David Golemon - Primeval

"When who was rummaging around?" Ryan asked, not liking the fact that something was so close to them and they never knew it.

The old woman didn't answer. She pulled her granddaughter closer to her and placed a protective arm around her.

"Are you saying that the local Indians steal things during the night?" Jason persisted.

Helena finally spared Ryan a look. "The Indians here 'bouts don't steal, navy man. And before you ask, we don't, either."

"He wasn't inferring—"

"Let's just say it would be better if you stretch out on the porch till the sun comes up."

In the distance, two gunshots rang out. They waited, but there was only one other that followed. Then silence once more took hold.

"Who in the hell's out there?" Sarah asked when the echoes stopped.

"Don't know," the old woman said looking toward the sound of the gunfire. "Maybe we should try for some sleep; Marla and I have a workday tomorrow."

"I think I can safely say, I'm done sleeping for the night," Ryan said, taking a step off the porch and walking toward the helicopter.

"Well, why don't we eat some breakfast then," Marla said hurriedly as she took three quick steps down the wooden stairs and quickly took Jason by the arm. "By that time, the sun'll be up."

Sarah could see that the girl was frightened and didn't want Ryan to return to the chopper.

"That's a good idea; we missed dinner last night," Sarah said, looking Ryan in the eyes and then using her head to get him to return to the porch.

"You know, it's not polite to keep secrets from strangers," Ryan said, relenting to Sarah's silent request and taking a step back as the girl pulled on his arm.

The old woman watched all three enter the store, then she called out: "Secrets are how privacy is kept, Lieutenant Ryan."

Two hours later the sun had crested over the small hills that hid the warmth of the new day till the last moment before it actually appeared over the closest of the giant trees.

Ryan stepped out onto the porch and was feeling better about the early morning wakeup call than he had before he ate a full stomach's worth of a breakfast that he knew was going to shorten his life by at least three years. He had never eaten so many eggs, sausage, biscuits and gravy in one setting. He patted his stomach and then made his way down the porch.

As he approached the Bell Ranger, he immediately saw that things were not as they were left when he and Sarah ceased working the night before. The blanket he had laid the fuel injector on was hanging from one of the rotor blades and even their sleeping bags had been tossed about like they were discarded rags. That meant that someone had been there after they had returned to the store early this morning.

"Damn it!" Ryan said angrily as Sarah stepped out onto the porch and saw him jogging toward the helicopter. She quickly followed.

As he approached, he started scanning the ground for the fuel injector. As he looked he saw the old tool box that the Petrov's had given him turned over and the old rusty tools were spread all over the rocky soil.

"What happened?" Sarah asked as she caught up with Ryan.

"Someone is screwing around with us," Jason said as he kicked the tool box upright. "The damn fuel injector is gone."

"Maybe it's on the ground somewhere," she said hopefully.

"All the other parts are here, but the injector is gone. It's large enough where you could spot it right off. Look, here are the hoses, even the housing screws."

"They took the one part that would get us into the air," Sarah said, deflating, as suspects started flashing through her mind.

"Was the part in need of repair shiny — you know, bright?"

They both turned to see Marla standing just behind them. She was fully dressed in her work clothes and had bundles of paper-wrapped bait fish piled in her arms.

"Yes, it was shiny aluminum," Ryan answered with hands on hips. "Why, do Indians like shiny things?"

"Grandmother said it wasn't Indians." Marla looked around, and then looked at the river. "As a matter of fact, they don't seem to be showing up this morning for their bait."

Sarah watched the girl as she scanned the river. Then she took a step toward Marla.

"Who took the part?" she asked, not trying to push the young girl too hard.

Marla laid the bundles of fish down on the stony ground. "I think if we look real hard, we may find it out there," she said pointing into the trees. "They usually get bored pretty quickly with things that they steal."

"Who gets bored with the shiny things?" Sarah asked.

"They mean no harm and just as I said, I bet we can find the thing you're looking for. They like shiny things is all," she repeated, scared that Sarah and Ryan were mad at her.

"It's the Indians, Sarah, come on," Ryan said, looking from McIntire to the girl. "Look, Marla, they won't be in trouble, but we need that part. We can't leave our friends out there with no way back. They'll need us, I guarantee you that."

"I'm sorry, I'll help you look. I bet it's not that far away," she said biting her lip and looking nervously about the woods.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Ryan said as he reached down and retrieved the M-16 from where he had laid it the night before, thinking about why the Indians didn't take the weapon when they took the part.

"Lieutenant, the Tlingit are not thieves. They are the most honest people in the world, if they are guilty of anything, it's pride in what they do — living out here all alone. They live here where no man can survive without assistance from the outside world, they always have."

"Except for your family," Sarah reminded her.

"But that's just it, without the Tlingit, none of my ancestors could have made it here." Her eyes softened. "They did not take your part."

Ryan let out a loud breath, reached down and tossed Sarah her AK-47, and then started for the tree line.

Sarah watched him leave and then looked and made sure there was a round in the chamber of the Russian-made weapon. With a sad look at Marla — feeling she was being far less than honest with them — she turned and followed Ryan into the tree line. The girl quickly followed.

Lynn had managed losing her tag-team guards for a few minutes, just long enough to relieve herself in the woods surrounding the camp. She could smell something that may be breakfast, or something akin to it. As she started toward the sounds and smells of the camp, that was when she saw it — or more accurate — them. There were a series of large footprints, the size of which were enormous, leading from the thick grove of trees to about the spot where Lynn had entered the woods to seek relief. As she bent over and looked closer at the footprints, she saw that they were almost human in appearance, with the exception of the size, as they were at least twenty-four inches in length and twelve inches wide. She swallowed as she turned her head back to where she had been moments before and saw that there were two differing sets, one coming, and one leaving the area. Whatever had made the prints had been watching the camp on the south side of the river.

Lynn stood, her eyes retuning to the giant impression at her feet. With total trepidation she laid her own size six shoe next to it. She closed her eyes when she realized that her small foot only covered the large toe of whatever creature made the print. Every legend and myth about the dark woods of the northwest came flooding back into her memory from childhood. When she found that she had actually stopped breathing, she opened her eyes and allowed the intrusion of the real world to flood back into her senses once more.

As Lynn took another deep breath, she first heard, and then saw several men running toward the large electronics tent. There were shouts and angry sounding orders being given, and then Sagli stepped out and looked around until he saw Lynn standing at the edge of the tree line. He quickly walked up to her, his hair hanging free and wild.