Chris and Echohawk slept on the rest of the drive. The Tundra’s auto driver easily handled the light traffic at night in this part of Michigan’s UP. Navigating wasn’t a problem either. The truck’s internal GPS would place them within ten feet of the Bigfoot. Chris didn’t wake until he felt the car slow and take a sharp left turn onto a rutted dirt road. The Tundra’s GPS voice announced, “Ten miles and you will be at the end of this forest service road. The coordinates are another 412 yards to the east.”
Immediately Chris’s mood shifted. It was an odd mixture of excited anticipation and dread. He looked at Echohawk to see if anything similar was happening with him.
He simply said, “About time you took the wheel.”
The truck pulled to a stop at the end of the road. The two men exited. Echohawk stepped into the headlights while Chris gathered their gear from the back of the truck. When he reached the front, he found Echohawk kneeling in the dirt, studying the ground.
Chris squinted. He was an accomplished hunter, but he couldn’t see a thing. “See anything?”
“A man, a boy and a dog have been here.”
“That would be Bob and his nephew and Bob’s dog, Rusty,” Chris said.
Echohawk traced an imperceptible sign on the ground and followed it with his gaze, down the trail in the direction of Bob’s GPS coordinates. “Others, too.”
Chris’s stomach tightened. The emotions he felt entering the forest had intensified. The woman in the pictures Bob had sent looked as though she’d been shot at and according to Bob no one ever used this road except for him. Without warning, Chris’s eyesight blurred and a feeling of disorientation swept over him. It’s happening again, he thought. He hadn’t felt this way since his last encounter with a Bigfoot at his grandfather’s farm. He breathed deep and closed his eyes. A few seconds later the disorientation vanished and when he opened his eyes he could see straight again. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “How many?”
“Four men, carrying something heavy by the depth of their footprints.”
“You sure?”
“They tried to cover the tracks but they left enough to show they’d been here, probably three … four hours ago.”
After transferring the coordinates to his cell phone Chris paused to put on his night vision goggles. He flipped the toggle switch and everything lit up in a soft green. He was always amazed by how well these things worked. But he also knew their limitations. They had a short range of fifty yards. Anything beyond that became an indistinct blur. They would have to walk down the overgrown logging trail to where Bob left the Sasquatch. Echohawk handed Chris the AK-47 and put the 1911 in his belt. With the feel of a weapon in his hands, Chris’s mood shifted. His senses became hyper alert and he had the strange perception of another presence nearby. But when he swept the area around him with his night vision goggles, he saw nothing, not even a blur of movement.
The two men split up, moving silently down the logging trail. Chris carefully placed his feet so as to make sounds that blended in with the night, pausing every ten yards or so to listen. He thought he heard something moving with him when he was walking. But when he stopped, nothing. Once more he swept the trail and the surrounding forest with his goggles. Echohawk was less than thirty yards away on the other side of the path and he couldn’t see him. He had blended into the night and trees like a 19th century hunter.
Chris wondered if Echohawk was having the same experience and sensations.
Chris glanced at the GPS display in the upper right hand corner of the goggles. It indicated less than fifty yards to where Nitschke left the Bigfoot. He swept the area again. Saw nothing. Heard nothing, too. He stepped closer. He passed the tree stand Bob mentioned. He recalled the stills of the Bigfoot, its position and the lay of the land. The trail cam would have been attached to the tree right next to him. Even through his night goggles he could see that the camera had been pulled from its mounting shit this is not good.
He looked into the clearing where the Bigfoot should have been. The Bigfoot was supposed to be thirty yards away, but the night goggles showed nothing.
Chris circled the site, staying in the trees. No sense in showing himself as a target in case the others had set a trap. In spite of the cold temperatures, sweat trickled down his ribs. His heart hammered, but he kept his breathing even and silent. All the while he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. All his senses were on alert for the subtlest motion, sound, even the breath of an air current. He had reached the far side and was kneeling beside a thicket, with a clear view of the site when a powerful arm encircled his chest and a hand clamped over his mouth.
Before he could react, Echohawk said, “You make more noise than a bull moose in mating season.” He let go and stepped back.
Chris ripped off his night vision goggles. He was furious with himself for letting the Native American sneak up on him. “Was that really necessary?” he hissed.
“Maybe not but it it’s a good thing the other guys already cleared out. You’d be dead.” He walked to the center of the clearing, knelt down and prodded the soil. “They took the Bigfoot with them.”
“How do you know?”
Echohawk grunted. “You can tell by the smell.”
Chris sniffed the faint odor of skunk cabbage. He’d read numerous testimonials by members of the SRA who had reported the same smell in their Bigfoot encounters. Only their accounts were of an overwhelming stink that doubled them over and made them retch.
Chris asked, “You sense anything unusual?”
Echohawk shook his head. “We’re safe for now. Split up. Let’s see if we can find anything.”
Chris nodded but he wasn’t hopeful. These ‘other guys’ Echohawk mentioned, whoever they were, were highly skilled professionals. He pulled out a flashlight and scoured the area, looking for any traces of the Bigfoot or the men who had taken the body. But they had been thorough, after fifteen minutes he came up empty.
Echohawk rambled back into the clearing. “Nada here, Chief. You find anything?”
“A trail, which looks as if it is leading toward Owl Creek. I don’t think the men who got here before us made it. It looks more like something very large, running to escape hunters.”
“Bigfoot?”
“That would be my guess.”
“Can you follow it?”
Echohawk shrugged. “We’ve only got a few hours until morning. Be easier in daylight.” He looked around. His eyes narrowed and he held up his hand for silence. Five minutes passed and then he said, “We’re being watched.”
“The bad guys?”
“It’s not human.”
“Wolves?”
“I think it’s a Bigfoot. Then a strange look passed over the Native American’s features. For the first time he looked afraid. He pivoted slowly, hands on his rifle. Chris brought the AK-47 up and turned with him. He looked out into the forest but saw nothing. His other senses were equally blind. Echohawk shifted onto the balls of his feet. He looked ready to charge something in the darkness.
Chris pondered Echohawk’s comment. “Why do you say that?”
“Auntie told me we can feel their presence.”
“The one I saw never made me feel threatened.”
“Still, I don’t like this. It’s gone – like it was never here.”
Chris swallowed. The ability to appear suddenly and disappear without a trace was another trait attributed to Bigfoot. Did the one that was shot have a mate? It didn’t seem likely. Almost every report of an encounter with the creatures showed them to be solitary animals. But there were exceptions, reports of family groups. He knew instinctively staying here was the right thing for now.
Chris shouldered his rifle and started up the path toward the end of the road. “Let’s wait for dawn in the truck. I’ll take the first watch.”
Echohawk settled into the cab and Chris walked into the trees. He pulled out his phone and texted Stephen. “Somebody snatched the Bigfoot body and trail cam. Following a trail at daybreak. Check in later.”
He received a reply a few seconds later. “Your friend Bob isn’t answering his phone. Be careful.” Chris looked out into the night. He pulled his jacket tighter around him. The feeling of being watched was back.