by C. G. Mosley
***
Clifford Lowe walked quietly through the cold forest and found a good spot to wait. Ever since he was visited by special agents dressed in black—he assumed they were colleagues of Agents Milk and Honeycutt—he couldn’t shake the desire to go out and see if the rogue was still alive for himself. The agents that had visited him made in a roundabout way threatened him if he ever spoke of what had happened and what he’d seen. Cliff said what he had to say to get the agents to leave, but truthfully, now more than ever, he knew he had to keep watching the beast.
So now he found himself in the woods, waiting to see the creature again for himself. He’d continue to watch, and he’d learn everything he could about the creature’s biology and habits until he finally got the opportunity to kill it. It was now his life’s work, he decided, to see to it that the rogue wood ape died and paid for what it had done to so many good people in Baker County. He’d see the task through, or he’d die trying.
The End
Read on for a free sample of The Beast: A Bigfoot Thriller
Chapter 1
The damn dog was yapping again at shadows.
Hank Higgins, knee replacement and new glasses, stumbled off the couch and tried to get his bearings.
His wife, Melinda, had gone to bed hours ago. She usually left him in the living room with the sound muted on the TV so when the station cut out for the night, the white on the screen wouldn’t be accompanied by the white noise.
The dog kept yapping. It was Hank’s fault. He’d forgotten to let the damn thing back into the house from the back porch when he was supposed to.
“Shut up,” Hank said. “I’m coming. Damn dog.”
His knee popped and he grimaced. Not the new knee, the old stubborn one he hadn’t told Melinda about yet. She’d not only fret about him but she’d schedule another doctor’s appointment to get it replaced.
He was seventy, not a hundred and seventy. He felt fine.
“It’s my weather-gauge knee,” Hank would tell her. “I can always tell when a big storm is coming. Remember the Nor’easter in ‘79?” He’d felt it and he wasn’t yet sixty-three. “If you take away both of my old knees, how will I know when it’s supposed to rain?”
Hank knew it was a losing battle, and the moment he flinched around Melinda, she’d rush to the kitchen and stand at the wall phone, one hand holding it while the other scanned the long list of phone numbers she’d scribbled onto a yellowed piece of paper and tacked above the phone.
Next thing you knew, Hank would be under the knife and wishing he was watching the damn Mets game and sipping a cold beer instead.
That was his happy go-to place. Watching his Mets and sipping a beer. Melinda only let him have one per game, and it was always the same fight.
The worst part? His Mets had a good team this year. With only a few weeks left in the season, they had an excellent shot at not only the playoffs but maybe the World Series.
They were over eighty wins right now heading into September, and Hank thought they had a shot at a hundred victories on the season. Even with Gary Carter recently injured, the team would keep finding ways to win. Hank was a big fan of Lee Mazzilli, who’d just returned. With Mookie and Darryl in the outfield… who could beat the Amazin’ Mets?
Hank got to the door and put his hand on the knob but stopped.
The damn dog was no longer barking up a storm.
Hank turned the knob and let the door swing wide, expecting the dog to come running past like he was a hundred pounds of canine instead of the three pounds of annoyance he really was.
No dog.
Hank took a step outside. That’s when he smelled it in the air: a combination of wet dog, mildew, and rancid body odor.
He flipped on the light to the porch.
No dog. Nothing that could be making that smell.
The light bulb was one of those new energy-savers Melinda went on and on about. Hank’s argument was simple: for the eight cents they’d save a year, was it worth not being able to see more than ten feet into the yard?
“Get in here, dog,” Hank said, clapping his hands. He’d forgotten the damn dog’s name in his anger. “I’m getting too old for this…”
Something moved off to his right, near the house. When Hank turned, he only saw shadows.
“I’m counting to three and then you can spend the night outside,” Hank said. What was the dog’s name again? Something girlie, even though it was a male. Melinda loved emasculating the animals over the years. She swore she didn’t do it on purpose. It was her gut telling her to name it a certain name.
Hank remembered Trixie, a golden retriever they had for a few years. Great dog. Quiet. Loved to sleep at the foot of the bed. Despite being a male, Melinda gave him a girl name.
The smell was now unbearable.
Hank turned to go back inside. He’d act dumb in the morning when Melinda asked about the dog. Maybe he’d try to wake early and see if the dog had slept on the back porch. It would serve the dog right to spend a night like a real animal, instead of a pampered diva.
The growl was guttural but so quiet at first that Hank thought it was a queer trick of the wind through the trees.
He turned and saw the glowing red eyes.
At least a foot and a half higher than his own stare.
Despite the size of the shadow that detached from the nearby darkness, it was fast.
Hank was grabbed by the shoulder, the grip crushing his bones. He tried to scream but a hairy hand covered his face.
The smell made Hank reel.
He was slammed to the ground with such force that the wind was knocked from his bruised chest. Hank tried to rise but an immense weight fell upon his legs.
The dog, or what was left of him, was a few inches from Hank’s face.
Suzi, Hank remembered. The dog’s name is Suzi.
As Hank stared at the shredded body of the dog, he closed his eyes. The dog’s name was Suzi.
Melinda would find her dog and her husband crushed to bloody slush in her backyard in the morning.
Chapter 2
Jeremy Schaffer didn’t want to get out of bed. He kept his eyes closed and counted the hours until the first day of tenth grade began.
It wasn’t enough time to get everything he wanted done this summer: one hundred and eighteen hours. A few days. Even if he decided not to sleep or cut it back by a couple of hours a night, there was no way to get enough done.
