Bigfoot War Part 3

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I think you can handle it from here without me."

She ignored his response. "Don't let me see you in these parts again."

She turned to order Justin to roll out, but Jeff called after her. "Are you going to tell people the truth of what happened here? Make them understand the monster is real?"

She stopped and spun around. "That's my choice, not yours."

"That's not an answer. I have seen things like this covered up before. The sheriff in Babble Creek when I was a kid swept everything under the rug and played me as crazy because it was just easier that way."

"Like I said, it's my call to make and you'll have to live with that fact." She moved on to her patrol car and slammed the door after she got in.

As she followed Justin and Powell down the long drive, she looked in the rearview mirror to see Jeff still standing by his car.

Jeff Jeff watched Becca and the others leave. Once they had vanished from view, he turned and walked toward the house where he had grown up, and ascended the steps on the front porch to the main door. He went in. Bugs skittered across the floor as the sunlight behind him shone into the room. The smell of rot and animal waste took his breath. He covered his mouth and shook his head in disgust. There was nothing to be seen here anyway. He didn't know what had made him think taking a look inside was a good idea. The place held only darkness, and the darkness was over now. His father and brother had at last been avenged. They could rest in peace. He could move on and, maybe, with luck, live a normal life.

He stepped out onto the porch and took a deep breath of fresh country air. It was hard to believe it was all over. Somehow it didn't feel real. It felt as if there was something left to do. Jeff hopped over the porch railing to the gra.s.s and walked around the house, taking one last look at this place of nightmares before he headed to his car.

A roar erupted from the trees beyond the gravel drive. It was not the voice of the creature which had so long haunted him. It sounded different, as if it was a cry of grief not rage. He broke into a run. Jeff knew the voice belonged to another of the creatures and it was going to come after him like he had its kin. His rifle was his only hope.

As he reached the car, several more howling voices roared in the woods, a chorus of sadness becoming rage. Jeff was amazed at how much emotion lay in the cries. These things were more human-like than he'd ever guessed and that was not a good thing.

He jerked his rifle from the car and stood facing the tree line. He could no longer keep count of the number of voices in the air. His heart thundered in his chest and sweat poured from his skin. If he was going to die today, that was okay, too. He wasn't going to go down without a fight, though. Chambering a round, he raised the rifle as an eight-foot-tall creature lumbered from the trees at the head of a large tribe of monsters. It was female. Large sagging b.r.e.a.s.t.s hung from underneath the fur of its chest. Jeff took aim and put a bullet into its skull, knowing he was slaying the mother of at least some of the child-like creatures in the pack. They were only about the size of a man, but their bodies were still thick with muscle. The wailing monster flopped to the ground then lay still. No sooner had the body hit the dirt than the others came. They were of all sizes and shapes, male and female. The smallest looked to weigh a little over four hundred pounds and was tiny in comparison to most of the others. A large male led the charge; Jeff took note of the fury in its eyes. There was hurt and anger there, too. In that instant, he realized these things weren't going to stop with his death. He'd stirred up a hornet's nest of primal vengeance and it would be coming for all of Babble Creek.

The beast-like creature that raced toward him stood nearly a dozen feet tall and the ground shook with each of its steps. Hulking muscles rippled even through the thick layer of hair that covered its arms and legs. Jeff raised his rifle and put a .30.-.06 round into its shoulder. It spun, betrayed by its own momentum, and went skidding sideways in the dirt. His aim moved to the rest of the pack. As one they bounded toward him as he fired again and again into their ranks. One of his shots caught a female in her shoulder and blew a hefty chunk of flesh into the air. Another of his shots slammed into one male's forehead and sent brain matter splattering into the wind as his round exited the backside of the monster's skull. The red eyes of the pack blazed even brighter with anger and hatred. The rifle was torn from his grasp as they reached him and dozens of hairy hands grabbed onto his body. Jeff heard his own screams echoing across the land as they tore him limb from limb.

The last thing he saw was his own blood and strands of flesh spraying up into the air.

Brent Rita was waiting on Brent when he reached the emergency room. He felt the urge to make a run for it when he saw her, but he forced himself to don a smile. His heart fluttered like a nervous teenager's.

