Abominable

by Alan Nayes

  The vet aimed. Fired. The first dart hit him low right thigh. The big ape never flinched. She reloaded. PFOOT. The second hit him upper left pectoralis.

  “Damn,” Shelby groaned. Too much hair there. But the concern was needless because Goliath gazed down at the dart in his thigh and touched it, plainly confused, but before he could reach up for the one in his chest, he appeared to grow wobbly. Shelby heard a low guttural growl. “Fall down, big guy. Just lie down,” she wished aloud.

  As if sensing something amiss, Goliath suddenly shook his massive head, yellow white hair fanning out. He roared. RRAAAUUUU!

  Shelby jumped with everyone else.

  Goliath dropped to all fours.

  “He gonna charge!” she warned.

  Then in anticlimactic fashion, the huge primate shifted to one side and rolled over on the ground. He didn’t move. A round of applause broke out. The tenseness washing out of the valley was practically tangible. Shelby exchanged a quick hug with John and shook Mendle’s hand.

  “All routine,” the lieutenant said. Until…

  “We lost the signal,” the radioman said.

  “What?” Mendel took the headset. All he heard was static. “Try a different frequency.”

  “I have.” The radio airman appeared flustered. “Nothing. It’s like the radio waves are blocked.”

  Shelby watched the lieutenant grab a different headset. What the hell is going on? She shot a look at Goliath lying inert on the ground. Where’s the fucking net? She heard the Fish and Game chopper dropping over the ridge, the huge net dangling from the release cable. Hurry! She heard a low throaty grumble.

  “The net!” she shouted. “He’s getting up!”

  Goliath had rolled back to his side and sat up. Slowly at first then with more sense of purpose he examined the two large syringes in his chest and right thigh. With a jerky yank he pulled them both out, throwing them to the ground. His massive head swiveled on thick cords of muscle, staring at the tunnel entrance behind him.

  “Shit,” Shelby muttered, then louder, “He’s thinking about going back inside.”

  The giant growled again and rose, appearing wobbly. Behind her the tracking dogs broke into raucous barking, straining at the leashes, the handlers attempting to quiet them.

  Shelby dashed over to Dr. Kim, who was busy loading a third syringe. She noticed the vet’s hands shaking.

  Dr. Kim said, “Damn, he’s already had enough to drop a bull moose. He should’ve been out. Stayed out!”

  RRAAAUUUU!

  The giant ape’s roar caught everyone off guard. Shelby gazed in awe and fear.

  Goliath stood in the middle of the road staring at the men and women around him, growling.

  “Don’t look him in the eyes! Especially the males,” she shouted. “He’ll take that as a challenge.”

  Just go back in your cave, big guy, and we can start over. Shelby heard Mendle trying to raise the Fish and Game chopper, literally shouting into his mic, “We need that net now!”

  More voices, yelling. “Still no signals. Sir, everything is out! Computers, radio,” adding, “Cameras working though.”

  The lieutenant cursed and slammed the headset down on the table. Shouting, he tried to signal the chopper down with hand signals.

  Shelby looked up. “Shit.” The helicopter dropped but it appeared to waver in the sky, dropping like a flat leaf on the breeze, one direction, then another.

  Dr. Kim raised the tranquilizer rifle and shot. PFOOT.

  The vet’s aim was off. Goliath’s huge palm raised and caught the hypodermic needle in the palm of his right hand. He roared again and squeezed, crushing the syringe to bits but plunging the needle tip in.

  Shelby watched him look up at the approaching chopper. Raising both massive arms up, he roared again, shaking his fists at the sky. He gazed down. To Shelby he appeared to be looking directly at her. Not heeding her own advice, she stared back. It was impossible not to, the sight was so unbelievable.

  Goliath shook his heavy mane and beat his chest. She could literally feel the air vibrate with each thump-thump-thump.

  The chopper’s engine revved unnaturally. A shadow moved across the road. A trooper yelled, “Net’s away!”

  Miraculously the thick nylon game net dropped directly over the standing enraged primate. The men prepared to apply the restraints moved forward a few steps and stopped when Mendle shouted, “Not yet. Let the sedative take effect.”

