Bigfoot Beach

by Kristopher Rufty

  “Damn,” said Jon. “He just plays and plays and never gets any better.”

  Ellen laughed. “That’s mean.”

  “It’s true. He’s been at that level since eighth grade.”

  “All that weed, he probably just forgets what he learns.”

  They laughed at Troy’s expense again. Ellen almost jumped when she felt Jon’s arm curve around her back. His hand settled low on her hip. Her shorts were so short, the white pouch of her pockets hung out from the ragged fringe of denim. His fingers tapped her through the wispy fabric.

  What’s he doing?

  She wasn’t surprised that she didn’t mind. She’d always had a thing for Jon. But she’d never put much thought into it because of Megan. They’d dated off and on last year, but Megan made it clear at the beginning of the summer she wasn’t interested.

  Now I can have a turn.

  She started to smile when another thought struck her. Why the sudden show of affection toward her? Megan blew him off and now he thinks he can just snuggle up to her? What did he think she was? Easy?

  Ellen leaned against him, not caring what he thought. She was glad to have the attention. “So,” she said. “You’re over Megan?”

  “What does that mean?”

  Ellen bit her lip. Terrible way to phrase the question. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I don’t think Megan and I were ever really a thing to begin with. Kind of hard to get over something you never had.”

  “You had her.”

  “Hardly. She messed my head up pretty bad.”

  “Bad enough to put your arm around her best friend?”

  Jon softly laughed. “I guess so.”

  “Well, I’ll take it.” She turned to look over his shoulder.

  She could see the guttering glow of the campfire off in the distance. Troy sat with his back to them, still strumming. Though she could still hear him, it wasn’t as loud. They’d probably gone far enough.

  Ellen stopped walking. Jon paused beside her. He faced her, putting a hand on each of her hips. In the moonlight, his face was veiled in shadow, but his bright green eyes twinkled like glass. She knew he was about to kiss her. Knew what that kiss would lead to. And she was ready for it. But there was a slight issue.

  “I hate to ruin this moment,” she said.

  “What? Don’t want me to…?”

  “Not that. I do. Really bad. But I came out here because…well…I had to…”

  Just tell him.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “You needed to use the facilities.”

  Ellen laughed. “You’re so smart.”

  “But I feel so stupid,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “I really thought your walk was your way of getting me out here, away from Troy.”

  “It wasn’t at first, but now…” She nodded. “I suppose it is.”

  “No problem,” he said. “I’ll uh—I’ll head over here.”

  “Not too far. But turn around. We’re not that far in our relationship yet that I don’t mind you watching me pee.”

  Jon laughed. “Jeez…”

  She felt a small pull of loss when he moved his hands away. He turned around and walked a few steps away. “That’s good,” she said.

  “I won’t go anywhere.”

  “Good.”

  Ellen kicked off her sandals. She heard one smack something.

  “Ow!” cried Jon.

  “Sorry!”

  “It’s all right. Was that your shoe?”

  “Yeah. My bad.”

  She watched the dark shape of his head shake from side to side. Laughing, she turned toward the ocean. The moon reflected off the water in sparkling ripples as shadows curled and flattened with each crashing wave. Thin streams of cold tickled the tips of her toes, fizzing between them.

  She was about to step in when she realized Troy’s music had stopped.

  A scream tore through the night, carrying over the swooshing sounds of the ocean. Her bladder nearly released, but she squeezed her legs together as her back felt like an icy hand was trying to tug her spine through her anus.

  “What the hell?” Jon said.

  Ellen turned. The black shape of Jon ran toward her. He stepped partway in the moonlight, revealing himself down to his bare stomach.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked.

  “Sounded like Troy.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  Ellen peered at the camp. She saw the fire, but Troy no longer sat on the bucket. She couldn’t see him at all.

  “Think he’s fucking with us?” Jon asked.

  It would make sense, she realized. That was Troy’s sense of humor. But that scream…it had sounded so awful. He was in pain.

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “I’m going to check on him,” said Jon.

  “Don’t leave me here.”

