Claw

by Katie Berry

  “If it’s a problem, I’m sure we can get rid of it,” Nichols added, confidently. “What is it?”

  “It’s that woman, Moon; she’s pushing for a public announcement that we have a killer animal loose in the area.”

  “Don't you think that would jeopardise the extraction?”

  VanDusen leaned on the back of his chair and looked toward the mayor. “I was thinking a bit about that — and actually, it might not. If people are leery of going into the bush, that will keep things under control out there for a while. We could put the entire area into an outdoor activity prohibition lockdown for safety’s sake. Then we wouldn't have to worry too much about anybody else stumbling onto our little mine site at the cavern.”

  “You're right! Just like the avalanche advisories! It may give us a bit more breathing room so that we can ramp up the extraction. I think maybe we should go with them on this; if it buys us some time, it could only be a good thing. We’ll just have to make sure everyone is extra vigilant that goes up there in case Ray Chance didn’t get lucky with his Land Rover, and there’s still something skulking around in the dark up there.”

  “All right then, I'll keep an eye on them and let you know what’s going on at the cavern.”

  “Let them announce the bear story if they want, but you know what to do if they get too close to the truth.”

  “Absolutely, there’s still lots of room up there. I think I can arrange the other three a personal showing, if need be. If they accidentally fell down a hole or got caught in a cave in that would such a tragedy.” VandDusen turned and trundled out of the

  “Problem solved.” The Mayor of Lawless, British Columbia, sat back in his chair and tented his fingers under his chin, a contemplative smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The fog was quite a thinner this morning, and Austin hoped it boded well for the day ahead. It was a few minutes before six o’clock when he rolled his Honda Pilot into the yard. The 105mm Howitzer gun sat already attached to the back of the white and green Lawless Works Chevy Silverado. Trip had been true to his word, as usual, and got there early to hook up everything. As Austin parked, Trip was making the final adjustments to the safety chains and cables on the gun’s trailer.

  Hopping out of the Pilot, Austin said, “Good morning and thanks, Trip! I see Baby’s all ready for her grand day out.”

  “Morning, boss. Yes, she is.” Trip said absentmindedly, still playing around with a reluctant safety chain.

  “Excellent! Then I’ll go get the formula and diapers.”

  Trip finally looked up from the chains as Austin headed for the shop, his only response, a confused, “Huh?” He shook his head slightly.

  Austin Murphy was the only person with the key to the howitzer’s ammunition cabinet. Being in charge of such a destructive weapon was a responsibility that he didn’t take lightly. He kept the key closely guarded at all times. If something ever happened and the weapon was stolen along with the ammunition, he was on the hook big-time. Entering the workshop, he unhooked a thick ring of keys from his belt as he walked. The shells were kept in a locked gun safe in the rear section of the building with ten-centimetre-long bolts holding it firmly in place. Even without the bolts, Austin didn’t think there was much chance of the safe going anywhere thanks to its four hundred kilogram weight. In addition, each of the two dozen shells inside of it, when assembled, weighed in at over forty kilograms each. All together it was over a metric tonne of steel and high explosives. Anybody thinking about liberating the gun and the ammunition safe might want to check themselves for a hernia when they were done, he thought with a smile.

  With the safe unlocked, he pulled over a small wheeled cart and loaded five each of the shells, propellant and explosive onto it. Gently handling each explosive charge, he bedded the gun’s deadly diet down in its padded travel case. There was just a little over two kilograms of Comp-B, military-grade explosive inside each, an explosive much more powerful than TNT. They didn’t keep the shells pre-assembled due to safety concerns during transportation. Once at the location, they assembled the completed projectiles just prior to firing. Austin knew all of the safety procedures inside and out. In order for the City to operate it, he’d needed to take an extensive course covering its safe operation last year before the gun could be delivered to the City of Lawless. After a quick transfer to the waiting truck, he rolled the cart back to the shop and secured the roll-up door. Being a Friday, Clara wasn’t in until a little before eight. He left a quick note on her desk, outlining his plans for the day, then locked the shop up when done.

  Hopping into the Silverado’s driver’s seat, Austin observed, “Hey! I see we don’t need to stop at Timmy’s today.” Sitting on the console between the seats was a box of doughnuts and two coffees. Trip had sprung for their morning kick-start today. Austin grabbed a chocolate long-john from the box and took a bite, then glanced over, seeing the coffee untouched. Before grabbing the first cup he saw, he made sure to double-check the lid before opening it and taking a sip.

  A white grease pencil had been used to write on the top of each cup. Thelma down at the Tim Hortons was just following standard operating procedure at the restaurant chain. But something that wasn’t SOP were the cute little things that Thelma drew and wrote on the lids of the cups she knew Trip was getting. Today, off to one side of the 3C4S on top, sat four little hearts that formed into the shape of a flower with a smiley face in the middle. “Awe, I love your cup today, Trip!” Some days it was flowers, other days a pair of birds (the love kind, presumably). She was really quite a good artist. Now that Austin knew which coffee was the eye-openingly sweet one, he popped the tab open on his own slightly less saccharine cup, labelled with a simple ‘2C2S’ for two cream, two sugar.

