Paws of the Yeti

by steve higgs

  It was cold out, which might seem like an obvious statement, but the sun was beating down on us and would have been warm if the air had been still. Our passage through it at break-neck speed was creating the chill.

  When we set off, Francois had warned of a storm approaching the region. It might veer away yet, but warnings were in place for heavy snow and high winds which this far up the mountain might be dangerous. Unfortunately for the police chief, whose intention had been to convince us to postpone I think, he instead provided an excuse for driving the Ski-Doos as fast as we could.

  My lips were going numb from the cold, but I wasn’t about to slow down as I was winning this particular heat. Ahead of me, the ski-lift support that Big Ben had picked out as the next target was getting close. I couldn’t get the throttle to open any further and had lost every race so far because the other machines all went faster than mine, even the chief’s probably though he had declined to join in the fun. This time I had gotten a head start by unashamedly cheating. Despite that, the chaps were now catching me. Hilary’s machine was closest, bearing down on my right-hand side. He had made it to the marker first more than half the time and I wondered if he was just better at controlling his machine, if his machine was actually the fastest one or if, because he was the lightest, his machine was able to skip across the surface a little easier.

  Whatever the case, I swerved to block his path, forcing him to alter his course and go around several trees he might otherwise have hit. The manoeuvre defeated Hilary but slowed my machine by just enough that Jagjit overhauled me to pip me at the post. It was all in good humour though.

  The route had taken us up the piste that led back down to the hotels and the resort of Harvati. Skiers were whipping by to our right as we stuck to the left-hand edge of the trees that bordered the slope. We were stopped now at a junction where several slopes met as we waited for the Chief to catch up to us. He rumbled along a minute later, halting his machine perpendicular to ours.

  ‘We turn off the piste just up there,’ he pointed. ‘It’s not far now and we will have to go single file through the woods.’

  I replied with, ‘Roger,’ a habit I probably needed to shake. He led off with the rest of us following in a snaking line of Ski-Doos. True to his word, we shortly took a left turn through the trees but continued on slowly for what felt like another twenty minutes before I spied yellow barrier tape through the trees.

  The attack site wouldn’t be found by accident, it was on no one’s route to anywhere. The police chief brought his machine to a stop, killed the engine and got off, stretching his body in place as if it had stiffened during the ride. The rest of us pulled up along the same trail but spread out wherever we came to a halt.

  ‘It’s just through here,’ said Francois as he ducked under the barrier tape.

  I didn’t move, turning instead to face the guys, ‘Chaps, that’s an actual murder scene ahead. If you want to stay here and guard the Ski-Doos…’

  ‘Sure,’ said Hilary, ‘I have no desire to see buckets of blood in the snow. It’ll give me nightmares for weeks.’

  Jagjit grimaced. ‘Yeah, that sounds unappealing. I’ll stay here too.’

  Big Ben had already ducked the tape and was following the chief as he wound between the trees. I hurried to catch up, my feet sinking in the deep snow and branches catching my clothing. I reached them just as Francois stopped.

  ‘This is it,’ he said, indicating the general area with his hand. ‘We found the foot over by that tree and the blood trail and footprints went off through the trees to the east until it reached the cliff edge about seventy metres from here.’

  ‘What happened to it then?’ Big Ben asked.

  ‘It appears to go over the edge as if the creature climbed down but we could find no trace of anything on the ground below, not even a drop of blood. The footprints just stop as if the creature learned to fly or indeed went over the edge but there are no caves for it to go into. The body was found about fifty metres to the north.’ The police chief’s tone was professionally removed. He was just doing his job but I got the feeling that he had taken the job here because it was easy, and the worst crime he ever had to deal with was petty theft. Now he had a grisly death and too few ideas about what he was supposed to do next.

  The blood was still visible in places but fresh snow and drifting snow had covered most of it. Whatever footprints there had been were obscured now so all I had were the photographs he had shown me this morning.

