Beast Hunter

Chapter Fifteen

I finally passed out. At least I think that's what happened. All I know is that everything went black after the creature had grabbed me up like a football and ran me off into the woods. The next thing I knew, I was on my back, looking up into those big, glowing, terrifying eyes.

The stench was still rotten. But I found it easy to ignore. Coming face to face with a Bigfoot will have that effect.

I sat straight up, bracing myself for an attack.

But it didn't come.

And when I looked closer at the creature's eyes, they no longer seemed sinister or frightening. Instead, there was an ease to them that hadn't been there in the clearing. It was calmer now, tired even.

I looked around, taking in my new surroundings. We were in some kind of cavern. Not a cave per-se. More like a stone outcropping that provided a natural canopy from the sky above yet still exposed us to the forest beyond. The ground was hard and rocky. There was solid stone above and behind. In front of me, I could see the forest trees still bathed in the moonglow. But everything was otherwise dark and dreary. I had no clue what time it was, but instinct told me that dawn was still hours away.

I turned my attention back to the Sasquatch. There was just enough light to make out its basic features. It sat on its haunches, its head bowed, its breath steady but labored.

I remembered the shots Slater had taken at it and alarms went off in my head.

You'd think I'd have been relieved at the thought of it being injured. For all I knew, this was a very dangerous creature. All the lore and mythology surrounding it practically guaranteed that it would be. So if it was hurt, I'd have a better chance of surviving this very weird, very scary encounter. Right? But for some reason, I was no longer afraid of it. Call it a vibe, but now that we were here, away from Slater and in what seemed like a sparse but relatively safe shelter, I no longer felt a sense of dread or fear. This creature had protected me, carried me away from the real monster who'd abducted me and threatened my friends. The thought of it being shot, maybe gravely injured, made me sad. It had helped me. Now I wanted to do the same for it. But how?

The Sasquatch grunted and gestured to a spot next to me. With the darkness, I hadn't noticed it before. But now I saw what looked to be a person curled up there. I went to the figure and bent down to check it, straining to make out its features in the dim light.

It was Grey!

I heard what sounded like a soft moan coming from him. He was breathing, but it was shallow. He was hurt. To what extent, I didn't know. But he was alive at least.

I decided to search his pockets. Grey was accustomed to being outdoors. He knew how to prepare for it. Maybe he had something on him I could use. True, Slater probably made him empty his pockets before they got here. But maybe he missed something. A set of matches. A penlight. Anything.

In a tiny pocket on the inside of his coat, I felt something small and solid. Like a little box. I pulled it out, and in the soft light I could see what it was. A Zippo lighter.

"Yes!" I said. I don't think I could have been happier to find anything else, except maybe a cheeseburger.

I'd never handled one of these before. But I'd seen it done on TV and figured it couldn't be that hard. I opened the top, found the striker, and flicked it once...twice. On the third try, a two-inch flame ignited. Though not much, the light it gave off was leaps and bounds better than what I'd had to work with a second ago.

My first instinct was to check Grey.

No blood. No rips in his clothing. No gash on his head.

Then I saw it. Sticking out of his right shoulder was what looked like a small dart. Ignoring proper first aid procedure, I grabbed it and yanked it out. It felt like it had gone in about an inch, enough to puncture the muscle there.

A tranquilizer dart.

Slater must have shot him with it, I concluded. I couldn't fathom how that had gone down or how he ended up here. Did he try to make a run for it? Did the Sasquatch find him passed out and drag him here? Either way, I was happy to make the discovery. If it was just a trank, then there was a good chance that Grey would be okay.

And the Sasquatch.

I'm no gun expert, but those shots I heard did sound rather faint, more like whipcracks than bullets igniting in a chamber.

I moved to the creature with the lighter in hand to give it a once over.

When it saw the tiny flame coming toward it, the creature let out a howl and recoiled. This forest dweller wasn't used to fire, I decided. I backed off and raised my hands.

"It's okay," I said, keeping my voice calm and easy. "It's just light. It won't hurt you."

I didn't fathom that the mythical creature was fluent in English. I just hoped my tone and mannerisms would be enough to convince it to trust me. I moved forward again. I could feel the Sasquatch tense, but it made no audible protest this time.

I ran the light up and down the creature's frame.

I found them on its left hip. Two darts. I was surprised that the creature was still upright. Just one dart had taken Grey down. But the Sasquatch was bigger and stronger, meaning that it needed a bigger dose to do the job. Still, whatever drug Slater had used hadn't been enough to subdue it fully. But it definitely had an effect. The Sasquatch was visibly dazed, almost drowsy. Like with Grey, I grabbed the darts and yanked them out of the creature's hide one at a time.

It let out an audible grunt with each one. But once they were out, I sensed it relax some. Like the fable about the boy who took the thorn out of the lion's paw, I'd hoped this gesture convinced it that I wanted to be friends.

I used the light to check the knife wound in its shoulder. The bleeding had stopped and began to crust over in its matted, tangled fur. There wasn't much I could do about that now other than hope that the stab wound hadn't been too deep. At least it wasn't gushing.

I took a step back, watching as the Sasquatch sat there, breathing and upright, wondering what the heck I was going to do now.

Grey out cold. A mythical creature on the verge of collapse. And me, a city kid way out of his element with no clue where to go for help or even how to go about doing looking for it.

Fortunately – or unfortunately depending on how you looked at it – that particular problem went away a moment later when I heard the voice from behind me.

"Back up, kid."

I spun around to see Slater emerge from the woods and approach the cavern, rifle in hand. I wondered how he had found us, but it quickly occurred to me that - based on the story he'd told me earlier - he was a seasoned tracker. And with the snow covering the forest ground, he'd had plenty of tracks to follow, even in the dead of night. I'm lucky I had this much time before he found us.

I did as he'd ordered and backed up.

He walked cautiously into the opening of the cavern. The Sasquatch, sensing his presence, growled and got to its feet just as Slater raised his rifle.

"No!" I shouted.

The whipcrack shot came a second later, the dart hitting the creature in its upper torso. Three must have been the magic number. It went down a moment later and stayed down.

Slater moved closer in. Even with the weak light from the Zippo, I could see the smirk of victory on his face. He'd gotten his trophy. Now the only question was, what was he going to do with it?

And us.