Hominid

by R. D. Brady

“I know,” Tess said. “But I think I can explain why you weren’t able to move.”

  Bernie looked at her, and Tess couldn’t miss the hope on his face. At this point, she knew he’d grasp at anything that meant he wasn’t crazy—anything that could inject some sort of logic into this horrible situation.

  “In the animal kingdom,” Tess said, “some animals have an ability to emit what are known as infrasonic vocalizations—sounds that register below a human’s hearing range. Lions, elephants, even giraffes have this ability. For some, such as lions—and, I suspect, bigfoot—the infrasound is contained within their roar. But this infrasound allows a predator to stun their prey. Tell me, did you feel nauseated afterwards, disoriented?”

  Bernie looked surprised. “Both.”

  “That’s not unusual. It’s the result of increased pressure on the middle ear. Your paralysis was actually a biological response to a vocal weapon. One you couldn’t even hear.”

  Bernie stared her for a moment before speaking. “Is it crazy that that makes me feel better?”

  “No. I think it’s pretty normal,” Tess said.

  Bernie let out a breath. “I can tell you though, it will be a long time before Leanne and I go back in the woods. In fact, right now I can’t imagine ever doing it again. And I grew up out there.”

  Eric leaned forward. “I know you feel that way now. But this is only one experience in thousands of experiences you’ve had. Don’t let it ruin the outdoors for you.”

  “I know you’re right. But right now…” Bernie stood up. “I think we’ll be staying around people. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get Leanne and get home.”

  Tess handed him one of her business cards. “If I can help, or if you think of anything else, please let me know.”

  He took the card. “Thanks, but I think I’m going to try to forget this whole thing happened.”

  “I understand,” Tess said, looking at the exhausted and terrified man in front of her. And I hope you can. But she knew from personal experience that it would be a long while before Bernie Hudson felt safe again.

  Watching Bernie make his way to the door, his shoulders slumped, she thought about her father’s death and the tree structure pointing to her camp. Bigfoot was a powerful animal, and he was interested in Tess.

  But bigfoot wasn’t violent to humans. So she had nothing to fear.

  A chill crawled over her. Right?

  CHAPTER 18

  Tess stayed and had breakfast with Eric after Bernie left. Before she hit the road, she promised she’d come for a longer visit soon and would bring Dev. She headed back to her place and made it to her camp by noon.

  Her camp wasn’t much. It was only about twenty yards by ten yards. She had a lean-to, a table and chair, and a giant log that she, Pax, and Shawn had pulled into use as seating by the fire pit back when she’d first begun her research. She settled into her chair, intending to work on her paper, but Bernie’s story was still on her mind.

  It was not an uncommon tale. People had often reported that bigfoot had chased them away from a site or thrown rocks at them. But no one had ever actually been harmed by a bigfoot.

  Sightings often reported how incredibly fast they were, how long their stride was. If they wanted to catch someone, they could easily. And due to their musculature, no one would have a chance to fight them off. And yet, that didn’t happen. Bigfoot just weren’t violent creatures.

  At least, not toward humans. Toward dogs… that was a different story. There had been dozens of reports of dogs being killed by them. Even Madge had lost two dogs to the creatures.

  Tess leaned her hands on the tabletop, picturing Shelby. Those incidents were the reason Tess never brought Shelby out here. The dogs that were killed were typically the more aggressive dogs—the ones who gave chase. The more timid dogs would just curl up, whimpering and terrified. Shelby definitely fell into the latter category, but still, Tess didn’t want to put her through that.

  Tess thought about an article she’d read about dogs’ senses. It suggested that dogs might actually be able to see deeper than humans into both the ultraviolet and infrared ends of the light spectrum. This light is invisible to humans, but not so to many animals. If dogs had this ability, it would allow them to see urine trails, or to spot a hiding animal who might otherwise blend in with their background.