  Powering down a cruller, Trip said nothing, only knitting his brows together slightly and blushing harder than usual at the tops of his white-bearded cheeks. He chewed for a moment, then said, “Yeah, she really is kind of keen on me, isn’t she? As he spoke, the crumbs from the now ex-crullers that he’d already consumed this morning were settling into his bushy silver beard like swallows returning to Capistrano.

  “You don’t know the half of it, brother” Austin said cryptically.

  Trip raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  Austin didn’t elaborate and took his first sip of the hot, bracing brew. He put the truck in gear and pulled out of the yard. “Okay, Trip, two places for boom-boom with Baby today. First, we’ll be hitting the mountain range near the entrance to the valley.”

  “That’s a good spot, it’s getting pretty heavy there,” Trip agreed, tearing into another cruller.

  “Yeah, there’s some crap I spotted the other day that I want to bring down before it gets too concerning and creates an avalanche.”

  Trip nodded in agreement, still chewing, a small avalanche of his own occurring as cruller crumbs spilled out of his beard and onto the lid of the coffee cup in his hand.

  “After that, we’ll be heading up to Gold Ridge to bring down a little bit of the frosty, white goodness hanging around that neck of the woods, weather cooperating.”

  Trip continued to nod, chew and sip his coffee. Austin saw he was down to serious business now and not prone to talking when deep into enjoying a fresh cruller.

  “We’ll be working with traffic control on this. Clara contacted Lenny over at Ruby Roads yesterday to be standing by this morning to clean up whatever comes down on our side.” Ruby Roads was a local excavating company that the City worked with whenever they needed to move a bunch of snow, dirt, or rocks, quickly. This was especially true when the City of Lawless’s heavy equipment resources and workforce weren’t sufficient for a larger job like this. Turning the wipers on to wipe away some of the light mist on the windshield, Austin asked, “You remembered the walkie-talkies, right?”

  “Gob ‘em, boff” Trip mumbled, speaking around a mouthful of cruller and unleashing another small torrent of crumbs. With the thum
b of his cruller-free hand, he pointed over his shoulder to the back seat of the truck where he’d stowed the radios.

  “I’ll take that as a big ten-four, good buddy!” Austin said. Trip, still chewing, gave him another thumbs up.

  On the drive up to the first avalanche control station on the far side of the valley, the fog was indeed thinner this morning, Austin noted with some hope. He pondered the day ahead as he wound the truck up the meandering snow-covered road. If they could get the first ridge knocked down and cleared in the next couple of hours, then they should be good to clear the spot over Gold Ridge with plenty of daylight remaining.

  Out of the haze ahead, their destination appeared. Austin pulled the truck around and backed the trailer to the concrete platform from which they fired the gun.

  Trip climbed down from the truck and walked around to the trailer. He dropped the stabiliser legs and engaged the wheel locks on the howitzer at the same time. Thanks to his test session at the range with Austin and Alex the previous week, he knew it was imperative the gun didn’t move when fired. The thing kicked harder than a bull moose in rutting season, and he didn't want it going anywhere. Stepping back, he took a moment to get a better look at the gun. He still didn’t think they should be calling this thing a ‘gun’. It was more like a cannon, what with the high explosive-tipped shells and deafening noise involved once it was fired. Nope, Trip thought, a gun, this thing ain’t.

  Trip grabbed the ammo locker that contained the explosives while Austin off-loaded the shell casings. Working together, they lugged everything over to the gun to assemble a completed projectile.

  Austin placed the brass casing upright in a specially designed holder attached to the top of the ammo locker, saying gently, “Time to feed Baby.”

  Trip rolled his eyes, saying nothing, and placed the Comp-B propellant inside the casing.

  “Let’s put your hat on so you don't catch a cold,” Austin said, carefully screwing the explosive head onto the long brass cylinder.

  “Let’s lock and load,” Trip said, opening the breech of the gun.

  Austin inserted the assembled shell and Trip locked it down. They were primed and ready to go. With a high-five, Trip said, “Like a well-oiled machine, my man! Boo yeah!”

  Smiling enthusiastically, Austin said, “Okay, time to piss some people off,” He pulled a radio from his belt and called Ruby Roads. “Lenny! It’s Austin. Over!”

  “Hey, Austin! How’s it going, big shooter? Over,” came the crackled response from the radio’s small speaker.

  “We’re ready to rumble, Lenny! Over!”

  “You got it, bud, one traffic jam coming up! Over and out.” Traffic would be unable to move through the pass temporarily while they waited to see the volume of snow that came down in the controlled avalanche. The heavy equipment would have to come in next to clear it, resulting in wait times of over two hours on some days.

  Looking through the thin fog, Austin aimed the gun’s sight at the mountain peak in the distance and dialled in the coordinates he’d made a note of the previous day at the forest lookout. It was all a matter of degrees when shooting a weapon like this, and you had to be precise. His instructor had told him that if you were off by even a fraction of a degree, due to the distance the shell had to travel before it hit its mark, you could miss your target by several kilometres. And Austin didn’t want any errant explosive shells raining down from the sky anywhere other than on the exact spot at which he was aiming.

