Abominable

by Alan Nayes

  With a clang, a man dropped the ankle shackles on the deck near Ahmen’s feet. The collector bent down to examine the restraints. He could see where the rings had been bent outward, allowing the ape to slip his feet free. He knew one wrist was free as well. The giant hadn’t been playing with himself all those times as the others had foolishly intoned. He’d used the metal corner of the trailer storage bin to pry the restraint cuffs open. He stared into the night, his disquiet mushrooming. What the hell were they dealing with? He was about to speak when two voices erupted.

  “I see him!”

  Timer: “Four minutes forty-five seconds!”

  Excited shouts erupted. A single rifle shot.

  Ahmen barely glimpsed a giant form splashing from the water fifty yards away. The ape clambered up the rocky shoreline and vanished uphill into the trees.

  Another shot.

  Ahmen saw the lights to the estate and shouted, “Don’t shoot toward the goddamn house!”

  Goliath had escaped. Devastated, he leaned over with his hands on his knees. No doubt, these last several minutes had been the worst of his life.

  Ahmen refused to wait for dawn. “Get the dogs!” he ordered.

  Behind him, the men assembled. Ahmen ordered one team of four men to remain at the estate and guard the house. He, Ralston, the man in charge of the dogs, and the remaining eight men would accompany him on the hunt.

  Ahmen still hadn’t abandoned the idea of taking the ape down with his crossbow.

  Ralston carried a bolt action Springfield 30.06 borrowed from Ahmen’s estate arsenal. “You don’t want to call the authorities?” he asked for the second time.

  Ahmen led the march uphill away from the estate grounds. “The island is only seventy-one acres. The mainland is over a half mile away. He ain’t swimming that far.”

  “I saw him rip a man’s head off,” Ralston reminded him.

  Ahmen refused to look at him. “We’ll handle this ape. He got lucky once, he won’t get lucky again. We’ll be back in time for breakfast.” He looked impatiently over his shoulder. “Sayed!” he called.

  The tattooed man raced from the men spreading out in the boreal forest of tamaracks and black spruce. He’d been with the dog tracker, who was busy keeping the six Belgian Malinois leashed until ordered to set them on the scent they’d been exposed to in the trailer.

  “Where is he?” Ahmen asked, sensing more control of the situation, following multiple beams of light dancing off the trunks of trees and copses of wet green shrubbery.

  Sayed indicated the small screen and the blinking red icon. “Still moving north.”

  Ahmen allowed himself a confident grin. Entering the narrow end of the island—the bear’s heel. “Toward the bluffs. Good. He’s running out of room. We can box him in there.” He met the dog tracker’s gaze. “Turn ’em loose.”

  “All six?”

  “Why not?” Let the taxidermist earn his exorbitant fee.

  The rain continued to fall but in spurts. For the last minute, the island had been in a reprieve but as soon as the dogs took off barking, the showers began again in earnest.

  Sayed chuckled. “He’s heard the dogs. Damn, that fucker can run!”

  Ralston said, “He can run, but he can’t hide.”

  Ahmen maintained his gaze straight into the trees. “Joe Louis?”

  Ralston grinned, wiping the moisture from his eyes. “Very good.”

  “I’m looking at this as a heavyweight fight—he won the first round, but I’ll win the next with a knockout.”

  The barking suddenly grew intense, followed by a cacophony of yelping. Then after about ten minutes, silence. The men exchanged disturbed looks.

  “He’s on the move again,” Sayed confirmed.

  Ahmen didn’t like the silence and he could see the dog tracker liked it even less. “Why aren’t they barking?” Ahmen asked, sensing his unease returning.

  The tracker shrugged and was about to speak when one of the Belgian Malinois limped from the vegetation. There was an audible groan from the tracker as he kneeled before the wet whimpering ninety-pound canine. One eye was missing along with a portion of his ear. His shoulders and back appeared to have been flayed open with a machete.

  Ralston shook his head. “He’s using the shackle chain as a weapon.”

  The tracker stood suddenly and blew a silent whistle.

