The one Bob and I shot was at least nine foot tall."

"Jesus, no wonder you're lugging around that heavy bastard," Billy pointed at the Barrett Sam was carrying. The weight of the weapon was killing him. He had been straining with its weight all day but there was no way he would be out here without it. The man hefted his own hunting rifle and turned to Leroy, "Here, you take this. I want my shotgun back."

Reluctantly Leroy exchanged weapons, "Lets get outta here." Bob could hear the fear in the man's voice.

Hank turned his red eyes to the shop assistant, "No goddam way. You can tuck your tail in and scamper off ifn you want, I've got some goddam murdering boogers to kill!"

Sam agreed, though for different reasons, "Bob's still out there hunting one of the big ones. He might need our help."

Muttering under his breath, Leroy followed them up the trail towards the ridge top. Why in hell had he not gone right back to town when he had the chance? He should have volunteered to take the sheriff to hospital at least, then he wouldn't be out here in this mess.

37

Bob felt cold water splashing his face.

He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as more water hit his exposed eyes and went up his nose, making him splutter.

"Whoops, sorry, Mr Gurney." It was Miss Vicky's voice, though he could barely make her out in the gathering darkness.

He sat up and instantly regretted that too as his head felt like someone had just belted it with a baseball bat. Instantly his stomach turned, forcing him to lean sideways and vomit.

"Eeew, gross," a child's voice.

Finally the vomiting ceased and Bob tried to straighten up, a jolt of pain in his ankle reminding him of how he got into this state, "Is that your boy?"

"Yes, we found him, thank God."

Bob's vision cleared a little more and he could make them out a bit clearer in the darkness, the boy standing next to his squatting mother, "The Genoskwa? What happened?"

"We found it too. It had Simon trapped up in a tree, remember?"

"Yes, yes I do. I heard you shooting? Did you kill it?"

Vicky shook her head, "Don't think so. The bullets didn't seem to do anything except stop it shaking Simon's tree. It turned, did one of those awful roars again and started for me. It was horrible, I have never felt so helpless in all my life." Except maybe after David had died, she added in her mind.

"What happened, why didn't it get you?"

"Just before it reached me it stopped. I got hit with a godawful smell, like something rotten and dead. It was looking at something high over my head, then it just turned and walked off into the trees again. I turned to see what it was looking at and there was the other one... the other big one, just standing there looking at me! It didn't come any closer, just stood there for a bit."

"The Alpha male," Bob guessed, remembering the sensation of a huge hand pushing him aside just before he blacked out. He shook his head, instantly regretting the movement and the sharp throbbing pain it caused in his temple.

"I suppose. It was the same one that was growling back where you guys turned up. It stood there for what seemed like forever but was probably only seconds, staring at me. But then it turned its head and looked up the valley and I could hear gunshots, then a screaming roar type sound. They were some way off. Then it did like this kind of huff and ran off... really fast it was too." She shook her own head, "Man it was so fast."

"Uh oh, help me to my feet. We gotta get out of Dodge."

"Your ankles badly swollen, think you can walk?"

"Don't have a choice. There's still a wounded Genoskwa out here, its dark, we have no light and it sounds like your protector has taken off."

Somehow he got to his feet, agony shooting up his leg the whole time.

The small distance across the creek seemed like an epic journey, especially trying to navigate the rocks in the near pitch black darkness. The moon was a few hours from rising yet and each misstep and misjudged rock in the darkness sent fresh bouts of agony shuddering through his leg.

Finally they made it up the bank to where Frank Armstrong lay, already going cold with death. Thankfully the darkness hid the worst from young Simon and Bob heard Vicky struggling to hold back the sobs. Suddenly Bob remembered seeing a small backpack on the man earlier and with some effort managed to bend enough on one leg and turn the body over.

He felt inside and his spirits lifted as his hand touched the familiar shape and texture of a Mini Mag Light. He pulled it out and turned it on, being careful not to light up Franks body for Simon's sake.

He also found a large Bowie knife in the pack, which he used to fashion a rough crutch out of a small forked tree nearby. It took one arm to hold it in place under his armpit. And his other to hold the shotgun so he passed the small torch to Vicky, hoping there was enough battery in it to get back.

He gestured for Vicky and her boy to go first, "Keep the beam low so I can make out the path from behind you."

Finally they were able to move on, the path up the slope now lit up by some light, small as it was. Bob just hoped the Genoskwa would not be drawn to it. He was having a hard enough time moving, let alone catching an attacking booger in the light and turning his shotgun on it in time.