She raced to him, stopping just short of embracing him. "Oh, Brent," she said, bringing a hand up to the large bruise on his cheek and the numerous small gashes and sc.r.a.pes on his exposed flesh.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said, rubbing at a gash on his lip. "I'm okay. Really, I had worse when I was on the circuit wrestling. Let someone get overzealous and go to town on you with a metal chair and this seems like nothing."

"Thank G.o.d," she said, clearly relieved. "I heard . . . I heard a bunch of people got hurt and some got killed at the old Taylor place. I had to know you were all right."

"Rita, I . . ." he started, but she stood on her toes and placed a finger over his lips, being careful not to touch the many small cuts where the tree's bark had tore him up.

"I know how you feel about me, Brent. I can see it every time you look at me. Will you please ask me on a date before something really does happen to you?"

He was awestruck and struggled to shake it off. "Okay, Rita," he said quietly, "okay."

She smiled at him. "Go see the doctor. I'll wait right here for you."

He nodded dumbly and went to the receptionist to tell them he was there. As the nurse led him into the ER proper, he was so happy he could barely keep himself from singing.

Marcus The engine of the dirt bike whirred loud and clear as Marcus Hawk tore his way through the trees. He was as close to being a professional driver as they came without actually being one. Driving like this was dangerous, but it made him feel alive and he did it every chance he got. He knew these woods better than most his friends' houses. He swerved, cutting onto the gravel road that ran from the lake into the outskirts of Babble Creek. He let out a cry of excitement as he hit a b.u.mp in the road and left the ground for a brief moment. He easily brought the bike down with perfect balance. Marcus slowed as he neared the spot where he left Anna and the others at the lake. His dad's old gray truck and Donald's Forester both sat parked on the roadside. He came to a stop, killing the engine, and left the bike behind him.

The sounds of splas.h.i.+ng and playful yells came from all the way up the bank. He took off his helmet and slipped off his jacket before he walked the trail leading to the lake. Anna, Rachel, and Sheena were in the water. Travis sat on the bank, snapping pictures of them with his camera. Marcus's gaze went directly to Anna. His breath caught as he took her in. Her long brown hair was soaked, plastered to her skin on the top of her shoulders. Like he always did, he reminded himself how blessed he was to have her in his life. They had been together for almost a year and Marcus knew in his heart she was the one for him.

"Marcus!" she shouted as they saw him. "Tell your perverted friend to stop it or we will seriously hurt him."

He sighed as Donald looked over at him, realizing he was back. "Put it away, buddy," Marcus told him.

Donald laughed and tucked the camera into the pocket of his shorts.

"Thought you'd never come back," he said. "You have fun?"

A large splash, like a limb falling into the water, came from the other side of the small lake. The girls were suddenly screaming and swimming toward them.

Donald leaped to his feet beside Marcus. "What in the heck was that? Did a tree just fall in the water?"

Marcus's eyes went wide. "It wasn't a tree," he said almost stunned beyond the capacity for speech.

"How do you know?" Donald asked.

"Trees don't swim," he shouted, watching as a ma.s.sive brown form underneath the surface of the clear water streaked at the girls. He ran to the edge of the bank to meet Anna as she came bursting from the lake.

"Marcus," she screamed, throwing herself into his arms. "What is that thing?"

The other girls were right behind her. Sheena hopped out of the water near them, but Rachel wasn't so lucky. Something caught her and she vanished into the now-muddy and murky depths of the lake. The surface rippled and bubbled, turning red.

"Oh, please no," Donald muttered as the thing stood up. The deep water of the lake barely came to the thing's chest. A creature stood towering over them. Sopping brown fur covered its body. Its eyes were filled with a burning hatred and the thing roared at them with a voice louder than a lion's. Marcus knew in that moment that Sheena was beyond their help and he didn't intend on sticking around to see her body float up to the surface. "Run!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, shoving Anna up the bank ahead of him.

