Case File 13 #3

by J. Scott Savage

  “I’ll keep an eye on those,” Dad said, getting up from his log.

  “Not a chance, buster,” Mom said with a smirk. “I’m not having cookie crumbs in my tent attracting bugs and who knows what other creatures. I’m putting this all in the car, safely out of the reach of boys big and small.” She turned to Nick and his friends. “Okay, time for bed. And don’t stay up all night laughing and talking. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

  As the boys took off their shoes and climbed into their tent, Angelo whispered, “Too bad about the cookies. Those would have been great to snack on tonight.”

  Carter peeked out the tent door to make sure Nick’s mom wasn’t watching and reached into his sleeping bag. A second later he pulled out a twelve-pack of Mountain Dew and another package of Oreos. He winked. “Double Stuf.”

  Nick was dreaming about being chased through his school by a mummy. Although the mummy should have been shuffling slowly along, in his dream it was racing up and down the halls on roller skates. A vampire rowing a boat past a bank of lockers told Nick to hide in the girls’ bathroom. But even though the school was closed for the night, and there wouldn’t be any girls in the bathroom, Nick was too embarrassed to go in. He was trying to convince the vampire to steal the mummy’s skates when something jabbed him in the ribs.

  “You can’t make me go into the girls’ bathroom,” he mumbled.

  “Who said anything about the girls’ bathroom?” a voice asked.

  Nick squinted into a blinding light. “What’s going on?”

  “Wake up,” the voice said.

  Nick realized someone was pointing a flashlight directly into his eyes. “Get that out of my face,” he said, blocking the light with his hands. The flashlight moved away and in the darkness he could just make out Carter staring down at him.

  For a moment Nick thought he was home in his room. Then he looked around and saw Angelo struggling to climb out of his sleeping bag.

  “What time is it?” Nick asked, sitting up. As the sleeping bag slipped down to his waist, the cold air reached his arms and face, raising goose bumps.

  “Almost three,” Angelo said, after pushing on his glasses and checking his watch. “What are you doing waking us up in the middle of the night, Carter? If it’s Godzilla again, tell him to find a new game.”

  Carter pointed his light toward the door of the tent. “I heard something out there.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Nick lay back on his air mattress and pulled his sleeping bag around his shoulders. “Go to sleep.”

  “No, really,” Carter insisted. “I heard something outside, moving around.”

  Angelo ran his fingers through hair that poked up in every direction. “It’s probably just a chipmunk or a squirrel.”

  “Trying to break into the car?”

  At Carter’s words, Nick pushed himself up. “Squirrels break into trashcans and coolers, not cars.”

  Carter gave an exasperated huff. “That’s what I’m saying! Something is out there and it was trying to get into the car.”

  Angelo took off his glasses and polished the lenses on the front of his T-shirt before peering at Carter through the darkness. “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

  “It wasn’t a dream.” Carter held the flashlight against his chest, his features oddly disturbing in the shadows created by the upward-facing beam. “I woke up a little while ago and had to go to the bathroom really bad. You know, because of all the . . .”

  “We know. Because of the soda,” Angelo said, twirling his finger to move the story along.

  “Right. Anyway, it took me a while to find my flashlight, and once I did, I was getting ready to unzip the tent when I heard this shuffling sound—like footsteps.”

  Nick knew Carter would take an hour to tell a five-minute story if you let him, and he could feel his eyelids beginning to droop. “Can you skip to the part about something breaking into the car?”

  Carter grimaced. “I’d be there already if you two would quit interrupting me. So anyway, I was about to unzip the tent when I heard—”

  At that moment, a metallic clicking sound came from outside the tent. Nick and Angelo turned toward the sound while Carter covered the lens of the flashlight with his fingers. “That’s it,” Carter hissed.

  The three boys stared at the closed door of the tent as the sound came again—click-clack, click-clack. It could have been anything: a tin can banging against a rock, the camp stove rattling in the wind. But what it sounded like was the door handle of the car being raised and lowered.

  “You think it could be your dad?” Angelo asked quietly.

