WHERE LEGENDS ROAM

by Lee Murphy

  When Cyrena finished closing the wound, Kodiak lay down on a bed of moss and fell asleep almost immediately. His sleep was fitful, his face belying the pain he still suffered from the previous night's beating.

  ***

  Ben decided to go fishing. He hiked three miles upstream, not so much to find a good fishing spot, but to get the hell away from Montagna, Norm, and the others, and to get rid of his depression. Walking was the best way he knew how to do it, short of a good stiff drink. Finally, he came to a small brook and sat down to rest.

  He wasn't really interested in catching anything, but he baited his hook with a couple salmon eggs and cast his line into the water.

  When he had gotten up this morning, Kodiak and Cyrena were gone. So were the horses and llamas. There was nothing keeping him here now, but he was depressed that they would take off without him. He knew they hated Norm and Montagna, but he wasn't like those guys. He and Cyrena had always been friends, and he was hurt to be left behind. He figured Kodiak was pissed at him for his participation in the Sasquatch capture.

  What a lousy trip this turned out to be. Here, they had become the first people to capture a Sasquatch, to actually prove that Gigantopithecus still existed, and Ben Tyler was miserable. He could hardly breathe, because his chest was still sore from being hit with the lug wrench. Nothing was broken, but he had a nasty bruise, and taking a deep breath was asking for punishment. He almost laughed when he thought of what had happened the past couple of nights: first Dave mistakes him for the Sasquatch and shoots him with a tranquilizer dart, then Kodiak mistakes him for Montagna and throws the lug wrench at him. The way things were going, he was probably going to end up dead before this trip was through.

  He popped the tab on a can of beer he brought with him, took a drink and continued to brood. It was definitely going to rain again, but he was too depressed to bother covering himself.

  ***

  Jamie Montagna was sitting on a crate looking at the radio transmitter in his hand. Old Norm was standing beside him, becoming exasperated. "How come that guy ain't answering?"

  Montagna shrugged. "Don't know. I know I'm on the right frequency. He should be on the alert."

  "Yeah, well daylight's wastin', and I'm getting tired of waiting on this fool."

  "About all else I can suggest, buddy, is that you and the kid get started, and I'll radio Pearl where to meet you."

  "All right, Jamie." Norm spat and went to get Dave while Montagna made another attempt to contact Emory Pittman's man in the field.

  Dave was looking at the ground, scrutinizing it when Norm walked over to him. "You ready to go, kid?"

  "You know something, Norm. I don't think they rode out of here."

  Norm laughed. "That's crap. They'd have to be complete damn fools to--"

  "Look at this..." Dave knelt down. "I followed the animals' tracks as they came from the meadow and right through here. Even though the rain washed away most of the tracks, you can see Kodiak's dragging one foot, 'cause it dug in a little deeper."

  "So?"

  "So, his tracks continue away from the direction the horses went."

  Norm's face brightened as he realized what Dave was saying. "Kid, you feel like doing a little hunting?"

  After Ruth got up, it seemed that she didn't care one way or the other about the animals being gone. She passed on breakfast and walked down to the river where she found a large, flat rock. She lugged it back to her tent, and setting it down on the floor, placed a nickel on it and began to flatten the coin with a jeweler's hammer she carried on her belt. She was turning it into one of the tags that hung from the pelts she carried with her.

  As she hammered and flattened the nickel into an oval tag, she hummed the Indian song that she learned as a child.

  ***

  Ben reeled the fish in. It was the same fish he'd reeled in twice already, and he was thinking maybe this time he'd just go ahead and eat it. But he didn't. He removed the hook from its mouth and tossed it back into the brook.

  "Hi, Ben..."

  He dropped his fishing pole and turned to see Cyrena standing behind him. "I thought you'd be back in Red Fern by now. Or at least damn close to it." There was a coldness in his tone that made it clear to her his feelings were hurt and he was in no mood to be messed with.

  "We never left."

  "I don't see George."

