Speaker 1: War of the Species by Greg Ballin. My friends were
Speaker 1: several miles south of deer Camp, anxiously hoping to fill
Speaker 1: their deer tags. I wanted to take some shots too,
Speaker 1: with my nikon and my new twelve hundred millimeters zoom lens.
Speaker 1: I didn't mind the constant teasing on the six hour
Speaker 1: drive to Five Pawns Wilderness in upstate New York, but
Speaker 1: it got a bit old on the two hour height
Speaker 1: to the remote woodlands. One can only hear the p
Speaker 1: words so many times my friends weren't in the best shape.
Speaker 1: Their beer bellies and love handles spilled over their blaut
Speaker 1: camo double chins, overflowed tight and flannel collars, and wheezing
Speaker 1: from carrying those heavy frames and extra pounds were clearly audible.
Speaker 1: My retorts regarding the less than stellar physiques hid a
Speaker 1: few raw nerves, and by the time we'd set up camp,
Speaker 1: the light hearted animosity was all but forgotten. They'd planned
Speaker 1: their hunt and I'd planned my route for pictures. These
Speaker 1: were my friends of twenty five years. We all shook
Speaker 1: hands and headed into the deep forest on opposite directions,
Speaker 1: them to fill their tags in freezers and me to
Speaker 1: fill a sim card with photos. I had been walking
Speaker 1: and taking pictures for over two hours. The forest was kind,
Speaker 1: providing me close up shots of deer, dozens of bird
Speaker 1: species and squirrels, and a few fox that sprinted into
Speaker 1: their den as I photographed them. Fall provided a kaleidoscope
Speaker 1: of colors and background for some amazing scenic shots. The
Speaker 1: miles of hiking and walking, along with carrying my camera
Speaker 1: and bulky pistol, took a toll on my legs. I
Speaker 1: stopped by a creek and splashed some water on my face,
Speaker 1: and I flopped down upon a large moss covered rock.
Speaker 1: The autumn sun was getting low in the sky, adopting
Speaker 1: an orange glow versus the yellow shine of early afternoon daylight.
Speaker 1: The GPS on my phone could take me back to
Speaker 1: our camp easily, but navigating a strange forest in the
Speaker 1: dark wasn't the smartest move. I'd have to move fast,
Speaker 1: but I was confident I could beat the setting sun.
Speaker 1: I took one last splash of cool water before heading
Speaker 1: back to camp. The woods were eerily quiet, and the
Speaker 1: constant afternoon breeze ceased rustling the leaves. Nothing in the
Speaker 1: forest moved, a blanket of silence. Dominated everything around me.
Speaker 1: Dread crept from my lower back up my spine, raising
Speaker 1: the hair on the nape of my neck. I hastened
Speaker 1: my pace, following the GPS indicator on on my phone.
Speaker 1: Rapid light footsteps off a narrow game trail paced me.
Speaker 1: I stopped to listen. The steps fell silent. I was
Speaker 1: breathing hard, sucking in deep breasts, and gulping the air.
Speaker 1: The footsteps circle behind me. My hand fell off my
Speaker 1: camera case, caressing the grip of my forty four magnum
Speaker 1: Tucked in my shoulder holster, my right index and middle
Speaker 1: finger unsnapped the locking loop, and my hand circled the
Speaker 1: pistol grip, slowly freeing the eight inch stainless steel barrel.
Speaker 1: I continued walking, and my past not as frantic, but
Speaker 1: quick and determined. The footsteps followed, staying hidden deeper off
Speaker 1: the trail. I'd gone another half mile, ignoring my woodland stalker,
Speaker 1: but keeping my ear peeled. If the steps grew closer
Speaker 1: and the woods erupted in the yelping of coyotes, the
Speaker 1: scream of a child through the howling, my stalker was
Speaker 1: a kid. A tore through the forest, chasing the horrible,
Speaker 1: terrified shriek. A pack of large codies surrounded a tiny
Speaker 1: child covered in black clothing. One of the canines leapt forward,
Speaker 1: tackling the child, and I screamed a warning and then
Speaker 1: fired my revolver in the air. The creatures broke off
Speaker 1: their attack to face me a new threat. Fear raced
Speaker 1: through every fiber of my being. These weren't coyotes. They
Speaker 1: were far too big, with savagely large teeth. One of
Speaker 1: the canines rushed forward, gaping, maul open and threatening to
Speaker 1: rip me apart. I fired, and a plume of flame
Speaker 1: and a concussion roared through the forest. The wolf like
Speaker 1: creature dropped in a heap barely ten feet from me.
Speaker 1: The three other creatures growled and hissed angrily, burning red
Speaker 1: eyes locked in the still smoking barrel of my weapon.