  Nick swallowed. “Maybe. But why would he be jiggling the door handle at three in the morning?”

  They waited silently. Nick didn’t know about the others, but he was getting seriously spooked.

  The sound came again. Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack. Whoever or whatever it was seemed to be jiggling the handle over and over.

  Angelo clutched his monster notebook to his chest like a shield. He looked at Carter. “Y-y-y-you’ve got the f-f-f-flashlight. Look and see what’s out there.”

  “Are you kidding?” Carter asked, his eyes wide. “What if it’s Bigfoot? I’d rather pee my pants.” He rolled the flashlight across the tent floor to Nick.

  “What kind of Monsterteers are you?” Nick whispered. But the truth was he didn’t want to go outside either. It was one thing to talk about a twelve-foot-tall creature when you were sitting inside a warm, safe car. But here, in the middle of the pitch-black woods, with nothing between him and whatever was out there but a flimsy piece of nylon, the thought of an actual Sasquatch was terrifying.

  He picked up the light with shaking hands, hoping that whatever it was would go away. Instead, the clicking was replaced by the sound of footsteps.

  “It’s coming toward us,” Carter said, sliding to the back of the tent.

  Something crackled just outside the door and Nick’s throat closed to the size of a straw. “If that’s you trying to scare us, Dad, it isn’t funny.”

  The crackling stopped and the shuffling footsteps circled around the side of the tent. Whatever it was, it was just outside. Studying them? Waiting to rip the tent open and eat them all?

  The thought of being trapped inside the tent while some huge creature attacked was too much. With a gasp of fear, Nick yanked down the zipper and tumbled through the open door. Outside, the flashlight seemed completely ineffective against the overwhelming darkness of the woods.

  “What do you see?” Angelo asked from inside the tent.

  Swinging the beam left and right, Nick searched for a Sasquatch or a bear, or whatever had been outside. “Hang on,” he croaked.

  With trembling hands, and knees that felt like melted ice cream, he edged around the side of the tent. In his mind, he could just imagine glowing eyes staring down at him. Every branch seemed to be a reaching paw, every shadow a hulking figure. But although he was sure something was out there, he couldn’t see anything more menacing than one of Carter’s candy wrappers.

  Slowly he began circling the tent.

  “If it’s Bigfoot, hoot like an owl,” Carter called.

  Nick gritted his teeth. “If it’s Bigfoot I’m going to run for my life and let it eat you.” By the time he had completely circled the tent—finding no creatures of any kind—his heart rate was beginning to return to normal. He took a deep breath. “Whatever it was, it’s gone.”

  Carter’s head popped out of the tent door, swiveling left and right. “Are you sure?”

  “No. I’m just trying to get you to come outside so it can eat you.” Nick picked up the candy wrapper off the ground and handed it to Carter. “Don’t litter.”

  Carter looked at the wrapper and frowned. “Hey, who ate my gummy worms?”

  “What do you mean?” Angelo asked, crawling out the door next to him.

  Carter held out the wrapper. “This is the wrapper from the gummy worms Nick’s mom took from me. Somebody ate th
em.”

  “That’s not the only thing someone ate,” Angelo said, pointing toward the fire ring.

  Nick turned to see an open Oreo package on the ground. He picked it up, making the same crackling sound they’d heard from inside the tent.

  Carter climbed out of the tent and walked over, hugging his arms to his chest to keep warm. “If your dad ate all my snacks, he’s totally buying me more.”

  Angelo came out of the tent, holding his own flashlight and shining it around the side of the tent. “Um, guys,” he said, his voice sounding much higher-pitched than normal. “I don’t think it was Nick’s dad that ate the cookies.” He knelt on the ground, studying something in the dirt.

  “What did you find?” Nick asked, coming over to join him.

  “If it was a raccoon, I’m turning it into a coonskin cap,” Carter said. “Nobody messes with my candy.”

  Nick was opening his mouth to tell Carter that he’d probably run screaming like a little girl if he ever came face-to-face with a raccoon, when he spotted what Angelo was looking at and the words froze in the back of his throat.

