Progression Series 16 Sushi, Sasquatch.. and Sandburg

by Beth Manz

  Fritz had told them when they left the clearing that the first campsite was only about four miles up into the forest. At the time Jim had wondered at the reasoning behind placing the first campsite so close to the starting point; he'd thought such a short distance could easily be made before nightfall. But now, as the six men labored beneath the weight of the provisions and gear they'd brought, he realized that Fritz had been wise to set the site of the first camp so close. The large packs made progress slow, especially on the steeper inclines in the forest trail.

  The group's tedious progress wasn't diminishing Blair's enthusiasm for the trip, however. Jim glanced ahead and watched as his partner kept pace with Fritz, listening raptly to the old man's tales of Bigfoot encounters and near-encounters. Jim smiled to himself-he wasn't sure how much truth there was to be found in the mountain man's stories, but true or not, Blair seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

  The sentinel shook his head and smiled. Fritz was just the type of person Sandburg would naturally gravitate to-off-beat, nonconforming, eccentric. Yes, this trip was right up his partner's alley. And Jim determined within himself to mind his tongue, to temper his sarcastic remarks-at least a bit. Blair deserved some downtime, and if the young man found it refreshing to tromp through the woods with some half-baked old geezer and talk about the possibility of the existence of giant monkeys, then so be it.

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  /

  "Drop your gear," Fritz announced suddenly, shrugging out of his own pack. "This is where we set up camp for tonight."

  Blair gladly dropped his heavy pack to the ground, then turned to watch the rest of his group do the same.

  "Tomorrow afternoon you'll be able to fish for your dinner if you like, providing you brought your fishin' licenses with you," the old man told them matter-of-factly. "But for tonight we're gonna have to rely on what we brought with us in our packs. I suggest you set up your tents, then come with me. I have something I want to show you. We'll eat when we get back."

  Without another word, Fritz began undoing the rigging on his packs, leaving the small party of men to follow his words and example and set up their own tents and other camping gear. Within half an hour the small clearing where they'd stopped had taken on the look and feel of a cozy campsite. The three younger men would share one tent while Jim and Simon shared another. The two tents had been set side by side. Fritz had pitched his tent on the other side of the clearing.

  "All right, follow me this way," Fritz announced as soon as he'd finished with his tent. Without waiting for an answer, the old man took off through the woods, following a small footpath, leaving the five campers to hurry in order to catch up with him.

  They'd only hiked a few yards into the woods when Fritz held up a hand and came to an abrupt halt. Blair stepped up beside him and studied the man, eager to know what their guide had planned for them next.

  "You see that, Doc?" Fritz pointed at a towering evergreen standing about ten feet off the trail. The trunk of the tree looked odd somehow, and Blair pulled out his glasses and stepped off the trail. Fritz followed him then moved up to stand beside the tree. Blair leaned close to the tree trunk and studied it. He could see long, jagged marks dug deep into the bark, the gouges running up the side of the tree. Over his head, several feet above the ground, the lower branches had been broken off. Blair allowed his gaze to wander and found that most of the trees in the vicinity showed the same destruction.

  "What did this?" he asked the mountain man.

  "Bigfoot," Fritz answered simply.

  Darryl moved up beside Blair, touching tentatively at the damage. "How do you know it was Bigfoot?" he asked, his young voice filled with awe.

  "I heard 'em," Fritz stated matter-of-factly.

  "You heard them," Simon repeated, his tone suggesting disbelief.

  "What'd they sound like?" Stephen piped in.

  "Sound was very much like the '72 recording made by Berry."

  Jim stared at Fritz blandly. "What recording?"

  "In 1972," Blair explained, turning toward his partner, "Alan Berry, a journalist in California, recorded what he believed was the voice of Bigfoot in the High Sierra Mountains. What he recorded sounded like human-like whistle noises. The tape was tested and the results showed that whatever made the sounds had a larger vocal tract than a human being."

  "Very cool," Darryl said, running his fingers over the markings again.