Speaker 1: Leave the kid alone, or I'll kill you all, appointed
Speaker 1: the gun, sweeping the barrel on each creature. They couldn't
Speaker 1: understand my words, but the animals knew the gun was
Speaker 1: a danger. Something came out of the woods behind the
Speaker 1: wolf like creatures. Long powerful arms part of the tall
Speaker 1: sapling pines like twigs. Its hands were massive, with long,
Speaker 1: bony fingers ending in savage two inch claws. The face
Speaker 1: was pure wolf, eyes burning like hot coals. The canines
Speaker 1: retreated behind the man wolf, and the thing raised both arms,
Speaker 1: growling as it charged toward me. I raised my weapon,
Speaker 1: firing twice. The funk of three hundred grain magnum slugs
Speaker 1: tearing into meat made a sick sound. The creature buckled,
Speaker 1: falling on all four. Still charged forward, and it hit
Speaker 1: me with the force of a freight train, knocking me
Speaker 1: off my feet. Razor sharp claws swiped across my chest,
Speaker 1: shredding my jacket and my camera straps, and slicing my
Speaker 1: flesh like a scalding knife. Well. The pain burned, and
Speaker 1: an agony of endless throbbing and bony fingers wrapped around
Speaker 1: my throat, lifting me off the ground. I felt my
Speaker 1: bladder empty. Hot urine ran down my legs as this
Speaker 1: hell beast held me dangling two feet off the ground.
Speaker 1: Fist like claws squeezed my throat, and by some miracle,
Speaker 1: I still had my weapon. I pointed the revolver at
Speaker 1: the beast's head, shoving the barrel into its tooth filled maw,
Speaker 1: and squeezed the trigger its head exploded, and brain matter
Speaker 1: and bits of skull carpeted the forest floor. The remaining
Speaker 1: wolf like creatures howled in shock as their leader crumped,
Speaker 1: blood still pumping out its exposed neck arteries. I hit
Speaker 1: the ground hard, still gripping my gun. Adrenaline course through
Speaker 1: my body. My limbs trembled with excess energy. The raw
Speaker 1: fear ebbed away as I studied the dead creature. It
Speaker 1: was easily eight feet tall, even without the head, which
Speaker 1: was splattered across the woods. My mind struggled with what
Speaker 1: my eyes beheld. Things like this existed only in horror
Speaker 1: movies or bogus television documentaries. A weeping sound interrupted my
Speaker 1: struggling brain. The child. How bad? Had that wolf like
Speaker 1: creature harmed the child? What the hell was the child
Speaker 1: doing in the middle of this isolated forest. I holstered
Speaker 1: my weapon and leaped toward the unmoving form huddled in
Speaker 1: a ball. Hey are you okay? The child continued to whimper.
Speaker 1: As I got closer, reality kicked me in the groin again.
Speaker 1: This wasn't a human child. What I thought was black
Speaker 1: clothing was black fur or hair. The small being was
Speaker 1: barely three feet tall. It was thin with lanky arms.
Speaker 1: They were covered with black, matted hair. The tiny face
Speaker 1: was the only part having exposed skin. The naked creature,
Speaker 1: clearly a male, looked at me, eyes wide with fear.
Speaker 1: I cursed my own stupidity. What child would be alone
Speaker 1: in these desolate woodlands? What was I thinking earlier? You idiot? Yeah,
Speaker 1: a kid following me. The boy was trembling, curled up
Speaker 1: in a tight ball. Look, I won't hurt you, and
Speaker 1: I held my hand out open. I hoped he would
Speaker 1: understand the gesture. The howl of wolves echoed through the forest.
Speaker 1: Oh man, those wolf lies like animals were calling reinforcements.
Speaker 1: I needed to retreat fast, but I wasn't going to
Speaker 1: leave this poor thing behind to get torn apart. I
Speaker 1: reached out my open hand, moving toward him slowly. I
Speaker 1: won't hurt you, I said. I kept repeating those words,
Speaker 1: forcing my thoughts out, praying to God that somehow this
Speaker 1: boy would understand my gesture. He pointed a tiny finger
Speaker 1: toward my bleeding chest. Hurt. The word came out as
Speaker 1: a guttural grunt, but I understood what he said. Was
Speaker 1: this a wild boy somebody abandoned? Nothing about him made sense.
Speaker 1: I saw the gaping wound in his leg, and I
Speaker 1: pointed to it. Hurt, I repeated. I tore a piece
Speaker 1: of flannel off my tattered shirt, dousing it with the
Speaker 1: last of my water. Held up the soak cloth help.
