Hominid

by R. D. Brady

  When Tess’s mother learned she was buying this cabin in the woods, she had nearly had a heart attack. After losing Tess’s dad, her mom had never been comfortable with them going into the woods. But she also recognized Tess was drawn to the great outdoors. They’d fought about her career choice for years. Tess knew that offering to renovate the cabin was her mom’s way of saying she’d finally accepted Tess’s career choice.

  Tess had originally resisted, not sure she wanted anything too fancy, but she gave in eventually. And seeing as how her mother passed away only a month after the renovations were complete, Tess was very glad she did. She knew being involved had made her mother more comfortable with Tess’s career choice.

  Besides, her mother had been right—having a comfortable place to come home to did make all the difference. Tess loved being off the beaten track, but there was something to be said for modern conveniences.

  When she opened the door, her ten-year-old yellow Labrador, Shelby, was waiting for her. Tess knelt down and gave the dog a good rub. “Hey, girl.” Then she stepped back and let Shelby out.

  Tess zipped into her office. She dropped her pack on the desk and carefully pulled out the casts she’d made. She jotted down the coordinates where she’d found them as well as the time and date, then placed them in the glass-encased bookcase across from her old wooden desk. She already had over two dozen casts in there, the majority of them with the same mark on the bottom of the foot.

  Her gaze roamed over the collection, her heart rate picking up. The footprints ranged in size from fourteen to eighteen inches long and six to eight inches wide. These were proof that unknown hominids roamed the woods in Northern California.

  The alarm on her phone beeped, and she grimaced. She really needed to move. With one last lingering gaze, she left her collection behind and ran for her bedroom. She had one hour to shower, pack, and get out the door.

  I really don’t want to go, she thought as she stripped out of her clothes and turned on the water.

  But you really need the grant money, her rational side countered. She blew out a breath, acknowledging that truth. Academic curiosity might be a wonderful thing, but it didn’t pay the bills. For that, you needed donors—or better yet, grants.

  Tess still had money from her mom’s life insurance policy, but she didn’t want to touch it—not for this. Her mom had supported her, but Tess knew how much her mother had worried about her, so Tess promised herself she would use that money for something that would have made her mom smile.

  And right now, she knew if she didn’t get a grant at this conference, she was most likely going to have to close up shop.

  She stepped into the shower, let the water run over her, and closed her eyes. Please let me find someone as dedicated to this project as I am.

  And let them have very deep pockets.

  CHAPTER 3

  Scottsdale, Arizona

  Carter Hayes flipped through the papers on his desk with a scowl. Everyone wants a handout.

  Each year, his foundation donated to a variety of philanthropic endeavors. It was good publicity, and the tax breaks were huge. But people were so greedy. What ever happened to standing on your own two feet?

  Carter Hayes had never taken a handout in his life. He was a self-made man. After graduating Yale, he hadn’t gone to work at his father’s company. He’d taken his trust fund and gambled on himself. And he’d won.

  He curled his lip. American Cancer Society, Children’s Charities of America, the Boys and Girls Club of America. The list went on and on. And all these people wanted him to hand over his money to them.

  “Sir, have you made any decisions?” Thaddeus Regan asked.

  Carter eyed his assistant. Thaddeus had been with him for over twenty years. The two had grown up together in Michigan, although they hadn’t been friends; Thaddeus had been the son of the groundskeeper on his parents’ estate.

  Carter shoved the papers away. “I don’t care. You decide.”

  “Very well, sir. And I may have found a researcher for your special project.”

  All thoughts of the charitable donations disappeared, and a tingle of excitement danced along Carter’s skin. He held out his hand. “Let me see.”

  Thaddeus handed him a folder.

  Stamped across the front were the words Dr. Tess Brannick, PhD. Carter flipped it open and scanned the resume quickly. She had a BS in Zoology (Anatomy & Physiology) from Michigan State University, an MS in Zoology (Anatomy & Physiology) from Kent State University, and a PhD in Anatomical Sciences (Physical Anthropology) from the State University of New York at Stony Brook. She’d also completed a postdoctoral visiting assistant professorship at Duke University Medical Center.