  No longer caring if Jon watched, she unbuttoned her shorts. She bent over and slid them over her rump and down her thighs. Squatting, she gripped her shorts in the folds of her legs. Before she started, Jon turned away. It took her a moment to will her muscles to relax enough to let the pee out. The waves covered any sounds she made.

  Finished, she quickly pulled her shorts up. On her way to Jon, she buttoned them. “Let’s go.”

  Jon grabbed her hand and pulled. They started running. Ellen kept slipping in the sand, staggering. More than once, she almost fell. Jon was moving so fast, it was hard to match him, but he didn’t let go of her hand. The conception that she’d forgotten her shoes hardly registered.

  The campfire seemed to grow. Invisible heat drifted through the air, warming as they got closer.

  Reaching the camp, Jon let go of her hand and made a wide dash to another point of the area. He jerked rigid. “Jesus Christ,” said Jon through his wheezes. His shoulders rose and dropped with each breath. He stared at the ground.

  “What?” She wasn’t quite as winded. Cheerleading kept her in pretty decent shape. But all the weed they’d smoked tonight had left her lungs feeling like they were two sizes smaller.

  “The…footprint.” He pointed to the ground ahead of him.

  Ellen saw it right away. It looked about the size of a pizza box, though shaped like a human’s foot—a gargantuan footprint. And there wasn’t just one. A trail of them led around the campfire, vanishing on the other side.

  “Dear God,” she muttered.

  She stepped toward Jon and noticed that her outward foot was a tad higher than the other. Looking down, her planted foot was inside a wide hollow. She saw five more circular dints above it.

  I’m standing in one!

  Squealing, Ellen ran toward Jon. She slammed against him, hugging him from the side. “Let’s get out of here! It’s been here! It’s real!”

  “We have to find Troy…”

  “Fuck Troy! Let’s go!”

  He pulled away from her and shot her a disgusted look. “He’s our friend!”

  “He’s your friend!”

  “I can’t believe you,” he said. Walking backwards, he shook his head. “Selfish bitch!”

  Ellen wasn’t shocked by the slur because she knew he was right. But she couldn’t believe Jon was leaving her. “Don’t go!”

  “You’re such a selfish, egotistical bi…” His head whipped to his left. In the dancing shadows on Jon’s skin, it was easy to see the color drain from his face. “Holy shit!”

  He was leaving. She couldn’t let him abandon her. Not out here. Ellen ran to him. Tried to squeeze into his arms, but they wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t embrace her. They just hung limply by his sides. His eyes gazed beyond her, lower.

  Ellen turned around and suddenly had to pee again. Her stomach felt as if it was pulled inward, crinkling like a beach ball losing air. Her eyes pulled the image in, but her brain had trouble processing it.

  Troy, lying on his stomach, had his rump jutted in the air. The body of his acoustic guitar protruded from between his buttocks as if it was
a dialogue balloon in a comic strip and his ass had something to say. Torn fabric flapped in the breeze as blood seeped down, dripping into a blob on the ground that the sand quickly absorbed.

  Ellen wasn’t sure how long they stared at Troy’s dead body. But it took Jon’s pulling to make her move again. He spun her around, grabbed her arms, and leaned close. He put his face to hers.

  “Do you have your phone?”

  Ellen couldn’t remember if she even owned one.

  Jon jerked her close. Shook her. “Ellen? Do you have your phone? Mine’s in the car!”

  She was about to answer him when she saw the subtle movement in the shadows beyond the glow of the fire. Something large lurked just outside the carroty spread. The moonlight behind it cast a dim glow that outlined its form. Nappy hair fluttered, curling out and trembling like snakes on Medusa’s head.

  “Oh…no…” she gasped.

  Jon stopped talking, slowly turned around. She saw him jerk.

  A large beast tore through the darkness as if being birthed from a nightmare. Its roar shook the ground. Ellen felt the tremors under her feet, inside her body, moving like a rushing current through her bowels. The fillings in her teeth vibrated.