Speaker 1: I cleaned the wound and wrapped another piece of cloth
Speaker 1: around his thin leg. As I tightened the makeshift bandage,
Speaker 1: the answer dropped on me like an anchor. No, it
Speaker 1: can't be. You're a baby bigfoot wolf men and now
Speaker 1: a pint sized sasquatch with a dragon dropped from the
Speaker 1: sky's next. The tiny boy stared at me with his
Speaker 1: black eyes, his head tilted and almost a human look
Speaker 1: of confusion, not understanding what I was saying. The wolf
Speaker 1: cries were even closer. We had to go now, and
Speaker 1: I took a wrist and gently picked up the child.
Speaker 1: It seemed to understand, and it wrapped its long arms
Speaker 1: around my neck and shoulders. My camera gear was scattered
Speaker 1: across the leaf covered ground. I couldn't carry the child,
Speaker 1: my weapon, and the camera gear. I would have to
Speaker 1: leave it behind. Say goodbye to a two thousand dollars lens,
Speaker 1: I thought. I took the child away from the battlezone
Speaker 1: as fast as my legs were to carry us, stopping
Speaker 1: only to glance at my phone's GPS screens. The howls
Speaker 1: became deafening, My gut tightened, and the fear spread deeper
Speaker 1: into my soul. I silently prayed. My friends heard the
Speaker 1: sounds and were also on their way to camp with
Speaker 1: their big boar rifles. I was woefully unprepared for this
Speaker 1: kind of conflict. The sun was setting as I reached camp.
Speaker 1: My friends were nowhere to be seen, and the wolf
Speaker 1: house seemed to be everywhere. In my brilliance, I had
Speaker 1: managed to piss off an entire army of wolf like monsters.
Speaker 1: Good job, idiot, I muttered, desperately, igniting the largest campfire
Speaker 1: I could control safely. The warmth in the light was
Speaker 1: small comfort as darkness wallowed the forest. My companions set
Speaker 1: away from the flames, wrapped in the thermal blanket. The
Speaker 1: tiny sasquatch devoured two blueberry nola bars and three pieces
Speaker 1: of deer jerky. I ransacked my friend's tents, desperately looking
Speaker 1: for anything I could use as a weapon. Jim had
Speaker 1: left a semi auto twelve gage shotgun behind in a
Speaker 1: box of heavy slug grounds. I loaded the shotgun to
Speaker 1: you with six rounds and reloaded my revolver. I had
Speaker 1: two speedloaders prepped, expending the last of my pistol ammunition.
Speaker 1: The blood curdling howls were barely twenty yards away. The
Speaker 1: hairs on the nape of my neck stood, and my
Speaker 1: spine tingled, and every instinct I had told me to run.
Speaker 1: My brain knew there was no place to run toward.
Speaker 1: The firelight was my only protection. The woods around my
Speaker 1: camp rustled with footsteps. They were here, following the scent
Speaker 1: of our blood through the three plus miles of forest.
Speaker 1: The child bigfoot shrieked a cost so loud and powerful
Speaker 1: my ribs and stomach vibrated inside my body. The world
Speaker 1: went silent. Three wolves broke from the tree line, sprinting
Speaker 1: toward me. I fired the shotgun into the burning red eyes,
Speaker 1: and the animals dropped. Two larger wolfmen broke from the forest,
Speaker 1: hurling rocks in my direction. I ducked as the softball
Speaker 1: sized boulders whizzed over my head, crushing my buddy's tent.
Speaker 1: I emptied the shotgun toward their heads, splattering one skull
Speaker 1: but striking the other in the chest. Twice. The wounded
Speaker 1: one stumbled forward. More wolves appeared, leaving the tree line,
Speaker 1: approaching the camp. I emptied my revolver into the wolfman,
Speaker 1: giving a silent thanks that it finally fell to the ground.
Speaker 1: The three wolves stopped and then retreated slightly. I was shaking,
Speaker 1: but I managed to reload six more slugs into the
Speaker 1: shotgun and another six rounds into my revolver. I was
Speaker 1: pitifully out matched, only prolonging the inevity. They must have
Speaker 1: sensed it. The woods erupted and five wolf men charged,
Speaker 1: followed by a dozen of the four legged beasts. I
Speaker 1: emptied both weapons, barely slowing the oncoming onslaught. The wolf
Speaker 1: slammed into me, knocking me backwards, its tooth filled mal
Speaker 1: snapping inches from my throat. I was fighting for my life.
Speaker 1: Desperation gave me strength, though, and I got my legs
Speaker 1: under this creature, and I pushed it off with the
Speaker 1: last of my waiting strength. The animal fell back, landing
Speaker 1: in the blazing campfire. Its shrieks of pain gave me
Speaker 1: some satisfaction as its heavy fur set of blaze. More
Speaker 1: wolves tore through the camp, destroying everything in their path.