They had not gone far when he saw tracks crossing the trail. He recognised them as Sam's and the sheriff. Stopping he saw his own and those of Leroy and his dog going in the opposite direction.

He turned to miss Vicky, "I know this spot. If we follow this other trail it will get us to the road and the vehicles faster than taking the path back to your house."

She stared off into the darkness, "Okay, the less time spent out here the better."

Bob hefted his shotgun, adjusting his one-handed grip, "Alright then, lets go."

As they moved off, Bob trying hard to ignore the throbbing of his ankle, he hoped it was the right decision. The shots Miss Vicky had heard while he was passed out had to have come from this direction.

Where the hell was the Genoskwa? He hoped it was far away by now, but his instincts told him it wasn't. The hair was non stop standing tall on his neck and he couldn't get rid of the feeling of being watched. Please, he prayed, let it just be my imagination.

38

The Genoskwa watched the Hairless Ones change direction from the shadow of a large boulder several paces away.

His head pounded from loss of blood and his vision kept blurring but he could still clearly see them in the darkness with his natural night eyes. The Old Male seemed injured for it limped badly, leaning heavily on a stick as it moved, a couple of paces behind the female and the youngling. But it still carried its weapon, the same one that had ruined his shoulder.

He felt the wound carefully with his good hand. At least it had stopped bleeding, as had the wound above his knee, but he still could barely use the arm nor place much weight upon his wounded leg. He felt his stomach where the weapon from the other Old Male had struck home. It still stung though the bleeding had likewise thankfully stopped there too.

Looking down the hill he saw the other Old male's body sprawled where it had fallen after he broke its back and ripped off one of its arms. The meat would be stringy and dry, tasteless with age but it was still meat. He had been so looking forward to the young one he had trapped in the tree before. He was determined to enjoy the fresh flavour of its heart. He could probably take the child easily from the older ones right now but he was so exhausted he might misjudge and suffer more wounds from the Old Male's big gun. He would first regain some strength with the dead Old Male's flesh. The youngster, and for that matter the female could wait. Although he was a Genoskwa, he was still a Sasquatch and had the patience of one.

His stomach rumbled at the thought of their flesh.

It should be easy enough to take out the Old Male once he had regained some energy. He needed to eat.

The three Hairless Ones were moving very slowly. Even with his bad leg he could catch them easily before they made it to the road.

Turning, he limped back down the hill to the already cold body. Hopefully the heart would still have some warmth and flavour.

39

The Young Sasquatch was very angry.

He was lying on his back, looking up at the bright rivers of light that passed through the trees overhead, searching for him.

The wound on his temple both stung and throbbed his whole head… the pulse of the pain exactly mirroring his own racing heart.

At first he had been scared.

…When he had realised the Hairless Ones had spotted his mother he immediately tried to get their attention, which had worked, for his mother escaped into another tree and jumped to the ground. He had felt relief and pride at his achievements for a moment… but then they had lit him up with the bright suns they held in their hands and he had frozen, unsure what to do. He had been blinded, the light seemed to consume him with its brightness, focussing his world in on it.

He had flashed back to the memory of the fast, noisy machine with bright lights from a few nights ago. His father had suddenly appeared that night, his reassuring bulk had been like a hairy mountain shielding him from the burning brightness of a thousand noon-day suns.

But this night his protector was not there.

The Young Sasquatch had tried to become one with the earth beneath his feet but the searing brightness of the light had made it hard.

All he could do was what Sasquatch were best at, being so still as to be invisible to even the eyes of the crows… But this time it was a mistake.

Something hard and small but going very fast had glanced off his brow ridge, carving a deep gash that instantly flooded one eye with blood. The impact had made him fall backwards and despite the sudden sharp ache in his skull he felt instant relief as he fell out of reach of the burning suns.

Time stood still as he lay there, looking up at the rivers of light streaming through the trees and brush, even blotting out the stars beyond. Then the pain in his skull started to wash away his fear and it shifted to anger! Ancient rage from a thousand generations of being wronged by these puny, weak creatures flooded his veins. The bright, white rivers turned a deep blood red and his blood boiled. They would pay dearly for causing this pain!

One fist wiped the pooled blood from his eye but before he could bound to his feet to roar a challenge his mother was there, sweeping him up as she leapt through the rivers of light into the darkness, the echo of her roar following them into the forest.

The Young Sasquatch struggled to get free. He wanted to attack his attackers.

