Bigfoot Crank Stomp (9 page)

A campfire
, Manny thought.
Shit
.

The guy screamed, “Run!”

Shit, shit, shit.

Manny sprinted forward to another tree, took up shelter behind it and re-scoped. He saw a woman standing by the fire talking to the guy. The guy was animated but Manny couldn’t hear him or the woman.

Where the hell was the creature?

There. In the darkness outside the firelight. Watching.

The fire seemed to keep it at bay. But for how long?

He lined up the shot, centering the crosshairs on the massive skull. Deep breath. Hold it.

It roared. The guy and girl took off running. It followed. Fast. Too fast for Manny to get the shot.

Son of a bitch!

He pursued. Sprinting. He needed to close the gap to get another shot.

His lungs burned. It’d been a long time since he’d expended this kind of energy. Big time out of shape.

Manny stopped again and raised the rifle and peered down the scope. He found the guy and girl, standing in a hollow. Listening. Quiet. Blood on her forehead. No Bigfoot. Where the hell—

It roared to his left. Manny dropped to a knee and swung the rifle in the direction of the bellow, ready to fire as soon as he acquired the contact. Before he could, though, something hard and dense struck his cheek and jaw. He rocked and fell on his back. Green spots and a strange blackness floated in his field of vision. Pine trees stretched up toward heaven. He heard screams and thunder crack. Then all of it faded.

Faded.

Faded.

GABE

“Sheriff, we’ve got a problem.”

Gabe winced and cued the radio. “What is it?”

“Battery’s dead on this armored truck,” Stanger said. “This fucker ain’t going anywhere.”

Shit
, Gabe thought. “Did you try jumping it?”

“Yeah. No-go.”

Well fuck me. “All right, get back up here pronto.”

“You don’t want me to try and find a replacement?”

“Don’t have that kind of time. We’ll just have to improvise.”

“How so?”

“Get back up here. I’m not going to discuss it on the radio.”

“On our way.”

Gabe clenched the radio and almost threw it into the side of the cabin. “Mother fucker!”

“Problem, Sheriff?” Pronger said.

Yeah, big fucking problem. Now what? Got a bunch of meth and a raging meth-hooked Bigfoot and nothing to trap the son of a bitch in. Can’t even secure it in the cellar since it destroyed the fucking door.

Slow down and think. “Don’t worry about it, Pronger.”

“What do you want me to do with this meth?”

Stick it up your ass. “Just set it down. Take a break and be back here with Betts in five minutes.”

“I’m going to go inside and take a quick leak.”

“I don’t fucking care. What I do care about is you and Betts being back here in five minutes. Got it?”

Pronger nodded and ambled toward the front of the cabin. Gabe watched him the whole way. Then he looked down at the meth. How long had it been since he’d had a taste? Three years? Maybe four?

Fuck it
, he thought.

He squatted in front of one of the bins, grabbed a baggie, and dumped a few rocks into his hand. He unclipped his Leatherman from his belt, unfolded the pliers, and started crushing the rocks. It took a few seconds. Once done, he snorted pinch after pinch until the handful was gone.

Hot damn!
he thought and jumped to his feet. He hopped up and down for a minute, bobbing his head back and forth like a prize fighter. Oh that felt good. Energy coursed down his arms to the tips of his fingers. Euphoric and orgasmic all in one.

Gabe slipped the remainder of the baggie in his pocket and paced back and forth. Back and forth. Thinking. Brain storming. Planning. Yeah, planning. He had it figured out. All at once. Like a fucking waterfall of knowledge. Crystal clear. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. Armored truck? Stupid, stupid, stupid. He didn’t want this thing alive. Dead, dead, deadskie. Had to be. Only way to ensure control. Plus, he was still going to bag a ton of dough with the body of Bigfoot. Real proof one of those motherfuckers exist? Fucking priceless!

“Sheriff.”

Gabe stopped pacing, turned, and found Betts and Pronger staring at him. “What?”

“You were talking out loud about proof and dough and Bigfoot.”

I was? Shit, need to simmer down and maintain. “I said be back here in five minutes.”

“It’s been five minutes,” Betts said.

Gabe checked his watch. Damn, time flies when you’re fucking high. “Okay, we need to get to work.”

“Should we wait for Stanger and Lyle?” Pronger said.

“No, we’ve already wasted too much time.” Gabe scratched the side of his neck. “Besides, we need them here for the climax. Before that, we need to lay the groundwork.”

“What do you want us to do?”

Gabe pointed at one of the bins. “Grab a bunch of baggies and go down into the woods. I don’t know, about a half mile. Start sprinkling the rocks every few feet all the way back here.”

Pronger and Betts looked at the tree line before turning back to Gabe. Their eyes were wide and faces slack.

“You want us to go into the woods?” Betts said.

“That’s what I fucking said, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but Bigfoot’s in there.”

“That’s right. So we need to lure him back here.”

“By making a trail of meth,” Pronger said.

“Ding-ding we have a fucking winner.” Gabe cackled and stomped his foot. “Now grab them baggies and get to fucking work.”

“Sheriff, I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Betts said.

Gabe pulled his .38 and scratched his cheek with the barrel. “Betts, you wouldn’t know a good idea if it shot you in the fucking eye, would you?”

Betts winced as if already shot. He followed the gun as Gabe lowered it back to his side. “No, I wouldn’t I guess.”

“That’s right. Since I’m
the
Sheriff and you’re
my
deputy, grab some baggies and head on into those woods. Don’t like it, quit and run for Sheriff.”

“Sheriff,” Pronger said. “It’s just, well, we don’t know where that thing is down there.”