  "I'll take you to him. When you see him, you'll understand why we took off like we did."

  ***

  "So where the hell have you been?"

  Even talking to him over the radio, Ron Pearl wanted to slap Montagna across his snotty face. "For your information, fart-head, I've been cooped up in this damn camper for four days waiting to hear from you. It was a beautiful day, so I took a hike. How's the fishing? You catch anything?"

  "As a matter of fact, we did. Just a small steelhead, but worthy of mounting." This was an open CB frequency, and speaking in code was essential. The fishing trip was in reference to the Sasquatch hunt.

  Pearl suddenly forgot about Montagna's irritating manner and became very excited, almost like a kid. "You're kidding! My God, really?" He started to laugh.

  "Don't overreact." This was an absolute order, and Pearl suddenly felt foolish. His reaction could easily raise suspicion to unwanted ears.

  Pearl cleared his throat, trying to imagine what the animal must look like. "Sorry, it's just that this is the kid's first time fishing. He must be thrilled."

  "As we all are," Montagna said with an intense lack of enthusiasm. "Any word from friend Pittman?"

  "Nothing for two days. But then I'm not supposed to call till we have some news. You ready to be picked up?"

  "Not exactly. A couple of the guy's are coming out to meet you. Norm Cocke and Dave Bovard. They left about an hour ago, so if you head south for about fifteen miles you should come across them."

  "Okay, sounds real good. Guess I'll be seeing all of you soon." Pearl set the radio transmitter down and sat back, smiling at the anticipation of seeing the captured Sasquatch.

  He immediately grabbed up his cellular phone and dialed Pittman's private line. The voice on the other end sounded pained and discomforted. "Yes?"

  "Mr. Pittman? Ron Pearl, sir."

  A painful-sounding grunt, then, "What news have you got, Pearl?"

  "It's a boy, Mr. Pittman. Congratulations."

  Emory Pittman was lying on his belly, propped upon his arms, with a pillow under his pelvis as Dubbins, in surgical gloves, gently wiped fecal matter from his exposed buttocks. Pittman was smiling at the news Pearl was giving him. "Outstanding."

  The surgical incision along Pittman's hip was enflamed and swollen to the point where it looked like the staples were going to pop loose. It looked painful, but Pittman was never one to complain about physical adversity. Even at the age of eighty-three he still had a physique that put many men half his age to shame.

  Dubbins wiped the last of the crap from Pittman and started to apply cream to his hemorrhoids. Dubbins must have struck a nerve, because Pittman suddenly smacked his hand, knocking the tube of ointment across the room. "Damn you!" Then Pittman turned back to the phone. "No, not you. That idiot, Dubbins. The man's not fit to wipe his own ass, let alone mine."

  Dubbins' face flushed with anger. This abuse had become a regular thing lately. Throughout their years together there had been abuse: physical, verbal and emotional assaults. But they had always been tempered by the gentle side Pittman had kept concealed from most others who knew him. Pittman had often gone to great lengths to make Dubbins feel special. To feel loved. But lately, he had been a monster all the time. Even before the accident that smashed his hip and the surgery that still wasn't healing.

  Dubbins gently rolled Pittman off the pillow and onto his back, fighting the temptation to roll him onto the floor.

  On the phone Pittman chuckled, but his face winced from the pain of being moved. "Yes, Pearl. Very good. We'll see you in a few days." Pittman hung up on Pearl and glared at Dubbin
s. There was going to be hell to pay. Again.

  ***

  The gully was only half a mile from the brook where Ben had been fishing. He had to admit it was so well hidden that anybody who came looking for them would have a hard time spotting it.

  Kodiak was in the back, in almost total darkness. Once Ben's eyes adjusted he could see what Kodiak looked like, and he repressed a gasp. He didn't realize just how bad the beating was that Kodiak had been subjected to. And what were those black dots on his forehead, he wondered.

  Kodiak looked at him with his one open eye. "Ben."

  "George... How bad is it?"

  "It looks worse than it is. By the way, I'm sorry I hit you with the lug wrench last night."