But she would not put him down until they were over the ridge-top, well out of reach of the Hairless One's lights… and their guns. Even then she would not let him go, holding him against the earth and commanding him to be still so she could check his head.

With an effort he controlled his rage, pushing it down for another time.

His mother licked at the wound, making the blood flow faster. Looking about she grabbed at some moss growing against a tree trunk and rolled it between her palms. Then she licked the wound once more and quickly placed the padded moss onto the wound.

Then she grabbed his hand and held it against the moss. He held it there as she let go and stood to look back up the slope.

No lights were coming towards the ridge top, yet.

She looked the other way, down into the valley. She knew her mate would have heard her roar and would come to investigate. Her young one got to his feet and stood beside her, still holding the moss to his head. She was proud of him. He had done well distracting the hunters from her. The wound would hurt, but it would heal… and the resulting scar would be a lesson as well.

She pondered the next move.

It was always best to know exactly where Hairless hunters were when they were about… much safer to keep an eye on them rather than risk them getting their eyes on you first.

By now they could have moved on in any direction and the longer she left them the riskier it would be to move about. The need to warn her likely fast-approaching mate was less than the need to keep an eye on the hunters. She could tree-knock, hoot or whistle a warning but until she knew exactly where they were she could not risk exposing their location.

Checking once more her child's wound, she noted with satisfaction the bleeding had already slowed. She briefly held his shoulder, she could see anger smouldering in his eyes and hoped he could control it.

Just then a flash of light streamed through the trees high overhead.

The hunters were coming. At least she now knew where they were.

Motioning him to stay close, she cut across the hill diagonally so they could circle around and gain the high ground.

40

"Goddam Hank! That's enough of that!" Billy tried to snatch the hip flask from Hank's hand but he wasn't quite fast enough.

Hank sneered at him while he took a swig anyway. Without replacing the cap he passed the flask to Billy, "There ain't never enough Billy."

Billy upended the flask. It was empty, "You could’ve at least shared it round."

Leroy was behind them. He hissed, "Will you two shut the hell up!"

Hank started off over the ridge-line, shouting back over his shoulder, "Don't worry, Leroy. Every Booger for fifty miles knows exactly where we are with these flashlights flashing about!"

As the others followed him over the crest and downhill, Sam paused at the highest point, trying to see down the valley wall for any sign of Bob and Vicky Armstrong. Was that a light?

Very faint and only seen on occasion a dim light flashed again through the trees. But he knew Bob didn't have a flashlight?

He quietly called out to the others, "Hey. Stop. There's a flashlight down there." Leroy immediately blinded him by pointing his own right in his face, "Goddamit Leroy!"

"Where?" asked Billy as Leroy apologised and swung the light down.

"Down there. Looks like its following my trail back with the Sheriff. Turn the flashlights off so we can see." Amazingly they all complied and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. When they did a dim light could clearly be seen occasionally flickering through the tree cover.

Hank swung up onto the first branch of a dead tree to get a better vantage point, "That Gurney?"

"Has to be. nobody else it out here."

The light crested a higher place in the path a couple of hundred yards down the trail and they all could now clearly see it for the first time. In the ambient immediacy of the light three figures could just be made out following close behind it. They were very distinct sizes, the bigger one coming last lurching about as it moved as if injured.

The light dimmed as it disappeared behind some trees again.

Just then the waxing moon broke through a small cloud over the ridge to the east, casting its light across the valley below.

"What in hell?" Sam felt his heart jump into his throat. Trailing the three figures was a huge, dark shadow. It disappeared so quickly Sam doubted that he had even seen it.

He looked at the others. In the new moonlight he could see their faces. All three were pale, even Hank, "Did you guys see that?"

Billy nodded, "What on God's good earth was it?"

"Whatever it was it was right behind them. Keep your flashlights turned off. Spread out and hide. Let them walk past us and we'll surprise the damned thing in a crossfire as it follows them."

"Good idea," slurred Hank, "We've got the high ground." He jumped back down from the tree and lay down behind its roots in a sniper position.

Billy moved off and took a position behind a couple of boulders. Leroy looked at Sam, his eyes frightened and his face very pale, "I don't think I can do this."

Sam pointed at a nearby deadfall, "You go there. I'll take up a central position here with the 50 cal."

Reluctantly Leroy moved off, lying behind the fallen trunk and leaning his rifle across the top.

Sam took three steps back up the trail to place himself behind an old tree.

A branch was conveniently placed at more or less rifle height and with some relief he laid the weight of the Barrett across it looking down the trail.

They were all in a rough semi-circle in a half-decent ambush position.

