WHERE LEGENDS ROAM

by Lee Murphy

  "I know I said I don't want them to catch this one," Mildred said, "but isn't it likely that someday, somebody's going to catch one? And won't there be some benefit to mankind in the long run?"

  Kodiak shook his head. "I'd be an idiot to think a capture isn't inevitable. Someday. But I don't want to go down in history as the guy who handed over the first sacrifice. And as far as there being any benefit to mankind, that argument just doesn't float. We already know there's very little benefit, certainly not enough in my opinion, to justify the current animal medical research that goes on. That leaves straight vivisection for a complete anatomical study of the animal, which offers nothing, and a big draw at the zoo.

  "Pittman's very sharp to keep this whole thing on the Q.T. If and when the Sasquatch is proven to be a reality, the first thing that will happen is it will be labelled an endangered species. The species will have to be studied in-depth in order to determine the numbers in existence, and when you consider how difficult even sighting one of these animals can be, the process can take years. "In the meantime, all logging will cease. All encroachment into the wilderness will cease. This includes building of roads, homes, et cetera. We're talking at least in the United States, but more than likely that will include all of North America. If you recall how protecting the Spotted Owl affected logging, just think about the impact this will have on the economy. And believe me, there are interested parties going to great lengths to monitor this situation. The more ridiculous they can make the whole Sasquatch business look, the less likely qualified scientists would be willing to risk their academic necks.

  "Your mysterious visitors were probably affiliated with the timber mills. Emory Pittman has extensive financial interests in the lumber industry, which is why they'd be willing to cooperate with his little venture here. There's no conflict of interest.

  "My personal feeling is the best thing for all parties concerned is to leave the damned things alone. Let people come out to the woods and observe them like Peter Byrne is trying to do. Or like Jane Goodall and Dian Fossey did with chimps and gorillas."

  "I agree," Mildred said, "but that still doesn't explain how they managed to evade detection for so long."

  "Gigantopithecus was actively hunted by Homo erectus, an early species of man that also took up residence in Asia. In order to have survived, these animals would have to know that Man is an enemy. And the evidence gathered so far indicates that the Sasquatch goes to considerable lengths to avoid any contact with human beings. Most of the sightings are by accident."

  "It's just so amazing. I came so close to touching it, and I didn't feel the least bit threatened. Now, the animal I saw looked like an ape, but if it walks upright, and has human-shaped feet, doesn't that mean it's part human?" Mildred asked.

  "Not at all. There is already a precedent for a bipedal species of anthropoid ape. Oreopithecus was an animal that existed in the Miocene epoch of Tuscany some fourteen million years ago and is known to have been fully bipedal, although its feet were widespread, with long, splayed toes. It was only the size of a chimp and wasn't capable of the strides the Sasquatch and Yeti are reported to have.

  "As for the human-shaped feet, the truth is that contemporary apes, gorillas, chimps, and orangutans actually evolved their prehensile feet from the feet of primitive apes that were very much like our own. The footprints actually strengthen the case for a primitive species of ape."

  ***

  Norm was getting bored, and lying prone on the roof of Mildred's garage was uncomfortable. He had no idea how long he'd been up here, but it seemed like hours. He continued to pan the perimeter of the yard through his rifle scope for any sign of the Sasquatch. In his heart he wasn't really sure he could believe this animal was just going to come walking out of the woods and into their rifle sights.

  Montagna was hunkered behind the same row of shrubs Mildred had hidden behind the last two times she saw the creature, and he was scared to death. The plan had been for Kodiak to be outside, while Montagna directed the hunt from inside the house-- where it was safe. But that damned Kodiak assaulted him today, and blew everything to hell.

  At least Kodiak had taken him into the woods, out of sight so nobody could see him on the ground, sitting in the ants, hoping he wouldn't have to defend himself against Kodiak. But maybe that's why Kodiak took him out there; so nobody would be around in case Montagna kicked his ass.

