Those mysterious Men in Black...
Posted: Sun Dec 16, 2018 10:58 pm
Much has been made of mysterious 'men in black'. Here is chapter two of my novel where they make their first appearance:
'Bob, what in hell happened here?’
Bob Gurney turned and watched as the Park Ranger approached him from the direction of the road. The Ranger’s eyes were wide as he stared at the torn up tent.
'Hi Sam. God, you took your time, it’s midmorning. I called you right after I called 911! That was at 2:30!’
'Yeah, I know. Thanks for dragging me out of bed.’
'I think this is worth it, don’t you?’ Bob asked as he gestured over to where the campers' headless corpses lay.
Sam's eyes followed the direction of Bob's arm and he saw the bodies for the first time, ‘Oh sweet Jesus! What in hell...’
Both men were silent as their eyes took it all in, Bob for the umpteenth time since he had come across the camp several hours ago, Sam for the first time.
Bob watched Sam’s eyes go almost immediately over to the brush, scanning it with more than a touch of fear in them. They widened further when he noticed the two clear paths of broken brush leading into the trees. It looked like someone had driven a small tractor through them.
He looked back towards the bodies, hesitated, then started over towards them.
'Stop! There are tracks everywhere. Don’t mess them up.’
Sam froze and looked down. There, in the crazy mix of ash, blood and dirt was a perfect footprint. It was like a human’s but far too big for any human. Bob noticed Sam’s eyes widen again as he studied the print he knew was there. He had used his time waiting for Sam wisely and had already carefully surveyed the area, being extra careful not to tread anywhere there was a semblance of a print, and they were everywhere. Sam was no fool. He knew what he was looking at. He looked at the headless bodies then up at Bob.
'How many Bob?’ His face was white.
'Three. But they didn't kill the campers. Two Dogmen did.’
'Dogmen? Here? Don’t Dogmen and Sasquatch hate each other?’
An experienced tracker and hunter himself, Sam knew Bob would by now have a pretty good picture in his mind as to what happened just from reading the ground. ‘Goddammit Bob! What in hell happened here?’
'I’m not sure. But it appears the Dogmen arrived first and attacked the camp,’ gesturing towards the bodies, he continued,
‘Poor fella got off several rounds. He was loaded with double-ought buck for deer. Fat lot of good that did him.’
Bob pointed at a basketball sized rock lying near the fire. It had what looked like strands of stringy black hair caught in dried blood on one side, ‘A Squatch family got involved and chased them off.’
'What? Why in hell would they do that?’
'I wish I knew... but there’s more. The campers had a baby here. I found this about a hundred yards into the forest.’ Bob held up a diaper and passed it to Sam. ‘It’s clean and fresh. I'm guessing the baby was took by the Squatches. I suppose they don’t see the point to diapers and discarded it.’
'Oh Jesus. It gets worse.’ Sam was looking past the diaper he was holding up at two men approaching the camp. One was completely out of place in the forest with a dark shirt sporting a plain blue tie. The crisply ironed shirt was neatly tucked into tight dark trousers. Morning dew and dust clung to his shiny black city shoes. His partner was much larger and relatively unkept, wearing dark glasses that were almost hidden behind his long hair and untrimmed beard. Although bulky, this man moved with a fluidity that spoke of military and familiarity with the forest.
Bob frowned. ‘Feds?’
'Looks like it.’
'Gentlemen...’ the sharp-dressed one spoke first, not even looking around him at the devastated camp. ‘Which one of you would be Mr Gurney?’
'That’d be me.’ Bob held out his hand.
The smile didn’t reach his eyes as the man refused Bob's offered hand. Instead he raised his own holding a black wallet that was displaying a card with a printed badge on it. He snapped it closed before Bob could read it, explaining his credentials instead, “Mr Black, Department of the Interior. This is Mr White. Tell me Mr Gurney, how did you happen upon this dreadful scene?”
Bob glanced at Sam, who rolled his eyes.
'Well, about 1:20 this morning I was hiking a couple of miles down the valley when I heard screaming and gunshots. So I headed out here towards the noise...’
'What were you doing way out here in the middle of the night?’
'I am a researcher.’
'Researcher of what, Mr Gurney’
Bob hesitated, but plunged in... ‘I research Bigfoot.’ He turned to where Mr Black’s partner was walking into the camp.