Sam hissed, just loud enough for all to hear… he hoped, ‘"Wait until I shoot first. Don't shoot unless I do."

"Yeah... right," he heard Hank mutter under his breath. There was nothing for it. He just hoped the man wasn't drunk enough to shoot Bob by mistake.

41

The Alpha Sasquatch knelt to study the corpse, immediately noting which parts had been eaten.

His anger grew… so that's why the Genoskwa was being hunted?

And now, going by the sign, there were more Hairless Ones after it! His mate must have run into them. He sniffed the air. Their particularly acrid scent hung in the cool night air, along with the lingering odour of their weapons. The smell and the tracks lead up towards the nearby ridge-line, from which he could very faintly hear voices of the Hairless Ones drifting over.

His mate and child were no-where to be seen.

Moving like only a Sasquatch can, he glided through the trees to the top of the ridge. Before approaching the true top he dropped and quickly crawled on his fingers and toes to where he could look over and observe the source of those voices.

He got there just in time to watch as four hunters spread apart and took up ambush positions a handful of steps down the slope below him. Through and beyond them the freshly worn path snaked down into the valley.

Only a little way down a dim light appeared, followed by three figures, all varied in size. He recognised them as the Hairless Woman, her son and the Old Male who had shot the Genoskwa in the shoulder. Why were Hairless Ones ambushing their own?

The reason soon became clear as the cones in his eyes gathered and condensed the growing moonlight into a clarity that could see for miles. The Genoskwa!

It was trailing the three, easily within striking distance of the larger one at the back. Why had it not already attacked? Perhaps out of fear for the weapon it carried?

The Alpha had seen the damage it had done to the Genoskwa's shoulder. But the weapon was pointed down and the Hairless One carrying it looked too weak to even lift it. It was using a thick stick under one armpit to support its weight as it staggered along up the rough terrain of the trail. Obviously it could not place its weight on one of its legs and was exhausted from the effort of getting up the trail. If the Genoskwa attacked now it would not have a chance.

As if it had heard his thoughts the Genoskwa in the shadows moved closer. It was now close enough to simply reach out and take the Hairless One's head off, and looked poised to do so.

The Alpha Sasquatch was too far off to do anything but watch.

42

Vicky was dog-tired.

The torch light was dimming fast. It's battery finally going… or perhaps it was the growing moonlight drowning it out?

Seemingly for miles they had followed its heroic attempts to light the trail, Mr Gurney swearing under his breath at every mis-step and stumble. They dared not stop to check the condition of his ankle. She sensed if they did he might not be able to get up again.

The man was old, perhaps even older than Frank had been, and Vicky was amazed how he had kept on going. He must be in agony. A few times she had swung the light back on him after a particularly bad stumble. His face had been pale with wide, staring eyes that seemed to take forever to focus on her before swearing at her to keep moving.

She had offered to carry his gun but he refused. So she had been content to hold tightly to her son's hand. He too was obviously exhausted, but determined to keep going. She could not help but feel some pride towards him at his tremendous effort.

Looking up the trail she saw they were getting very close to the top of the ridge. Mr Gurney had told her the road was not far down the other side.

But instead of relief she felt sudden trepidation. The skin crawled up her neck, a feeling she was not unused to by now. But this crawling was made even worse when she thought she heard Frank's voice shout, "Vicky! Get down!"

But Frank was dead? She turned to ask if Bob had heard it and froze in terror.

The monster was right behind him, reaching its uninjured arm out high as if it was going to swat a fly on the side of his head! He was oblivious, eyes on the ground as he stumbled along in his own private world of white-faced agony. She tried to shout a warning but nothing came out of her mouth. The creature grinned like a demon, exposing those terrifying teeth to the moonlight. Frozen and helpless, she watched the arm begin its descent towards Bob's head.

A bee whizzed past her head, followed by a thunderclap of sound that rang in her ears.

The monster grunted and take a step back, its eyes wide in surprise and shock.

Bob looked up, his eyes mirroring those of the monster behind him. Somehow he turned and dropped onto one knee, trying to raise the shotgun but it seemed too heavy for he dropped it again and sagged helplessly onto the ground.

Immediately the night was torn asunder as metal bees flew through the air and her ears throbbed with what seemed like a hundred thunderclaps, all going off at once.

Simon was screaming beside her and she dropped, dragging him down and curling into a ball around his tiny body. There was a strange noise mixing with the thunderclaps and Simon's screaming and she realised it was coming from her. She was screaming as well.

