We stumbled back down the trail. I might have slid on my butt part of the way.
Bigfoot lay next to the grill on his back, bleeding and moaning. Hannah stood watching the perimeter, Hawk circling around her. Georgeanne knelt on the ground, a small white first-aid beside her. She was a soldier in a centuries-long war, so she probably always carried some kind of basic medical gear.
I stared. I hadn’t realized how big it—no, definitely he—really was. Six and a half feet tall, maybe more. A long jaw, like an orangutan, and a flat nose. Thick legs. Arms that probably dangled to his knees. He was moaning. Red matted fur. His left leg was coated with blood.
“Hold still.” Georgeanne probed the creature’s hip. “I know you don’t understand me, but try to—almost got it . . .”
Hawk sat on his haunches near Bigfoot’s head, licking the creature’s face, as if trying to comfort him. Bigfoot grunted, and kicked a heel on the ground.
“What happened?” I dusted my butt off.
“He just came crashing through the trees.” Hannah pointed. “Bleeding from his leg. Then he collapsed right here. There was a—a dart in his ass. Probably a tracking device. I threw it into the lake. As far as I could.” She gazed out at the water.
Georgeanne wore surgical gloves, the sleeves of her jacket buttoned back, dirt on her knees.
She leaned up and took a deep breath. Then she bent down again. “Okay—ugh.” Bigfoot smelled like he hadn’t taken a bath in—forever. “Here goes.”
She gritted her teeth and yanked. “Got it.” She threw the bullet into the sand. “Bastards.”
“Will he be okay?” I leaned over Georgeanne’s shoulder as she started cleaning the wound.
“I’m not a veterinarian.” She taped some sterile gauze pads around his leg and rubbed an arm across her forehead. “He lost a lot of blood. I gave him a shot of morphine, but I had to guess at the dose. I don’t know if—”
Bigfoot sat up and roared. The sound felt like a blast from a cannon. We all jumped back. Hawk cowered.
The howl was loud enough to be heard for miles. I glanced at Rachel. Like she could read my mind, she ran for our tent. She brings her stun gun everywhere.
Bigfoot staggered on his wounded leg. Hawk nuzzled his ankle. Hannah scanned the trees. Georgeanne started packing up her bag.
Then I heard crashing in the trees.
Rachel blinked. “They’re coming.”
“Run.” I waved a hand. “Run away!”
Bigfoot looked at me, his yellow eyes flickering. Then Hawk pushed at his heels. Bigfoot lowered his head, glanced at Georgeanne, and staggered into the trees. He stumbled, pulled himself up, and lumbered away.
Hawk watched Bigfoot go. Georgeanne reached under her jacket, making sure her handgun was secure. Hannah stepped next to her, shaking. “Nothing stupid, G, okay?”
Rachel laughed. “That’s what I always tell him.” She elbowed my arm.
A moment later Boris and Gabe burst through the trees behind us. Georgeanne whirled on the ground.
Boris held a rifle that looked like it could bring down a T-Rex. “We know it’s here!” Boris waved the snout of his rifle toward the woods. “Where is it?”
Hawk barked. Georgeanne kept her arms at her sides. Rachel kept a hand in her jacket, close to the stun gun.
“Well?” Boris pointed a boot at the blood on the ground. “It came here! We’ve been tracking the thing all afternoon!”
“I got a dart into it.” Gabe held a small crossbow, with another feather dart loaded. “That’s how we followed it here.” He looked way too proud of himself.
Georgeanne shook her head. “Not here. Not anymore. Get lost.”
“Screw you, bitch. And your bitch friends.” Boris looked at me. “You too. Pussy.”
Seriously? I managed a laugh. “Is this 9thgrade? Go home, you guys.”
Boris sighed. “We’ve been looking for this thing for years. I’ll find him.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Come on, Gabe.”
They turned back to the path.
My shoulders sagged. I wanted to go home. Hot water, an internet connection, real coffee . . .
Georgeanne and Hannah hugged. Hawk nuzzled at their feet.
“He’s not going to make it.” Rachel’s voice was stony as she looked into the trees. “Bigfoot, I mean. He’s dying.”
Hannah pulled away. “How do you know? I know you’re all paranormal or something—”
“He’s going to look for his family.” Rachel crossed her arms. “And yes, I’m psychic. I can’t read minds. Much. But I can sense things. He’s dying.”
“There’s a family?” I looked across the lake, thinking of Boris and Gabe.
Rachel nodded. “Yeah.”
The lake was maybe a mile across, but we didn’t have a canoe. There was a hiking path, though, so we took off on that, with Georgeanne in front, Hannah and Hawk at the rear, and Rachel and me in between as Rachel tried to sense the presence of Bigfoot or his family.
“I don’t know about this.” Rachel shook her head and frowned. “My psychic stuff is kind of hit or miss.”
“Just do your best.” Georgeanne peered ahead.
“We’ve got Hawk too.” Hannah patted his head. “He’s not a bloodhound, but he’s got a good nose. Don’t you, boy?”
Every few minutes Hawk veered off the path, sniffing at the bushes, but he always came back quietly to join Hannah again.
The late afternoon clouds shrouded the sky, making our path darker. Georgeanne had brought flashlights. We flicked them on, pointing them on the path ahead of us—not into the trees, where they might spook Bigfoot.
We reached the far side of the lake. I could make out our campsite across the dark, calm, deep water. My legs were getting tired—I’ve got to start working out more—but I didn’t want to be the first one to call for a rest. Rachel would never let me hear the end of it.