Speaker 1: The iron hard claws of a man wolf wrapped around
Speaker 1: my throat. The large thing snarled, holding me in mid air,
Speaker 1: and a single claw tore through my shoulder. But I
Speaker 1: refused to scream. I go to die. This bastard wasn't
Speaker 1: going to hear me howl in pain. A basketball sized
Speaker 1: rock flew from the darkness, crushing the wolf barely three
Speaker 1: feet beside me. Another type of wolf echoed through the forest.
Speaker 1: The wolfmen and their canine army fell silent. I was
Speaker 1: tossed away like a rag doll. The canine army formed up,
Speaker 1: growling and hissing, and the ground beneath me shook with tremors.
Speaker 1: An angry stampede of large, heavy footsteps charged the campground
Speaker 1: from the opposite direction. My little sasquatch friend must have
Speaker 1: called his parents, and they brought the rest of the family.
Speaker 1: I crawled toward the young creature. It was wounded, blood
Speaker 1: hemorrhage to spilling on the green grass and staining at red.
Speaker 1: Several large rocks were batted away by the wolfmen, and
Speaker 1: I dared to look up. Ten of the wolf men
Speaker 1: stood ready, and at least a dozen massive wolves stood
Speaker 1: by their growling. Upon a command, they charged forward toward
Speaker 1: the stampede. I scrambled over to the child, shielding it
Speaker 1: with my battered body, desperately covering us with the remnant
Speaker 1: of my tent. The child was shivering, or was that me?
Speaker 1: The night roared with sounds louder than any lion or
Speaker 1: angry elephant could ever hope to match. The shrieking and roaring,
Speaker 1: and sometimes the screams of agony continued for almost twenty
Speaker 1: terrifying minutes. Without warning, the forest went silent, and the
Speaker 1: roars and screams of rage and agony didn't fade gradually.
Speaker 1: All sound just ceased. My thundering heartbeat was the only
Speaker 1: noise defying the silence. I lifted the piece of tent
Speaker 1: off of us. My campfire was still crackling, burning brightly.
Speaker 1: The child held on to me with a grip of fear,
Speaker 1: and I struggled to stand, and the pain in my
Speaker 1: chest and shoulder were almost unbearable. The child pointed at
Speaker 1: the bloody, gaping wound in my shoulder hurt. It grunted.
Speaker 1: I nodded, instinctively, holding it like it was my own hurt.
Speaker 1: I whispered back. My foot kicked something large flashlight rolled
Speaker 1: a few feet from me, and I knelt down, ignoring
Speaker 1: the searing pain, and picked up the light, and by
Speaker 1: some miracle, it survived. The hideous onslaught. A three thousand
Speaker 1: candlepower beam punched hole in the darkness beyond the fire.
Speaker 1: Now dial the beam into a wider setting. Cautiously walking
Speaker 1: toward the now silent battleground, the spotlight bathed several still
Speaker 1: figures sprawled on the blood soaked earth. Two wolfmen were
Speaker 1: quite literally broken in half. A being that I could
Speaker 1: only identify as an adult bigfoot was sprawled over a
Speaker 1: large stone. Foes carved away a large section of its torso.
Speaker 1: I moved the light in a semi circle. The field
Speaker 1: was a sea of death. A large wolf was whimpering
Speaker 1: in pain, its hind leg twisted in an unnatural angle
Speaker 1: as blood poured from its mouth. Dear God in Heaven,
Speaker 1: I said, that was all I could come up with.
Speaker 1: As my brain struggled to comprehend the level of ferocity
Speaker 1: needed to inflict these mortal battle wounds, I heard movement
Speaker 1: and I spun the beam of light. A large wolf
Speaker 1: man was carrying away a dead comrade. It looked at
Speaker 1: me and then turned swallowed by the dark forest a
Speaker 1: few meters away, being easily ten foot tall, was helping
Speaker 1: another hairy creature limp away from the carnage. The battle
Speaker 1: was fought, and they were carrying away. They're dead and
Speaker 1: assisting the wounded, and I had no interest in discovering
Speaker 1: who was the victor or who was the vanquished. From
Speaker 1: what little I observed, both sides suffered heavy losses. I
Speaker 1: carried my wounded friend back to the campfire and did
Speaker 1: my best to clean the puncture wounds in its upper arm. Hurt,
Speaker 1: it whispered as I tied more flannel shirt around his
Speaker 1: arm as a makeshift bandage. I nodded sadly as the
Speaker 1: images of death and blood stained my conscience hurt. I
Speaker 1: could feel myself going into shock. Bigfoot was real. What
Speaker 1: other horrors lay out in the wilderness that I scoffed
Speaker 1: at as mere fairy tales? The wolfmen or the dog men,
Speaker 1: as the documentaries had labeled them, were supposedly supernatural creatures
Speaker 1: with paranormal abilities. I'd heard stories about them. They were
Speaker 1: the enemy of the s squatch, the fairy tale version
Speaker 1: of lions and hyenas natural enemies and rivals battling over food.