43

From his position in a tree growing right on the very edge of the ridge-line, the Young Sasquatch watched the Genoskwa die.

The thunderclaps seemed to go on forever, punctuated by one that was much louder and heavier than the others. He recognised the sound from the creek when his father had stood down the Genoskwa and the Hairless Ones had shown up out of nowhere.

Each time the louder one sounded the Genoskwa was punched back another step, until finally it fell and the thunderclaps ceased, leaving an emptiness in the air tainted with an acrid, burning smell.

At the sight, sadness replaced his burning anger at being shot himself.

He knew the Genoskwa had done what all Sasquatch knew not to do… take a Hairless One's life. What he was witnessing was the inevitable result of such actions. But yet he was sad for it. It had been alive and powerful… now it was weak and dead. No different than the Hairless Ones it had killed.

He looked down at where his mother was standing, her bulk behind the same tree. She looked up at him, her eyes as sad as his own.

Suddenly, his father appeared beside her. They held each other's shoulders, looking deeply into the other's eyes for a long moment.

The Young Sasquatch had seen enough, he lightly dropped to the ground beside his parents.

His sire crouched, holding his shoulders, inspecting his wound, then looking into his eyes, the Alpha male's wise, dark eyes telling him more than sounds could ever convey. Then the Alpha stood again and faced the moon, which was now already high into the sky. His eyes, far back in his powerful brow shone bright with the moon's light in their depths before the massive Alpha turned and walked away from the carnage back into the valley below.

His troop followed, not even looking back.

44

"Mr Gurney!"

Bob lifted his attention from where he was selecting a handful of snacks from a silver tray.

He was uncomfortable in the suit. He had not worn one since being married decades ago, Was it possible to make a comfortable suit?

Across the room Vicky Armstrong weaved her way through the other black-clad well-wishers in the church hall. Bob was impressed with how many had turned up for Frank Armstrong's funeral. More than that held for Percy, and the Armstrong's had only been in Hells’ Canyon for a few years while Percy's family went back generations.

He reached out his left hand, his right was full of carefully balanced crackers, cheese and other assortments of tiny snacks, "Please Miss Vicky, call me Bob."

She smiled, "Only if you stop calling me Miss Vicky."

He returned the smile, "Deal."

She pointed to the awkward boot that covered his heavily wrapped foot, "How's your ankle?"

He grimaced, "It will heal. I'm not supposed to be up and about but I couldn't miss Frank's funeral."

Her eyes saddened, 'thanks, we appreciate it."

"How's Simon?"

"Taking it all surprisingly well… I suppose. I mean, he's still talking and walking. His legs get stronger by the day. He was running around climbing trees yesterday. You"D think he"D be terrified of the forest, after… you know… I sure am." She attempted a weak smile, "I"D be happy if I never saw another tree."

"You going back to the city?"

"No, poor Mary… she and Frank were so close. I wish David and I had had the time to get that close," she swallowed, obviously holding back tears, "I think we'll stay here. God knows there's probably more monsters in the city than out here anyway."

Bob sighed, "Yeah, they are everywhere, and the worse ones wear clothes," he glanced around and lowered his voice, "Any trouble over how they found Frank?"

She did the same, glancing around before replying, "Strangely no. His body was found in the tree house, not where we left it."

Bob felt his eyes bug open, 'really? That is interesting. How"D the coroner explain that away?"

"I don't know… and I don't care. What about the monster's body? And the sheriff?"

"Sheriff's still in hospital. A broken rib pierced a lung as we suspected. He was lucky to make it out. … paid him a visit but when I brought the subject up he refused to talk about it and warned me not to as well."

"And the body?… of that thing?"

"It's called a Genoskwa and is a very rare animal… a magnificently powerful animal, and a very dangerous one, but an animal at that. It, like every other predator deserves a place in this world."

Vicky looked deep into Bob's eyes. She could see he was deadly serious, "It killed people."

The almost-fanaticism in Bob's eyes faded and softened, "Yes… but so do Bears, should we eradicate them? Or live and let live? What about sharks? Or Mountain Lions?"

She began to see his point, "People need to be warned, how come the media is not all over this?"

Bob snorted, "They know to keep quiet. I agree, people should be warned but powerful interests demand otherwise."

Vicky suddenly felt like she needed some tinfoil for a hat, "But why? Who?"

"That's the question, isn't it. These things are out there, and growing in numbers I believe. Whoever is keeping it covered up, government, military, forestry… I doubt they can keep this under wraps for much longer. Something is eventually gonna give."