  "You can set up your equipment just a bit further up the trail," Fritz told Sandburg. "You can take some shots of the trees then hook up your recording devices."

  Blair nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

  /

  /

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  "So, Doc, what kind of equipment did you bring?"

  The six men were seated around the campfire Fritz and Jim had built, their dinner simmering over the open flame.

  "Yeah, Sandburg, show us your Bigfoot gear," Simon piped in. "You bring a giant net to snag him with?"

  "Very funny, Dad," Darryl drawled out.

  Jim watched with genuine interest as Blair pulled the extra pack he'd been carrying toward him. Reaching inside, his partner lifted out a small camcorder. "This is a Sony Night Shot. It has a passive infrared system that requires small amounts of near-visible infrared to see in the dark and a built-in infrared emitter that illuminates objects up to thirty feet away. I'm going to set this up as soon as we're done eating so it'll be working while we sleep."

  "I'll help you," Darryl volunteered.

  Blair nodded. "Great! You can set up the camera while I set up the recorder." Reaching into his bag again, he pulled out what looked like a standard tape recorder one could buy at the local Radio Shack.

  "What's that supposed to do?" Stephen asked.

  "It's not the recorder that's important," Blair explained, "it's the mic. It's omni-directional, perfect for recording faint or distant noises."

  "And this?" Stephen asked, leaning over and pulling out a spotlight.

  "That's the best protection against an aggressive Bigfoot--even better than a gun."

  "You mean they're afraid of the light?" Darryl asked.

  "It blinds them, keeps them at a distance."

  Simon made a derisive sound. "You just keep telling yourself that, Sandburg."

  "What'd you bring for tracks, Doc?" Fritz asked, ignoring Simon's sarcastic remark.

  "Quik Roc," Blair answered without hesitation.

  Fritz nodded his approval. "Good choice. It's durable and usually dries in less than ten minutes. Perfect for casting."

  Blair reached into his bag again. "I also have a first aid kit and some local maps."

  "Now those you'll need, Sandburg," Jim quipped, breaking his own promise to keep his caustic remarks to himself. But this teasing had to do with Blair's propensity toward getting hurt and/or lost, rather than the purpose of the trip itself, so Jim allowed himself a bit of ribbing in his partner's direction. Besides, he reasoned, if he stopped teasing Blair completely the kid would be all over him, wondering if he was getting sicker or if his senses were acting up.

  "Ha ha," was Blair's only response to the remark Jim had made. That and a well-aimed glare in the sentinel's direction before turning back to Stephen and Darryl. "If you guys spot any hair you think is unusual-"

  "Besides Sandburg's, that is," Jim added under his breath.

  "I want you to collect it and put it in a ZipLoc baggie," Blair finished in a raised tone of voice, ignoring Jim's comment.

  "How sanitary," Simon mumbled.

  "Do the same thing," Blair continued unfazed, "with any half eaten apples you find that have conspicuous tooth marks in them." His brow furrowed slightly. "I'm kind of hoping we don't come across any tissue or blood samples. Those should be deep-frozen immediately, preferably kept on dry ice. It's essential that the bacterial count be kept to a minimum, otherwise the bacterial decomposition and bacterial DNA swamp all possibilities of extracting native DNA. But I didn't have time to arrange anything like t
hat so...." He shrugged one shoulder.

  "So...we're only supposed to look for hair or unfinished dinners that the Bigfoot may have left behind," Stephen clarified.

  "No, you can look for other evidence, but those two things are probably the only samples we'll be able to keep, that's all."

  "Hey, Fritz," Darryl said, turning his excited gaze on the mountain man, "do you think we might really get to see a Bigfoot this trip?"

  But before Fritz could answer, the peaceful quiet of the campsite was filled with the noise of a deep, loud sneeze. The sound seemed to reverberate around the small group of men.

  Fritz looked over at Jim, who was innocently wiping at his nose following his sneeze. The old man snorted in derision. "Doubt it," he muttered, then stood and ambled off to his tent.

