Attack of the Bayport Beast

by Franklin W. Dixon

  It could have been the way I woke up, but I had a bad feeling about my brother. I grabbed my flashlight and tiptoed over to Benny’s tent. When I peered through the screen opening, it was empty. I also spotted his empty backpack lying on the ground.

  “Benny, really?” I said. “You couldn’t even make it twenty-four hours without pranking?”

  I shined my light into the surrounding woods. “Benny? Frank?” No answer.

  I had no idea where Frank had gone, but I had a good idea where Benny was. I cut through the woods toward the other campers’ campsite. I had a feeling my brother would’ve made the same deduction. Hopefully, if I found one I would find the other.

  I moved quickly through the forest, my flashlight beam sweeping the area around me. Then I spotted a tiny shaft of light ahead. As I came closer, I saw that it was coming from the ground. When I was right on top of it, I reached down and picked up a flashlight. It was the same mini LED flashlight as the one in my hand. Frank’s flashlight.

  Not good.

  I swept my flashlight around. “Frank!” I shouted. There was no sign of him.

  My brother was the true outdoorsman of the family. He was certainly more at home in the forest than me. He didn’t even use a flashlight most of the time. Needless to say, if I was missing and Frank was the one searching, he might’ve been able to pick up my trail on the forest floor. I didn’t pretend to be as skilled, but I had to try.

  I trained my light on the ground where I had found Frank’s flashlight. Clumps of dirt and pine needles were strewn about, so I could tell something had happened there. A struggle, maybe?

  Then I saw something that made me catch my breath—a dark pool of liquid. It glistened bright red under my flashlight’s beam. Blood.

  I had to keep going toward the other campers. I couldn’t pick up Frank’s trail, but that was definitely where he had been heading. If I tried for any other direction, I could be wandering out there all night—maybe getting lost myself.

  When I got to the base of the hill, I caught another flash of light in the woods to my left. I killed my flashlight and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. A warm glow seeped through the trees.

  I slowly moved toward the glow with just the moonlight guiding me. Upon closer inspection, I saw it came from a camp lantern. Had I already made it to the other campsite? Maybe Frank had heard it wrong and they were on this side of the hill.

  I crept closer to the campsite, all the while expecting to hear voices, laughter, maybe even singing: the usual things one hears around a campfire. But the campsite was silent.

  I skirted around a clump of trees and snuck in for a closer look. The campsite appeared to be empty. There was a small one-man tent in the center of the lantern light, which didn’t sound like the group Frank had described. I hated to disturb a random camper, but my brother was missing, and that was a lot of blood back there.

  I stepped out from behind a tree. “Hello? Anyone home?” There was no answer, so I moved into the light. “Hello?”

  The open tent flap fluttered in the cool breeze. I peeked in; there was no one inside. The entire camp had a strange setup, including a small folding chair and table with what looked like a radio sitting on top. It almost looked like a shortwave receiver. A pick and a shovel were lying on the ground beside the tent. Was somebody prospecting for gold out here?

  GRRRRR!

  An ear-shattering growl sounded from the forest. Instinctively, I ducked down beside the camp table. Whatever that was sounded big and frustrated.

  GRRR! GRR! GRR! GRR!

  It didn’t seem to be getting closer. I couldn’t tell what kind of animal noise it was, so I did what any idiot alone in the woods would do; I decided to investigate.

  I crept into the thick trees, pausing to let my eyes readjust to the moonlight before gingerly moving around the foliage. Keeping my flashlight at the ready, I navigated by moonlight alone. I kept a snail’s pace so I wouldn’t trip over a branch or snap a twig—anything to alert the beast to my whereabouts.

  The forest opened up into a small clearing. The dim moonlight revealed a dark shape inside the ring of trees; a figure that appeared to be hunched over. It grunted as it rocked back and forth, almost as if it was struggling with something on the ground. As I slunk forward, the thing seemed to get more agitated.

  “Ugh! Let go!” grunted a familiar voice.

  I lit up the beast with my flashlight. “Benny!”