‘Hey! That’s a crime scene! You’ll disturb the prints!’ The man ignored him and finished walking over to the first headless body to stand over it and look down.
'Are you a police officer, Mr Gurney?’ Asked the man calling himself Mr Black.
'No Goddammit! I told you. I’m a researcher!’
'Oh that’s right. A Bigfoot Researcher... very amusing.’ Mr Black did not look the slightest bit amused, 'I will ask you again Mr Gurney... what do you believe happened here?'
Bob went quiet, then said between gritted teeth, ‘Something attacked the camp last night and ripped these people’s heads off.’
'Really? Some of your Bigfoot friends?’
'No. They came later.’ Bob said, as he glared into the Fed’s eyes. The man was cold as ice.
'Perhaps they arrived in flying saucers, Mr Gurney?’ Bob fought the urge to punch the man right in his deadpan face. His thoughts of violence were interrupted by Mr White approaching.
The big man's voice was deep even for his size. He said one word
‘Grizzly.’
Bob felt the anger burning his face, ‘Wasn't no goddam Grizzly that did this and you know it!’
Sam grabbed his arm.
Mr Black was unperturbed by Bob's barely controlled rage, ‘It was a Grizzly Mr Gurney. We will resolve this matter from here. Thank you for your good citizenship in reporting it. If you don’t immediately leave we will arrest you as a suspect in a double homicide.’ Both men turned away dismissively and walked back towards the road.
'Why you son of a...’ Bob started and made as if to follow them.
'Bob!’ Sam pulled at his arm. ‘Leave it!’
Just then a clattering roar filled their ears as a dark black shape loomed overhead, the downdraft from its rotors thrashing the trees, showering leaves and sticks down upon them.
Bob stood and watched in disbelief as the camp was flattened even further. Ash from the dead fire kicked up in a thick grey cloud and spread everywhere. Dust and leaves formed a maelstrom, obliterating the tracks and blowing bits of camp detritus about like fall leaves.
Before the clattering storm had even begun to fade another helicopter flew over in the same direction. Where the first had been bristling with heavy machine guns in this one Bob caught a glimpse of grim, camouflage-painted faces looking out of its open sides before it too disappeared over the trees.
<em>This chapter immediately follows chapter 1 which can be read for free here:</em> https://www.sasquatchstories.com/sasqua ... st-a-novel
'Bob, what in hell happened here?’
Bob Gurney turned and watched as the Park Ranger approached him from the direction of the road. The Ranger’s eyes were wide as he stared at the torn up tent.
'Hi Sam. God, you took your time, it’s midmorning. I called you right after I called 911! That was at 2:30!’
'Yeah, I know. Thanks for dragging me out of bed.’
'I think this is worth it, don’t you?’ Bob asked as he gestured over to where the campers' headless corpses lay.
Sam's eyes followed the direction of Bob's arm and he saw the bodies for the first time, ‘Oh sweet Jesus! What in hell...’
Both men were silent as their eyes took it all in, Bob for the umpteenth time since he had come across the camp several hours ago, Sam for the first time.
Bob watched Sam’s eyes go almost immediately over to the brush, scanning it with more than a touch of fear in them. They widened further when he noticed the two clear paths of broken brush leading into the trees. It looked like someone had driven a small tractor through them.
He looked back towards the bodies, hesitated, then started over towards them.
'Stop! There are tracks everywhere. Don’t mess them up.’
Sam froze and looked down. There, in the crazy mix of ash, blood and dirt was a perfect footprint. It was like a human’s but far too big for any human. Bob noticed Sam’s eyes widen again as he studied the print he knew was there. He had used his time waiting for Sam wisely and had already carefully surveyed the area, being extra careful not to tread anywhere there was a semblance of a print, and they were everywhere. Sam was no fool. He knew what he was looking at. He looked at the headless bodies then up at Bob.
'How many Bob?’ His face was white.
'Three. But they didn't kill the campers. Two Dogmen did.’
'Dogmen? Here? Don’t Dogmen and Sasquatch hate each other?’
An experienced tracker and hunter himself, Sam knew Bob would by now have a pretty good picture in his mind as to what happened just from reading the ground. ‘Goddammit Bob! What in hell happened here?’
'I’m not sure. But it appears the Dogmen arrived first and attacked the camp,’ gesturing towards the bodies, he continued,
‘Poor fella got off several rounds. He was loaded with double-ought buck for deer. Fat lot of good that did him.’
