Макс Брукс - Devolution - A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre

I spun on these thoughts for about half an hour. I’m not sure how far down the road I got. Nowhere near the bridge. You really do forget the difference between walking and driving. I probably could have gone a little farther though. I almost did, distracted with my psycho-musings, but when I rounded this little bend, I noticed a big boulder sitting right in the middle of the road.

I should say now that my eyes were already dry from lack of sleep, and the little particles of ash didn’t help. That was why I couldn’t be sure how big the boulder was, or how far away. I remember thinking that it must have rolled down there within the last few hours. How else could Tony have gotten around it to see that the bridge was actually gone? I could even see the tire marks, four of them to mark the two directions. I remember feeling a sense of finality, that bridge or no bridge, we couldn’t drive out now with that giant rock in the way.

Then I saw the rock move.

It shifted in place, grew, then disappeared behind the trees. I also thought I saw it change shape, lengthen, narrow, even spread out limbs like a tree. Arms? I rubbed my eyes, blinked hard.

When I looked again, the road was clear. The boulder was definitely gone. Then, as the wind shifted in my direction, I smelled it. Eggs and garbage.

I didn’t consciously consider what to do next. No internal debate. This was reflex. I turned and started walking back. My eyes kept scanning back and forth in a shallow arc, like they teach you on the first day of driver’s school. I tried to keep my pace steady, my breathing constant. I tried not to dwell on what I’d seen. An animal, a deer. Maybe that “boulder” was just a speck in my eye.

But the smell was getting stronger, and I couldn’t keep from speeding up. I thought I saw something move off to my right, a sudden space opening between two trees.

I quickened again.

Silly. Irrational. Tired. Information overload from the news mixed with memory flashes of the bloody, butchered rabbit.

A light trot, at first, long controlled breaths. That feeling. The back of my neck. Being watched. My trot became a jog, my breath thundering in my ears.

I could not have imagined the howl. I definitely heard it, just like the other day. Deep, rising pitch, echoing off the trees. Lightning kicked up from my stomach.

I ran.

Sprinting, gasping, the world shaking in front of me.

And fell. Just like in one of those stupid, cheesy horror flicks when the dumb blonde eats it just before the knife-wielding psycho gets her. At least I had the presence of mind to close my eyes, hold my breath, but after face-planting in the ash, I couldn’t help but inhale.

Coughing, choking, eyes blurry and stinging, I tore forward.

Don’t turn! I remember that clearly. Shouting in my brain. Don’t turn! Don’t think! GOGOGO!

Thighs burning, lungs.

I ran until I saw the roofs poking just above the driveway rise. The endorphins hit. Made it. Home. Safe!

Dan!

He was coming toward me, Mostar behind him.

Shocked expressions, both of them, utter surprise.

I must have looked ridiculous, covered in sweat and ash, rasping and wheezing. I still feel ridiculous. Falling into Dan’s arms and then dry heaving on his chest.

It was a few minutes before I got enough wind back to explain where I’d been. I even admitted that I thought an animal might have been chasing me. I didn’t say what it was. No details. It couldn’t have been that large, given how big the trees were. It probably didn’t exist at all. But the smell, could I have imagined that?

Mostar’s face was this mix of bewilderment and… concern? I’m sorry, I’m so fried. Dan keeps telling me to go to bed. But I want to get all this down first. Sorry if my words are getting fuzzy.

That look on Mostar’s face. I don’t pretend to know what it was, or why, when Dan was helping me home, she kept her eyes on the woods.

Animals! They’re everywhere. Squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits. I get little guilt shivers whenever I see rabbits look over at me, like they know I helped chop up their sister. There are deer too. I’ve seen half a dozen. I can see their ribs. They look thin, hungry. And nervous. All the animals seem skittish. Three times I watched them freeze. Every single one. Like someone hit pause on a movie. And they all stared back in the same direction, toward Rainier. At first, I thought it might be something with the volcano. Animals are more sensitive to that stuff, right? Aren’t house pets supposed to know when an earthquake is coming?

It didn’t. Have anything to do with Rainier, I mean. Nothing else happened each time they froze.

Are they afraid of something besides the volcano? They’re all moving in the same direction, migrating, it looks like, away from the eruption. But the freezing. Are they being—okay, I just had to stop before writing that word. It sounds melodramatic, but…

Pursued?

Are they being chased like that rabbit that time? I keep thinking about what chased me. If it wasn’t in my head. A bear? I’m kind of two minds about that. Being pursued by a real bear would mean I’m not totally losing it or… or I’m just totally wimpy to run from a dust speck in my eye. But the first option would also mean there’s a real bear out there. Do bears attack people? What was that movie where Leo gets mauled by one for, like, twenty minutes? Was it based on a true story? If there is a bear out there, I can’t blame the animals for being scared of it.

They’re not scared of us though, not the way they’re chomping through all the fruit trees. Well, all except ours. Good call, Mostar. But the Perkins-Forsters, the Boothes, the Durants. No one’s tried to shoo the animals away. And Palomino’s even feeding the deer! I’m not sure if the girl actually liked it. She wasn’t smiling. Effie was enjoying herself, crouching behind Palomino, holding her arm up to the deer’s snout, constantly whispering into her daughter’s ear while Carmen stood approvingly at the kitchen door.

And Bambi sure liked it. He ate three apple slices in as many seconds, slices that Pal and her moms might really miss later. Look, I get it. I love animals too. And I do feel for them. The drought, the bad berry harvest. And now they’re being driven out of their homes. Of course they’re hungry. But so are we! Spinning on this makes me wonder if these cute little critters aren’t actually more dangerous than a bear. After all, if they’re eating our food supply, aren’t they threatening us with starvation? Death by competition. I can’t believe I’d ever think this way, but after hearing about the riots in Seattle…

That’s where I am now. Not in Seattle, in the car, listening to news about Seattle. The violence has “tipped over.” That’s how they’re putting it. “Food riots.” Mobs are looting grocery stores, beating people up. Killing some. Stabbings, shootings. And not just in the city. Something about a sniper on the I-90. That’s the main east–west highway across the mountains, the one they’re depending on for supplies.

This guy, it sounded like just one guy, the “I-90 Sniper,” he hid in the trees and started shooting at these army trucks. The road’s closed now. They don’t know if there are more snipers out there.