  And she had a well-received blog called “Bigfoot Among Us.” It had received over two hundred thousand hits last month.

  Carter’s eyebrow rose when he flipped to the next page, which detailed her blog. The topics revolved entirely around the scientific validity of bigfoot.

  Carter had been obsessed with tales of bigfoot since he was a kid. He’d first seen the Patterson-Gimlin film when he was seven, and had been equal parts fascinated and terrified at the idea that a powerful eight-foot hominid was alive and at large in North America.

  That year he asked his family to get him a bigfoot for his eighth birthday. His family already had a zoo on the estate, so to him, it didn’t seem like such a big request. But he was given a gorilla instead. He curled his lip at the memory. The thing had never liked him. And it had been old, just sitting there, its fat belly flopping over his legs. Carter’s family had finally gotten rid of it two years later.

  But while Carter had lost interest in the gorilla, he’d never lost interest in bigfoot. Owning a bigfoot had grown from a childhood wish to an adult goal.

  And Carter Hayes achieved his goals.

  “She’s well credentialed,” Thaddeus said.

  “So I see,” Carter said.

  Carter flipped through the file and stopped at a photograph. And very attractive, he thought. She had that girl-next-door beauty, with dark brown hair, deep blue-green eyes, and a spray of freckles across her cheeks.

  “Her approach is a departure from most,” Thaddeus said. “I think she may be exactly what you’re looking for.”

  Carter flipped through the pages once more from the beginning, skimming the information again, liking what he was seeing. He paused. “What’s this?” He held up a police report. He hadn’t noticed it on his first flip-through.

  “Her father was killed by a mountain lion on a camping trip almost twenty years ago. She and her brother were also there.”

  “And she still goes into the woods? Alone?”

  “Yes, sir. In fact, according to unofficial reports, she and her brother were saved by a very tall unidentified animal. I believe that may be the reason behind her research.”

  A strong scientific background, beauty, and guts—an unusual combination. He smiled. And the perfect one.

  “She’s presenting at the annual cryptozoology conference tomorrow in San Diego,” Thaddeus said.

  Carter nodded, already inserting Dr. Brannick into his plans. “Make sure we have someone there to record the presentation.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Carter flipped back to the picture. It wasn’t a posed shot. She was laughing, her head tilted to the side. Yes. She may be just what I need.

  CHAPTER 4

  Beauford, California

  Tess drove around a bend in the dirt road, revealing the white farmhouse and red barn in the treeless clearing ahead. Shelby started wagging her tail immediately. Tess rubbed Shelby’s head. “I know you love it here, but you could at least act like you’re going to miss me a little.”

  Shelby grinned back at her, her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

  “Okay, fine.” Tess shook her head with a laugh. She pulled to a stop in front of the wide porch steps just as the screen door opened.

  Seventy-seven-year-old Madge Rollins stepped out. Her l
ong gray hair was pulled back into a bun, her faded jeans and denim top immaculately clean. “What took you so long?”

  “Sorry.” Tess stepped out of the truck, and Shelby leapt out behind her. “Got back to the cabin late.”

  Shelby scrambled up the stairs. Madge leaned down, a grin on her face. “Hello, girl. We are going to have some fun.”

  Madge might have been skinny as pole, but Tess knew she was strong from her many years working the farm. Now, though, she had sold off most of the acreage, and she had people do her planting for her. Her three sons worried about her being out here alone. They wanted her to move in with them. Madge’s response when they’d suggested it had been a snort, followed by: “What, so I can be a glorified babysitter? No thank you.”

  Her sons knew better than to try and fight her on it. Besides, Madge seemed to like her own company, and one of the boys came up every weekend to help out. Still, Tess knew Madge’s sons wanted her to sell the place. And it wasn’t just because of her advancing years.