  ‘How far is the drop?’ I asked.

  Francois swung to face me. ‘That’s what we call the knife edge. It’s a thousand metres straight down. Climbers kill themselves on it every year.’

  I turned in place, looking about me and trying to visualise the scene. The attacker had to have charged them, knocking Priscille down and possibly inflicting her facial wound with the first blow. She hadn’t been the target though and the killer was confident enough that he allowed her to live. The body had been torn apart, one foot and the head getting removed and since the head was still missing it made sense to me that the killer had stabbed or shot her in the head and then inflicted the wounds to resemble an animal attack.

  It was a lot of effort, but if they got away with murder then maybe they had the right tactic. Looking about still, a question occurred to me, ‘Francois, what were they doing here?’

  He looked up surprised. ‘They were going from the piste to the fresh powder that borders the knife edge. It’s a bit too dangerous for most skiers and only the locals know about it, but Marie grew up here. The people I interviewed said she skied it all the time because no one else did.’

  I looked about again, frowning. ‘But where they were attacked doesn’t link the piste to… anything. The track we parked the Ski-Doos on would be the obvious path to stick to. There’s barely enough room to ski here and all kinds of branches in the way.’ Something about where they had been attacked was wrong. If I wanted to reach this particular spot, I would ditch my skis and walk.

  While I thought about that, I walked toward where Francois had said the foot was found. There was a dark stain at the base of a tree which was almost certainly Marie’s blood. Then I spotted something moving in the light breeze. Snagged on a piece of bark was what looked like fur. It had been missed by the police and everyone else that had come to the site.

  ‘Ben,’ I called. He was a few feet away but answered and trudged through the snow to get to me. ‘Can you cup your hands around this?’

  ‘Err, sure. What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘A piece of fur.’ When he squinted, he saw it too. ‘It might be nothing and I need to get a proper look at it but it looks like artificial fur, the type you get in the collar of a coat. I don’t want it to disappear on the wind when I tease it free though.’

  He nodded his understanding and cupped his hands to shield it from the air while I produced an evidence bag from my pocket. Then, with bare hands despite the cold, I gently pulled the strands free.

  Then a voice ripped through the air to grab our attention. Both Big Ben and I turned to see what was occurring.

  With panicked faces, Jagjit and Hilary were running toward us evidently terrified about something behind them. Running though in the deep snow was proving quite difficult and they were part clawing, part swimming, part pulling themselves along by grabbing trees but they were both shouting as loud as they could.

  And what they were shouting was: ‘YETI!’

  The Yeti. Wednesday, November 30th 1502hrs

  My first reaction was to chuckle. My good friends had been left alone and had managed to creep each other out. Now they had seen something and panicked. Or they were trying to play a trick on us.

  I stepped forward to intercept them just as Big Ben was making a comment about crazy civilians but then I saw something moving through the trees behind them. I crouched to look. It was a good thirty yards behind them but definitely coming their way and it was big and white.

  I stood up again glancing aroun
d for Big Ben. ‘Ben.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘It’s show time.’ I pointed to the man in the costume coming our way. My adrenalin was spiking but I was feeling victorious. The killer had somehow heard we were here and had come to scare us off. It was a ballsy move. What if we had weapons? This was our chance to wrap the case up though. The chief could cuff him, we could interview him back at the hotel and he could be taken away. Neat and tidy and all done in time for Amanda to arrive to spend a few days with me without distractions.

  Now there was a warming thought.

  ‘Shall we introduce ourselves?’ Big Ben asked but he hadn’t waited for my reply. He was already heading toward it.

  I followed, soon catching up to him as he met with Jagjit and Hilary. They were red in the face and out of breath.

  ‘It’s a Yeti,’ puffed Hilary. ‘We came to warn you.’