Speaker 1: And t territory, each killing the other with no remorse.
Speaker 1: Both factions fought some kind of turf war, and I
Speaker 1: was in the middle of it. Was this round one
Speaker 1: with the survivors licked their wounds and regroup and re engage.
Speaker 1: Where were my friends? It was well passed dark, and
Speaker 1: they should have been back by now, had they met
Speaker 1: a horrific end like I almost did. The small one
Speaker 1: tapped my shoulder, pointing toward the darkness. Zaba. A si
Speaker 1: squatch easily twelve feet tall, emerged out of the darkness.
Speaker 1: My bowels clenched. I'd already peed myself at least three times.
Speaker 1: I struggled not to soil my drawers. Next to the
Speaker 1: behemoth stood a definite female, shorter and more demure, but
Speaker 1: easily eight feet tall and capable of killing me with
Speaker 1: one blow. I had no means of defending myself, not
Speaker 1: that I considered shooting these creatures. The female took several
Speaker 1: steps towards me, and the child continued to repeat Saba.
Speaker 1: I assumed that meant mother. I picked up the little
Speaker 1: bigfoot and carried him toward his mom. My insides were jello.
Speaker 1: Every nerve frayed as I struggled not to soil my underwear. Saba,
Speaker 1: I said loud enough to be heard, and presented her
Speaker 1: the child. Massive hands relieved me of the baby bigfoot.
Speaker 1: The mother studied the flannel bandages as the child kept
Speaker 1: repeating hurt. The mother looked at me and nodded her
Speaker 1: head and actually smiled. I nodded back as a smile
Speaker 1: decorated my face. The massive male grunted once both turned
Speaker 1: and disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness. My body was shaking.
Speaker 1: Fear and shock and terror simultaneously rocketed through me. I
Speaker 1: dropped her one, allowing myself a moment to recover. Struggling
Speaker 1: to rationalize the horrors I'd witnessed, I knelt in silence
Speaker 1: for several minutes before daring to stand. The woods were
Speaker 1: alive with noise again. The horrors had passed. A cold
Speaker 1: mist settled over the woodlands, chilling my bones in a
Speaker 1: different way than the earlier terror. I needed to focus
Speaker 1: on survival and forced my brain out of the shocking
Speaker 1: deuced fog. I sorted through the camp wreckage and salvaged
Speaker 1: a pillow and a sleeping bag and a first aid kit,
Speaker 1: and I patched myself up as best as I could,
Speaker 1: and I scavenged for food that had been kicked around
Speaker 1: the area. I piled several more logs on the fire,
Speaker 1: hoping the roaring blaze would discourage any more visitors. The
Speaker 1: carcasses of the dead wolves and wolf men around my
Speaker 1: camp had also been retrieved. My gut told me there'd
Speaker 1: be no more fighting tonight. More death would be senseless.
Speaker 1: I had nothing left. An exhaustion overtook the waning adrenaline rush,
Speaker 1: and I crawled into the sleeping bag. And I let
Speaker 1: the blackness of oblivion claim me. I succumbed to the
Speaker 1: pain of my wounds and the shock to my psyche.
Speaker 1: It was even money if i'd make it through the night.
Speaker 1: I woke to the sound of birds and chipmunks. Everything hurt.
Speaker 1: A cool breeze hit my face, forcing me deeper into
Speaker 1: the sleeping bag. The memories of last night trickled into
Speaker 1: my head. The fear grew inside me. I was exposed
Speaker 1: and vulnerable. My body was a mass of pain and
Speaker 1: knotted muscle tissue. The ribs on my left side ached
Speaker 1: with each breath. I inhaled, deep, wincing, unzipping the sleeping
Speaker 1: bag and painfully wriggling out. My jeans and undergarments were
Speaker 1: damp and reeked of furine. How many times had I
Speaker 1: wet myself during the battle, And how deep was my
Speaker 1: shock after that battle that I didn't even feel the discomfort.
Speaker 1: Our once orderly camp lay in ruins, completely destroyed. God
Speaker 1: only knows what happened to my friends. Were they alive
Speaker 1: or had they met some horrible fate last night, a
Speaker 1: fate I had somehow been spared well. The fire was
Speaker 1: still going, and I took a few minutes to stir
Speaker 1: the embers and feed the flames, and the warmth was comforting,
Speaker 1: and I scrambled through the scattered belongings and found a
Speaker 1: change of clothes and some wet naps and several bottles
Speaker 1: of water strewn throughout the camp. Daylight made it easier
Speaker 1: to salvage what was left of our supplies, and the
Speaker 1: crewed wet nap, bath and a change of clothing made
Speaker 1: me feel a little better. I spent more time inventoring
Speaker 1: what supplies weren't trampled or destroyed. The tents were beyond salvage.