  In addition, a dog’s sense of smell is highly developed. Their nose is one thousand times more sensitive than the human nose. They have two hundred million more olfactory receptors than humans. So when a dog’s eyesight and olfactory abilities were combined, it was actually no wonder that bigfoot, who seemed to be trying to hide from humans, did not like them.

  Tess sat back, thinking about what Bernie Hudson had said about the strong smell. Bigfoot had been reported to have a stench, but there were many sightings where no stench was reported. Tess knew that in the ape kingdom, odor was used as a weapon. Was that what Bigfoot was doing? Trying to scare someone off, or to let them know they were near?

  But dogs, with their incredibly sensitive noses, would know that bigfoot was around regardless of whether or not they emitted a stench. Which led to another possibility. Many believed Bigfoot was a master at camouflage—that he could blend into his background seamlessly. If so, people might walk right by without even knowing he was there. And as crazy as the idea was—an eight-foot hominid going completely unobserved—there was actually psychological evidence to back it up.

  In 2010, researchers Christopher Chabris and Daniel Simons conducted a study at Harvard that later came to be known as the “Invisible Gorilla Test.” Participants in the study were required to watch a basketball game with three-member teams wearing black or white shirts. Subjects were asked to count the number of times an individual in a white shirt passed the ball. About two thirds of the way through the video, an individual in an ape costume walked across the screen.

  Yet half the subjects didn’t even notice—they were too fixated on counting passes. Chabris and Simons concluded that people miss a great deal of what’s happening around them, particularly if they are focused on a different task. More importantly, we are oblivious even to the fact that we are missing it.

  Is that what was happening here? Tess thought. Were people literally missing the bigfoot in front of them?

  But Tess knew that while it was possible for humans to walk right by something as large as a bigfoot and not notice it, a dog would not be so easily fooled. So did bigfoot target dogs because dogs could find them? Or were bigfoot just generally more violent than people thought?

  Tess sighed and stood up. Well, she clearly wasn’t going to get any work with her mind wandering like this. Perhaps she should go check out the new cameras. She’d placed them in the field two weeks ago, farther away from camp than the others, and she’d been itching to check them out.

  She shouldered her pack and headed for the first location. It was a twenty-minute hike, far off the track but near a game trail, just beyond a pair of Douglas firs. She’d placed the camera in a tree, about fifteen feet up. It had taken a little climbing, but she liked the spot because the tree branches weren’t very sturdy—they’d barely held her weight—so they wouldn’t support a larger predator. The only predator who could reach it would have to be either really light or tall enough to reach it without the aid of the branches.

  When Tess arrived at the spot, her eyes scanned the tree where she’d placed the camera.

  It was empty.

  Her gaze flew to the ground. The camera lay in pieces.

  CHAPTER 19

  Tess knelt down and examined the bits of metal and plastic scattered on the ground. Right. Bigfoot’s not violent—except when it comes to dogs and cameras.

  She’d checked half of all the new cameras, over twenty of them, and this was the fifth camera that had been smashed. She shook her head. Madge was right—they really didn’t like the things.

  Blowing out a breath, she began to gather up the pieces. She had money in the gr
ant to replace the cameras, but she was pretty sure any new ones she put up would just end up in the same condition as these. What a waste of money.

  Tess also knew it was highly unlikely that whoever had smashed her cameras had been caught on film. Somehow, they always knew where the cameras were and managed to avoid them. How is that possible?

  She stared at the pieces of plastic. Some people suggested that cameras emitted a low-energy signal. Could bigfoot sense them? Did they, too, see UV light? Or were they just so attuned to their surroundings that anything new was blatantly obvious? Kind of like walking into your living room and noticing a new vase on the coffee table?

  Tess looked around. “You know, you didn’t have to destroy them,” she said aloud.

  Silence greeted her. Tess picked up more pieces. Of course they had to destroy them, she thought. Otherwise I’d get a picture and the world would know they exist, and that can’t happen.

  The thought brought Tess up short. Was that even possible? Were the bigfoot deliberately protecting their secrecy? That would require a pretty complicated thought process. No, they just don’t like new things in their environment.