The creature moved with speed and came at them in a fury. Marcus glanced back as he, Anna, and Donald raced for his dad's truck to see the thing effortlessly overtake Rachel and scoop her into the air with a single hand lifting her above its head. It grabbed her lower body with its other hand and ripped her in half, silencing her cries for help while her entrails rained over it.

Something slammed into Marcus as he turned away form the horror behind him and started running again. Whatever it was slammed into his chest, causing him to lose his footing. The impact sent him rolling down the trail. As he tumbled, he saw it was Anna's body that'd hit him. Most of the flesh of her chest was torn away, as if it had been clawed at by a single mighty swipe of a giant fan rake but with razor-sharp ends. One of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s was gone, leaving nothing but a ragged fleshy hole in her torso. Her neck was broken and her head flopped from side to side as their entwined bodies bounced down the path toward the water. Rage boiled in Marcus's veins. They came to a stop with her corpse on top of him. He gently pushed her off and started to get up. He swore he was going to find a way to kill the thing that did this to her. The last thing Marcus saw was a huge, furry hand come down and envelop his head from behind, covering his eyes. His world filled with pain as he heard the crunching sound of his own bone caving in from the pressure of the thing's grip.

Dirk On the other side of town, Dirk was thinking about how much he hated Mondays. The work day was through, but regulations required he and Gerald drive to the tops of Rhodes Cove to inspect the main power junction before they called it a day. It was a simple matter of a quick glance, making a note things were running okay, then driving back. The catch was the junction was so far off the main road, the round trip took nearly an hour. Never in his career had he managed to talk Gerald into just skipping the stupid place and faking the paperwork.

"And people say ethics are a good thing." He chuckled to himself. He stopped the truck outside the fence surrounding the junction, kept the engine running, and turned to Gerald. "Make it fast, man. I am beat."

Gerald shook his head with a frown, grabbing up the palm pilot-like work pad beside him, and hopped from the vehicle. The older man disappeared into the power junction as Dirk drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. He was bouncing along to "s.p.a.ceman" on the radio when he noticed it. Its ma.s.sive shape blended into the trees, making it difficult to see. Dirk thought it was a bear until it moved like a man and he saw it stood on two legs and its upper limbs ended in giant hands not paws. He clicked off the radio and sat staring at it, frozen, sweat beading his skin. His instinct told him to kick it in reverse, push the pedal to the floorboard, and not stop until he was home, but Gerald . . . . He couldn't bring himself to leave the old man regardless of how much he strained his nerves on a daily basis.

Terrified of agitating the beast, Dirk stayed where he was. All he could think of to do was wait for Gerald to return and pray the monster wandered off before then. Refusing to even turn his head, Dirk cut his eyes in the direction of the junction, trying to see what was keeping his friend.

Finally, Gerald came into view, strolling along, focused entirely on making notes on his pad. Dirk wanted to shout at him, to give him some kind of warning of what lurked in the woods. Gerald's mouth was formed in an O; the old man was no doubt whistling "Back in Black" like he always did when just putzing along. The creature must have heard him, however, because it came tearing from the trees with a deep, bloodcurdling growl. Dirk had no idea what made him do it, but he floored the gas and the power company truck sped forward to meet the beast. WHAM! The thing was caught off balance and was knocked from its feet. It went rolling through the dirt, but the impact caused Dirk to lose control of the truck. In his panic, he slammed the gas harder; the vehicle spun in circles. It careened through the fence around the power junction and into the transistor inside. A shower of sparks filled the air as Dirk saw Gerald leaping to safety and the monster limping toward the old man.

The truck took a lot of damage from the crash. The fuel line or something must have been pulled loose because sparks ignited the vehicle into flames. Heat scorched Dirk's flesh as a scream left his mouth for the last time.

Amanda The parking lot of the shopping center was fairly crowded for a Monday afternoon. Amanda rolled her cart full of groceries across the hot asphalt to her car and popped the trunk with the remote on her key chain. As she transferred the bags to the trunk, she made a list of things she had left to do today. Days off seemed long when you thought about them coming, but once they arrived, they blew by. Harold's wasn't the best place in town to shop, but she refused to go into the super center where she worked on her only break after five days straight with four more starting tomorrow. Harold's was a quaint little local store that had been around almost as long as the town itself. It was the kind of place where everyone knew who you were and asked how you were doing. The service was great, but the prices were terrible if you lived on a budget. Clark, the store's owner, did his best, but he simply didn't have the buying power to match the prices of the big chains.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda saw someone walking up to her. She turned to see Lewis, a big grin on his face.