  Ben rubbed the sore spot on his chest. "Forget it." He looked at Cyrena. "Why didn't you ride out on horseback and get him to a doctor?"

  "This was his idea. He wants to go back to free the Sasquatch."

  Ben knelt down in front of Kodiak. "Yeah, I can see how you'd be real effective."

  "Don't write me off yet, Ben. I told you, it looks worse than it is."

  "What are you thinking of? Why is it so important for you to free this animal? Can't you see it's too late? I just don't get you, George."

  "I thought you were supposed to be good at reading people?"

  Ben stared at him. "I suppose you do have some pretty good reasons, even though I think you tend to leap before you look. And I guess I have to admit, as much as I love being involved with the first real capture, the idea of Jamie and Norm taking credit for this does make me want to puke. So have you got a plan? And I do mean a realistic plan."

  "Yeah, I have an idea."

  "And does this idea have room for one more person?"

  "Actually, I was hoping to count on you, so I made room for two."

  Ben smiled sarcastically. "Very funny, smart ass--"

  "Be quiet..." Cyrena hushed them up, and they all watched a stream of urine cascade down from somewhere above the gully. It was Norm.

  Ben shook his head and whispered, "What is that guy's obsession with peeing?"

  Kodiak had left a trail that was easy for Norm and Dave to follow, but they lost it two miles along the way, then came upon Ben's tracks that brought them almost to the gully. Norm was standing atop the deadfall that overhung the gully, and as he relieved himself he saw something two hundred yards away, barely visible between the giant columns of trees; a man on horseback. But it wasn't the horse that drew Norm's attention-- it was the bright, curly red hair that covered the guy's head.

  Dave was looking at Ben's fishing pole that lay on the ground some fifty feet from where Norm was standing. On the ground between here and the brook, clear footprints had been left that led in a specific direction for Norm and him to follow. But Ben's footprints weren't the only ones. Someone else had been there, someone who wore a much smaller boot than Ben: Cyrena.

  She hadn't ridden out of the canyon, but was hiding somewhere with Kodiak, waiting to strike back at them, probably during the night. They were probably getting it on right now in some cave. She was probably letting Ben slip it to her, too. Dave hated her. Norm was right: she was a whore. And the first chance he got, he was going to do it to her. This would take some serious planning, because he didn't want to have to wait for Norm and Jamie to finish with her before he got his turn. He would have her first, for a couple of days. Then maybe he'd let Norm have her, then Jamie. And maybe even Ruth-less.

  Dave was giggling when Norm walked back over and said, "What's so funny?"

  Dave stopped laughing. "Nothing. What's up?"

  "You ready for a good time?"

  "You found them?"

  Norm brought the machete with them when they left camp, and it looked like they were going to get to use it.

  ***

  Andy Paul rode over Tshletshy Ridge and into the canyon as fast as the weather and the wet terrain would allow. He came to the Queets River and followed it for another thirty-five minutes after Norm had spotted him. Paul located the campsite in the clearing and knew it must belong to the people he was looking for, but he stayed well away from it until he could figure out what might have happened.

  He rode around the clearing, taking care to stay out of sight, hoping above all else Cyrena was safe. He kept his shotgun across his lap, just in case he had to ride in and play hero.

  He turned to make another pass when something flew from beyond the nearest tree and hit his horse between the eyes. It was a rock, and it connected hard enough to send the horse rearing up, throwing Paul from the saddle, and when he slammed down on the ground, he almost bit his tongue in half.

  Two men came out from behind the trees. The first was that creepy punk, Bovard, who was carrying a machete and looking at him with complete hatred. Dave walked over to Paul, pressed his foot against his chest and rested the tip of the machete on his throat.

  The other man was much older and looked like one of those museum sculptures he'd seen of a Neandertal man. He took the horse by the reigns, picked Paul's shotgun up from the ground and started laughing. His laugh sounded like the grinding an automobile makes in false ignition.

