Forest of Savages, Rookie Burwick [the giving tree read aloud TXT] 📗

and important, of the bunch.

 

But now, other problems were rising. A strange call asking for Sheriff Prine had just come through his radio. He knew for sure that civilians weren’t supposed to have any kind of contact with their radio system.

 

He knew the radio was still picking up the signal of the mysterious caller, but something had obviously happened to either the signal itself, or the person calling. He guessed it was the latter. Fraud calls on the network were sadly quite common in this age. He’d dealt with them once before.

 

His vehicle hit another bump, and his head took another hit against the hood.

 

A curse flew from his mouth as the tire rolled over the top of the large rock. There was no excuse for it, and he knew that. He was just in a nervous mood. Since times had been tough ever since the economy had shot downward, the entire Shoshone County Police Dept. had lost a fortune, which meant much less pay for their officers. Craig had rent to pay, and his landlord was demanding.

 

Craig decided to try once again. He leaned forward and pulled the radio from its holding, and spoke into it.

 

“Hello, this is Deputy Craig of the Shoshone County Civil Clerk. Please identify yourself.”

 

Again, no reply came. Keeping his eyes on the road ahead, he put the radio back, and took a deep breath. It had to be just some weirdo making a phony call. But the intensity and terror in the caller’s voice made his thoughts shift back and forth. One side of him said it was fake. The other said there really was a problem.

 

He didn’t listen to either one, but kept on driving to his destination.

 

As he rounded the corner, he couldn’t help but glance off to the left, toward ol’ Jed’s wood chopping place. Yellow crime tape still surrounded the perimeter of the area. It had been placed there only a month ago, but it still seemed like yesterday.

 

The forest was peaceful this morning, as it was pretty much every morning. The sun had now risen above the tree line, casting a beautiful light down through the trees. Unlucky for him, he was driving in a hot car that had black, leather seats, and a black dashboard.

 

Suddenly, his foot slipped off the gas pedal, and the vehicle came to a halt. He slammed into the wheel, putting enough pressure on it to blow the horn. He got off it right away. The noise of the horn was one he hated more than almost any other sound.

 

Panic spread quickly as the vehicle started to roll backwards. He slammed his foot down on the brake, and the tires locked on the dirt road. It took a few seconds to re-gain his thoughts, and calm down.

 

As he took in deep breaths, something ran across the road, making him jump. It was nothing but a quick flash of dark brown. He glanced around nervously, searching for the thing with his eyes.

 

He scanned the mountainside to his right, nothing. He scanned the road ahead, the trees. His eyes swept over the trees quickly. . . something moved in between two tall pine trees. He shot his vision back to the movement and saw a tall, hairy man glaring back at him.

 

The thing’s face was ape-like. Its hands ended with razor sharp claws at the tips of its fingers. Long strands of hair surrounded its face. It snarled at him, showing its sharp, yellowed teeth.

 

The sight made him want to scream aloud. His hand flew onto the keys still in the ignition, and turned the key. The engine puttered and groaned, and then died. Sheer terror filled his soul. He turned the key again, with the same result. The thing, creature, beast, whatever it was, charged out from the forest, and ran right toward his door.

 

This time, he did let out a scream. His foot nearly slipped off the break as he fidgeted with the lock. But he was too late. The creature slammed against the door, and let out a loud howl. The noise was so strange, so bone-chilling, he couldn’t take it. The creature began pulling at the door’s handle, rattling the inside of the vehicle. Craig still managed to think through all the panic enough to remember his radio. He grabbed up the small device, and pressed the button with trembling hands.

 

“Come in! Come in somebody! This is Craig, mayday! Mayday! Just up from woodcutting sight! Get up here with help, now!” The words were his last.

 

The creature outside jerked over and over again, until finally, the door tore clean off. Craig tried to unbuckle his seat belt in time to get away, but the creature grabbed him by the throat, and squeezed.

 

It let out another god awful howl, this time shorter, and more like a battle cry. The creature’s grasp made blood come up his throat, and pouring out his mouth. After the howl died into silence, the creature looked back to him, and growled in a low, angry tone.

 

He glanced at its small, darkened eyes that glared right into his soul. The creature gripped his neck harder, and then pulled him from his seat.

 

Holding his entire body up in the air with brute strength, the beast let out a roar, and then threw him into the dirt.

 

A loud crack erupted from his spine, and everything turned black.

 

***

 

Nick kept his eyes low to the ground. He was now kneeling on one knee to the beasts, and they were accepting it. The growling escaping their jaws had slowly come to an end after he had bowed down.

 

The radio still lay on the forest floor, about two feet away from his right foot. Three times, someone had responded, angering the beast. But now, the possibility of making it out of this hellish forest alive was gone. A howl had erupted a few miles behind him. A few of the Bigfoot had hurried off, following the sound.

 

He couldn’t help but glance up at them now and then. They were so silent, curiosity began to win him over. He couldn’t let the kill him like they had his two closest friends. He could still save himself, if he just could find a way around these monsters.