  “Dude,” Carter whispered. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Nick collapsed to his knees beside Angelo and stared at a footprint in the dirt. It was smeared a little, as if whatever had made it was dragging its feet. But even in the dark of night, with the edges slightly blurred, it was clear that the print was at least twice as large as the biggest human foot.

  Carter backed away, his face looking like someone had just shown him his own grave. “That’s it. I’m out of here.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Angelo said. “Let’s think this through.”

  “Think what through?” Nick asked. He stared into the dark woods, waiting for the shadows to morph into a terrifyingly huge creature. All he wanted to do was wake up his parents, tell them what he’d seen, and get away before the Sasquatch came back.

  “This is proof of Bigfoot.” Angelo reached into his backpack and pulled out a small tape measure. He pulled the tape out and whistled softly. “Twenty-three inches.”

  “Are you out of your ever-loving gourd?” Carter asked. “You’re actually taking measurements while a monster waits to eat us? Those Oreos aren’t going to keep it full for long.”

  Nick had to agree.

  Angelo snapped a couple of pictures with his iPad and wrote something in his monster notebook. “If it wanted to attack us, it would have done it already.”

  “That’s what the kids always say in slasher movies before the bad guy cuts off their heads,” Carter said. “Come on, Nick, let’s wake up your parents.”

  Angelo put away his iPad and brushed pine needles off his hands. “What do you expect his parents to do?”

  “Get us out of here,” Nick said. “The faster the better.” Every tree swaying or branch creaking was making him jump.

  “That’s assuming they believe us,” Angelo said. “It’s not like we’ve ever made up anything like this before. Right?”

  Nick rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. There was the time they spread chicken bones around the neighborhood to make it look like something was eating pets. And the time Carter swore he’d been attacked by a lightsaber-wielding alien to get out of a math test. And all three of them got suspended the time they dug up the front lawn of the school, filled the hole with torn clothes, and left muddy footprints leading up to the front door. So he supposed there was a chance his parents might think they had faked this too.

  “Even if they do believe you,” Angelo said, “do you really want to leave here and give up the chance of a lifetime? The chance to track down a real live Sasquatch and get it on film?”

  Nick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re saying you want to go after it?” They were all crazy about monsters. But this was bordering on complete lunacy.

  Angelo patted his notebook against his leg. “Not tonight. It’s probably long gone by now anyway. Let’s clean up this mess so your parents don’t suspect anything, go back to bed, and scout around in the morning.”

  “How are we supposed to go back to sleep knowing that thing might come back and rip our arms off like chicken wings?” Carter asked.

  Angelo held out his notebook. “There are no documented attacks of a Bigfoot on a human. They do their best to avoid us.”

  “And I want to do my best to avoid them,” Carter said.

  Nick looked down at the footprint. A real Sasquatch print. “If we did get it on film, would we be famous?”

  Angelo grinned. “Are you kidding? They’d probably name a museum after us or something.”

  Carter sniffed. “I’d rather have a fast-food place named after me. Carter’s Burgers and Shakes. Home of the Gargantuan Burger.” He took the cookie package from Nick and looked inside with a disgusted frown. “Bigfoot is a total pig. It didn’t leave a single crumb behind.”

  “Sounds like someone I know,” Nick said. He gave one last look at the footprint and nodded. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  Shivering in his sleeping bag, Nick was sure he would be awake all night. Every time a twig cracked outside or a gust of wind rattled the tent, he sat up, convinced he was about to be devoured. It wasn’t until he heard Carter say, “What’s that amazing smell?” that he realized he had fallen asleep.

  Although the air was still cold, morning sunlight filtered through the trees, making shadows on the roof of the tent.

  “At least we made it through the night without getting eaten by any Bigfeet,” Nick said, unzipping his sleeping bag.

  Angelo began grabbing equipment from his duffel bag and stuffing it into his backpack. “Actually, the plural of Bigfoot is still Bigfoot, not Bigfeet. And I told you, Bigfoot don’t eat humans.”