Speaker 1: Uler of food miraculously survived unharmed. My friend's beer cooler
Speaker 1: was a total loss, as was the propane cooking stove
Speaker 1: and two bags of dried goods. Sometime during the evening
Speaker 1: and early morning, raccoons and other scavengers found the cookies
Speaker 1: and crackers and bread no other dried goods scattered by
Speaker 1: the rampaging wolf army. I salvaged what I could, which
Speaker 1: wasn't much. I crunched the cookie as I carried back
Speaker 1: a small number of recovered supplies. I hung a kettle
Speaker 1: of water over the fire and enjoyed a cup of
Speaker 1: instant coffee with dried creamer. It was getting warmer as
Speaker 1: the sun rose higher into the sky. The shock of
Speaker 1: last night lingered in my system. I didn't know if
Speaker 1: these things were watching me, ready to finish what they
Speaker 1: started last night, or if they had moved on or
Speaker 1: to another part of the woods to recover and regroup.
Speaker 1: I was exposed and literally helpless. Curiosity gradually replaced my
Speaker 1: sense of fear and shot I needed to find my
Speaker 1: revolver and the shotgun, so I painfully made my way
Speaker 1: to where I'd made my last stand. The table was
Speaker 1: knocked over. My super red revolver lay half buried under
Speaker 1: kicked up debris, and by some miracle, the weapon was
Speaker 1: unharmed and the last six round speed loader lay barely
Speaker 1: a foot away. The shotgun was buried under tent debris,
Speaker 1: and the remaining slugs were scattered among the earth. I
Speaker 1: managed to find half the box of shells my friend
Speaker 1: left behind with the weapon. I took a minute reloading
Speaker 1: each weapon, replacing the shoulder hoster and cycling a slug
Speaker 1: round into the shotgun chamber. There was a false sense
Speaker 1: of comfort. Being armed weapons gave me a small but
Speaker 1: misplaced sense of security. Armed as I was, I was
Speaker 1: still no match for the horrors living in these woods.
Speaker 1: Last night's encounter made that all too clear. Where were
Speaker 1: my friends? That was my objective through the morning, find
Speaker 1: my friends and get the hell out of here. I
Speaker 1: made my way toward the main battleground, expecting to see
Speaker 1: a field of devastation, but to my surprise, several deer
Speaker 1: were grazing at the clearing's edge, and a flock of
Speaker 1: wild turkey meandered through the middle of the torn up clearing.
Speaker 1: All dead were gone, the blood soaked rocks were missing,
Speaker 1: and the red stained grasses were plowed under with a
Speaker 1: fresh coat of dirt. More signs than These creatures were
Speaker 1: not just intelligent, but synthient. I headed into the woods
Speaker 1: on a northwest game trail, following the hike laid out
Speaker 1: by my friends the day before, and I silently prayed
Speaker 1: that they had found refuge somewhere and we would meet
Speaker 1: up within the next hour or two. Had been hiking
Speaker 1: for over an hour, following a well used game trail,
Speaker 1: I found their tracks and I knew I was heading
Speaker 1: in the right direction. Shit large wolf tracks intermixed with
Speaker 1: my friends. I quickened my pace, ignoring the searing pain
Speaker 1: in my left lung. The trail turned a sharp corner
Speaker 1: and I came across another hellish scene. Blood and tattered
Speaker 1: fragments of clothing and over a dozen empty brass casings
Speaker 1: from my friend's rifles littered the area. Small pine saplings
Speaker 1: were bathed in dark, dried blood. They were attacked by
Speaker 1: the wolves, and they did fight back. My grip on
Speaker 1: the shotgun tightened and I raised the weapon, turning a
Speaker 1: complete circle, ready to empty the tube with the slightest movement.
Speaker 1: But I saw nothing, and the chipmunks chattered endlessly, and
Speaker 1: the sparrows and crows seemed oblivious to any threat. Three
Speaker 1: gray squirrels scampered through the grad, ignoring my presence. Were
Speaker 1: they dead, torn apart limb from limb like I would
Speaker 1: have been if not for the sisquatch army. I was
Speaker 1: afraid to keep looking, afraid that if I kept going,
Speaker 1: I'd find the hell beasts, and I too would have
Speaker 1: forfeited to my second chance at life. Was retreating the
Speaker 1: act of a coward? Could I live with myself if
Speaker 1: I didn't go on? What rational sane person would believe
Speaker 1: my tale? I was in the middle of warring species.