  Jim shifted his gaze from the crotchety mountain man to the three young men seated together near the fire. He found Blair, Darryl and Stephen staring at him with expressions of accusation on their faces. "What?"

  /

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  /

  Blair hiked through the woods with Darryl at his side. He hefted the cumbrous pack he carried, shifting it into a more comfortable position on his shoulder. They were moving to a spot Fritz had told them would be perfect for spying Bigfoot. Once they reached their destination, they would set up the video equipment and cross their fingers in hopes that their prey walked in front of it sometime during the night.

  "Blair?"

  Sandburg was roused from his thoughts by the sound of Darryl's voice and he glanced over at the young man. He waited for Darryl to continue, frowning when he said nothing more. "Something on your mind, Darryl?" he prompted.

  Darryl frowned worriedly, seeming to try to make up his mind about whether to continue or not, then turned his attention to Blair, his expression serious. "It's just, um.... I'm not sure if I should bring this up."

  "Bring what up?"

  "Um, it's about your...your...." he began shyly then paused again, saying nothing more.

  "Darryl," Blair encouraged, "whatever it is, you know you can talk to me about it. Go on."

  "It's just that.... Well, my dad told me you were just trying to put it all behind you...." His voice trailed off again as his gaze shifted away.

  And suddenly Blair knew what was making Darryl so uncomfortable. He stopped walking and dropped his gear to the ground. Darryl stopped as well and looked at him questioningly. Sandburg stepped closer to the young man and gave him a warm smile. "You want to talk about what happened to me, don't you? About my death."

  Darryl swallowed deeply and shrugged one shoulder, not looking at Blair. "My dad said I shouldn't."

  Reaching out, Blair placed a hand on Darryl's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "Like I said, you can talk to me about anything. I thought you knew that."

  A chagrined smile tugged at Darryl's lips. "Yeah, I knew that." He looked at Blair out of the corner of his eye, his discomfiture all but gone. "And I think that's what I would have missed the most if you had...you know...."

  "Really died?" Blair supplied, careful to keep his tone light.

  "Yeah," Darryl said, "that."

  Blair patted reassuringly at the younger man's shoulder before dropping his hand. "I heard you were at the funeral," he said quietly, watching Darryl as he did so, unable to miss the fleeting look of sadness that crossed his features.

  "It was awful," Darryl admitted. "When my dad told me that you...that you were killed, I just couldn't believe it. I thought, how can Blair just be...gone?" He looked up at the anthropologist, his eyes searching. "You know what I kept thinking about that night, the night of your funeral?"

  "No, Darryl. What?"

  "About how short life really is, man. And about how fast it can just be taken away." Darryl reached up with one hand and ran it nervously across his short hair. "It's so weird...you can just be going about your business one day and then, wham, you're gone."

  "Pretty heavy stuff," Blair said, his voice low.

  Darryl huffed out a breath air. "Tell me about it." He looked up at Blair again, a determined glint in his eye. "But it helped me decide something."

  Blair raised an eyebrow, curious as to what Darryl was leading up to.

  "I decided I'm going to Duke after all," he declared proudly, his posture straightening as he spoke.

  Sandburg stared at the young man, then blinked several times as the implication of Darryl's announcement washed over him. "You're going to Duke?" he repeated, stunned by the revelation. "But I thought...."

  "...that I was going to be a cop, I know," Darryl finished with a smile. "And I might be one day, but I decided to get a college education first."

  Blair stood silently, trying to absorb the change of direction that Darryl was about to take. A year ago, when he'd first been offered a full scholarship to Duke, he'd turned it down, wanting instead to attend the police academy. Simon had been crushed. As flattered as the police captain was that his son wanted to follow in his footsteps and become a cop, Simon had wanted him to get an education first. Darryl's indecision had, in the end, kept him from pursuing either opportunity. He'd spent the last year working, taking a few courses at the academy and thinking about Duke. But now....