  He felt nauseous, like he was going to vomit. He chose this spot because it had the quickest access to the safety of the house should the animal show up and turn out to be violently aggressive. What was worse, even that old lady, who was totally alone, wasn't afraid of it. He hated himself.

  Montagna looked around again. His bowels cramped, and he was sweating. He didn't know what he would do if the Sasquatch suddenly showed up. Probably throw up on it.

  Dave had the best view of all, nearly three hundred and sixty degrees, but every time another flash of heat lightning erupted across the sky he shuddered, feeling dangerously exposed atop the telephone pole. Montagna told him that he would be safe. He also made it very clear what would happen if Dave came down from his assigned post against orders. It would make getting struck by lightning seem like a vacation in Bermuda by comparison.

  On the hill above the back of the house Ben kept his vigil with the nightvision goggles on his head. Whenever the lightning flashed he was blinded by green phosphorus, and the static it caused on the radio headset hurt his ears.

  He thought about the possibility of actually seeing a living, breathing Sasquatch. For years-- hell, the past twenty-three years-- he trekked the woods of the Pacific Northwest, hoping and sometimes praying that he'd see one.

  Then it became an obsession; every shadow, every hulking tree trunk had his pulse pounding, his eyes bugging with the thrill, the hope...

  The worst part was the dreams. He had Sasquatch dreams. Ben would be lurking in the woods and suddenly, to his immediate left, no more than five feet from him, stood his quarry. It was always turned away from him, and he'd hear his subconscious mind urging him to see the face... You've got to see the face! He always woke up before seeing the face, feeling disappointed that it was just another dream.

  After all these years of frustration and disappointment, he finally became capable of remaining objective about the search, but never doubtful. He knew this was probably his best shot at finally seeing the animal, seeing that elusive face. Deep down inside, Ben was praying: Please, God...

  ***

  Half a mile away the horses and the llamas were becoming skittish. The lightning frightened them, but there was something else; an animal presence they could sense nearby that scared them even more.

  The juvenile Sasquatch had been watching the horses almost since they were first tied down in the clearing. It was on its way to Mildred's place when it got distracted by the scent of these new animals and, remaining hidden, it observed them for over an hour. Its curiosity finally got the better of it, and it came down to the clearing for a closer look.

  The horses snorted and tried to rear up to fend it off as it walked towards them, and some of the llamas tried to chew through the cable while others made plaintive bleating sounds. Their aggressive manner gave it pause, and it walked around them, maintaining a safe distance. It meant these animals no harm. Indeed, the Sasquatch was not nearly big enough to do more than frighten them by its mere presence. It had seen larger members of its species go after other animals, most often livestock, especially chickens, but sometimes pigs, or even the occasional cow. Dogs were a nuisance. If there were any natural enemies of the Sasquatch, it would be the canine variety. Dogs always reacted to their presence with fear, out of which they would either respond with hysterical barking, or outright aggression. In the few cases where a dog was known to have tangled with a Sasquatch, the outcome was gruesomely predictable.

  ***

  "My husband, Steve, was a ranger. We came here thirty-seven years ago. My God, we loved these woods. I still do. I just don't know
how much longer they'll be around. Just prior to our having come here, the Park Service had ended sixteen years of logging inside the park. They sacrificed well over one hundred million board feet of virgin, primeval forest to the lumber mills."

  Kodiak nodded, then said, "The National Parks Association was against this park from its inception. They even tried to get President Roosevelt to veto the whole thing. The Park Service was big on preservation rhetoric, but when it came to down to brass tacks, they were AWOL.

  "But we also have to remember who's at the root of all this. The timber industry's always had the Forest and Park Services in its back pocket. Through greed and avarice, they chose the people they wanted in all the decision-making positions. As is usually the case in this country, it took the people banding together to finally get the Olympic National Monument turned into a National Park. After the park became a reality, there was a public poll taken that showed Americans were disgusted with the lumber industry and the mindless greed that perpetuated their misguided belief that they were somehow entitled to these forests to do with as they pleased."