  “What are you doing?” Ahmen asked.

  “Calling them back. I didn’t sign on for this.”

  They found the remaining five dogs several hundred yards deeper in the forest. All with crushed skulls or chest cavities. The dog tracker lamented, “They were only supposed to tree him.”

  The unease that had only been a thin layer earlier now fell over the hunters like a lead blanket. Ahmen stared down at the decimated canines reflected in the beams of light, the rain sparkling as the drops fell through the illumination. He heard Ralston utter, “This isn’t an ape.”

  Ahmen sucked in his breath. “You have to remember he came from a time of very large prehistoric predators. The difference now is we humans aren’t carrying just rocks and clubs.”

  Sayed shouted excitedly, “He’s stopped moving!”

  “Where?”

  Sayed indicated straight ahead. “He’s reached the bluffs.”

  Ahmen checked the crossbow and cautiously started forward.

  Ralston held back. “Rasheed, why don’t we wait for more light? What’s two, three hours?”

  The flashlight beams stabbed the dark forest.

  “Two or three hours for him to move elsewhere.” His tone full of contempt, Ahmen added, “Wait here if you’re afraid.”

  He waved the others ahead into the trees. Large boulders from the last Ice Age’s receding glaciers littered the forest floor between the conifers and very shortly he came upon the road that led between the lookout and the estate. It would have made trailing the ape so much easier if the primate had just stuck to the road. He crossed the gravel and entered the forest once again with the others. He no longer saw Ralston or the dog tracker. He didn’t care.

  With his light, he could make out the sparkles from the drenched granite bluff through the tamaracks, the escarpment broken by shallow caves.

  “How far?” Ahmen asked, ready to drop the light and raise the crossbow in one smooth motion. This time he wouldn’t miss. This time he’d shoot for the thickest part of the ape monster, the chest and trunk.

  Sayed moved west a few paces around a large round rock and stopped. Anticipation flashed in his young face. “That one! He’s in that cave by the big spruce.”

  Multiple beams hit the dark maw. Ahmen was familiar with all the caves and knew none extended back more than five or ten meters into the uneven bedrock. Hardly enough room to conceal something as gargantuan as their target. This should be easy. But he’d underestimated the giant’s cunning before; he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  He motioned the men to spread out through the trees in front of the cave. Keeping his eyes on the opening he asked Sayed, “Still no movement?”

  The tracker shook his head. “No. Just sitting inside.”

  Ahmen’s nervousness returned. He aimed the beam and moved closer, seeing only heavy shadows caused by the jutting shelves of rock. This cave appeared to extend deeper but he figured it was because it was night. He’d never been up in the bluffs this late.

  He moved a wet branch out of his face with the arm of the crossbow. He moved closer, and heard the men beside him doing the same. Now would have been the opportune time for the dogs. Send them in and chase the giant out. Bingo—a dead ape. He changed the angle of the beam, expecting to pick up a portion of his white coat. Only rock.

  “Dammit,” he cursed under his breath. By the pattering and movement of the branches, he could tell the rain was coming down harder. “Anyone see anything?” he called out.

  A chorus of no’s.

  Where the fuck was he hiding?
“Sayed?” he shouted. His patience was wearing thin.

  Sayed: “No movement. He should be right near the entrance.”

  “He isn’t!” Ahmen shouted back. “That fucking gizmo accurate?”

  “Yes sir, to within a foot.”

  “Then why don’t I see him?”

  Sayed: “He’s there.”

  Ahmen moved closer, to within five yards. His finger remained on the trigger and the bow was up. The instant the ape showed he’d let the 410-feet-per-second bolt fly. His beam played over the rocky floor. He tensed. Blood, he was sure of it. “The ape is wounded!” His pulse leaped in anticipation. He moved up to the entrance. For all he knew he’d discover the giant dead inside. A pile of boulders covered much of the back wall. Deep shadows danced over the gray-white rock as he moved the beam. Nothing moved inside.

