Track of the Beast: A Brock Stone Adventure

It took a long time to find the source of the sound, and Gideon hit him with the stick several times before he completed the task, but he managed it. There was a crack in the wall several feet up. He pressed his ear to the small opening. The water was dripping on the other side of the wall.

“I found it.”

Silence.

He waited. NO answer. “Are you still there?”

No answer.

“No prize for passing your test?” he muttered. “Not even a pat on the head?”

As if in response, there was a scraping sound somewhere behind him. A familiar aroma, rich and nutty, filled the air. He smiled, followed the scent like a bloodhound. His hands closed around a cup of lukewarm coffee. He took a sip and let out a sigh of contentment.

“Thank you,” he said.

From somewhere far away, Gideon replied.

“You are welcome.”

22- Into the Canyon

Stone scaled the cliff with spiderlike agility, finding handholds and footholds that most climbers would never spot. He was moving rapidly, almost recklessly, but if Trinity were in danger, he didn’t want to waste a precious second.

“Please, let her be alive,” he whispered aloud.

No, he couldn’t think like that. She was all right. She had to be.

Upon learning where Trinity had gone, he had asked Harold and Marian to bring his friends up to speed when they returned. They would be unhappy that he had left them behind, but hopefully would understand.

The sheer cliff ended at a boulder field choked with shrubs and stunted trees. It sloped down a hundred yards to a forest-covered canyon floor.

Something moved at the corner of Stone’s eye. A flash of brown and no more. He tensed. Had it been a Bigfoot, or something more commonplace, like a bear? And then the wind changed directions and he caught a whiff of something unpleasant, like the smell of a wet dog. That was no bear.

He circled the boulder field, keeping to the shelter of the forest. He moved quickly and silently, closing in on the spot where he had seen something moving. When he arrived there, he searched the forest floor until he spotted a small indentation in the needle-covered floor. It might be a toeprint. It would take something very heavy to leave even that much of an indentation.

He headed in the direction he believed the creature had gone, searching for spoor. He had gone only about fifty yards when he came to a spot where the low-hanging limbs had been snapped off of the tree trunks up to a height of about ten feet. Some of these limbs had been as thick as Stone’s forearm, and the breaks were clean. The strength required to do it would have to be tremendous. The pattern of broken limbs continued on, creating a pathway through the dense jungle.

“Just right for a very tall beast to walk upright without bumping its head,” Stone muttered.

Stone ducked into the forest and moved parallel to the path until it came to an end at a spring-fed pool of water at the base of a cliff. Again he caught a pungent, animal odor, much stronger this time.

Like a bloodhound, he followed his nose. He crept through the forest until he spotted a clearing up ahead. He froze.

A huge, hairy ape man was striding purposefully toward the canyon wall. The creature stood eight feet tall. Its shoulders, back, and thighs were thick with muscle that rippled as it walked. Its arms were very long compared to its human cousins, the fingertips almost reaching its knees. And the thing was covered from head to toe with glossy, reddish-brown fur.

Stone couldn’t deny it. Bigfoot was real.

He watched as the creature scaled the canyon wall up to a rock overhang. Stone caught a glimpse of another creature, a juvenile, peering over the ledge.

That must be where their den is, Stone thought.

Now he had a decision to make. It had been Marian’s opinion that the Bigfoot had not taken Trinity. But what if she was mistaken? He fixed his eyes on the overhang. To get there he would have to cross an open clearing then climb thirty feet up the canyon wall without being spotted. That was impossible. But could he leave here without trying?

Just then a grapefruit-sized rock whistled through the air like a Walter Johnson fastball and smashed into the ground about ten feet from where Stone knelt. He immediately ducked behind the scant cover of a juniper. One of the beasts had thrown it at him. But had the creature been trying to kill him, or was it a warning?

The forest all around him was suddenly filled with loud clacking sounds, like sticks being knocked together. The sounds were coming closer. And then came the howling. Well, some of the vocalizations sounded like howls, but he also heard yips and guttural roars.

Another rock flew and it struck in the same spot as before. Not a miss, then. The Bigfoot wanted him to leave. Reluctantly he moved in the opposite direction of the clacking and howling, away from the den. He would scour the canyon for signs of Trinity. If he found none, he would return.