"Which brings us back to the body? How are they going to explain that away?"

"Billy Baxter said he would sort it," Bob rolled his eyes, "Sam said he didn't give a damn what they did as long as it was out of his park as soon as possible."

45

Billy Baxter was knackered.

It had taken them all day to get the body to the road.

Goddam the thing was heavy. The only way to move it was with a chain block to drag the damned thing up the slope, then down through the trees.

It was simply amazing how many times it caught on things, rocks, trees, vines, you name it.

And it had already begun to stink… real bad.

He had never smelt anything like it. The smell had caused him to empty his breakfast early on into the task.

He and Hank had almost fallen to blows several times, blaming each other for the many curses that seemed to befall their mission. Once he had even dropped the chain block onto his foot, which he was still limping from and now throbbed madly. He was not looking forward to taking off his boot when this dreadful task was over.

Finally the road was in sight. He looked at Hank, "Screw this, I'm hookin a rope to my truck for the rest, wait here."

Billy limped down through the trees to his truck and pulled out a long rope.

As he limped back up the slope to attach it to the booger he noticed Hank had a strange look on his face, "What's your problem? You should be happy. You're gonna be a rich man after this."

"Yeah… I know."

Something about the tone in Hank's voice sent a chill down Billy's spine. He began back to the truck, letting the rope out as he went.

As he tied it on and got in the driver's seat, Billy acknowledged the idea of having to share the spoils with Hank had often led to murderous thoughts, but too many people knew about it to go through with it. He hoped Hank was bright enough to see that… problem was, Billy doubted he was.

Without too much tyre spinning they got the body onto the road and sure enough when Billy stepped out he noticed Hank had unholstered his pistol. Both had made sure to be heavily armed, with the most powerful pistols they could find. Billy had to lend one of his to Hank to get him to come. For the first time he thought to himself, I should have put blanks in it.

"What the hell ya doing? We gotta get this thing in the back yet!"

"Yeah," Hank stared at him, "Thought I heard somethin’…”

"Then why aren't you lookin’ in the bush, not at me?"

Hank turned, holstered his gun and began to set up a block and tackle to get the body onto the truck, "Probably hearin’ things."

The mission of getting the corpse onto the truck proved no less problematic. At one point Hank caught his arm under the booger's entire weight against the side of the truck. Billy briefly considered leaving him pinned there, but he needed to finish the job.

Finally it was done.

Billy moved to get into the truck, "Thank Christ that's over, let's go."

The look in Hank's eyes stopped him.

"Hank? Come on, let's go get rich buddy."

"Why?"

"Whaddaya mean, ‘why’?"

"Why should you get rich? T’was my boy the booger killed. You lost nuthin’."

"Hank, I suggested we do this in the first place, remember? We're usin’ my truck… you're usin’ my gun." Slowly, trying to hide the movement, Billy slipped free the wire clip that stopped his own gun from falling out of the holster.

"Thas right… I'm usin’ your gun," Hank smiled an evil smile and Billy felt flooding fear at the realisation he was about to die chill his bones.

He gulped, "Hank, don't do nuthin' stupid now, too many people know about this."

"Yeah, one too many people."

Still trying to move slowly, Billy dropped his hand closer and closer to his gun. Hank already had his out. Billy hadn't seen him get it out.

"Gentlemen!" The voice snapped through the tension like a whip through fog.

Billy and Hank spun at the same time, Billy taking the opportunity to draw his gun while Hank panicked and actually pulled the trigger.

The two men walking towards them down the road didn't even flinch.

The smaller one, in slacks, city shoes and black-tied shirt spoke again, "I suggest you holster your weapons gentlemen. My associate and I don't take kindly to being shot at."

Billy noticed the bigger one was bearded and roughly dressed, in stark contrast to the other in jeans and simple boots. But he moved with an authority usually only displayed by those highly trained in the military. Both wore dark glasses that hid their eyes completely.

"Who the hell are you?" Hank had lowered his gun, but did not holster it. Billy holstered his own but kept his hand on it, trying to see if there were any more, where in hell had these two come from?

"Mr Black, Department of The Interior," as he approached the smaller, well-dressed one flashed a card in Billy's face and smiled like a shark, "This is my associate, Mr White. I must thank you boys for doing our job for us. We weren't looking forward to getting that out of there," he nodded at the booger, then up the hill. He reached out his hand, "Thank you. Your efforts are much appreciated."

Billy ignored the hand, "Screw you! We killed it, we keep it."