  An overly hairy Cro-Magnon face turned toward me. “Joe!” Benny said from under the mask. “Help me out, man!”

  I stepped around Benny and aimed my light at the ground. One of his ankles was caught in the jagged jaws of a bear trap. The trap was chained to a spike in the ground. I hissed when I saw how close the teeth were to touching each other. It looked as if my friend’s ankle had been crushed.

  Benny waved a hand when he saw my pained expression. “It’s okay. It’s stuck on the stilt, not my leg.”

  “Can’t you take off the stilts?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but I’ll have to rip the suit to do it,” he replied. “I don’t want to do that!”

  I wanted to remind Benny that he wasn’t supposed to be wearing the suit in the first place. Instead I asked, “Have you seen Frank?”

  Benny gave me puzzled look. “No, why?”

  “He’s missing,” I said. I didn’t bring up the pool of blood yet. One catastrophe at a time.

  “Get me out of here and we’ll find him,” said Benny.

  I knelt and grabbed one half of the bear trap with both hands. Benny took the other side and we pulled against each other. We grunted with effort, but the jaws barely moved.

  Benny glanced around. “Find a big branch or something we can use to pry this open.”

  “We don’t have time,” I said. “Rip the suit.”

  “Come on, man,” Benny pleaded. “Just try to find something.”

  I sighed as I ran to the edge of the clearing. We didn’t have time for this. I frantically swept my light across the forest floor, looking for a stick or a branch beefy enough to work on that trap, but everything I saw was light and rotting.

  “This is stupid,” I murmured. “He’s ripping the suit and we’re finding Frank.”

  I jogged back toward the clearing and was almost there when I saw movement to my right. A man entered the clearing just before me. Benny’s back was to the man, so he didn’t see the stranger. The man halted and raised a rifle to his shoulder. He aimed the weapon at Benny’s back.

  “Hey!” I shouted. “Stop!”

  The man ignored me and kept the rifle trained on Benny.

  I bolted toward the man, my heart thumping in my chest. I was about twenty feet away as the stranger settled his cheek against the stock. I was ten feet away when the man put his finger on the trigger.

  I wasn’t going to make it.

  13

  MORE SIGNS

  FRANK

  BANG!

  My eyes snapped open at the sound of a distant gunshot. I immediately slammed them tight again as the pain in my forehead flared, consuming my thoughts. I reached up and touched a spot above my eyes. When I drew my hand back, a dollop of blood glistened on my fingertips.

  I lay there for a moment to let the world’s biggest headache subside a bit. I would have waited longer if something hadn’t stirred beside me. I turned my head and saw the Bayport Beast sitting on the ground beside me.

  Startled, I jumped and began to scramble away. That set my headache straight to the moon. A wave of nausea stopped me cold, and I couldn’t do anything but sit back down and wait for it to pass.

  The dim moonlight seemed blinding. I squinted at the beast beside me. As my vision cleared and my eyes adjusted, I focused on the creature, which I realized was a gorilla.

  “Oh my . . . ,” I whispered.

  Having a giant gorilla loom over you is terrifying, but slightly less terrifying than the Bayport Beast. At least gorillas are real.

  The gorilla cocked his head at me
and slowly extended an arm. I flinched but stopped myself before another quick movement started that jackhammer in my brain again. The huge primate moved his hand toward me and extended a finger to my forehead. The finger was the size of a kielbasa sausage, but its touch was as gentle as a butterfly. I exhaled as the creature pulled the finger back to his face. The primate sniffed the tiny patch of blood on his fingertip.

  “Yeah, that wasn’t you,” I said, remembering how I had gotten into a fight with a tree and lost.

  If this gorilla had wanted to hurt me, he could’ve tossed my unconscious body around like a rag doll. That made me a little more confident about my safety.

  Then I heard a belch behind me. I turned (slowly this time) to see a large orangutan. He had stringy reddish hair and protruding lips. His long arms were crossed, and he seemed to look at me with disapproval.

  “What the . . . ,” I said, taken aback by the sight of the second primate. “How did you two get here?”