He’d spent too many hours playing Dungeons & Dragons with Randy Richards and his little brother. Watching bad horror movies on Friday nights with Randy, too. Way too much pizza and Coke.
Jeremy’s goal was to get in shape for tenth grade. He didn’t want to be picked on, especially by his twin brother, Jack.
As he stepped out of bed, he felt his middle jiggling. He groaned and put his hands on his gut, which was getting too big. His mother was going to ride him another day about eating junk food and drinking too much soda.
He felt fat. As he went into the bathroom, he decided not to torture himself and look in the mirror. He knew his face was fat and his skin pasty from never going outside.
Jeremy snuck down the hallway to make sure his mother wasn’t in the kitchen. He wanted a huge bowl of Lucky Charms to start his day.
He swore he wouldn’t eat anything else until dinner, and he’d eat something good for him. Maybe even vegetables.
Jeremy filled one of the mixing bowls with cereal and topped it off with most of the half-gallon of milk. He was opening the drawer for a tablespoon when he heard his mother enter the kitchen.
“You feeding the entire family breakfast?”
Jeremy sighed and smiled at his mother. “You want some? I overpoured.”
She didn’t look amused. “What have I told you? You’re eating too much. Even for a growing boy. You have to stop overdoing it.” She motioned to the kitchen table. “Sit and eat. We can talk.”
Jeremy knew he wouldn’t be doing much talking. She’d point out all of
his faults. Make her subtle ridiculing comments. Make him feel like crap as he ate half a box of cereal.
“I’m going in my room,” Jeremy said. “I have stuff to do.”
“You know you’re not allowed to eat in your room.”
Jeremy opened his mouth to respond but stopped. He was about to say, Dad lets us eat in our room, but knew he’d be in trouble.
Since his parents had split up, just after New Years, things had been rocky.
His mother wanted Jeremy to see a doctor. A head-shrink. Talk to someone about his feelings. No thanks, Jeremy thought. She didn’t understand he was eating because he was always hungry. It wasn’t emotional eating like she’d read in a magazine. Jeremy ate because food was delicious. He didn’t hate his parents for separating and potentially getting a divorce in the future.
Jeremy loved Lucky Charms and Oreos and chocolate milk.
She must’ve seen the look on his face because she frowned. “Your father thinks he can suddenly become your best friend. He thinks it’s cool. Let me tell you something, Jeremy. That man did nothing but work since you and Jack were born.” His mother was jamming her finger in the air. “I raised you. I gave up a good career in advertising to be a stay-at-home mom while your father got to continue his work. Now I’m forced to find a minimum wage job while he pulls in a huge paycheck.”
Jeremy had heard this all before. Several times in the last month, in fact.
He put his head down and scooped cereal into his mouth as quickly as possible. If he could get through the bowl without his mother turning her attention on his shortcomings again, he might survive the day.
If his mother was looking for sympathy, she didn’t show it, too engrossed in telling her tale of woe. From what he could understand, it had been a mutual separation. They’d grown apart. She was too busy with her housewife friends, going shopping, and trading recipes. Dad was at work sixty hours a week, taking the train into New York City, and making the money.
“…now that I’m older, I feel like all my time was wasted. I mean… sure, I had two great kids, but you’re getting older now, Jeremy. You don’t need me as much. You and Jack can take care of yourselves. I need a life, too…”
Jeremy nearly choked on the last spoonful of cereal. He didn’t even bother drinking the remaining milk at the bottom of the bowl, running to the sink and putting the bowl down.
He got halfway to the hallway when his mother called his name. He sighed and turned back.
“I know you’ve heard all of this before,” his mother said. “I get it. I really do. It’s just… you used to be the one I could talk to, Jeremy.”
“Because Jack is an as… my twin is a jerk,” he corrected before he used profanity, always a big no-no. “I’m just busy with stuff, Mom. It will all work out.”
She didn’t seem convinced. Instead of saying anything, she nodded slowly and Jeremy could see her eyes getting wet.
He inwardly groaned but went to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. He knew it was what she needed right now. Jeremy wasn’t uncaring, he just didn’t want to waste another summer day thinking about their family breaking up and what it would mean to all of them.
“Maybe you can get back into advertising,” Jeremy said.
His mother was holding onto him tightly. “It’s a new world. They’re using computers and something called code. I can’t learn any of that stuff. I’ll probably end up as a cashier at Bradlees or Pathmark. I wish I’d paid more attention to what was happening right under my nose.”
Jeremy didn’t understand what she meant and he wasn’t going to ask her. He’d eavesdropped on a few of the conversations his parents had had, and it didn’t sound like anyone had cheated or done anything wrong other than falling out of love.
They hugged for a couple of minutes, Jeremy wanting to pull away and start his day, but his mother had to get it out.
She released him and turned away, wiping at her eyes.
“I’m a stupid old woman,” she murmured, more to herself. She stood and turned her back to Jeremy. “I’m going to make cookies this afternoon. Are you and your friends playing that game?”
“No,” Jeremy said quickly. He didn’t want to spend another day inside the house with Randy fighting imaginary trolls and goblins while the rest of the world moved on without him. “I have a few things I need to do before school starts.”
She turned around and he could see her eyes were red and puffy. “We have school clothes shopping tomorrow. I need to tell Jack.”
Jeremy nodded. He knew Jack was going to insist she gave him money so he could go shopping with his friends and buy lame concert T-shirts and expensive jeans instead of clothes to last a few weeks.
Money was tight. Life was hard. Jeremy had a list to go through before another awful year of school began.
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