Speaker 1: Were my hunting buddies casualties of that war taken by
Speaker 1: the dog men and their wolf like army. Nobody would
Speaker 1: believe me. I lived through it, and it still sounded
Speaker 1: like the ravings of a lunatic covering up the murder
Speaker 1: of his friends. I'd like to say courage pushed me forward,
Speaker 1: but fear of three murder accusations, along with some courage,
Speaker 1: motivated me to continue. The blood trails continued another one
Speaker 1: hundred yards. There, partially buried were the bodies of my friends,
Speaker 1: torn to pieces and half consumed. I couldn't stop my
Speaker 1: screams of despair. They died the horrible death I was spared.
Speaker 1: I had to hike out and inform the park rangers,
Speaker 1: and the police owed them that much. Maybe I'd be
Speaker 1: placed in a psychiatric ward instead of prison after I
Speaker 1: told my tale. But I had to take the chance,
Speaker 1: so I had faith maybe somebody would believe me. Maybe
Speaker 1: the moon was made of cheese. I turned and headed out,
Speaker 1: knowing I was doomed no matter what kind of tale
Speaker 1: I told. I was in the hospital for two weeks,
Speaker 1: in the psych ward for another several months. The park
Speaker 1: rangers found my friends exactly where I said they would be.
Speaker 1: They found my camera and lenses and shredded pack and
Speaker 1: confirmed the devastation of our campsite. The police questioned me
Speaker 1: five times three with light detectors and experts in the
Speaker 1: field of criminology and psychology. All the experts said I
Speaker 1: was telling the truth, or what I believed was the truth.
Speaker 1: The forest rangers found massive footprints and paw prints in
Speaker 1: the outlying woods by the clearing. Their searches were far
Speaker 1: more thorough than mine, as they returned with fur and
Speaker 1: hair and blood samples for DNA analysis. The tests on
Speaker 1: the samples must have corroborated something in my fairy tale.
Speaker 1: The looming threat of murder charges magically evaporated, and some
Speaker 1: science nerds came to my room asking me all sorts
Speaker 1: of questions. The official word was that I was attacked
Speaker 1: by a stray pack of wild dogs and my friends
Speaker 1: were the victims of a savage bear attack. I knew
Speaker 1: it was all bullshit. They knew that. I knew it
Speaker 1: was bullshit, But the key to getting released from detainment
Speaker 1: was swallowing the BS tail and keeping my mouth shut.
Speaker 1: Sweat streamed off my body. Another night waking up screaming,
Speaker 1: reliving the horrors in my sleep. No amount of alcohol
Speaker 1: or sleeping pills could get me through the night. Two
Speaker 1: thirty am, like clockwork for the past five months, I
Speaker 1: crawled out of the sweaty sheets, making my way to
Speaker 1: my bowflex working out became my occupational therapy, much to
Speaker 1: the dismay of the neighbors in my condo complex. I
Speaker 1: had no one to talk to and no one to
Speaker 1: share the horrors of my reality. I knew a dark
Speaker 1: truth about the world and was forbidden to speak of it.
Speaker 1: Who would believe me anyway? Two hours of exercise in
Speaker 1: tai Chi and my mind still wasn't calm, and I
Speaker 1: stared at the half empty bottle of jim Beam on
Speaker 1: the top of my refrigerator. My booze wasn't going to
Speaker 1: put my inner demons to rest. No matter how much
Speaker 1: I drank, I couldn't drown those horrors. They were surfaced
Speaker 1: every night, though, and I would slip into my sneakers
Speaker 1: in a hoodie and my five in the morning heavy
Speaker 1: bag session awaited me at the anytime fitness. After that,
Speaker 1: I'd get my morning coffee and read the paper and
Speaker 1: stare out the window, watching the blissfully ignorant lead their
Speaker 1: annoyingly normal lives, unaware of the horror surrounding them. I'd
Speaker 1: explored miles of woodlands around my home, and the woods
Speaker 1: were full of small coyotes and deer and a few
Speaker 1: black bear, nothing out of the ordinary. I should take
Speaker 1: comfort in that, but it just pissed me off further.
Speaker 1: Why didn't we just hunt here? You'd all be alive
Speaker 1: and together I could live as one of the blissfully ignorant.
Speaker 1: The sky was a beautiful shade of pink and orange.
Speaker 1: As the sun rose, I sept my unusual brew, watching
Speaker 1: the day star rise higher in the sky. The stream
Speaker 1: of normals flowed in for their morning fuel, and I sighed,
Speaker 1: rubbing my swollen knuckles. My mortgage payments were three months interrears,
Speaker 1: and I couldn't focus on any kind of work. My
Speaker 1: camera sat on the shelf, mocking me. The desire for
Speaker 1: that perfect shot no longer burned in my heart. Taking
Speaker 1: portraits and shooting weddings no longer appealed to me. I
Speaker 1: pissed off several clients by simply canceling jobs. Soon I'd
Speaker 1: be out on the street. I'd be homeless and jobless.