The smile grew even wider, "Ah, you hear that Mr White? Our friend here just admitted to committing murder?"

The man's voice was deep, and gruff, "I heard."

"Mr William Baxter, proprietor of the only bar in Hell's Canyon," for the first time the man pulled off his glasses. The big man left his on, "You have a choice before you… go away as if nothing happened, keep your business, your world, your life," The man emphasised the last word, "Or go to prison for 1st degree murder. You might get out in a century or so, with a lenient judge… your choice my friend."

Billy let go his gun and held his truck keys up instead.

"Wise man," Mr Black took them with a smile and made to get in the driver's seat.

"Like Hell!" Hank screamed, he lifted his gun making Billy wince, oh shit!

But suddenly the big man, Mr White, was right there, in Hank’s face, the man moved so fast!

Hank looked up at the man mountain before him, his mouth hanging open. Billy saw the big man's hand lift and he winced again, expecting it to come crashing down on Hank's head. But instead it reached to Mr White's dark glasses and lifted them.

By the sudden terrified look on Hank's face Billy was very happy he could not see the look in Mr White's eyes. The old drunk must be losing it badly, thought Billy as he noticed a dark stain spread in his crotch.

The gun slipped out of his hand and made him jump as it hit the ground and went off, the bullet tearing through the shin area of Hank's jeans and ricocheting off the side of Billy's truck.

The big man's voice rumbled as he lowered his glasses back into place, "That's the second time you have almost shot me Mr Barnett. I strongly suggest you refrain from doing so again."

He turned and got into the passenger side, slamming the door.

Mr Black started the engine, "You will find your vehicle in its usual spot at your place of business Mr Baxter, enjoy your walk."

Billy sighed and turned back to Hank, who was holding his leg. It was bleeding. Oh great, the bullet must have hit his leg. Quickly he stepped over and bent to pick up the gun, his gun. He did not offer it back to Hank, "If you can't walk, too bad, I'm leavin’ you out here. It'll be dark soon."

He marched off towards town. His flashlight was in the truck. No way was he gonna be out here in the dark, ever again.

46

The Young Sasquatch watched the children play from the safety of a handful of trees deep into the forest. They were running up and down the ramp into the strange tree construction, making the boards rattle loudly enough to compete with their endless laughter.

He remained as still as the tree he stood behind, just his head and one shoulder showing if they looked his way. But he knew by staying perfectly still, even if a Hairless One looked directly at him, it would not see him unless he moved.

And indeed several times while the sun drifted towards the far horizon a certain Hairless child paused in its play and seemingly stared right at him. Each time the Young Sasquatch felt tempted to move, just so it would see him.

Their laughter teased him, calling him to come out from the safe forest and into the light… but the wound on his forehead still throbbed when he moved fast. Even now it itched crazily, making it even harder to maintain his connection with the tree he had one hand resting on.

He resisted, both the urge to scratch and the urge to approach the boy and his new friends. Eventually the itch faded from a burning sun to a distant star as his heart slowed to beat to the time of the forest around him.

For some reason the five Hairless children were all wearing black clothes as they played, and there were a lot of adult ones in the house wearing the same colour. The adults were very quiet, and the Young Sasquatch detected a deep sadness in the air, despite the children's play outside.

Perhaps it had something to do with the Old Hairless One his father had left in the tree construction a few nights back?

The sun sank lower in the sky as he watched the children play, not moving even a finger… he was just another tree… but with eyes.

Which widened as he saw the door to the house swing open and a grey-headed old male came out. It was limping heavily with a silvery stick under one armpit and one foot was thick and white with wrappings. The man called out, "Simon! Your Mom wants you kids to come inside now before it gets dark!"

The small Hairless Child that used to ride the strange wheeled thing ran over to the man, "Aw Mr Gurney… it won't be dark for ages yet."

Leaning down the man placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, "Yeah I know boyo… but listen to your Mom, okay?"

The boy's sister, followed by the two new children approached, "Come on Simon. Let's go inside."

As they walked past the Old One straightened. Its eyes lifted and seemed to go right where the Young Sasquatch was in the shadows.  He had been seen!

He could not help himself. His connection instantly lost, the Young Sasquatch flinched. All he could do was stare back, feeling as exposed as if he was out in the sun-lit yard, right in front of the man. He felt his legs start to rock, loading his muscles with oxygen, ready to bolt.

Somehow the Young Sasquatch forced his body to remain still, the sudden throbbing of the wound on his forehead turning the fear into anger. The anger gave him the strength to reconnect to the tree, his hand gripping the bark hard as the Old One stared at him. He felt a growl begin, deep in the pit of his stomach.

