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"You OK, Everly?"
I must have been sleeping when Tom's voice woke me. "I'm OK, Tom. How are you feeling?"
"Been better. What time is it?"
I checked. "3:15. Do you remember what happened?"
"I got shot. You didn't shoot me, did you?"
"Yes. I mean yes, you got shot. No, I didn't shoot you."
"Where are we?"
"A few feet from where you fell."
I explained what I'd done to care for his wound and what medicine I'd given him. He drank some water and took more meds.
"Did you call Chance?"
"I've been trying. I think the snow storm is interfering."
He asked about who shot him, and I told him what I knew, which wasn't much. The truth was the shooter could be sitting behind a tree a few feet away, and we wouldn't know.
"You're doing fine, Everly. Stay warm. Try the radio. We'll start back in the morning."
I was glad that Tom had woken up enough to assess the situation but listing out all our problems only made me more aware of how bad things were.
"Tom, I'm not sure what we saw, but it couldn't have been bigfoot that shot you. From what I've read and what Chance told us, I've never seen anything to suggest they use weapons of any kind. Either it was a hunter whose shot went astray, or it has to have something to do with Helen and that lab. Why would someone want to shoot us?"
When he didn't answer, I turned around and saw that he'd fallen back to sleep. I brushed the snow off him and pulled the sleeping bag back up to protect his face. Now that I knew he was somewhat functional, I found his rifle, checked it was loaded and put it close to him under the bag.
I paced around our little shelter for a bit, watching. I thought maybe I'd see the telltale sign of a lit cigarette or a flashlight, but I didn't. The snow was falling harder, if that was possible. With nothing else to do, I sat back down and tried to stay awake. I jerked my head up from my chest for the umpteenth time, before I remembered that I packed chocolate covered espresso beans in case I needed a shot of caffeine. I rooted through my pack and found the small plastic bag. I'm not sure they have enough caffeine to keep me awake, but as long as I think they do, I'm good.
If Tom was able to walk tomorrow, even if he needed to lean on me, we would continue back toward base camp. I suspected we'd have to go more slowly because of Tom's injury and the snow, but at least we could get further from the observation point and, hopefully, that meant further from whoever was shooting at us.
I knew we were still in the area where we were supposed to be quiet, but I was OK with the idea of any noise frightening the bigfoot away. I wasn't sure what I saw, but it was a big, hairy creature that I didn't want anywhere near me. I set an alarm on my phone for every hour to wake me in case I fell asleep. It was after 4:00 when I sat back down, and I hoped maybe the next alarm would signal daylight and a lessening of the snow storm. It didn't.
It wasn't until the seven o'clock alarm that there was a noticeable brightening to the sky. After I answered the call of nature, staying in sight of Tom and carrying my rifle, I ate a granola bar and drank some water.
"Morning, Everly. What time is it?"
I jumped at the sound of Tom's voice. "After seven. Doesn't look like the snow's letting up."
"Can you help me up?"
I took the sleeping bag off Tom and shook the snow off, then helped him to stand. "Nature calls," he said. He took a few tentative steps toward some trees with me staying close enough to prop him up if he stumbled. "I'm good."
I stayed where I was as he continued a few steps further. I turned my back and looked at our makeshift shelter. The tree branches helped keep some of the snow off, but our bags were getting wet from the snow sitting on them. We had plenty of supplies but needed better shelter if we weren't going to make it back to base camp.
Tom walked up and put his uninjured arm around my shoulder. "Sorry about all of this."
"Me too. Do you think you can walk?"
"I should be OK. Might have to take it slow."
"Is this snowshoe weather?"
"I'd rather have a snowmobile, but the snowshoes will have to do."
I scouted around but couldn't find the Sasquatch trail. It had to be close, but I just couldn't find it.
"Tom, you'd better come look at this."
He moved to stand beside me looking over my shoulder to the base of a tree I pointed at. A rifle was leaning against the tree, but it was in two pieces.
"What the heck?" Tom asked. He started to move toward it with his hand out like he intended to pick it up.
"Don't. We should take photos and wrap it up, in case there are any prints on it."
I shrugged off my pack and pulled out a mylar blanket and the camera. After photographing the area, then moving in for closeups of the gun, I picked up the two pieces of the rifle in my gloved hands and showed them to Tom. "Maybe you could break it that way by swinging it at a tree. You think?"
"Maybe," he said. "I don't think a man could break it like that."
"Are you saying a bigfoot did this?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I mean, why would this just be sitting here?"
"Do you think it's meant to be a warning?" I asked.
"No idea. When we get back to Wilkins’ Gap, we'll be able to find out if it matches the bullet in my shoulder."