  They were ready for their first official use of the gun. Donning their ear protectors, Austin flipped Trip a quick thumbs up and shouted, “Fire in the hole!”

  Standing well off to one side, Austin pulled the lanyard attached to the firing lever with a quick jerk of his hand. Despite his training and previous testing with the howitzer, and knowing what to expect from the gun, he was still shocked by the noise and vibration that pulling that one small piece of synthetic rope had unleashed.

  With a burst of blinding brilliance and a bone-rattling bang, Austin felt every fibre of his being vibrate from the gun’s concussive blast.

  Standing on the other side of the Howitzer, Trip felt the fillings rattle in his mouth and his vision blur for a split second as the gun’s shockwave battered him. If he and Austin had not been wearing their ear protection, they would have surely been deafened just now.

  After a couple of seconds, faintly visible through the light fog and cloud, the shell hit the peak, and a plume of snow erupted from the ridge. Milliseconds later, an enormous BOOM echoed across the valley as the sound of the projectile’s explosive payload washed over their position.

  Austin grinned as the shell landed precisely where he’d aimed, but his smile faded when nothing further happened. There was no sign of any snow moving down the side of the mountain, except for a small trickle where the shell had hit.

  “Okay, then, round two!” Austin said, adjusting the gun’s sight a fraction of a degree to the right. Trip began preparing another round as Austin sighted the gun. With the recalibration complete, everything was locked and loaded once more.

  “Fire in the hole!” Austin shouted, tugging the rope. The gun’s blast battered them once more, and they watched the mountain peak in the distance with anticipation. The shell struck the hard-pack ice and snow on the ridge, and this time it found its mark. A large sheet of snow broke away from the mountaintop and rumbled down the mountainside, coming to rest amongst some trees near its base.

  “Woo-hoo!” Austin said, high-fiving Trip with his gloved hand. That was precisely the result he wanted to see and was more than pleased with the results. The new howitzer was a success providing much better results than the old air cannon. He was confident that they wouldn’t have any issues this winter with snow closing the road down as had happened in previous years -- barring any more earthquakes, that is, part of his mind mused darkly.

  “Okay, my friend, let’s pack it up here and head to Gold Mountain. Hopefully, the visibility there is as good as it was here.”

  “You got it, boss,” Trip began retracting the stabilisers and locking the gun back down for transport.

  Austin looked at his wristwatch; it was 8:55 A.M. “We’re doing great today! I’ll radio Lenny and tell him we’re done here. Once he and his crew have cleaned up, I’ll let them go home. We can’t use them at Gold Ridge today since they can’t get to any of the snow that we bring down in the backcountry up there.”

  As Austin spoke, Trip looked toward the resort and the glacier that lay beyond it. He wondered what the remainder of the day would bring -- more revelations, or revulsion. The way things were going right now, Trip figured, they had a fifty-fifty chance of either. “More of the first and less of the second, I hope,” he muttered under his breath, his mouth a grim line beneath his beard.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  With a yawn, Christine Moon rubbed some stubborn sleep from her eyes. She looked at the bright white screen in front of her face with half-opened eyes. It was 7:02 A.M. She yawned again. Midnight oil had been burned late night last night while she’d gone over some of the information that Zelda had sent her from UBC. This morning, she’d decided to sleep an hour later than usual to make up for the loss. A quick review of her inbox showed several new alerts pending from Ms. Wolowitz. Didn’t that woman ever sleep?

  Tea was the first order of the day, Christine decided. Taking the half dozen steps from her bedroom to the galley-style kitchen of her small rental house, and put the kettle on to boil. She opened her email to see what kind of information was upcoming. Several new emails were waiting from her friend, and all of them contained multiple exclamation marks. “Looks like the game is afoot,” she said, smiling, still thinking of Sherlock Holmes, thanks to Austin.

  She sipped her tea as she got ready. From what she could tell while quickly trying to decipher the sometimes incoherent zoological taxonomy her friend had included, it all seemed quite astounding. Apparently, the photos of the predator’s print from the campsite and her casting we
re a big hit.

  Suddenly in a hurry to get going, Christine was eager to delve into the data further on her computer system at the office where she could see things on a bigger screen. Grabbing what she needed for the day, she rushed about the house. Once she had gone over the new intel at the office, she was planning on heading up to the resort to see if she could track this carnivorous predator. Because so many indicators seemed to point in that direction, she figured it was the best place to start in her hunt for its lair.

  When the beast was located, they were going to have to kill it, she was certain of that. An animal that had a taste for people as this one already did was never going back to a diet of dumpsters and dirty diapers. And judging by the carnage she had witnessed thus far, this apex predator had already advanced well beyond that stage.

  Finally good to go, Christine stepped out of her house and was pleased to see things might be looking up in the fog department -- it seemed a bit thinner this morning. Of course, that was subject to change at any time around this area, she thought with a smile.