  Madge stood up from giving Shelby a good rub, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “So, you’re off to see my boyfriend?”

  Tess grinned. “Madge, you know Shawn’s gay, right? And married to my brother?”

  Madge cackled. “Well, he might be gay in real life, but not in my imagination.”

  Tess couldn’t help but laugh. “I am so not telling Shawn or Pax that.”

  Madge held the screen door open. “You got time for tea?”

  “I could be persuaded,” Tess said, following her in. She’d checked the plane’s status on the ride over—it was delayed, so she’d have a little time before her friend Sasha Bileris came by to pick her up.

  Shelby headed straight for the dog bed in the corner with her toys and bones. Whenever Tess had to be out in the field for a few nights or out of town, this was Shelby’s home. Tess knew Madge would like to get another dog of her own, but after what happened to her last dog, she wasn’t quite ready for that.

  Tess took a seat at the table, where Madge had already set out the tea and a plate of lemon cookies, and took a sip of her tea. “Any visitors last night?”

  Madge crossed her arms with a sigh. “Oh, they were in a fine mood. Hooting, hollering, a few large branches came down. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the racket.”

  A couple of miles and a large hill separated Madge’s place from Tess’s. The terrain tended to trap the noise on one side.

  “Where about?” Tess asked.

  Madge nudged her chin toward the back of the house. “Up the hill. Right about where you put those new cameras.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  Madge smiled. “I told you they don’t like being spied on.”

  “I know. I know.”

  Madge was the reason Tess had bought the cabin down the road. For years, Madge had had “visitors” on her property. She’d spotted them in the distance now and then, but they kept to themselves. Every once in a while, though, Madge would come across a deer or elk that had been ripped apart. Sometimes she found footprints. And at night, especially in the spring, it wasn’t unusual for her to hear them making a racket all over the place.

  Tess had learned about Madge’s visitors when she was a kid. She and Pax would regularly bike out to see Madge and pepper her with questions. Well, Tess would pepper her with questions. Tess was pretty sure Pax only made the trip for Madge’s oatmeal cookies.

  And Madge’s nightly visitors were the reason why Madge didn’t have dogs. Her last dog had been so terrified that he had reached a point where he wouldn’t leave the house. Madge finally had to give him to one of her sons. It wasn’t fair to the poor animal.

  Luckily, Shelby was partially deaf and didn’t seem bothered by the activity. But Tess knew if Shelby ever got near one, that would change. Dogs were not fond of bigfoot, and the feeling was mutual.

  “Did they get close to the house?” Tess asked.

  “Nah. We’ve established a respect of sorts. They keep to their space, I keep to mine. Never had problems before; can’t sees why I’d start having some now.”

  “I keep seeing tracks of my friend in the woods.”

  Madge raised an eyebrow. “You sure it’s the same one?”

  Tess pictured the scar on the casts. “Yeah, same one.”

  “Hmm.” Madge took a sip of her tea.

  “What do you mean, ‘hmm’? What are you thinking?”

  “Seems to me he’s letting you find those tracks. They’re usually a little more careful.”

  Tess sat back, surprised. Madge was right. In all the cases she’d read about, no one had ever found tracks so consistently. She had just thought it was because she was so far in. But what if it wasn’t?

  “Why would he do that?”

  Madge shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m betting he’ll let you know sooner rather than later.”

  CHAPTER 5

  San Diego, California

  But I’m betting he’ll let you know sooner rather than later. Madge’s words had been a constant fixture in the back of Tess’s mind for the whole plane ride to San Diego and all through the night. Now, as she walked across the University of San Diego’s campus, she couldn’t help but focus on them. Was Madge right? Was that possible?

  Tess shook her head. Bigfoot was an animal. She shouldn’t attribute higher thought processes to it. That’s where people stepped over the line from scientist to fan girl. And she planned on staying on the side of science.

