David Golemon - Primeval

Just as the lead Spetsnaz was going to motion them back to the rest of the group, he caught wind of something on the breeze. It was a pungent odor, an earthy smell that came from all around them. Then he strained his eyes as he caught sight of a large tree ahead of them. He had sensed it more than actually seeing movement. He raised a hand and caught the attention of the other commando on the far side of the technician. He waved him forward. As he approached the large pine, the shadow broke free of its cover. It moved so fast that the Russian couldn't react. He brought the automatic up and shot three times, but he knew his silenced bullets struck nothing but the tree and the air. The shadow shot back into the trees in a frenzy of dark motion.

The commando eased forward and then leaned against the same tree where he had seen the strange shadow. He saw a bullet hole where one of his rounds had struck, and then he looked down. His eyes widened when he saw the soft sand around the base of the giant tree. The footprint was larger than two of his feet, in width and length. He kept the pistol's aim outward as he kneeled down to examine the impression. The toes were distinct and the heel had been planted hard enough to leave a depression eight inches deep in the soft earth and had actually crushed one of the thick, exposed roots of the giant pine tree. He looked up in more wonder than fear. Whatever had made the print had to weigh in access of a five hundred kilos. He straightened, and then he saw a darker area on the tree where he had seen the shadow. He touched a finger to the spot and it came away with rich, copper-smelling blood. The soldier wiped the redness onto his pants and then motioned the others back toward the camp. His weapon never wavered from the area to their rear as they moved south toward the very welcoming sounds of men.

The forest was silent as the men moved. The breeze didn't seem to penetrate the woods on this side of the river as much as it had on the south side. The absence of wind made the forest seem depressive.

As the three men finally turned away and made their retreat faster than before, twenty more of the shadows broke free of their cover and went north. The forms were large, twice the size of most men, and they moved with an upright gate that made them swift and confident in their long strides.

The forest north of the Stikine River was coming to life.

Sarah had convinced Ryan that he would only kill them if he attempted to lift the large Sikorsky helicopter off the ground with only an hour of light left to them. So Marla had started to lead them back to the general store with the promise that whatever had disturbed them the night before would not return to cause further harm to the remaining helicopters. Even more skeptical than before, Ryan relented.

As they walked through the trees, Jason watched as Sarah confronted the girl.

"Now, are you going to tell us what's out there, and how you can guarantee the safety of the helicopters?"

"Because, I think they left here. I believe they started north last night. I just don't know for sure."

"There it is again— they, " Ryan said, slapping at a low hanging branch. "Come on, who are they? "

Marla smiled as Ryan caught up with her and Sarah.

"You are not the believing kind, Lieutenant, but I'll tell you. We are relative newcomers to this land. There were animals of every sort here many thousands of years before us. I've studied it as much as I could in the classes I have taken since I was a small child. I also have the stories passed down by my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Even the Tlingit have told me the stories of the old ones who live here."

"You've hinted at that already," Ryan said as he again moved a branch that Sarah and Marla had easily avoided.

"I never told you I am taking anthropology at school in Seattle, with my major being zoology, did I?" Marla asked.

Sarah smiled. "You know, Professor Ellenshaw is the tops in his field. You two should have hooked up."

"I didn't want to say anything to the professor at the time, but I have read every one of his published works. He's really a brilliant man. Too bad his beliefs got him run out of three universities. That shows how the world looks upon certain theories as being heretic in many ways."

"Doc Ellenshaw believes in a lot of things, but we're not as closed-minded as you would believe," Sarah said, reminding the girl of what she told her before.

Marla looked as though she were thinking something over, and then she stopped and faced Sarah and Ryan.

"We have something in the northern reaches that need to be left alone. They are ancient, far older than the men who have followed in their evolutionary slowness. They are animals, and then again they are not." She held a hand up when Jason angrily rolled his eyes and started to speak. "You wanted the truth, so I am going to give it to you the only way I can."

"Go ahead, Marla," Sarah said, looking back at Ryan and shaking her head, indicating that he should keep his personality in check.

"The truth of what's up here has been told since the time of early man, passed down by northern tribes, and even picked up by southern Indians as far south as the United States. They have been witness to the real truth of the Chulimantan for centuries upon centuries."

"Chulimantan," Sarah repeated.

Marla smiled and then relaxed, knowing she had at least one attentive person.

"Yes, Chulimantan, the old folk and Indians around these parts call them They Who Follow . The reasons why they were called this has been lost for millennia, but all the indigenous people take their legends as fact, and they don't apologize for it. They Who Follow once inhabited the great northwest from the Arctic Circle to Washington, Idaho, Oregon, California, and Nevada. They were soon forced out by the growing American population." Marla took a breath. "They have started to decline in their narrow lands now. Nature is weeding them out and, of course, they don't understand their diminishing family state, and lately, at least the last hundred years or so, they have become far more aggressive in their behavior."

"Can you tell me just what in the hell you're talking about?" Ryan asked.

It was Sarah's turn to smile as she finally understood without Marla naming her legend.

"She's talking about Sasquatch, or as we think of it, Bigfoot."

Ryan didn't say anything, he just looked from Sarah and then to Marla. A slow, ever-growing smile crossed his lips and expanded until he raised his right index finger at both of the women.

"Okay, you had me going there for minute," he chuckled. "Bigfoot — now that makes sense."

"Remember the Amazon, Jason. Why is this so much harder to believe?"

Ryan did remember the Amazon, although he never saw the legendary creature, half man and half fish, that roamed in that dark, hidden lagoon. The colonel said it was there, so he himself never questioned the sanity of everyone who had seen it — but still, Bigfoot?

"No… fucking… way." Ryan laughed out loud.

Marla smiled. "That is the attitude we hope the rest of the world takes, Mr. Ryan. With that widespread disbelief it will keep people out and far away from the Stikine."

Before Ryan could comment again, the pounding of wood on wood sounded from miles away.

"You see, they are communicating. That's their way."

"Do you understand what they are trying to say?" Sarah asked.

"Don't have to understand, they only do that when they feel they are threatened. The striking of wood means they are gathering."

"Jack." Sarah only said the one word.

"It would seem the Russians and your friends have attracted some unwanted attention," Marla said as she turned to finish the walk back to the store. "And when pushed into a corner, the beast that legend, your own Professor Ellenshaw, and my family know as a possible link to a prehistoric ape called Giganticus Pythicus, they will prove what a survivor they truly are."