  Beefy hands slapped together on either side of Jon’s head. He was hoisted off the ground. His feet dangled at the creature’s hairy knees. A stench like a skunk smeared in fish blood drifted into Ellen’s nose. It froze her, paralyzed her with fear. Her legs were locked, feet rooted to the sand.

  Screaming for help, Jon pounded the long hairy arms with his fists. Scabby bald spots were spread across its biceps, shoulder, and side. Its mouth opened impossibly wide and loosed another bone-jarring roar. Jon’s hanging feet kicked uselessly, not connecting with anything but air.

  Ellen watched as the creature’s arms flexed. Through the hair, a boulder-like bicep curled. Its hands pushed together. Jon’s head crumpled between its wide palms into an avalanche of blood and skull. His eyes were launched outward, fired off like two orb missiles that shot past the creature’s huge head. Jon’s arms dropped, hanging flaccid like dead vines. His legs stopped kicking. Then he was tossed aside, landing in an awkward pile a few feet away.

  None of this made Ellen move. She only stood, her eyes glued to the creature. It stepped forward. Snarling, its huge teeth reminded her of a horse her mother used to ride on the weekends. Something had been wrong with its mouth, so its lips couldn’t quite cover the big white blocks. These teeth looked similar, but instead of white they were piss yellow and tarnished with dark stains.

  The flaring of its nostrils suggested it was sniffing.

  “Stay away from me,” she managed to squeeze out.

  It didn’t.

  Hands shoved her. Her back pounded the ground and jarred her back into reality. She felt the cold blanket of shock dissipating as the creature dropped down to its knees. Now she could hear it sniffing, snorting sounds deep in its sinuses. She kicked out, but her foot was easily swatted to the side.

  Its hands gripped the waistband of her shorts and yanked down. The denim ripped wide, leaving the legs in place and a long fabric tongue hanging between her thighs. Her panties had been torn also and draped an inch over the shorts.

  “No!”

  She tried to get up. A hand slapped between her breasts. She crashed back down, the hand holding her down. She watched its large head dip down. She expected to feel a tongue, or at least a finger, penetrate her. Instead, she could only feel the tickling of heavy breaths. More snorting sounds came from down there as it sniffed the folds of her flesh. It kind of tickled, but mostly revolted her.

  Not knowing what to do, she let it sniff her. She stared at the sky as its wet nose moved back and forth, brushing the lips of her vagina. The stars looked so peaceful, as if unaware of the sickening actions taking place on the beach.

  The breaths went away.

  Gazing down between the V of her legs, she watched as the creature’s big furry head appeared between them. Its eyes were narrow yellow slits underneath a brick-shaped forehead. Thin hairs flapped around them. Pustule scabs dotted its face like bad acne. Furrows formed on its leathery skin as a low growl rattled inside its throat. Whatever it had smelled down there, it didn’t like.

  Did it smell my herpes?

  How? She wasn’t in the middle of a breakout.

  The creature continued to rise. It braced itself on its muscular arms. The growl rose in volume and depth, vibrating her inside. She shook her head. The thing was getting angry again. Whatever it wanted from her, she wouldn’t be able to provide.

  “Stay away!”

  It roared. The gust of its anger spun her pigtails like propellers. She turned away from the potent wave of its breath. Her eyes landed on the marshmallow bag. She saw what was beside it and patted the ground until her hands closed around the thin metal.

  Sitting up with a cry, she punched the skewer into its right pectoral. The creature groaned, rising on its knees. The marshmallow skewer jutted out from its chest like a tiny silver diving board.

  Ellen rolled onto her stomach, pushed herself up to all fours, and crawled. She’d only gotten a few feet when a hand clasped her ankle. Looking back, she saw the creature held her with one hand as it jerked the skewer from its chest with the other. A line of blood shot out behind it. Other than that, it hardly seemed to trickle.

  The creature studied the instrument a moment before tossing it away. When it turned back to her, its face was twisted into a savage sneer.

  Ellen couldn’t hear her screams over the thunderous tune of the creature. She was jerked back. Her fingers left thin channels in the sand as she clawed for purchase. Flipped over, she gazed up at the massive creature.