Thankfully the boy broke the Old One's concentration, "What are you looking at Mr Gurney?"

As soon as the Old One dropped its eyes the Young Sasquatch was on his belly and behind the next tree back, the growl dying as quickly as it had started.

"Just lookin for monkeys Simon." The Old One turned and limped through the door, but the boy stayed where he was, his keen eyes searching the trees. They passed right over the Young Sasquatch, where he was now on his belly in the leaf litter, just another mossy boulder.

"Simon!" The Old One called, holding the door open.

The boy spun and ran up the stairs to go inside.

For a moment the Old One looked back, but this time his eyes scanned, searching. He was not seen. The door banged closed and the Young Sasquatch felt his anger begin to fade. Quietly, to himself,  he repeated the sound he had heard, SIMON…

There was a short, low whistle.

He stood and ran quickly and quietly through the trees to where his mother was crouching several trees back. She inspected his head wound and smiled, touching it with her wide lips before turning and heading away, upstream and into the mountains.

Unseen even by the Young Sasquatch, his father stood in the trees nearby and watched his mate and child depart. He had been there the whole afternoon, watching his son satiate his curiosity… And struggle with it.

But the Alpha's chest had filled with pride when he recognised the point of victory in his son's struggle. His boy had become One with his world around him, remaining so perfectly motionless that if he did not know where to look even he could not see him.

The Alpha had not missed the exchange between the Old Hairless One though.

For a moment he had thought his son was about to bolt and was ready to intervene with a well aimed rock. But instead he had waited and his chest swelled further when he saw his boy regain his composure, and become Still again.

The Alpha was happy. His child had won his personal battle, finally learning how to be Still.

The Old One had been seen many times before… It intended his troop no harm, despite obviously knowing they were around.

He turned to follow his mate and child into the forest.

Far beyond the mountains was a place he went every handful of years, and had even met his mate there. It was time his child learnt more about his world.

Time for him to meet the Clans at the Berry Feast.

What is Sasquatch Sagas?

This Prequel novel is set 9 years before Volume 1, A Violent World.

To read Volume 1, A Violent World and many more Sasquatch Sagas adventures …and to be kept informed of new material as it is published, join the Sasquatch Sagas Troop by subscribing at: SasquatchSagas.com

If you enjoyed this novel, please help out the author by leaving a review on the distribution platform you downloaded it from.

About The Author

W. R. Wildwood spent his childhood running wild in the forested hills and mountains of his parents’ farm, where he developed a strong connection with the earth and all of its inhabitants. His love and affinity for the natural world grew a strong sense of responsibility for the animals that reside in it... including those that human society ridicules as ‘make believe’ or ‘hoaxes’.

The Sasquatch Sagas series is written from the point of view of the ‘monster’ in the hope that humans will gain a better understanding of these animals and why they behave the way they do. With understanding comes empathy and compassion, not for some terrifying monster in the dark, but for an animal like us, walking this earth beside us, largely unseen in the dead of night.

... An animal closer to us than any other in so many ways, and sharing many of our human traits, not the least of which is our capacity for violence.

Other Volumes in the series

Sasquatch Sagas, Volume 1, ‘A Violent World’

Sasquatch Sagas, Volume 2, ‘A Burning World’

Sasquatch Sagas, Volume 3, ‘A Vengeful World’

Acknowledgments

This work is dedicated with thanks to all who inspired the author: Wes Germer's Sasquatch Chronicles, Brian "Duke’ Sullivan's World Bigfoot Radio, Matt, Coonbo and Bear's Bigfoot Outlaws Radio Show, Vic Cundiff's Bigfoot Eyewitness Radio and Dogman Encounters podcasts and the multitude of guests brave enough to come on these shows to relive the experience, risk ridicule, and tell of their encounters with these amazing animals.

Special thanks to my wonderful and patient wife and soul mate, Jasmin, without whose constant support and encouragement this novel would never have been finished.

And my Wolfhound X, "Thor’… who is to the canine world what Sasquatch is to the human.

This book is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products

of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead

is entirely co-incidental.

Copyright 2019 by W. R. Wildwood.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction

in whole or in part or in any form.

Cover Design by W. R Wildwood.

A SasquatchSagas.com Production.

wolf@sasquatchsagas.com

Created with Vellum

Contents

Untitled

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

What is Sasquatch Sagas?

About The Author

Acknowledgments