  I patted him on the shoulder. ‘Get your breath, we’ve got this.’ The shambling white lump was on all fours and heading our way still. The head was pointing toward us, two black eyes shining in our direction. It was a great costume. It even had twin horns from the top of its skull that curled like a ram’s. I had no particular fear. Unless the man in the costume was armed, I doubted he stood any chance at all. Not with Big Ben at my side. Whoever it was had some girth though or the costume had a stack of padding.

  We crossed the path where the Ski-Doos were parked and into the trees on the other side. We were ten yards from it now. It was making grunting noises like a bear and it was at this point that a sense of unease began to creep upon me. Next to me Big Ben slowed his pace as he too stared intently at the advancing killer.

  Then it stood up.

  The lump of shambling white fur pushed off the floor with its front paws and came to its full height. I estimate it had to be somewhere near nine feet tall, but the most striking and memorable feature were the two rows of teeth and two giant upwards facing tusks when it opened its cavernous mouth and roared at us.

  Whatever is was, it wasn’t a man in a costume!

  Big Ben uttered a few choice words which I echoed and then we were both running. Away!

  ‘That’s no man in a costume, Tempest!’ he yelled at me.

  ‘You think?’ I had seen down its throat and seen the size of its feet. They were images that would stay with me forever. ‘Get to the bikes!’ I yelled, meaning everyone.

  Behind me the beast roared again. The sound loud enough to penetrate down to my bones and I swear I damned near wet myself when I heard it begin to charge.

  Ahead of me, Jagjit, Hilary, and Francois were beating a path to where three of the bikes were parked. When we pulled up, Jagjit, Big Ben and Hilary had parked a little further down the path than Francois and me. The creature was coming at us from an acute angle, so our machines were closer to it than to us. We were going to have to double up but Jagjit and Hilary had already realised that and were going to get to the bikes first. Behind them, Francois was huffing and puffing as he too struggled to get to the Ski-Doos and the hope of escape.

  I could already see that he wasn’t going to make it in time. Old age and a calorie rich diet combined with a lack of regular exercise had made him slow. His heavy frame was struggling through the snow, but while I needed to save him, I couldn’t imagine how I was going to fend off the beast or distract it.

  The first engine fired into life quickly followed by the second as Jagjit and Hilary reached the Ski-Doos. Then, before Big Ben or I could shout, Jagjit got the third machine started and began beckoning urgently for Francois to hurry up. I risked a glance over my shoulder to find the Yeti was all too close. So, I did something stupid: I changed direction.

  I also started yelling to get the beast’s attention. I wasn’t going to escape if it meant someone else didn’t, and this had to be my best chance. It was no more than six yards from me when I turned to face it and waved my arms in its face. The huge creature swung its giant head and evil eyes toward me, then altered course.

  It was coming right for me.

  Questioning my sanity, I turned around again to start fighting my way through the snow once more. I had to buy more time. There was a large conifer ahead, if I could just make it to that, I would have a shield of sorts to hide behind. Big though it was, I doubted the Yeti could rip a tree from the ground. The shouts of my friends reassured me that Francois and Big Ben had reached the Ski-Doos and were safe. That left just me to worry about, but I knew they would come back for me now and try to distract the creature on the fast-moving machines until one of them could pick me up.

  It was still a scary tactic, but as it turned out I needn’t have worried because my friends left me behind.

  The noise of the engines powering away down the track to safety made me eyes widen until I realised that Big Ben hadn’t gone with them. No doubt he had given them his angry face and sent them out of harm’s way. I had reached the tree and would later claim that I could feel the Yeti’s breath on my neck as I ducked behind it. Half a second later a loud thump followed by a shower of snow from the tree told me the Yeti had arrived on the other side.

  In theory, I could keep the tree between us forever and would be safe all the while so long as it kept circling it trying to get to me. Staying in the wood at the top of the Alps wasn’t in my plan though. I had observed that the ground we were on had a good slope to it. Trudging through it was hard work as our feet went down to our knees with each step but maybe I could use the gradient to my advantage.