Bob pointed at a basketball sized rock lying near the fire. It had what looked like strands of stringy black hair caught in dried blood on one side, ‘A Squatch family got involved and chased them off.’
'What? Why in hell would they do that?’
'I wish I knew... but there’s more. The campers had a baby here. I found this about a hundred yards into the forest.’ Bob held up a diaper and passed it to Sam. ‘It’s clean and fresh. I'm guessing the baby was took by the Squatches. I suppose they don’t see the point to diapers and discarded it.’
'Oh Jesus. It gets worse.’ Sam was looking past the diaper he was holding up at two men approaching the camp. One was completely out of place in the forest with a dark shirt sporting a plain blue tie. The crisply ironed shirt was neatly tucked into tight dark trousers. Morning dew and dust clung to his shiny black city shoes. His partner was much larger and relatively unkept, wearing dark glasses that were almost hidden behind his long hair and untrimmed beard. Although bulky, this man moved with a fluidity that spoke of military and familiarity with the forest.
Bob frowned. ‘Feds?’
'Looks like it.’
'Gentlemen...’ the sharp-dressed one spoke first, not even looking around him at the devastated camp. ‘Which one of you would be Mr Gurney?’
'That’d be me.’ Bob held out his hand.
The smile didn’t reach his eyes as the man refused Bob's offered hand. Instead he raised his own holding a black wallet that was displaying a card with a printed badge on it. He snapped it closed before Bob could read it, explaining his credentials instead, “Mr Black, Department of the Interior. This is Mr White. Tell me Mr Gurney, how did you happen upon this dreadful scene?”
Bob glanced at Sam, who rolled his eyes.
'Well, about 1:20 this morning I was hiking a couple of miles down the valley when I heard screaming and gunshots. So I headed out here towards the noise...’
'What were you doing way out here in the middle of the night?’
'I am a researcher.’
'Researcher of what, Mr Gurney’
Bob hesitated, but plunged in... ‘I research Bigfoot.’ He turned to where Mr Black’s partner was walking into the camp.
‘Hey! That’s a crime scene! You’ll disturb the prints!’ The man ignored him and finished walking over to the first headless body to stand over it and look down.
'Are you a police officer, Mr Gurney?’ Asked the man calling himself Mr Black.
'No Goddammit! I told you. I’m a researcher!’
'Oh that’s right. A Bigfoot Researcher... very amusing.’ Mr Black did not look the slightest bit amused, 'I will ask you again Mr Gurney... what do you believe happened here?'
Bob went quiet, then said between gritted teeth, ‘Something attacked the camp last night and ripped these people’s heads off.’
'Really? Some of your Bigfoot friends?’
'No. They came later.’ Bob said, as he glared into the Fed’s eyes. The man was cold as ice.
'Perhaps they arrived in flying saucers, Mr Gurney?’ Bob fought the urge to punch the man right in his deadpan face. His thoughts of violence were interrupted by Mr White approaching.
The big man's voice was deep even for his size. He said one word
‘Grizzly.’
Bob felt the anger burning his face, ‘Wasn't no goddam Grizzly that did this and you know it!’
Sam grabbed his arm.
Mr Black was unperturbed by Bob's barely controlled rage, ‘It was a Grizzly Mr Gurney. We will resolve this matter from here. Thank you for your good citizenship in reporting it. If you don’t immediately leave we will arrest you as a suspect in a double homicide.’ Both men turned away dismissively and walked back towards the road.
'Why you son of a...’ Bob started and made as if to follow them.
'Bob!’ Sam pulled at his arm. ‘Leave it!’
Just then a clattering roar filled their ears as a dark black shape loomed overhead, the downdraft from its rotors thrashing the trees, showering leaves and sticks down upon them.
Bob stood and watched in disbelief as the camp was flattened even further. Ash from the dead fire kicked up in a thick grey cloud and spread everywhere. Dust and leaves formed a maelstrom, obliterating the tracks and blowing bits of camp detritus about like fall leaves.
Before the clattering storm had even begun to fade another helicopter flew over in the same direction. Where the first had been bristling with heavy machine guns in this one Bob caught a glimpse of grim, camouflage-painted faces looking out of its open sides before it too disappeared over the trees.
<em>This chapter immediately follows chapter 1 which can be read for free here:</em> https://www.sasquatchstories.com/sasqua ... st-a-novel
