David Golemon - Primeval

The animal held the man closer to its face and sniffed the body. It growled deep in its throat and shook the guard one last time, and when it stopped it glanced across the river once more toward the Russian encampment. It growled again, this time deeper in its chest until it finally escaped its apelike mouth.

The beast sniffed the air and then lowered the man in its grasp. Then it raised the body by its neck and tossed it into the Stikine as if it were nothing more than a stone. With one last look at the men across the river, the beast turned and walked into the dark woods.

Fifty-six miles downriver, Professor Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III awoke so suddenly from dreaming of that long-ago summer of 1968 that he at first failed to realize where he was. He grimaced and then rolled over on the sleeping bag after tossing the top half off of his body, knowing that Mendenhall must have covered him after he had fallen asleep. He felt around and then raised the bottom half of the bag and pulled out a large rock that was jabbing painfully into his backside. He hefted the large stone and was just drawing back to toss it into the river, when a hand reached out and took his wrist. Charlie almost let out a wail of fright until he looked up and even without his glasses he realized it was the Frenchman, Farbeaux, who had stopped his rock toss. Standing beside him was Colonel Collins, who held his right index finger up to his lips. The stone fell from Charlie's grasp and it clinked onto the ground.

"What is it?" Charlie whispered when he saw their worried faces.

Instead of answering, Jack used hand signals to someone in the rear of their cold camp; Charlie then watched Carl Everett and Punchy Alexander emerge from the tree line. Then he placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Something came across the river about five minutes ago," Collins said, looking from a scared Ellenshaw to Will Mendenhall, who came in from the forest side of the camp. He stopped and shook his head in the negative at Collins. "Take a whiff with your nose, Doc. Have you ever smelled anything like that before?"

Ellenshaw turned his nose to the slight wind coming from the north. He did smell something on the air — it was an even deeper forest smell than what was naturally given on a regular wind. Earthy, most people would call it. Wetness, much like a waterlogged dog or other animal, mixed with the rich earth of the woods. He indeed had smelled that odor before.

"I have, once, many years ago." Charlie slowly stood and looked around. The moon was setting and he felt the small amount of wind that had been present a moment before, slowly subside. "They are close by."

Collins and Farbeaux were feeling something that the others besides Everett had yet to catch onto. They took a step toward the river, watching as they went. Then they stopped and one head turned the opposite of the other, slowly circling the area around them, finally settling on the trees behind their camp where Everett and Mendenhall had searched a moment before.

"Not even the Russians can be that brazen, or that stealthy," Will said as he looked around in the direction he had just come from with the old-fashioned Colt .45 Peacemaker six-shot revolver he had removed from his pack. The old woman had passed it to him back at the fishing camp saying, he looked more the fast-draw type than the others.

"I think the Russians are fast asleep many miles upriver, young Lieutenant; this is something else," Farbeaux said as he shook his head. "Whatever it was is gone now, Colonel."

"I told you, it's them, " Charlie said, acting excited. "They are close."

Jack nodded his head, knowing Henri was right — whatever had come across the river was now gone. He was also taking Charlie a little more seriously than he had before. Their stealthy visitors were either gone, or went to ground. He looked at his watch and sighed. "Well, it's 0440, let's break out the Sterno and get some coffee going."

"Is that wise? The smell of coffee travels a long way," Charlie asked as he started rolling up his sleeping bag and then he looked up at Mendenhall. "And that I did see in a western."

Jack continued to look around the camp. "Wind is picking up again and coming from the north, Doc, the Russians are in the opposite direction," he said as if speaking to himself.

As the others watched the colonel slowly walk away, it was Henri who caught up with Jack at the river's edge. Collins turned and saw the Frenchman looking at a spot directly across from them on the northern riverbank.

"I'm glad you were alert during your watch, Colonel," Jack said turning back to face the river.

"Let's be honest here, you were as awake as I. No sleeping man has those kinds of reactions."

Collins gave a false smile, but didn't turn to face Farbeaux. "Whatever came across that river was fast and large as hell, it would have awoken a dead man."

"If you say so," Henri replied. "Now, what do we do about whatever it was, now that it is obviously over on this side of the river?"

"Nothing."

"That doesn't sound like you, Colonel."

"Whatever it was, all it did was join the others of its kind that were already following us, Henri." Jack finally faced Farbeaux. "In case you haven't noticed, we've been surrounded by whatever is out there every foot upriver we've traveled."

The Frenchman watched Jack turn and walk away. "Are you always so cheerful in the mornings, Colonel?"

Sarah McIntire and Jason Ryan had been so exhausted that they just rolled two sleeping bags out by the Bell Ranger where they had worked at tearing into the battered engine compartment most of the day and into the night. They had discovered that the only part that needed attention outside of a few rubber hoses was the fuel injector. It lay in several pieces on a blanket next to the skid of the Ranger. Jason said that he would be able to repair the minute holes in the complicated fuel delivery system with some melted lead or solder.

Finally, Sarah and Jason had called it quits and lowered the gas flow on the lanterns and went right to sleep without claiming the offer made by Marla and her grandmother of a hot meal. At 4:50 A.M., it was Marla who shook them awake.

"You have to come up to the porch — now," the girl said as she pulled a shawl tightly around her shoulders. Sarah saw that when the words came, the girl's eyes were not watching them but were on the woods to her right.

"What is it?" Sarah asked as her and Ryan sat up.

The girl didn't explain; she stood and started walking back to the general store. Sarah watched her go and then her eyes traveled to the porch. There she saw in the darkness the girl's grandmother standing with arms crossed, watching them.

"I think we better do what she says," Sarah said as she started shaking out of the sleeping bag.

"What? Is there a deer stampede headed our way or something?" Ryan asked, shaking his head and trying desperately to get the kinks in his muscles stretched out.

Suddenly, they both sensed the change that came over the fishing camp. The utter silence told them something was happening that they couldn't see, but could sense. Sarah looked at Ryan, and without hesitation stood and started for the grocery store and didn't look back until they had joined the old woman and Marla on the steps of the porch. When they turned, Sarah watched the woods, her eyes eventually moving to the river, which was now in total darkness since the setting of the moon. She could barely make out the helicopter as it sat before them only fifty yards away.

"What is it?" Ryan asked the old woman, who was watching the same area as Sarah.

"We've had visitors in the night," Helena Petrovich said as her eyes moved from the trees to the open area before the store. "I'm surprised you didn't wake up when they were rummagin' around that whirly chopper you were working on."