“It’s coming at us,” the sheriff shouted.
Of course we still had the wee black boxes, but I didn’t want to give it a scare now, not when my cunning plan was working. All I had to do was find my way back to the station and the waiting ambush. The lads would do the rest.
- 18 -
I figured we were heading along the hillside above and parallel to the road I needed to be on to get back to the station, but I couldn’t find a trail heading downward that would get me to it.
“Go faster, it’s gaining,” the sheriff shouted in my ear.
Again I thought about the black box, and again decided against it, saving it for any last minute disasters. I didn’t dare look back; the scenery was coming at me too fast to take my gaze off it. The sheriff’s rifle went off but I don’t think she hit anything for another shout came seconds later.
“Faster!”
It sounded serious. I already had the throttle at its maximum extent, so it was a moot point anyway. All I could do was keep going and hope for clear ground ahead.
We burst out of the tree line like a cork out of a bottle and I saw the research station laid out below me; we were high to the north of it, near the trail that we’d taken to the mineshaft earlier. I had to throw the Skidoo into a left-hand curve if I wanted to head down to the buildings where the trap waited. I tried to make it as large and long a curve as possible but even then we nearly didn’t make it. The back end of the Skidoo lurched as something hit us from behind, the sheriff yelled out an obscenity I hadn’t heard since my auld dad hit his thumb with a hammer, and we damn near toppled over, but after a roll to the right then a steadying roll back, the Skidoo caught on the snow again and we sped off. A quick glance to my right showed a huge gray wolf righting itself out of where it had tumbled into the snow. Its gaze never left mine as it stood and in one smooth movement launched itself after us again.
I said a silent prayer that the cap had everything ready, pointed the Skidoo downhill and pushed the throttle back up to its maximum level.
The sheriff shouted behind me.
“Come on then. Are you a wolf or just a big pussy?”
I didn’t think she was talking to me.
The short trip down to the forecourt passed in a blur of flying snow and adrenaline and as before when the action came it was fast, furious and almost over before I realised it was happening.
I saw the two trucks lined up either side of the station entrance to form the gauntlet. I couldn’t see any sign of the lads but I knew that had to be there, trusting the cap to have got the job done. I started to slow down; if I hadn’t I’d have hit the station doors and probably broken both out necks, but the slowing brought panic from behind me.
“Are you fucking mad, man?”
I didn’t answer that, but brought the Skidoo round in a skid that sent a wall of snow flying, and threw myself off into a roll that had me lying down, weapon in front of me, aiming at the open end of the gauntlet.
The wolf was there, still coming forward. Its gaze wasn’t on me now but on the sheriff; she hadn’t managed to roll away so easily, and lay trapped below the Skidoo. She was trying to get at her rifle but it too was trapped by the machine’s weight. Her mouth was still working though, and she screamed her frustration at the wolf.
“Come on then,” she shouted. “I’m right here.”
The wolf was still coming ahead, more cautious now, sniffing at the air as if it knew there was trouble even if it couldn’t see it. I could have taken a shot right then, but I knew that if I only wounded it, it would be off and away into the forest again and would probably be less likely to fall for the same trap twice. I bided my time.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Wilko and Davies creep round to stand behind the beast to block its escape.
The sheriff had her wee black box in hand. Her gaze met mine, and I knew what was needed. I fetched out my wee box and we both pressed at the same time. The wolf barely slowed but it did stiffen, and the hairs of its mane seemed to stand on end. At the same moment the cap leaned out of the window of the right-side truck and shouted.
“Fire!”
The noise of all four of us firing simultaneously almost deafened me. Somebody had got lucky; the wolf staggered, almost fell under the impact of two rounds in its chest, a spray of blood showing shockingly red against the snow. It refused to go down but it turned tail and attempted to flee. I couldn’t take another shot; the chance of hitting one or other of the lads was too much of a risk. I saw the cap push the red button on his box. The wolf stiffened and gave him time to put two rounds in the wolf’s flank but it was still gaining momentum when it reached Wilko and Davies.
The lads didn’t flinch. They didn’t have any time to go for their own boxes. They stood their ground and each put three shots right in the center of the beast’s broad chest. It stumbled, its front legs went from under it and it fell to the snow at their feet.
Davies stepped forward and calm as you like he put a round between its eyes and it finally went still. He looked over at me and grinned.
“Not bad for a darkie and a wee poof, eh, Sarge?”
I rose and was about to head over to have a look at the body when the sheriff shouted at my back in an exaggerated American accent.
“I know you gentlemen have been through a lot, but when you find the time, I’d rather not spend the rest of this winter trapped under this fucking Skidoo.”
- 19 -
We sanitised everything before we left. Siphoning off the gas from one of the trucks gave us more than enough fuel for the job. The cap did the business with the Alma in the mineshaft; he wouldn’t let any of the rest of us do it. We burned the big wolf in the hallway of the research station and helped the fire spread to the rest of the center and the outbuildings.
It was getting on for night-time again by the time we drove the remaining truck back into town. The cap called in the all-clear and the sheriff treated us to beer and pizza in the local bar while we waited for the choppers to bring back her people and take us away.
“And what do I do if we didn’t get them all?” she said as we all lit up smokes and relaxed for the first time since our arrival.
“There’s money in Bigfoot stories isn’t there?” the cap said. “Spread the word on the internet and you’ll be up to your arse in tourists, conspiracy theorists, cryptozoologists and nutjobs in no time. It’d put the town on the map again though?”
“Alternatively, you could just give me a call,” I said.
“I could just give you a call anyway,” she replied, and gave me a long warm kiss that still had me smiling hours later as the chopper took us up and away on the first leg of the long trip home.
CRYPTID
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53° 19.44’ North Latitude 131° 57.31’ West Longitude
Graham Island, British Columbia
July 1996
McKinney wasn’t sure how long the two of them had been fighting their way through the island’s dense forest wilderness – but it seemed like an eternity. A sharp salty burn around his face told him that there must surely be several deep scratches across the delicate skin of his cheeks and forehead; wounds and contusions caused by the thickly entwined branches they had been forced to fight their way through as they had fled in abject terror.