  The orangutan sniffed and looked away. I guess he wasn’t as much of a people person as the gorilla.

  I patted the pockets of my cargo pants and pulled out a couple of protein bars. I peeled the wrapper off one and offered it to the gorilla. The great ape took it from my hand, gave it a sniff, and popped the entire thing into his mouth. Then he did something that was kind of freaky; he thanked me. But he didn’t thank me with words (my head injury wasn’t that severe). He brought his open hand to his mouth and brought it forward in an arc. I knew hardly any sign language, but I knew that that was the sign for “thank you.”

  “Uh, you’re welcome,” I replied.

  The other bar was snatched from my hand. I turned to see the orangutan shove the entire thing into his mouth, wrapper and all. He gave me a curt “thank you” with one hand before looking away.

  “Uh, I was going to open it for you,” I said. “It probably doesn’t taste as good that way.”

  The ape chewed briskly for a while before reaching up to his mouth. He slowly slid a slimy, empty wrapper out from between his lips.

  “Okay,” I said.

  A faint chirp grabbed my attention. I spotted another form leaning up against a nearby tree. It was in a deep shadow, so I hadn’t seen it right away. I dug through my pockets for another protein bar as I shuffled toward it. As I neared, I saw it was a chimpanzee. I remembered seeing it before I was knocked out—the gorilla had been crouching over it on the ground. I hadn’t recognized what it was because it was completely hairless.

  “What happened to you, little guy?” I asked. “And . . . where’s your hair?”

  I unwrapped the protein bar and handed it to the chimp. He took it but not as eagerly as the other two. He seemed tired and weak. I leaned forward and noticed that his left arm was covered with blood.

  “Oh, man,” I whispered.

  I pulled out my phone. I had to call an ambulance, animal control, or someone who could help the chimp. At the very least I could call Joe and have him bring me the first aid kit from my backpack. Unfortunately, my phone didn’t have a signal.

  “I guess we’ll have to bring you to the first aid kit,” I told the chimp.

  I didn’t know exactly what I was working with here, but at least two out of the three apes knew some sign language. That meant they had to be somewhat trained. Hopefully, that meant they could understand some English.

  I picked up an empty protein bar wrapper and stood up. “I have more of these,” I said, shaking the wrapper. I motioned for them to follow. “Come.” I took a couple of steps away from them. “Come on.”

  The gorilla and orangutan exchanged a look but stayed put. I shook the wrapper again for good measure and took another step back.

  Finally the gorilla stood. He lumbered over to the chimpanzee and gingerly scooped it up. He cradled the chimp as he began to follow me. The orangutan blew a long raspberry before finally giving in and coming along.

  Great. I got everyone moving. I was the leader of a surreal primate parade. Now I needed to figure out where to go.

  14

  IN DEEP

  JOE

  SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP,” Johansson ordered.

  Benny and I did as we were told. We sat on the ground next to the folding table, the camp lantern bathing us in golden light. Benny sat beside me, brown face paint surrounding his eyes; he still wore the top half of his Bayport Beast costume. The lower half was still back at the clearing, stuck in the bear trap. Johansson had ordered him to rip it off and leave it behind. Normally seeing Benny sitting there—hairy beast up top, skinny legs and boxer shorts down below—would have been funny. Unfortunately, a man with a rifle tends to suck the humor right out of any situation.

  “What are you kids doing out here?” Johansson asked.

  “What we said we were going to do,” I replied. “We were hunting for the Bayport Beast.”

  Johansson nodded at Benny. “And him?”

  Anger bubbled inside me. “You mean the guy you almost shot?” I asked.

  Luckily, back in the clearing, I had reached Johansson just in time, slamming against him as he fired the rifle. Johansson’s shot went astray and barely missed Benny.

  Johansson resumed pacing. “You were supposed to stay on the lower trails,” he said, seemingly more to himself than to us. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

  “And you weren’t supposed to be a literal Bigfoot hunter,” I barked.

  “I can fix this. I can fix this,” the man said. “It’s my mess, I can clean it up.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Benny whispered.