  He stepped up to the maw, the other men positioned only yards away. The cave height was less than eight feet and just as wide. The giant would have had to duck to gain entrance if he’d been upright.

  Sayed called out, “You should be right on him!”

  “I’m not!” More anxiety. What the fuck…Ahmen aimed the light at the bloody spot. “Get up here, Sayed!”

  The tracker didn’t seem eager but he squatted down for a close look at the spot Ahmen indicated. “I’ll be fucked,” the tracker said, standing and holding out his open palm.

  Ahmen studied the tiny mangled piece of bloody tissue covered with tufts of white hair. “What the hell is that?”

  Sayed frowned, manipulating the tissue with his fingers. “I think…” The capsule-sized tracker popped free.

  “Goddammit!” Ahmen screamed. The ape had gouged out the tracking device from his own thigh. He could be fucking anywhere on the island! He spun around facing the woods, shouting, “Fan out!” He waved the crossbow wildly, sending the hunters in all directions. “I want every rotten leaf on this damn island turned over!” Anger boiled under his skin. He cursed, “I’ll find you, Goliath, you fucking monkey! You’re mine!” In a burst of rage, he viciously kicked the electronic tracker from Sayed’s hand. “I’m paying you to track him, now track him!”

  Sayed bowed, muttering, “I’m sorry,” before racing into the trees to catch up with the other searchers.

  Thunder rumbled over the island and sheet lightning exploded between the rain-sodden clouds.

  Ahmen angrily spit a wad of saliva and rain water at the soggy ground.

  He realized his fatal mistake as soon as he heard the light tinkling of metal and heavy padding behind him. The giant ape had been crouched back in the cave all along!

  Ahmen had been incorrect earlier. “Earlier” weren’t the worst minutes of his life. These were!

  And his last!

  Ralston watched the north bluffs from the huge bay window. He heard the gentle weeping from the kitchen. Cezini was thinking the worst and now he couldn’t disagree. He considered his options while making sure the four armed men remained where he’d posted them since returning—directly between the mansion and the beautifully landscaped lawn separating the north side of the estate and the trees less than half a football away.

  He checked the time. It’d been over three hours since he and the dog tracker had returned from the hunt. All the way back they’d listened to sporadic rifle shots and several times heard screams—human screams—and shouting, but the panic had sounded so muffled in the rain and thunder he’d begun to think he might have imagined it. In the last ninety minutes no sounds from the north bluffs except thunder and rain.

  The heavy cloud cover showed no signs of breaking, evidenced by the continued showers. At least it was light out.

  A door opened from the other room and Ralston now counted only three men out on the veranda. One of Ahmen’s mercenaries had come inside. He heard more muffled voices from the kitchen.

  The APA man gazed once more at the canopy of tamaracks and black spruce. He’d come to think of the giant ape as almost supernatural, which he knew was ludicrous. Primeval, yes…supernatural, no. All the same, he wished like hell Ahmen had listened. Wait for daylight at the minimum.

  Ralston decided the time was now. Whether Ahmen was alive or dead, it was time to act. In his best interests, yes, but also the welfare of all the estate employees could be at risk. He accepted that the albino behemoth was intelligent but was he vindictive? He didn’t want to wait around and find out. He’d witnessed firsthand that scientist’s violent death back in Los Angeles. He didn’t need any more images like that.

  Wait here if you’re afraid.

  Up on the bluffs, Ahmen’s words had stung. Not anymore. Ralston was warm and dry and alive and Ahmen and the others…?

  He marched by an enclave where at least ten frightened housekeepers and other staff employees huddled. Their quiet whispering ceased as he passed. He entered the kitchen, picking out the tall man in camouflage fatigues and rain gear. “Were you able to raise Ahmen?” he asked.

  The man avoided Cezini’s red eyes and shook his head. “No one’s responded. Might be the terrain.”

  Ralston could see from his expression the hunter didn’t believe that for a second, and neither did he. “I say we have two choices,” Ralston offered. “One—send a couple of your men up to search the bluff area and see if you can find any survivors. Or option two—we load everyone on the barge—I have some boat experience—and cross over to the mainland and organize a search and rescue. We can also call from here, but that means remaining on the island.”