“Based on all the roaring and howling, I’d say on the other side of the fucking valley. If you two—” Gabe pointed at Pronger and then Betts with the gun. “—don’t want to have a run in with it, I’d recommend you get the meth planted right quick. Now go on.”

Pronger and Betts moved to the bin and started stuffing baggies in every empty pocket they had. Gabe stood over them, motioning them to hurry up by waving the gun in circular motions. He tapped his foot and shook his head.

“Faster, people.”

“That’s all the room we’ve got,” Betts said.

“What about inside your shirts? Stuff it like you’re stealing food from the shelter.”

Pronger and Betts opened their shirts and stuffed away. By the time they were done, they looked like they’d each gained about twenty pounds.

“Good,” Gabe said. “Now off into the woods you go, fat boys.”

Betts moved to the tree line. Pronger eyed Gabe who shooed him with the gun. He joined Betts and both looked over their shoulders one last time at their Sheriff.

“Do you two want me to fire your asses? Because I fucking will. Trust me you don’t want to test me on this. Actually, you don’t ever want to test me. But on this one, you don’t even want to consider testing me. Got that?”

Both turned back around and took their first steps into the woods. A few seconds later, Gabe couldn’t see them at all. Like the trees swallowed them whole.

The imagery made him laugh. Then he thought of that whore Tawny swallowing his cock. Yeah, that had felt good. Real good. Could go for some more of that actually.

Too bad there wasn’t any snatch around. Well, there were some other cabins on the Loop. There had to be a single gal in one of them.

No, didn’t have time for that. Just going to have to wait. Wait, wait, wait. Sure would be nice to get off before having the showdown with Bigfoot, though.

Who says you can’t?
he thought.

Gabe looked around, making sure Stanger and Lyle weren’t back yet. Then he walked over to the side of the house and slid behind a bush and whipped out his already erect dick and started jacking away.

RUSSELL

“Now what are we going to do?” Seph said in a panicked whisper.

“Shhh!” Russell watched Bigfoot stumble to the side and almost fall before regaining his feet by hugging another tree trunk.

“We can’t stay—”

“Maybe he’ll forget we’re up here.” His voice was a calm whisper. “He took a hard fall. Just chill.”

Bigfoot’s shoulder rose and fell on heavy breaths. It pushed away from the tree but kept its right hand on it for balance. It didn’t look up.

Russell licked his lips and thought,
Just go, dude. I don’t have any glass. Go back to the cabin and load up on whatever’s left. I’m sure the cops beat feet in terror thinking you might come back.

Sniffing. It started sniffing.

Ah, hell.

Bigfoot’s head slowly started to cant upward, tracing the trunk it used as a cane. Once it realize nothing was above it, it started to search other trees. Sniffing and sniffing. It went from one to another to another. A circle.

Seph tensed at his side and would have uttered a panicked squeak had he not put a hand on her thigh and pushed his left index finger against his lips. Shhh. She nodded.

Another tree. Another tree. Bigfoot came full circle almost. It past the boulder and started to move back to where it started. How it didn’t see them, Russell wasn’t sure. Probably had double vision from the fall. Or maybe it couldn’t see that high now. The moon had fallen behind a small cloud. Slightly darker than it had been earlier.

It stopped. It was on the other side of the boulder, still looking up. Sniffing. Russell held his breath. He wondered if it could hear his heart going THUD, THUD.

No movement. Just standing there, looking up. Sniffing. Sniffing.

Russell looked it in the eyes.
How can it not see me?
He felt sweat on his lips. Tasted salt as some ran into the corners of his mouth.

The cloud moved off into the night. As it did, the moonlight grew brighter in its wake. It wiped away the darkness that had hidden them. Bigfoot’s eyes grew wider. Its nostrils flared.

“Oh, shit,” Seph said.

Bigfoot roared. It reared back and hammered the trunk with both fists. Russell’s nails dug into bark as he latched on to the tree.

Pound, pound, roar, pound. Over and over. Seph screamed at his side. He looked over and saw she had both arms wrapped around her branch, completely horizontal on it.

“What did you do to piss it off?” she said between belts of fear.

“I didn’t do shit.”

“It was chasing you.”

Pound, pound, roar, pound. Pine needles and smaller branches began to hit his head from above.

“Yeah, it was chasing me. But I didn’t do shit to it.”

“It’s bleeding.”

“That’s because the Sheriff’s bitches shot it.”

“Why’d it chase you?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

Pound, pound, roar, pound.

Another scream as the tree rocked violently to the left. Seph locked both legs around the branch in a death squeeze. Russell felt like he was trying to outlast a mechanical bull set on high.

“Why is it so mad?”

It didn’t sound like she was asking him but God. Russell bit his tongue on another violent jerk. He spat blood and cursed and said, “Cuz he’s a fucking strung out meth head.”

“What?”

Pound, pound, roar, pound.

“It’s hooked on meth.”

“How do you—”

Holy shit
, Russell thought and stopped listening to Seph and the beast flipping out below. He grabbed the bag off his back and opened it and started digging through the cash. Another violent jerk almost sent it from his hands but he managed to hang on to the shoulder strap. Next to him, he heard Seph’s branch crack.

She screamed, louder than anything previous, as the branch fell. But it didn’t break all the way. It snapped half-way through. She dangled at a forty-five.

Russell breathed a quick bit of relief and dug faster.

“Give me your hand,” she said.

“I can’t.” Fingers between rolls of twenties.

“What?”

“I can’t.”

“I’m going to fall, you son of a bitch. Help me.”