  The conversation was warm and amicable. The like-minded threesome were bonding through underlying sincerity and common cause. Mildred had grown comfortable with Kodiak and Cyrena, and she was glad they were with her. She felt safer.

  Cyrena shook her head, her brow furrowed in frustration. "Andy Paul had mentioned this. He also said something about danger trees..."

  Mildred said, "That was a line of twaddle spewed out by the Park Service to accommodate their rape-in-progress. There was a clause in the Park Service act of 1916 which basically stated that any trees designated as 'danger trees' were eligible for logging. These so-called danger trees were listed as trees that were damaged by insect infestation, infection, or windthrow. You could not possibly imagine how many trees were suddenly discovered to have been suffering from insect damage!" Mildred laughed, but the vehemence in her voice made it more of a scoff.

  "A favorite of Steve's was windthrow. Any trees that were subject to windthrow were fair game for the loggers. Of course, when you clear-cut an area, the surrounding trees suddenly become exposed to windthrow, so they got axed, too."

  Kodiak said, "We should be careful not to give the loggers themselves too bad a rap here. The Lumber and Sawmill Workers Union were very much in favor of saving the forests of the Olympic Peninsula."

  Cyrena got up and took Mildred's cup. "Let me get you some more tea, Mildred."

  ***

  The air turned more than a little cool, and Ben wrapped his jacket around himself for warmth. He looked at his watch. It was eleven-thirty. They had only been out here for an hour and a half, but it seemed like several hours.

  Montagna's voice sounded as bored and tired over the radio as Ben felt. "How's everyone holding up? Ben?"

  "Not a problem. All clear from my point of view. Over."

  "Good. Dave?"

  Ben looked across the roof of the house at Dave, who looked like an abnormal blob on top of the telephone pole. He moved a little, and Ben saw the barrel of his rifle. Dave answered Montagna, "Nothing yet. Over."

  "Norm?"

  "I'm peeing."

  Ben looked at Norm, who was standing on the roof of the garage and urinating on the ground.

  Montagna protested, "Norm, you could be messing everything up! Get back down!"

  "Wait for the shake... There." Old Norm zipped up his trousers and laid back down on the roof. "Sorry, Jamie, but some things just won't wait." He bellowed his hack-laugh that made everyone else who heard it want to gag.

  Montagna was kneeling down with his head bowed between his legs. There was no question he was going to be sick. All that remained to be seen was from which end he would let go first. This was no different from what had happened in Libya and then Iraq. And it was in Russia that he and his two partners were captured by government secret police, who were really Russian Mafia, and in a bid for his own freedom, he sold out his friends and agreed to watch as they were horribly tortured. Maybe he was something of a coward, but he had one of the highest success rates of anybody in his field. Cowardice could be a tool, too.

  That turd Kodiak must have known this. Pittman told him, so Kodiak made sure Montagna was left outside-- with the Sasquatch. Montagna knew Kodiak was just as scared of that thing as he was, but Montagna wasn't going to crack.

  The truth of the matter was he liked-- or at least admired-- Kodiak. He saw things in Kodiak that he liked to think existed within himself. Mainly, leadership skills and the ability to win people's respect through his actions. But Kodiak was also a threat. A serious threat to Montagna's leadership. And this would not be tolerated.

  He swallowed the bile back down and took the tranquilizer dart from his rifle. It was time to show everyone what a phoney Kodiak really was.

  ***

  Kodiak finished his tea and shook his head when Mildred offered another cup. Cyrena was captivated by the history of Olympic National Park and listened intently.