  Tess dumped the plastic pieces into a bag and stuffed it in her pack. Her phone rang as she zipped up the pack. Tess frowned. Only a handful of people had the number to her sat phone, and they were instructed to only call if it was an emergency.

  She pulled out the phone. This can’t be good. “Hello?”

  “Tess, it’s Madge.” Madge’s voice was rushed.

  Tess had never heard Madge sound anything but calm. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s little Mike. He’s missing.”

  Tess pictured Madge’s grandson Mike. He was five years old and mildly autistic. He was also fascinated with animals and loved to explore the woods—even if it was on his own.

  “What happened?”

  “He went down for a nap. We were all sitting on the porch. He must have woken up and gone out the back door. We don’t even know when he left. I called the sheriff and my boys, but I knew you’d probably already be out there.”

  Tess shouldered her pack, the smashed cameras forgotten. She started toward Madge’s place at a fast clip. “I’m about two miles away, coming in from the north. I’m guessing Mike Senior took off after him?”

  “Yeah, he just left.”

  “Okay, good. Well, if he headed out the back, we’ll catch him between us. What was Mikey wearing?”

  “A red thermal shirt with jeans and brown boots.” Madge paused. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to him.”

  “Don’t go there, Madge. We’ll find him. I’ll call you in an hour and a half and touch base, okay? And tell the sheriff where I’m at.”

  “Will do. And be careful.”

  “I will.”

  Tess disconnected the call. Placing the phone back in her pack, she started to jog, but carefully. The last thing she needed was a sprained ankle.

  Mikey was a cute kid, with almost black hair and deep brown eyes. But what people always noticed about him was his smile. It lit up his whole face.

  Tess frowned as she remembered the last time she’d seen Mikey. They’d been at Madge’s, and he’d seen a snake. He tried to pick it up, but Madge snatched him away in time. It had been a Pacific rattler. Pure black with hexagonal markings, and incredibly poisonous. Mikey didn’t seem to understand that animals could at times be dangerous.

  In fact, Mikey was the personification of innocence. He lived in a fairy tale world where everyone was good, including all animals, and there were no villains. It was actually a wonderful thing. You felt better about life just being around him. But as a result, everyone in his life had to look out for him—to protect him from his overly trusting nature.

  Tess picked up her pace. And out here, there were a lot of things that could harm a trusting little boy.

  CHAPTER 20

  The land between Tess’s camp and Madge’s place was pretty rough, but Tess was used to hiking such unforgiving terrain. The problem, however, was that no matter how used to it she was, it was a slow process. She wasn’t hiking down some well laid-out trail. She was cutting across creeks, going around downed trees, and climbing over rocks. It was taking time. Time she wasn’t sure Mikey would have.

  Tess paused on top of a rocky outcropping. It gave her a bit of a view of the land ahead of her. She took a swig of water, knowing she had to keep hydrated. Scanning the area, she looked for any sign that Mikey had gone this way. But she wasn’t sure what she expected to see. He was small for his age, standing at only about three and a half feet, meaning he wouldn’t leave much of trail, certainly not one that could be seen from far away.

  Come on, Mikey, where are you? Tess looked up and saw a flash of dark fur on the ridge across from her. She went still, staring intently at the spot. But nothing moved. It had been so fast she couldn’t even say for sure what kind of animal it had been.

  She placed her canteen back at her hip and slowly swung her rifle back toward her. While she loved being out in the woods, she wasn’t Mikey. She knew there were things out here that could kill you.

  Everything was silent, and Tess’s breathing seemed awfully loud. Seconds passed, but there was no further movement. Did I imagine that?

  A bead of sweat rolled down her back. Wary, she knew she had to get moving, but as she started to walk, she was overly sensitive to movements around her.

  A loud crack sounded through the woods. Tess’s heart began to pound. It sounded as if a limb had been ripped from a tree.