  Cezini sniffled and wiped her nose with a napkin. “Is that monster coming here?”

  Ralston decided the best answer was to talk around the question. “Goliath could be dead or—”

  The incredibly loud RRAAAUUUU echoing down out of the woods effectively froze everyone where they stood. So much for circumlocution.

  Ralston met the mercenary’s anxious gaze and the hunter said, “Option two.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Shelby listened to the Center chairman’s disturbing call over her morning coffee, disbelieving what she heard, yet after the strange—to say the least—call last night, now understanding better the bizarre tone of Ahmen’s voice six hours earlier. Yes, he’d been angry but she realized the collector must also have been terribly frightened, if not then, certainly later. She booted up her laptop on her kitchen table.

  Reddic didn’t sound real good either, though she thought she detected an underlying relief in his voice implying, thank God this didn’t happen on the Center’s watch.

  Shelby glanced once more at the Los Angeles Times’ headlines—nothing alluding to what Reddic was mentioning. “Too early for the paper,” she said. “Ahmen called me around three this morning.”

  “Three a.m.?”

  “He sounded…upset. He wanted to inform me ‘my ape’ had escaped. And he wanted to know if apes could swim.”

  “They can, to an extent.”

  “Goliath had to have crossed Copper River to get to Chitina before his capture.”

  Reddic paused a moment. “I hope you don’t mind. I gave them your number.”

  “Who?”

  “The Canadian authorities. They called me. We were Goliath’s last keepers. You’ll be getting a call, I’m sure.”

  Shelby pulled up the CNN website. A news bulletin. “Oh my God,” she murmured. The number nine blared at her from the screen. NINE DEAD! She told Reddic she would talk with him when she got to the Center and disconnected. No sooner had she’d begun to read than her cell rang again.

  “Have you heard?” John asked.

  “Reading about it now.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “Yes.” As she perused the first few lines, she experienced a dead-weight sensation in her gut. She moved her coffee aside. The descriptions obviated any need for a morning caffeine fix.

  John must have sensed her distraction because before letting her go, he said, “Call me if you need to talk.”

  In the hal
f hour it took her to get to the Center, the “Massacre at Bear Island” had spread all over the airwaves.

  Shelby listened to a reporter from Vancouver carried on an LA all news channel as she turned into the lot: “The Vancouver multimillion-dollar philanthropist, Rasheed Ahmen, was found dead along with eight associates on his private palatial Bear Island estate early this morning. The incident was reported to officials by members of his staff who resided at the mansion and had taken a boat to the mainland in fear of their own safety. It has come to light Mr. Ahmen recently acquired ownership of Goliath, the prehistoric ‘Abominable Snowman’ discovered in an isolated glacier in Alaska’s vast Arctic National Wildlife Refuge back in June of this year. Whether Mr. Ahmen obtained the proper import and CITES permits is not known at this time…”

  The lead investigator, Matthieu LeBlanc, was quoted: “All resources are being focused on Bear Island to ensure public safety and a prompt resolution to this bizarre and uncanny situation.”

  Shelby parked and jogged past several reporters already interviewing employees entering the Primatology Center. She doubted she would get by without being seen and she was correct. One raced her way and shouted, “Dr. Hollister, were you aware Mr. Ahmen might have transported Goliath to Canada illegally?”

  She ignored the question and ducked inside. She found Reddic on the phone and he motioned her to a seat. She heard him saying, “Our legal team examined Mr. Ahmen’s documents and found everything to be in order.” He listened a moment longer before hanging up. “God, what a circus this is going to be.” He didn’t look happy. “The attorneys for the Center assure me we have no liability exposure to this recent event but hell, Goliath just murdered nine people. Shit!”

  “They know for sure it was Goliath?” and she immediately regretted how asinine she sounded.

  Reddic only reinforced her opinion. “Hell, Shelby, many of the men were dismembered, ripped apart. Wait till that gets in the news. Jesus…”