Abruptly Rachel stopped and closed her eyes. “Wait . . . wait.”
Hawk darted into the weeds. Hannah stepped next to Georgeanne. We waited.
Rachel nodded. “He’s—they’re here. Close.”
They? I shivered. Not just from the cool breeze from the lake.
Hawk came back, his tail wagging happily. Hannah knelt and petted him. Rachel breathed a relieved sigh.
We quit the path and pushed our way into the forest. The ground turned steep and rocky. Branches hit my face, and I tried to pull them back to protect Rachel. Georgeanne kept her flashlight low. Hawk led the way, flapping his tail impatiently as we tried to keep up.
Eventually the trees broke into a small clearing. At first all I could see were yellow eyes. Rachel took a deep breath next to me. “It’s okay.”
As our eyes adjusted, I could make out shapes. The Bigfoot from our camp lay on the ground, his breath shallow. His head lay in the lap of another one. It looked female.
Three smaller Bigfoots—Bigfeet?—sat around him, stroking his fur and cooing softly. Kids.
We stood silently, keeping our distance. Not out of fear—the mother Bigfoot barely seemed to notice us—but out of, I guess, respect.
Then the trees crashed behind us. Bright lights stung my eyes as I turned.
Boris, of course, with his rifle. And Gabe with his crossbow. Did he think it made him look more manly?
“Finally!” Boris laughed. He’d hung his sunglasses in his vest. His eyes were bright and red, as if he’d been drinking. “Look at them! We’ve got them! Stand back, girls.” He dropped his big industrial-size flashlight and started to raise his rifle.
“Think again, asshole.” Georgeanne already had her handgun out. She aimed at Boris’ chest. “Stand down.”
Boris stared at the barrel of her gun. “You going to shoot us, bitch?”
Georgeanne nodded. “Yeah. If you make me.”
The mother Bigfoot and her children didn’t pay us any attention. They were focused on the dying male.
“Why do you care?” Boris stomped a foot. “It isn’t any different than shooting a deer, or a bear, is it?”
“You eat a deer if you like venison.” Rachel’s a vegetarian. “A bear might be attacking you, so you have to shoot it. Look at them! They’re mourning their dying father.”
“So what?” Boris stared at the family. “I’ve been doing this for too long. I’m getting one. I bet you won’t shoot me.”
“That’s not a good bet, Boris—take it from me.” I managed to step forward, my legs shaking at the sight of so many guns. “Why does anyone have to shoot anything? They’re no threat to you. Just take some pictures and go home.”
Boris shook his head. “I’ve got megabytes of pictures! Nobody believes pictures. We need to bring one back. Alive or dead.”
How would they do that? Carry one back to their car? I had feeling they hadn’t thought this through, but that didn’t seem like the right point to argue right now.
“Are you going to kill us too?” Hannah folded her arms. “All four of us?”
Hawk growled. “Five,” Hannah added.
It was a stalemate. One side would have to back down. I was pretty sure Georgeanne wouldn’t—she’s fought monsters. Real ones, not human ones. Would Boris and Gabe’s machoism let them back off?
One heartbeat. Two. I looked at Rachel.
She sent me a tense glance. “Get ready.” I couldn’t really hear her, but I could understand her lips. What—
A roar erupted from behind the trees.
Georgeanne stepped back and glanced over her shoulder—keeping her gun trained on Boris.
This Bigfoot was close to seven feet tall. From what I could see in the hazy light, its red fur was tinged with gray. Grandpa Bigfoot? But his legs were still thick as he stalked forward, hairy arms swinging along his hips. He roared again, showing blunt yellow teeth inside his jaw. The sound shook my bones.
I grabbed Rachel’s hand, but she pulled it away. Hawk barked. The creature took another step forward—
And laid a hand on the mama Bigfoot’s shoulder. Protecting her.
Boris tried to raise his rifle. But his hands trembled. Then his nerves apparently gave out. He dropped the gun and ran.
Gabe fumbled with his crossbow, until Hawk charged him with a menacing growl. His finger hit the trigger, but the bolt flew into the ground, and then he twisted and followed Boris into the darkness.
The large Bigfoot crouched, watching us. The mama Bigfoot leaned back. I thought I saw tears in her yellow eyes.
“Let’s go.” I waved a hand. “Get the flashlight and the rifle. Let’s go.”
“Yeah.” Now Rachel squeezed my hand.
Georgeanne grabbed the rifle. Hannah flicked off Boris’ flashlight. Hawk stayed close to her feet.
I looked at the family. “I’m sorry. We’ll leave you alone.”
“We’re not all assholes,” Rachel added.
Grandpa Bigfoot looked at her. Then he looked down.
Our Bigfoot had died.
Back at the campsite Hannah lit charcoal in the grill. Not for dinner—we ate sandwiches—but for light and warmth.
“I hope they’re okay.” Hannah petted Hawk.
“They will be.” Rachel sipped some water. “They’re sad, not angry. Not even that big one. They just want to be left alone.”
“You think Boris and Gabe will do that?” Georgeanne had unloaded Boris’ and tossed the shells in the lake. She’d also disabled the firing mechanism. The rifle lay on the sand, in case they came back to look for it.
Rachel shrugged. “No idea. But for two macho guys, they ran pretty quick.”
We laughed.
Georgeanne stood up. “We should get up early tomorrow to strike camp and clean up. Anyone up for one last swim?”
Hannah looked at the water. “Won’t it be freezing?”
“That’s the fun.” She pulled off her boots. “Last one in’s a rotten egg!”
# # #
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