  Big Ben was coming back to me now but running into the trees as I had meant he couldn’t get close enough for me to climb on. The Yeti lunged from the right, but there was too much tree for him to get around. I just needed him to commit in one direction so that I could get myself on the same side as the track. Big Ben could see my game of cat and mouse and had seen me indicate silently that he should stay where he was and be ready.

  Almost a minute went by with the giant beast roaring and grunting its disgruntlement. It wanted to eat the tiny human, but the tiny human wouldn’t run away for it to catch. Then, it grew bored and tried a tactic I hadn’t considered.

  I couldn’t tell how many feet of snow there were, but there were enough that none of the trees had trunks. The snow came up to the branches, absorbing the lower ones so they all looked like Christmas trees planted six feet lower than they should be. The Yeti decided it was big enough to just go through the branches.

  If I hadn’t been too terrified to swear, I probably would have said something colourful. In truth though, I almost made a mess in my shorts for the second, third or perhaps fourth time in the last few minutes. The onrushing danger triggered another reaction though as I employed the tactic I hoped would save me: I turned into a penguin.

  Throwing myself away and down the slope, I landed on my belly with my hands by my side and I slid. I had been worried that the snow might just give as I hit it which would have been the same as handing the Yeti a knife and fork, but my forward momentum carried me across the surface of the snow like a penguin sliding on its front. I wasn’t heading toward the track and Big Ben though. I was just heading down the mountain and I wasn’t sure how to steer.

  There was a final roar from behind me, but I didn’t look back. I was picking up speed and confident I had escaped. To my left through the trees, the sound of Big Ben’s engine dopplered on and off as the sound tried to find its way to my ears. All I had to do was pick my way through the trees and across to the track. That proved harder than expected though as the slope’s gradient increased and my speed went with it. My attempts to right myself were thwarted by my forward momentum. Instead, I tried using my shoulder to steer like one would on a skeleton bob. It worked – sort of. But I was going to have to do something to slow myself soon or I would escape the Yeti only to crush my skull against a rock or tree I couldn’t steer around.

  All of a sudden, I burst from the trees into wide open space; I was back on the piste. Any jubilance I felt was quickly replaced though with the crushin
g realisation that the mountain really angled downhill sharply from this point. Big Ben’s Ski-Doo emerged from between the trees behind me as the track also joined the piste and I risked a glance to see how far behind he was. However, the action of looking back over my left shoulder caused the right one to dig into the snow. I caught too much snow, my shoulder dug in with a jarring thud and I flipped. Like a professional downhill skier you see on TV when they are right on the edge of their ability and get it wrong, I became a tumbling windmill of arms and legs. If I had been a race car, this would be when I burst into flames.

  Painful impacts registered all over my body as I tumbled and tried to keep my limbs tucked in. I couldn’t tell which way was up but I was slowing and soon enough I came to a stop. Out of breath, elated but painfully bruised nevertheless, I sat on the snow while my good friend Big Ben raced down the slope toward me. Like the good friend he was, and because I had just endured a crazy experience, he hit the brakes and swung his machine in a wide arc so it would stop it parallel to me and shower me with a wave of snow.

  ‘Quit laying around, Tempest. We’re losing the race back to the hotel.’ I could always rely on Big Ben to be an arse. Sympathy for injuries wasn’t something we would ever do for each other though, its just not the army way. Like, “You got shot? What do you want me to do about it? Try to avoid doing it again and get on with your job.”

  He offered me his hand to get up and pulled me onto the Ski-Doo behind him.

  I offered a painful, ‘Thanks, buddy,’ as I grabbed hold of the machine and he set off back down the hill. The hotel was visible in the distance and I could see the other two Ski-Doos waiting for us maybe three hundred yards down the slope. They were not the dominant feature I could see though. The sky to our front had a cloud bank from which lightning was arcing. The blue sky above us was about to be eaten by the storm we had been warned about earlier. As I thought that to myself, the wind began to pick up and the first few fresh flakes of snow whipped by.