"Give you a hand?" he asked in his too-chipper voice.

"No thanks. I got it," she said, hoping he would pick up she wanted nothing to do with him. He'd chased her ever since her husband pa.s.sed away five years ago. She had remained single much to the shock of everyone who knew her. She was pus.h.i.+ng forty, but was one of the most attractive and fetching women in the whole of Babble Creek. She could feel Lewis undressing her with his eyes; she shuddered on the inside.

"Looks like rain," he said, apparently trying to strike up a conversation. A ma.s.s of gray clouds were on their way in as the sun began its fall from the sky.

She shook a strand of blonde hair from her face. As politely as she could, she said, "I gotta get home, Lewis. I got to work tomorrow."

"Sure thing." He winked at her. "If you want, I could bring you some dinner later, save you from having to cook."

Someone screamed from inside the store. Both Amanda and Lewis spun around as a string of shoppers came running out of the building.

"What the devil?" he said.

"Run!" somebody shouted at them.

Lewis darted into the panicked crowd, grabbing a teenage boy by the arm, stopping him short. "What is it?" he demanded, yelling into the kid's face.

"There's a dang ape loose in there. It came in through the rear loading area and killed Mr. Clark. It yanked his heart out of his chest and just started eating it like an apple!" The kid, clearly terrified out of his mind, wriggled his way free of Lewis's hold and sprinted on.

Amanda watched Lewis as he muttered a litany of curse words and took off for his truck. In North Carolina, a lot of hunters kept their weapons proudly on display in their vehicles' rear windows and Lewis was as southern as they came. He opened its door and leaned inside, taking down one of the rifles that hung inside the truck's cab. He chambered a round as he started to march up to the store's entrance. His face wore a mask of smug, good old boy arrogance that said he wasn't about to stand for this kind of c.r.a.p happening in his town.

"Lewis!" she shouted. The man was a fool and was going to get himself killed, too.

"Get out of here, Amanda," he said. "This is man's work."

The store's main door flew outward into the lot, hitting the ground with a metallic thump along with the sound of shattering gla.s.s as shards of it bounced along the pavement. A huge, nine-foot-tall ape-like creature came swaggering out. Its fur was slick with blood.

Lewis paused, clearly taken aback by the thing, his earlier bravado fading as quickly as it had been aroused. Amanda ducked into the driver's seat of her car and cranked the engine as the ape-thing bounded forward. Lewis's rifle cracked and was followed by a roar filled with pain and anger. She slipped the car into gear and floored the gas. The car jerked as she ran over the curb in her flight for the main road.

Amanda couldn't bring herself to look back, and kept driving.

Lauren Lauren emerged from the autopsy room to find Becca and Powell asleep in her office. Powell sat in a chair in front of her desk, his head leaning against his shoulder, snoring. Becca's head was on her crossed arms atop the desk.

Lauren cleared her throat as loudly as she could. Powell sprang from his chair, drawing his gun from his holster.

"Whoa there, slick," Lauren said, waving his gun down as Becca stirred.

"So what is it?" Becca asked, her voice thick with sleep.

Lauren laughed. "You mean aside from being the greatest discovery of our lives? It's the real deal. That thing is a sasquatch. I would stake my career on it. We're sitting on a goldmine of fame and fortune."

"No, we're not," Becca said. "That thing is going to be cremated and we're never going to speak of it again."

"Becca . . ." Lauren started, but the look in Becca's eyes told her it was pointless. "Then why did you have me look at it?"

"I didn't. There was nowhere else to hide the blasted thing until it could be disposed of."

"And you knew I'd never forgive you if you didn't," Lauren said with a smile, and meant it.