  Goliath growled, seemingly confused about what this new obstacle was.

  Shelby prayed aloud, “Just go to sleep, please. Lie down.” Overhead the chopper was moving in a strange circle.

  The camera crew moved in for the capture shot. More shouts, everyone talking at once.

  RRAAAUUUU!

  Suddenly Goliath dropped to all fours and rolled to the gravel on his back, kicking and shaking all four extremities. The nylon stretched taut where his huge feet pushed against the strands.

  Oh God. Shelby watched in amazed horror as he grasped one portion of net with both hands and tugged hard against the netting pinned by his feet. “He’s trying to rip it!” she warned, moving back.

  The nylon pulled wire tight and then the unthinkable happened.

  A single strand popped loose.

  The huge ape roared again and yanked harder. More strands frayed then broke. Shelby gawked in shock. He’d just ripped a ten-thousand-pound-rated net to shreds like it was kite string!

  She heard Mendle issuing orders to the sharpshooters. She watched Goliath stand, scrabbling to free himself from the last remnants of netting. He beat his chest, roared, and stepped free.

  Above, the helicopter began to gyrate funnily. Goliath growled, shaking his head from side to aside. He dropped and bounced to all fours and bounced up, his feet leaving the ground by a good thirty-six inches. He roared and bounced again.

  An airman yelled, “The chopper!”

  Pandemonium broke loose. Goliath continued to scream.

  The helicopter hadn’t reached the ridge before it began to spin, whirly-gigging in mid-air.

  Incensed, Goliath roared.

  The out-of-control chopper began to drop.

  “It’s the ape!” the radio man shouted.

  Mendle cried out, “What?”

  Someone else yelled, “The ape’s doing this. Blocking all signals!”

  “It’s Goliath!” screamed another airman. “He’s jamming us!”

  Mendle waved his arms frantically. “Get the chopper away! We’re losing it!”

  RRAAAUUUU! Goliath’s roars echoed off the ridge.

  Voices of panic. “It’s going down!’

  In horror, Shelby watched the Fish and Game helicopter drop from the sky, disappearing beyond the ridge. The explosion shook the trees and immediately dense black smoke plumed in view.

  Another voice: “He’s getting ready to charge!”

  “Sharpshooters!” Mendle screamed, his radio useless.

  Shelby felt John pulling her back. “No!” she shouted, yanking free.

  Goliath poised a second on all fours. Then charged the fence.

  The impact bent the fence back a full forty-five degrees. Goliath backed off and charged again, bending the aluminum posts. He spun around, racing for the tunnel entrance, and then, spinning on his huge toe pads, he abruptly reversed, found the road, and raced straight for the open gap. More frantic barking from the dogs.

  Shelby heard Mendel order, “Prepare to engage target!”

  “No!” Shelby screamed again, watching the pair of marksmen raise their rifles.

  She felt something brush her thigh. The first husky launched at the charging ape, the second and third dogs not far behind, barking ferociously.

  “Call off the damn dogs!” Shelby shouted, sprinting forward into the fray.

  “Fuck.” John grabbed the magnum revolver off the table and dashed after her.

  The airmen, video crew—cameras stil
l rolling—and everyone else raced backward, taking cover behind anything they could find—boulders, parked vehicles, trees.

  A tiny voice in Shelby’s mind said are you fuckin’ nuts, but she positioned herself in front of the charging primate.

  Goliath caught the first Siberian in midair, his huge hand encircling the husky’s midsection. He squeezed down and the dog’s entrails ballooned out its muzzle. Dropping the quivering mortally wounded dog, he whacked the second with his opposite fist, crushing its skull. The last husky zigzagged left just out of reach of the giant ape and beelined it back outside the fence gap.

  Shelby watched the snipers aim though their high-powered scopes.

  “Don’t shoot! No!” Wavering her hands wildly, she turned and stood directly in front of the enraged primate.

  Goliath rose to his full height and growled.