  ***

  They agreed upon Kodiak's plan, although Ben had some doubts about what Kodiak said he was going to do with his playing cards. Kodiak said, "We have to take them by surprise. The sooner the better."

  Kodiak told Ben about Montagna's twisted hybrid idea, and Ben became angry at Montagna and Norm and was anxious to get things underway. He wasn't sure he could wait until dark. "It's gonna feel good to give those guys the beating they deserve."

  Kodiak shook his head, saying, "We may not have a chance for that. On the other hand, we may have to put them out of commission so we have an adequate opportunity for success."

  While Cyrena was on their side, she didn't care for the elation she knew they felt at the idea of beating the crap out of Montagna and Norm, and remained silent during the first part of their conversation. However, she did speak up when Ben said he wouldn't mind reading their obituaries. "I hope to God, for your sake, it doesn't come to that," she said.

  Ben finally took his leave. It was more than a three-mile hike back to camp, and it would be dark soon. The walk would be good for wearing down his anger, and that way Montagna wouldn't sense anything when he got back.

  ***

  They walked into camp single file: Andy Paul, looking pale and scared, with Dave behind him still holding the machete in a ready position, and Norm bringing up the rear, riding on the horse and carrying the shotgun.

  Jamie Montagna was sitting on a fallen tree trunk, drinking a cup of coffee by the fire, when he saw them and stood up. "What the hell is this?"

  Norm said, "We caught this one riding near camp. He was nosing around, and he had this." He held up the shotgun.

  Montagna tossed the coffee cup away and walked over to Paul, looking him over suspiciously. "Who are you?"

  Paul felt like a POW brought into an enemy camp. He knew he could kick the crap out of the sneering little weasel who stood before him, but the shotgun in Norm's hands made him impotent. "My name's Andy Paul. I don't want no trouble. I just came out to see if you folks were all right."

  "I don't know you."

  "The gal-- the woman, Cyrena, she rented the horses and llamas from me. I got a call this morning that they were running around loose. I thought something might have happened."

  Montagna nodded, but said nothing. He looked up at Norm. "Norm, let's have a talk."

  Norm dismounted, handed Dave the shotgun, and tied the horse to the tree trunk. "Keep an eye on 'em, kid."

  They went inside Montagna's tent. Montagna turned on him, saying, "What in the hell were you thinking?"

  Stunned by Montagna's vehemence, Norm said, "What?"

  "I sent you idiots to meet Pearl in the Winnebago! I sent you to bring back some horses so we could get the Squatch out of here. And you come back holding some cowboy prisoner?"

  "I told you, he was spying on us..."
>
  "Spying? This isn't Robert Ludlum! You heard what he said."

  Norm was hurt and confused by Montagna's anger. "Even so, he would have seen the Squatch. Then what would we do? Especially since he was armed."

  Montagna took a deep breath and exhaled steadily, calming himself. "He probably would have helped us, Norm. Now I gotta figure out what to do with him."

  "Well, at least we got a horse," Norm said plaintively.

  They came out of the tent and walked back to Andy Paul, who was looking at the Sasquatch. "My God... is that it? You really caught Bigfoot?"

  "Right now, Roy, that's not your concern," Montagna said, using "Roy" as an aspersion. "I might just as well be God Almighty, because right now I got the power of life and death over you."

  "Then just tell me if the girl is okay." He looked at Dave. "Cyrena, is she still okay?"

  Montagna suppressed a smile. He was suddenly swept up by flashbacks from what had happened back in Russia. His eyes widened and his pulse raced as he thought about how thin the line was between sheer revulsion and sick fascination about death-- particularly horrible death. It looked like they were going to get to have a little fun.

  "She's great, Roy. Matter of fact, we got her tied up in one of those tents, naked as the day she was born, but a whole lot prettier, I'm sure. You sweet on her or something, cowboy?"

  Paul was soaked with sweat, and his eyes bulged angrily from his skull as he looked at Montagna. He wanted to kill him, but didn't dare raise a hand against him. "You son of a..."