  In the distance, a giant welcome banner was strung across the brick and cement front of Meyers Hall: “The Seventh Annual Cryptology Conference.” Tess smiled at the sight. It was pretty amazing that the university was allowing it be held here. Due to its somewhat tainted reputation, cryptozoology was not a specialty that had its own department. In fact, it rarely received even a modicum of respect. Most people used the term cryptozoology interchangeably with pseudoscience.

  But it was so much more. Cryptozoologists studied the animals that could be, those that were rumored to exist. And in recent years, several success stories had helped to bolster the field’s reputation. The most recent find involved the Bili ape in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

  For years, the people of Congo spoke of giant chimpanzees that ate lions, fished, and howled at the moon. In fact, the animal was called “lion killer” by the native people. Of course, traditional scientists attributed the rumors to a highly imaginative indigenous group whose bedtime stories had gotten a little out of hand. Besides, the descriptions seemed to more closely match a gorilla than a chimp. It was said that it lived in nests on the ground, rather than in the trees; that it was not aggressive toward humans; that it walked on two feet for longer distances than is typical for a chimp; and that it grew to as large as six and half feet tall. All in all, it was too incredible to be real, at least for the Western world.

  Still, in 1996, when word of the giant chimps got out, researchers descended on Congo. Although scat, hair, and other evidence was found, it wasn’t until 2005 that the chimps were actually seen by a Westerner. Primatologist Shelly Williams was in the Congo, searching for the creatures, when a group of four of them emerged from the trees, charging at her. They were at least five feet tall, with wide flat faces, a pronounced brow, and gray fur. Yet when they noticed Williams’s face, they stopped their charge and walked away.

  This lack of aggression toward humans was repeated in other encounters, including those of Cleve Hicks of the University of Amsterdam, who spent eighteen months observing the creatures following the Williamses’ encounter. He, too, found that they had no fear of humans, but rather seemed to recognize humans as a cousin of sorts. Which, in a sense, they were. Most primatologists classified the species as something in between a gorilla and a chimp. Some even suspected they were a missing link between humans and chimps.

  But whatever they were, their discovery was a boon to the public image of cryptozoology.

  A giant chimp that lived hidden in the forest for ages, Tess thought. Just like the g
iant ape that lives in North America.

  The parallels were there. In Congo, there had been rumors about the existence of the Bili apes for years, but the stories were dismissed as nothing more than tall tales told by the natives—until the Bili ape was found. Similarly, Native Americans had told tales of their large brother in the woods for literally hundreds of years.

  And it wasn’t only Native Americans, either; one of the earliest recorded encounters with the wild, hairy men of North America was documented by Leif Ericson. In his journal, he wrote about seeing huge hairy men with dark eyes after he landed in Newfoundland around 1000 CE. The huge creatures, he said, towered over the Vikings, emitted a rank odor, and had a terrifying shriek.

  Yet despite centuries of sightings—and a commonality in the descriptions of the creature, from very different native groups across the continent—bigfoot was still written off as a fairy tale.

  One of the biggest barriers to widespread belief in bigfoot, Tess suspected, was bigfoot’s bipedal nature. For generations, humans had felt smug in the knowledge that we were the only truly bipedal primate. Oh, sure, apes or chimps could stumble along for a few steps, but they were not two-legged creatures. Most of their travel was done on four limbs. And this faith in human exceptionalism created an unconscious bias against the idea that we might share our bipedalism with any other primate.

  Recently, however, Tess had seen changes in the field that seemed to indicate that people, and scientists in particular, might be growing more receptive to the idea of bigfoot. For one thing, a greater understanding of the diversity in the history of primates had led to more openness about the possibility of humans having a more extensive family tree.

  For another, discoveries had demonstrated that bipedalism had developed independently in multiple parts of the world—and that it was not a strictly human trait. But perhaps most importantly, scientists coming into the field today had grown up with bigfoot. Every kid in America had heard the story by the age of eight, and that alone predisposed them to adopting a more open-minded approach.