  “No, Goliath! Stop!” Shelby yelled, backing away. “He’s not charging, do not shoot!” She’d just begun to turn and retreat when she felt a huge hairy hand grasp her shoulders. “No, Goliath!” she screamed. She sensed the pressure increasing. Let me go, Goliath!

  A single shot rang out and the hand released. She felt the vibration of the earth under her feet as the giant primate tumbled to the gravel.

  “Dammit!” she shouted. “I said don’t—”

  John held her. “It was me. It’s okay. I shot.” He pointed to the dog with the purple glistening guts protruding from its mouth. “Put him out of its misery.”

  Trembling, Shelby gazed down at the fallen giant. For just a moment, Goliath’s eyes rested on hers before sliding shut.

  Shelby rested her palms on her knees, sucking in heavy gulps of air.

  Thank God the ketamine finally kicked in.

  PART TWO

  CENTER OF PRIMATOLOGY

  LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

  CHAPTER 17

  “Has he eaten today?”

  The veterinary assistant shrugged noncommittally. “Some apples and cantaloupe. A little more than yesterday, but not much.” She checked an iPad screen mounted below the viewing bay. “Weight seems to have stabilized at 1,668. Actually ten pounds more today.”

  “Any bamboo?”

  The woman smiled. “As a matter of fact, yes, about twelve kilos. That was a good suggestion.”

  “Lucky guess, though that’s what research has indicated Gigantopithecus might have consumed in China. Thus far there is no fossil evidence the huge primates ever made it to North America and certainly bamboo did not thrive in the Arctic during the last Ice Age.”

  “Dr. Reddic isn’t convinced Goliath is a Gigantopithecus. He thinks it might be an entirely new unknown species.”

  “He could be entirely correct. Until more fossils are unearthed the answer will remain elusive.”

  Shelby watched the huge primate through the one-way glass. Goliath sat leaning against a faux tree trunk that extended to the fifteen-foot ceiling. He didn’t move much except to eat and relieve himself on the spread bale of alfalfa, though today he occasionally made swatting motions with his gargantuan hands. The fake tree limbs were far too small for him to climb so when he did move he would stand or knuckle-walk to the opposite side near the five-thousand-gallon pool and lie down.

  Today was his thirteenth day in captivity, day six in the Center’s enclosure. The interior side of the viewing window was painted with an anti-reflective coating depicting a rain forest canopy, not exactly appropriate for the current resident, but nonetheless Shelby had ordered nothing be placed that could act as a mirror inside the quarantine holding pen. She was concerned Goliath might interpret his own reflection as an adversary. The last thing anyone wanted was for him to launch an attack against the glass or the holding cell wall.

  She appreciated the fast work the construction crew had done with such short notice. The enclosure, normally reserved for tropical great apes such as recently acquired chimpanzees, orangutans, and gorillas, was the only pen on the West Coast large enough to even be considered for its newest resident. The modifications had been completed in six days, one day shorter than the week’s transportation from Chitina, Alaska, to Los Angeles—sixty-two hours’ actual driving time to cover the almost 3,300 miles in the trailer.

  The Center of Primatology was the natural destination for Goliath as the university-affiliated department boasted of having the most up-to-date equipment, housing, and research models designed for the study of primates—both living and prehistoric. The Center currently housed fourteen different species in various stages of quarantine before they would be transferred to zoos or wild animal parks, as well as endangered primates undergoing reproductive research to yield the best chances of avoiding extinction. In Goliath’s case, the subject fell into both realms—prehistoric and extant. The military and NASA continued to call the shots; they just didn’t have any place to monitor the giant.

  Shelby checked the temperature gauge. The cooling unit was the most complicated and expensive to integrate into the sixty-by-forty-foot enclosure. But Goliath had thrived in the Arctic, not the steamy jungles of the Congo. She wanted to make the transition as comfortable and least stressful as possible, though nothing they did would ever come close to competing with the Alaskan wilds around Okpilak Glacier.