  "In 1947 a watchdog group called the Olympic Associates had to be formed to protect the park from the Park Service," Mildred said, sighing at all the depressing memories this conversation had dredged up for her. "Of course, the Park Service toadies still found a way to get the trees out. They sent trail crews deep into the back country, where they'd log trees well out of sight of anyone who might do something about it. Then they'd simply roll the logs into the rivers, where they'd end up at the Crown Zellerbach Dam and be loaded onto the trucks and shipped to the mills. It either didn't occur to these jackasses, or probably they didn't care, that these logs were destroying the spawning beds of the fish indigenous to the rivers.

  "Steve once told me about a boyscout troop that had come upon one of the clandestine logging sites at the North Fork Campground. They sent a letter of protest to the Park Service Director with pictures of the perfectly healthy trees being cut down on park land. They were naturally unaware of his complicity, and were stunned when they got a reply that stated the usual nonsense about windthrow, fire danger, and insects.

  "Well, these boys were so incensed by this, they sent a sarcastic response that stated how they could not imagine how these pristine forests could have managed to survive all these millennia with so many wild animals and malevolent insects around to destroy them."

  They laughed at this, then Mildred continued. "But that's not the best part. At the park Visitor Center in Port Angeles, there's an exhibit depicting life in a logging camp. And wouldn't you know, those damn fools built it out of wood logged from the park!"

  The front door suddenly opened, and Montagna walked in. "Kodiak, catch!" He tossed something across the room and Kodiak caught it out of reflex. It was the tranquilizer dart, and the tip cut the inside of his middle finger.

  Montagna smiled. "You should be more careful. That's filled with Etorphine."

  Kodiak's heart skipped a beat and his throat caught. Etorphine was a powerful tranquilizer used on elephants, and it was deadly to humans. People had died by merely scratching themselves with a needle that touched this drug.

  Where Legends Live

  From his place on the hill, Ben could see everything that was going on inside the house. Montagna had tossed something to Kodiak, making Kodiak face off with him. Ben's blood turned cold when he saw the look on Kodiak's face. "I knew it!" He got up and ran for the house, praying he got there before somebody got killed.

  Inside the house tension reached critical mass. Cyrena and Mildred stood in the dining room with no idea what to do. Even Ruth lay awake in front of the fireplace, watching.

  Kodiak stood still, waiting for something to happen. Etorphine was deadly, but he had no idea how long it took to work. Was he going to suddenly drop dead right where he stood, or would he have time to grab Montagna and break his neck?

  Montagna was smiling, and after a minute he said, "You can relax. It's just Ketamine."

  Kodiak grunted something and charged at him, just as Ben rushed in and blindsided Montag
na, knocking him headlong into the china cabinet. The glass shattered, and the ceramic figurines were all smashed upon the floor.

  Kodiak dove into Ben and grabbed him by the shirt, thinking he was Montagna. Ben screamed, "No!" and put up his hands in defense. Kodiak quickly recognized him and held his punch.

  When all the commotion broke in the living room and that fool Montagna was thrown into the cabinet, Ruth made her move on the cat. The cat couldn't find a way out of the house, so it fled upstairs, and Ruth followed. There were two bedrooms on the second floor and a bathroom at the end of the hall. Only one bedroom door was open, so that had to be where the cat had gone. Ruth crept to a linen closet and took out a pillow case. She carried it in one hand, drew the large Bowie knife from her belt with the other and wound her way into the bedroom.

  She didn't need to turn on the light; her rattlesnake eyes were well accustomed to the dark. The room was simple in its set-up; a queen-size bed was positioned against the far corner under the window, with a nightstand beside it that had a telephone and bottles of prescription medicines on top. There was a chest of drawers directly across from the bed, and the room was all very neat and tidy, like a display in a furniture store.

  The cat was under the bed. Ruth didn't have to see an animal to know its whereabouts. This was a special talent of which she often made grisly use, and the reason she was brought along on this trip. If necessary, she would be their homing device to track the Sasquatch through the woods.

  The old hag cackled to herself as she went over to the bed and got down on the floor, the arthritic pain that plagued her back and legs gone-- blocked out by her bloodlust.