  “I have no idea,” I replied.

  But what I did know was that it was a bad idea to provoke a man with a high-powered rifle. I needed to find out about my brother, and being held at gunpoint wasn’t going to get me answers. I had to talk to this guy with a less accusatory tone.

  I turned back to Johansson and slowly raised my hands. “Look, maybe we can help. All right?”

  The man whipped the rifle around and aimed it at me. “Don’t you move!” he ordered.

  “I’m not, I’m not,” I replied. “I just want to help. But maybe you can help me first. Where is Frank?”

  Johansson looked perplexed. “What?”

  “Did you do anything to Frank?” I asked.

  Johansson squinted and shook his head. “Who?”

  “Frank,” I repeated. “My brother. Did you do something to him?”

  The man glanced over his shoulder. “He’s here too?”

  “What do you mean?” Benny asked me.

  “I found his flashlight near a pool of blood,” I explained.

  Benny gasped. “What?”

  I glared up at Johansson. “You’re the only one with a gun out here. What did you do?”

  Johansson lowered his rifle and began pacing again. “They got him,” he muttered. “Oh no, they got him. But . . . but that’s good.”

  “Who got him?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nobody can find out,” the man continued. He massaged the small bandage on his forehead. “I’ll lose everything. All gone. All gone.”

  I was worried about Frank, but it sounded as if Johansson hadn’t seen him. I didn’t know what he meant by they, though. Who else was out here with him? Or maybe he was imagining someone out here trying to get him.

  Benny nudged me. “Dude, he is losing it,” he whispered. “This is not good.”

  Benny was right. Johansson seemed far from the picture of mental health. I had to find my brother, but Benny and I had to get away from Johansson first.

  “I’ll distract him and you run for it,” I whispered. “Get clear and call 911.”

  “No way, man,” Benny said quietly. “My phone is back at our campsite.” He pointed down. “No pants, remember?”

  I sighed. “All right, I’ll go.”

  “No one was supposed to find out,” Johansson murmured. “No one can find out.”

  I didn’t like the idea of leaving my friend alone with an armed m
adman. But we had to get help before Johansson snapped. It didn’t sound like he wanted any witnesses to whatever it was he was doing out here. If we didn’t get help soon, I had a feeling neither of us would make it out alive.

  Unfortunately, we didn’t have a chance to put our plan into action. Johansson aimed the rifle at us. “Stand up,” he ordered.

  Benny and I slowly got to our feet. “Look,” I told him. “We can help you fix whatever problem you have, Mr. Johansson.”

  “You are going to help me fix it, all right,” the man replied. He nodded at the pick and shovel on the ground. “Pick those up.”

  Benny and I exchanged a glance. “What?” I asked.

  He jabbed the rifle in our direction. “I said pick them up!” he barked.

  We did as we were told. Benny grabbed the pick and I got the shovel. Johansson stepped aside and motioned for us to walk past him. “Over here.”

  We moved to an open patch of earth in front of his encampment. The man nodded at the clear space. “Now dig.”

  I didn’t like where this was going. “What for?” I asked.

  The man stepped back and raised the rifle. He aimed it directly at my forehead. “I said dig!”

  Fear knotted my stomach. If this guy didn’t want any witnesses, I had the feeling Benny and I were supposed to dig our own graves.

  15

  BROTHER TROUBLE

  FRANK

  I HAD NO IDEA HOW far we were from our campsite. Fortunately, I had my compass and I could just make out a couple of the surrounding hilltops through the moonlit trees. Once I had landmarks, I was able to lead the apes toward the nearest hiking trail. From there, it was an easy hike back to our campsite.

  I checked my watch; it was almost three a.m. I hoped Benny had finished scaring the other campers and made it back to camp. If so, both he and my brother were in for the shock of their lives.

  “Joe,” I said as our odd group moved toward the tents. “Come out of the tent slowly, and whatever you do, don’t freak out, okay?”

  There wasn’t any answer. When I peeked inside the tents, my brother was gone.