"Did you find out anything else about it?" Powell asked as he holstered his gun and reached for the steaming coffee Lauren kept fresh on the counter across from her desk. She recently got a new pot and the best thing about the purchase was that she made a constant effort to keep it filled.

"Lots, but nothing that would help you, really."

"Help us?" Becca asked.

"Yeah," Lauren said, confused. She thought about it for a second. "Oh no, surely you didn't think it was the only one out there. Sasquatch 101: they travel and live in small family groups. Of course, there have been reports of tribe-like packs as well."

Powell dropped his freshly-poured coffee. The mug shattered and coffee went everywhere. They both stared at her, eyes wide, mouths partly slack.

She blushed and shrugged. "Didn't you know that?"

"Jeff Taylor is a self-taught expert on the things. He didn't mention anything about packs," Powell said, "but then again, he's also a nut."

"Taylor was obsessed with this guy in particular. He might not have thought beyond the corpse in there on that table we made."

"How many?" Becca asked. Her voice cut into Lauren like a knife. "How many more could we be dealing with?"

Lauren raised her hands, gesturing ignorance. "Depends on if it's a family or a real tribe. I'd say anywhere from three up, given how rural this area is. We're pretty secluded here and there's so much untamed forest out there. There's got to be at least a family, if not a lot more Taking into consideration the ritualistic scarring on our boy in the other room, though, I'd wager we're facing a whole tribe."

"Whoa, hold up, ladies," Powell said. "What makes you think we need to deal with the others even if they are out there? I mean, this guy was a freak, right? Most of them are peaceful from what I have heard."

Becca gave him a look that told him to shut up. "We just killed one of them. If they're anything like humans at all, that's going to tick them off a bit."

"Yes," Lauren said. "Even the most peaceful stereotypes of the creatures suggest they do attack if they feel they're threatened. Beyond that, I would say the markings on the one we killed made him special somehow, maybe their leader."

"Markings?" Becca growled.

Lauren nodded. "Dense scar tissue like another of the creatures marked this one for some reason. You know, like Native Americans used to do with the folks they exiled. Some shamans wore similar disfigurations as a sign of their status in the tribe."

"So you think our guy was either an outcast or a holy man? I thought the things were animals." Powell bent over with a handful of paper towels, mopping at the hot coffee on the floor, trying to clean it up.

"They've been growing and adapting just like we have, I would imagine, and since there hasn't been any real doc.u.mentation they even exist, much less a study on them, it's impossible to say what they're capable of and what they're not." Lauren took a breath. "If they do have the kind of social structure like what I'm guessing, you better pray this guy was an outcast."

"Why?" Becca got up from behind the desk.

"Because if he was a holy man, you've just started a war."

The lights in the office suddenly went off. A fraction of a second later the morgue's backup generator kicked on, turning the room an eerie shade of red as the emergency lights mixed with the fading light that came into the room from the window.

"Oh, this can't be good," Powell said.

"G.o.d help us," Becca added.

Brent Brent dropped Rita off at her house. The thick bandages on his mangled hands where he'd tried to stop his impact with the tree made it hard to drive, but he managed. He wasn't ready for what he found waiting on him as he drove into the sheriff department's parking area. Over a dozen people stood around outside, arguing amongst themselves. He got out of the car as the people swarmed him, barking questions and begging for answers.

"Calm down!" he shouted over the voices. "One at a time."

Cindy pushed and shoved herself a path right to him through the small crowd. It was obvious she was relieved to see an officer back. "Brent, everyone in town has gone wild. The phones have been ringing off the hook. I can't catch a breath without somebody telling me there's a monster running loose."

A kid who played football at the high school that Brent thought might be named Alan spoke. "My friends are missing, Officer Hyatt. I can't get in touch with any of them."

Another man complained about the town-wide power outage and telling a tale of someone saying they saw a fire burning up near where the power station junction was.

Pastor Ensley stepped forward. His face was white like he'd seen a ghost. "Officer Hyatt, there's an ape at the grocery store on 110. I saw it kill Mr. Clark with my own eyes. Lewis Greenwall was trying to shoot it when I left. I came straight here. I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't get through on my cell."