Speaker 1: I should be afraid of losing my material things, but
Speaker 1: I wasn't. I should be afraid of losing my home,
Speaker 1: but I wasn't afraid of that either. I no longer
Speaker 1: feared the normal. My terrors were nestled deep within two
Speaker 1: hundred thousand acres of untamed wilderness woodlands that were best
Speaker 1: forgotten and never trespassed by human feet or machine. Man
Speaker 1: was not the alpha predator in those woods. Man was
Speaker 1: the prey animal, like a deer, rabbit or wild turkey.
Speaker 1: Man was on the menu. An epiphany befell me in
Speaker 1: that corner booth, nursing my cup of tepid coffee. I
Speaker 1: didn't belong among the living anymore. I should have died
Speaker 1: with my friends. Maybe that's why I couldn't focus, or
Speaker 1: concentrate or sleep. My clock should have been punched eight
Speaker 1: months ago. Part of me desperately tried to convince myself
Speaker 1: that I hadn't seen what I had seen. My experience
Speaker 1: was a grand illusion born of some crazed hysteria. I
Speaker 1: wanted to cling to that delusion and join the ranks
Speaker 1: of the living again. My rational brain struggled unsuccessfully to
Speaker 1: surrender to the false reality put upon me by therapists
Speaker 1: in some unknown government agency. I knew what I had
Speaker 1: to do. I had to go back and face the
Speaker 1: unknown again. I was armed with awareness and knowledge this time.
Speaker 1: Not that those two ideals would save me from being
Speaker 1: torn limb from limb, but I needed to face the
Speaker 1: demons that still haunted me. Mid Spring was the perfect
Speaker 1: time to camp in the northern woodlands. The black flies
Speaker 1: weren't hatched, and the mosquitoes couldn't endure the cool evenings
Speaker 1: of a mountain spring. The snow had melted away and
Speaker 1: the sun rose high in the afternoon sky, providing ample
Speaker 1: ambient warmth. I camped in the same spot we had
Speaker 1: before almost didn't recognize the area. The clearing had overgrown
Speaker 1: with lush grass and clover, and the forests were green
Speaker 1: with oak and maple leaves forming an emerald canopy over
Speaker 1: the woodlands. I felt a sense of peace as I
Speaker 1: set up my tiny camp, enjoying the sounds of birds
Speaker 1: and chipmunks. All I had to do now was wait.
Speaker 1: The dog men in the Bigfoot knew I was here.
Speaker 1: You can't enter someone's home and have them not know
Speaker 1: something somewhere was watching me. I couldn't feel it, but
Speaker 1: I knew it. I emptied a nine pound sack of
Speaker 1: apples and a three pound tenderloin i'd cooked before surrendering
Speaker 1: the keys to my older brother. The wind would carry
Speaker 1: the scent through the woods, and either Sasquatch or dog
Speaker 1: men would smell the dinner bell. I didn't know whose
Speaker 1: claim in this territory was valid. My guess was whichever
Speaker 1: came to claim the meat was the winner of last
Speaker 1: year's battle. I didn't have to wait long. The woods
Speaker 1: went deadly silent, and I heard motion in the trees
Speaker 1: barely twenty yards from my camp, behind the rows of
Speaker 1: pine saplings. The thin trees parted and a side. Squatch
Speaker 1: barely four feet in height, stepped into the clearing hurt.
Speaker 1: It was the young one I befriended, and I reached
Speaker 1: in my pocket, pulling out the three torn pieces of
Speaker 1: flannel fabric. I held them up Friend, I called out
Speaker 1: and pointed to the food offering. The youngster moved to
Speaker 1: the apples, happily gorging himself. He slowly made his way
Speaker 1: to me, extending his hand, and I reached out my
Speaker 1: hand and our palms and fingers touched Friend. He grunted back.
Speaker 1: He took the whole steak in one hand, grabbed three
Speaker 1: more apples, and walked back to the woods. There, silhouetted
Speaker 1: by the trees, was the same mother Sasquatch I'd seen before.
Speaker 1: Not knowing what to do, I stood slowly and waved.
Speaker 1: She lifted her massive hand, awkwardly repeating my gesture. Junior
Speaker 1: shouted friend several times as they disappeared into the woodlands.
Speaker 1: I had made successful contact. The Sasquatch family ruled here now,
Speaker 1: and I hoped I'd be accepted and allowed to stay
Speaker 1: here and continue making contact for whatever time I had left.
Speaker 1: I had nothing else to live for, and it seemed
Speaker 1: they didn't want me dead. Maybe out here where I
Speaker 1: lost everything, I could find myself again. Maybe I could
Speaker 1: finally find the peace denied me by civilization.