  And she could swear she felt eyes on her. She paused. Logic told her to keep going, but if there was something stalking her, it could have friends stalking Mikey—or worse, she could lead them right to him. Raising her rifle, she turned and walked in the direction of the sound.

  Fifty feet away, she found the branch lying on the ground. She looked up. It had been ripped from the trunk thirteen feet up.

  Tess’s mouth fell open. That wasn’t possible.

  Oh, that’s possible, a voice in her mind taunted her.

  Movement to her right caused her to whirl around. Another shape disappeared behind a tree, and this time she could tell it was tall—very tall. She went still, listening, but once again the woods were silent.

  On trembling legs, Tess walked forward. She reached the tree where she’d seen the shape. There was too much ground cover for any tracks. She looked up at a knot in the trunk that was at about the spot where the creature’s head had been.

  It was easily eight feet, maybe even nine feet from the ground.

  Oh my God. Her first sighting, and she didn’t have time to focus on it. She went still, listening intently, but all again was silent. She frowned.

  Then she heard something. She could barely make it out. It sounded like… Her eyes went wide. Like huffs.

  Stealth forgotten, Tess stormed through the trees toward the sound. Please don’t be Mikey. She stumbled to a stop at a steep dropoff and looked down. A gully lay before her, a small stream running through it. She could barely see into it with the tree coverage. But the flash of red told her she’d found him.

  Thirty yards away from him, a black bear let out a roar.

  Tess pulled the rifle to her shoulder, but she didn’t have a shot with all the trees. But it was a black bear, the smallest of the North American bears, easily frightened. She fired a shot into the air.

  The animal leapt back, but it didn’t leave. Why didn’t he—

  That’s when she saw the cubs. They were tucked into the bank, caught halfway between Mikey and the momma. There was no way that mother was going to leave without her kids.

  And the bear was big. It easily had to be four hundred pounds, and standing, it was probably close to seven feet. There was a good reason why bears had often been mistaken for bigfoot in eyewitness reports.

  Tess looked around uneasily for the bear’s mate. Maybe that’s what I saw. Seeing nothing, she looped the rifle over her shoulder and scrambled down the
steep bank into the gully. There wasn’t time for a rope, but the drop was only about twenty feet, and handholds were plentiful, and she made it down with ease.

  Tess walked carefully toward Mikey, keeping an eye on the bear. “Mikey,” she whispered.

  He turned around and smiled at her, his eyes bright. “Tess. Do you see the babies?”

  Tess’s heart was in her throat as she made her way slowly toward him, keeping her eyes on the mother. “Yes. I see the babies. But it’s their naptime. So we have to let them sleep. Why don’t you come with me?”

  “But I just want to say hi.” He took a step toward them.

  The mother roared, and Tess knew she was about to charge. Oh God.

  Tess dropped to one knee, lining the bear up. In seconds, she took in the bear’s anatomy, following the long front leg one third of the way into the chest. The lungs would be the best takedown. Anything less and she risked just angering it.

  The bear charged right toward her and Mikey.

  Tess fired.

  Her shot went wide, catching the bear in the leg. It let out a roar. Damn it.

  Tess let off shot after shot, all aimed at the chest. But the bear kept coming. She got to her feet, shooting the whole time, grabbed Mikey, and yanked him behind her. She knew telling him to run was useless. She unloaded the rest of her bullets into the bear. It kept coming, and then at last it stumbled, slid along the ground, and came to a rest just a few feet away from Tess’s feet.

  Tess let out a trembling breath. Blood seeped into the ground around the bear. She swallowed hard, reaching behind her for Mikey. “Mikey? You okay?”

  He darted around her and then went still as he stared at the bear. He turned back to Tess, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. “Why? She wouldn’t have hurt us. Why’d you kill her?”

  Tess pulled him to her, but he fought to get out of her arms. “Mikey, she would have killed you. I had to.”

  He beat his fists against her chest. “No, she wouldn’t have. She was my friend.”