  It roared again.

  The temperate ocean soundtrack filled with barbarity as Ellen was torn apart.

  14

  Sheriff Howie Thompson stared down at the mangled corpse in silence. Counting to twenty in his mind over and over, he’d forced his heartbeat to slow down. Breathing in through his nose and out his mouth, his breaths were now under control. To anyone viewing him from the outside, he’d appear composed and calm. But on the inside, he was a detonated building crashing to the ground in a cloud of destruction.

  He looked away and spotted Deputy Lillard approaching from the side, wiping the froth from his mouth with a napkin. A glimpse of the body had sent him running off to vomit in private. Howie understood. It was all he could do to keep himself from doing the same.

  Being so early in the morning, the temperature had a slight chill hidden in the mugginess. The tide was still in, but seemed to be shrinking by the minute. Howie’s shirt was clinging to his back from sweat. And he already noticed small dark patches around his armpits.

  He checked his watch. It was getting closer to seven. He wondered when Butler was coming and had to remind himself he wasn’t. Butler was dead. The DNA tests were a match for the legs they found. Butler had been a good guy and an extraordinary deputy.

  Lillard stood on the other side of the corpse.

  Howie frowned. “Going to be all right?”

  “I think so,” said Lillard, taking a deep breath. He kept his eyes on Howie, probably to avoid looking at the body. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Holding a hand out to stop the apology, Howie said, “Don’t be. It happens.”

  “I’m just glad I did it before Blake and Caine showed up.”

  “Hopefully you got it all out of your system.”

  “I think so.”

  Lillard released a silent burp that Howie could smell over the fumes of the decomposing body. His stomach gurgled.

  Lillard took another deep breath. “Until now, finding Butler’s legs was the worst thing I’d ever seen.”

  Nodding, Howie squatted. He patted around his pockets for a pen but couldn’t find one. “Let me borrow a pen,” he said.

  Lillard’s skin was the color of milk. Sweat coated his face as if glazed. Without looking down, he reached into his chest pocket, pulled o
ut a pen, and held it out. His eyes never moved.

  “Thanks,” said Howie.

  He took the pen and started poking the body. The skin felt like rubber, dipping under the tip of the pen. The chest had been torn open, the ribcage broken in half. But he knew it was female because the jagged section of skin where the left breast should be matched the severed breast he’d also found. It stuck up from the sand like a small hillock topped with a nipple.

  All over the cadaver were areas that showed bone inside the sinewy craters. Most of the face was masticated except for a piece of the brow. The hair was intact and styled into pigtails that were nappy from sand and mites. He found some congealed blood in the hair, a few dime-sized holes here and there in the scalp. Crabs could be blamed for that.

  Howie turned his head away. He gazed at the cherry red blot of the sun as it began to rise above the ocean. It spread across the dark sky like spilled syrup.

  “Who do you think it is?” Lillard asked.

  Howie wanted everything around him to vanish, so he could be alone with such a beautiful sight. A sunrise seemed to make people forget all of their woes, even nasty ones like what he was crouched beside of. “I have a pretty good idea, but we’re going to need dental records to prove it for sure.”

  “Ellen Chambers?”

  Howie nodded.

  Poor girl. What’d she get mixed up in?

  Mayor Caine had already named Bigfoot as the culprit. Of course he would, though. The dope acted as if he hoped it really was. Howie was less likely to believe a fictional beast was responsible, but the brutal condition of the body didn’t suggest a human had done it.

  Keep it discreet, Caine had ordered before hanging up this morning. Howie had to call and report the discovery to him and he was glad the mayor wanted to play it quietly. At least for now. They needed more theories before presenting this to the girl’s parents.

  “Where do you suppose the boys are?” asked Lillard.

  Howie stood up, groaning. “Don’t know.” He tossed Lillard’s pen into the water and watched it bop on the bubbly surface. A wave swooshed over, making it vanish.

  “Hey…” Lillard looked on the verge of tears.