 

One of them grunted loudly, and beat its chest twice. Nick gulped, and shut his eyes tight, preparing to die.

 

Seconds passed. Nothing happened.

 

As darkness invaded his vision, a thought invaded his mind. Danny’s rifle was still somewhere back there. If he could run fast enough to get to it. . .

 

One of the Bigfoot howled loudly. He jumped, his eyes now open and wide. The startle fueled his fear enough to put him on his feet, and running into the forest. He searched wildly for the rifle. The beasts followed close behind.

 

With their immense numbers came speed and leg strength. Three of them were already ahead of him, and moving in to jump out and block him. He kept running despite their warnings.

 

Second after second became well spent. Sweat continued to soak his clothes, sticking them to his skin. He took long, deep breaths that were ragged as so. Finally, after a long run, he hit the spot where Danny’s body still lay. The rifle also lay there, just three feet away from him.

 

Nick jumped to the ground, grabbed up the rifle, then stood up and spun around. In a matter of seconds, he was firing away. He brought one Bigfoot down, and then took aim at another. He looked through the scope, saw it perfect, and pulled the trigger.

 

But the gun was empty. No bullets were released.

 

Nick dropped the rifle back to its resting place, turned back toward the slopes, and continued to run.

 

***

 

Sheriff Prine gripped the steering wheel of his vehicle, and put more pressure on the gas pedal. The startling cry for help replayed itself in his mind. As it did, he grimaced.

 

One of his newest deputies had called in only minutes earlier, pleading for help. The word “mayday” had even come out of his mouth. Prine couldn’t quite figure out what that even meant. It wasn’t a term the police even used.

 

Many different conversations were going on through his radio, but he didn’t listen. His best guess was the men in the squad cars behind him were calling out for backup, or someone had just stolen a bottle of vodka from the local liquor store. He didn’t care.

His foot pressed down even harder on the gas pedal, even despite the winding, bumpy road he was driving up. Craig had mentioned Jed’s woodcutting sight as a marker.

 

“Just up from there,” the voice repeated itself in his mind again. There had been no report from Nick yet. Or maybe there had, he hadn’t listened to the radio since the previous day.

 

He rounded another corner, and Jed’s woodcutting sight came into view. A voice suddenly boomed over the radio.

 

“Come in Sheriff Vehicle 1, this is Patrol Copter 2, please come in,” the voice said.

 

It was Jeremy, their helicopter pilot and head search party scout. They used in in situations with people stuck on high cliffs, or lost hikers.

 

Prine reached over, picked up the radio, and spoke into it.

 

“This is Sheriff Vehicle 1, report.”

 

“We are nearing the base of the peak now. Your orders.”

 

Prine thought for a minute.

 

“Circle the area 3 times, then report back to me.”

 

“Right. Over and out.”

 

He let the radio slide from his hand and clank against the dash.

 

The tires hit another big bump, sending his head slamming against the ceiling. He hit the brake, removed his hat, and rubbed at it for a minute. The pain eased quickly.

 

Once it had all vanished, he continued on. Another sixteen feet, and he slammed on the brakes. In front of him sat what appeared to be Craig’s vehicle, engine off, and driver missing. Putting on the park brake and shutting off his own engine, Prine opened the door and stepped out. He couldn’t help but gulp. After the things he’d seen in these woods for the past few days, God only knew what he’d find here.

 

Step after slow step he took, glancing from the vehicle to the forest beside him. Nothing moved, yet. When he got around to the driver’s side, all turned to hell. Blood leaked out from the window in showers, dripping onto the ground. What looked like a human handprint made out of blood smeared the back window.

 

Prine’s hand went to his mouth, trying to hide the shock in his trembling lips. Something bad had happened here. He hated no knowing, making it all that harder to take.

 

Now, his fears were confirmed. There was more than one of those. . .sasquatches out there.

 

A loud growling sound came from behind him. He spun around in time to see a large, muscular Bigfoot headed right for him. Just in time, he drew his gun from the holster on his hip, and shot bullet after bullet into the beast’s body, bringing it to a dead halt at his feet.

 

“Son of a gun!” he said to himself.

Rustling came from the trees above him. He let his eyes look up. Thousands more of the beasts stared back at him, anger firing in their beady eyes.

 

Prine froze in place. His gun slipped from his fingers, and landed in the dirt below. The creatures came pouring down onto the road, all headed for him. Growls and grunts escaped from their blood-stained mouths. A few of them were still feasting on human body parts.

 

He couldn’t help but scream. The sound echoed off the trees behind him, and then vanished into silence. He ducked quickly when one of the beasts swiped at him. At this, fear fueled him enough to turn and run into the trees.

 

Dodging branches, and tree roots, Prine ran at his full speed. He was once a much faster, younger man. But that side of him had died long ago.

 

Several of the hairy beasts ran alongside him, just a few feet away. As he ran, sweat already soaking his thick clothes, he glanced