  Currently forty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, at night the cell would cool to a brisk thirty-three, consistent with what his Arctic summers might have been like. Under the artificial lighting that included the vitamin D-producing UVB broadband lamps, Goliath’s hair appeared white with more yellow and silver than had been evident outside the Copper River tunnel. His face had also mellowed—no more intense rage, anxiety, even that expression of arrogance—I’m better than you humans—transforming into a placid, almost serene countenance of contemplation. Or dullness. There was something dummy-like in the way he moved, and though the mass of muscle and bone comprising his monstrously thick limbs still appeared powerful enough to rip high-grade nylon or bend steel, something was missing that had been present in Alaska. Desire? Sense of purpose? And suddenly she knew why.

  “Dammit,” she murmured, staring at the pool with the small recycled waterfall. Just in front of the faux shore, shredded bamboo stalks littered an eight-foot-square section of flooring that held the enclosure’s scale. “I thought I ordered the sedation be tapered,” she said to the tech.

  The woman stared at the huge primate. “You did, Dr. Hollister. But—”

  Shelby already guessed what the assistant was going to say. “It was Dr. Reddic.” She kept her tone neutral; after all, the primate assistant had just been following orders.

  The woman nodded. “This one’s real smart, smarter than any other great apes we’ve had here. He refused to eat anything with the diazepam in it, but he has to drink. Dr. Reddic decided to maintain a constant level of sedative in his drinking water.”

  Shelby listened, feeling her frustration mounting. She didn’t want the huge ape mentally addled. The sedation not only affected his mental facilities, but research had shown that constant sedation adversely affected other bodily systems—pulmonary, cardiac, gastrointestinal, even the immune response to infection. The last thing she wanted was a giant primate with pneumonia.

  “He in his office?” she asked.

  “I last saw him in the paleo lab.” When Shelby turned to leave, the assistant asked, “Is it true, Goliath could be from another planet, galaxy even?”

  Shelby offered a weak grin. “Goliath is no more an extraterrestrial than you or I.” And now she had proof.

  The woman smiled uneasily. “The news says he caused that helicopter to crash.”

  Shelby had read the hyperbolical blurbs too. Astor, it seemed, had teamed up with the SETI people as neither was doing anything to dispel the exaggerated myth. “The Alien Ape.” “Abominable ET.” She cast one last look at the albino giant, saying, “Try not to take what you read in the tabloids too seriously.”

  The Center’s paleo wing housed the department devoted to all r
esearch involving the study of prehistoric long extinct primates. In recent years the Center had expanded its areas of interest to include very early hominid fossils. Shelby’s research lab was located on the first floor just down from the chairman’s office, an expansive two suites with a central conference room and table large enough to seat twelve comfortably. A sixty-five-inch flat-panel monitor was mounted on one wall surrounded by maps of “hot spots,” digs where relevant primate fossils had been collected. Shelby noted no map yet of the Arctic. She guessed that would soon change.

  He hadn’t returned. The secretary directed her to Shelby’s own lab. “My lab?”

  The woman shuffled through a stack of papers from the incoming mail tray on her desk. “He’s looking for you. That NASA man is with him.”

  Great. “Max Bonds?”

  “I believe that’s his name. Oh, and this came for you this morning.” She passed a letter-size envelope.

  “Thanks.” Shelby read the address on the way down the hall. WTH. It was from that man who’d climbed Vinson with John. Rasheed Ahmen. She was tempted to toss it—he stuffs primates—but curiosity won out. She would open it later.

  She entered her small office, and seeing it was empty, dropped the letter on her desk and went straight to her lab. Her private research area was not spacious by any means, but was as well equipped as any laboratory on the university grounds for what she did—studying both extinct and living primate species. Two long counters held centrifuges, trays of fine and coarse instruments for preparing fossils, eye magnification loupes, microscopes, and enough shelves holding filled plastic collection bins to keep her and her assistants busy until the next Ice Age arrived. Just down the hall in the “community” paleo lab, she had access to two electron microscopes, mass spectrophotometers, and PCR machines for sequencing DNA. She’d just reviewed the latest DNA results collected from Goliath. To say she was shocked would be putting it mildly.

  She approached the two men leaning over an open bin holding the bones from the Little Okpilak Glacier offshoot.