  Maybe that was true, but Nick didn’t want to be the first person to disprove the theory through personal experience.

  Carter pulled on his shoes. “Speaking of eating, I’m almost sure I smell pancakes.”

  “The fluffiest pancakes this side of Broken Nose, Minnesota,” a voice called out.

  Nick unzipped the tent door to see his dad sitting in front of the camp stove beside a crackling fire. He was wearing an apron that read, “Don’t Kiss the Cook. Like Him on Facebook.”

  “What’s so special about Broken Nose, Minnesota?” Carter asked as he climbed out of the tent.

  Nick winced—knowing his dad was about to launch into one of his crazy stories.

  “Why, it’s only the home of the fluffiest pancakes in the world!” Dad said. “It’s a special combination of the latitude, the water, and a secret ingredient no one from the outside has yet discovered. But the batter is so light they actually used it in building the space shuttle.”

  Angelo wrinkled his nose. “There aren’t any pancakes in the space shuttle.”

  “Well, not anymore. That’s why the space program is in such bad shape.” Dad lifted a pancake from the griddle with his spatula and flipped it into the air. The pancake flew over his head, hit a tree branch, and landed in the dirt behind him. He shook his head wistfully. “Definitely not space shuttle material.”

  Mom climbed out of the tent and took the spatula. “Why don’t I finish the pancakes while you get the plates and silverware out of the car?”

  “Keep a close eye on them,” Dad said. “They’re culinary masterpieces.” Pulling his keys from his pocket, he winked at the boys. “Don’t think we didn’t hear you three trying to get into the car last night.”

  Nick shot a quick glance at his friends. His parents had heard the Bigfoot too. Angelo gave a slight shake of his head. It wasn’t obvious enough for Nick’s parents to see, but Nick got the message. They couldn’t let Mom and Dad know what had really made the noises. “Uhh, yeah. We were kind of hungry.”

  Dad tapped his head. “I expected that. But the old man was too smart for you. I locked the car before we went to bed.”

  “You couldn’t have,” Carter blurted. But Angelo put a finger to his lips.

  Nick followed his fa
ther to the car. Sure enough, the doors were all locked.

  “I was a boy once too,” Dad said as he opened the back of the car and began grabbing plastic forks and paper plates. “There wasn’t a place your grandmother hid sweets where I couldn’t find them. Of course back then we didn’t have the kind of candy you boys do now. We were lucky if we got honey-coated chicken gizzards.”

  “Don’t believe him,” Mom called, turning the pancakes. “When I married him he’d never seen a candy bar he didn’t like.”

  “I’d try a honey-coated gizzard,” Carter said. “Especially if it was on a pizza.”

  Nick pulled Angelo away toward the trees. “If the car was locked, how did the creature get the Oreos and gummy worms?”

  Angelo lowered his head in thought. “Maybe your dad missed one of the doors?”

  “And what, Bigfoot locked it after he got done stealing the food? I checked the car just now and they were all locked. Even the windows were open only an inch or so. There’s no way anything could get inside.” There was definitely something weird going on.

  “Let’s eat,” Dad said. Juggling cups, plates, plastic utensils, syrup, and a carton of orange juice, he started back toward the campfire. Halfway there, he began to lose his grip. Nick and Carter darted forward just as everything began to fall. Nick grabbed the plates and cups while Carter snagged the juice and made a diving grab for the syrup.

  “Good catch,” Dad said.

  Carter grinned. “I’d give my life for syrup.”

  Mom dished scrambled eggs and pancakes onto everyone’s plates. “We thought we’d head down to the beach right after breakfast.”

  “Actually, we were kind of hoping we could explore around here for a couple of hours,” Nick said. He quickly turned to his father. “You know, because this is such an amazing campground you found.”

  Dad beamed. “I can’t take all the credit. I mean, I was the one who saw the sign. And I did keep going when everyone else wanted to turn back. But other than that it was nothing anyone else wouldn’t have done.”

  Mom stared into the woods. “I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of you boys wandering around by yourselves. You could get lost.” She pressed her lips together. “Maybe if your dad went with you.”