  "What changed your mind?" he blurted out. When Darryl had first announced his plan to skip Duke and go right to the academy, Blair had tried to support him. Deep down, he'd worried that the decision was wrong, that Darryl's education should come first. But he also knew that Simon forcing him to go to Duke would have been a disaster. Only if Darryl came to the decision on his own would his years away at school be successful...and enjoyable.

  "You changed my mind," Darryl answered simply. "Well, what happened to you did." He looked at Blair, his gaze resolute. "I kept thinking about the opportunity I was passing up by not going to Duke. So when you...died...it really made me realize that there are no guarantees. You have to take opportunity while you can, you know?"

  Blair chuckled and nodded his head, still stunned but also pleased at what he was hearing.

  "But it's more than that," Darryl was saying. "Watching you today, watching what you do for a living-well, it just makes me realize that there's a lot of stuff out there that I don't know about. I mean, my dad is right. I can go to Duke, get my degree, and then if I still want to be a cop, I can always enroll in the academy. At least, that's my plan."

  "I think it sounds like a great plan, Darryl."

  "You mean that?"

  "Yes, I do." But Blair frowned as another thought came to him. "What about the scholarship you told me about?"

  For the first time since telling Blair about his decision, a shadow of regret passed across the young man's face. "I lost that," he admitted softly. "When I turned it down, they gave it to another kid. I'm looking into some other scholarships and grants, though."

  "I can help you with that if you'd like."

  Instantly, the regret was replaced by a wide smile. "You'd do that?"

  "Absolutely." Blair reached down and hefted his pack back onto his shoulder. Motioning toward the trail, he said, "C'mon, we'd better get going. We stay out here too long and your dad and my partner will think for sure we've been kidnapped by a clan of Bigfoot!"

  Darryl laughed as he fell into step beside Blair again. "I don't think the grants I'll be able to get will pay my whole school bill, though," he continued their conversation. "And I hate to have my dad foot the bill when I was going to get a free ride."

  "I know but I have a feeling Simon's been planning for your education all along. And we'll get you all the grants and scholarships we can. Every little bit helps."

  "That's so cool. Thanks, Blair."

  "You bet." Blair glanced over at Darryl. "So...have you told him yet?"

  "My dad? No. I plan to. Actually, when I found out he was coming with us, I decided to maybe tell him on this trip. But I wanted to talk to you first, ask if maybe you'd be willing to make a trip to Duke with me. We could walk around campus, check things out. I figure you'd know best of
all what I should be looking at when I'm there."

  "Wouldn't you rather do that with your dad?"

  Again, a shadow crossed the young man's face. "I could...."

  "But?" Sandburg prompted.

  Darryl stopped walking. He gazed at the ground, shifted a bit where he stood. "I just really wanted to take the trip with you," he muttered hesitantly. "Kind of, I don't know, spend some time together, just me and you." He looked up at Blair. "Especially since I'm leaving in the fall."

  Blair smiled at the young man beside him, surprised at how shy he suddenly seemed. Although he'd known Darryl for over four years and had spent plenty of time with him, he hadn't realized until Darryl said it aloud that in all that time they'd never really done anything together. Jim or Simon had always been present. The idea that the kid wanted to spend time with him alone both warmed and surprised him. "I'd love to go with you, Darryl," he said with finality.

  Darryl smiled widely. "You would? Oh, that is so excellent! I know we'll have a blast!"

  Blair chuckled. "I have no doubt about that. My summer's pretty free, so you pick the dates and we'll go."

  Darryl beamed widely and turned back to the trail before them. And as he stepped away, Blair couldn't help but smile himself. Darryl's request meant much more to him than the opportunity to visit another campus and help a friend. Darryl was actually going to Duke in the fall-and for the first time since his "death," Blair began to think that maybe some good would come out of the horrible experience after all.

  - - -

  Reaching the area where they'd planned to set up their equipment, Blair and Darryl arranged the video and audio tape recorders. The two spent nearly an hour getting the equipment aligned just right-just in case Bigfoot should walk by later that night.

  "What do you think we'll find on those tapes?" Darryl asked as they made their way back toward camp.