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

“There!” Dan’s finger pointed farther up the ridge, amongst the trees. Right where the Boothes had dumped their compost. Something was moving up there. Dark shapes in the dim porch light. More than one. We could see branches moving, a brush of fur. I caught sight of a full body, with lighter fur than the rest, auburn. Then it disappeared.

I suddenly remembered and said, “iPad!” Dan grabbed his tablet off the night table. I didn’t think about the light from the screen, how it illuminated both of our faces.

Eyes. At least three beady sets. They’d been darting around, attracted by each new porch light. But when we turned the iPad screen to our faces, all three turned on us. I wanted to duck, but instead told Dan to zoom in. The image was too grainy, especially on video setting. I still can’t believe we don’t own a real camera! They stared at us for a second, we stared back. Then a bright funnel spread out between our house and Mostar’s. Another one behind us!

We turned for the back window. We should have gone on the porch. Too “chickenshit,” as Frank would say. We did catch a view of it crossing from Mostar’s yard to ours. This one had patches of gray fur. The muzzle. Down the swinging arms. The skin was lighter than the first one I’d seen, and spotted. Age? I still don’t know. But I’m pretty sure it, she, was female. I haven’t mentioned this before, mainly because I didn’t realize I was looking at them, but the other one I’d seen had a large, dangling scrotum, noticeable even across the village. This one though, she didn’t have anything between her legs, and I could clearly see small pancaked breasts sagging on her hairless chest.

We only spied her for a second, not enough time to get the iPad up. She ducked under the balcony. Then a scraping, popping noise, and the lid from our compost bin flew across our yard like a Frisbee. We could hear grunts now. Low, quick.

Hm-mhmh-hm.

Rummaging through our bin, probably frustrated because we haven’t been here long enough to leave much. We listened for a few more seconds. Dan looked at me questioningly, making a two-fingered walking motion with his hand. Should we head downstairs? Just close enough to get some video? The porch light would catch it perfectly, and the burglar alarm was still on. I was considering it when this sharp, loud growl pulled us back to the front window.

The Common House. There were two of them. Males. They were smaller than the first one I’d seen, a little shorter and narrower across the shoulders. Younger? They were also identical. Twin One and Twin Two. Brothers? Do brothers fight like that?

Because they were fighting! One had a hand on the bin’s lid. Two tried to nudge him aside. One snarled and with bright, bared teeth, he bodily shoved Two away. Two snarled back and charged, grabbing the other side of the bin. One gave a gurgling bark noise and slapped or sideways punched Two in the face, knocking him back before turning on him with a loud growl. Canine fangs biting down hard into Two’s shoulder. And hanging on despite the three quick punches to the ear.

I could see the blood, bright red in the Common House light. Ironically, the light almost killed our view, catching the ash as their tussling threw up a thick gray cloud. It would have been cartoonish, this flurry of flailing limbs, if it hadn’t been so utterly terrifying. I’ve seen a few fights on Animal Planet and once in our neighborhood a couple of dogs got into it. But in real life, and with this much power. The size, the rage. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I think the ground was shaking!

One rolled off Two, kicking him in the face, then rose to a crouch. Two mirrored his stance. They circled each other for a few seconds. Teeth bared, arms raised. Their shrieks, high, chattering calls. They lunged at each other, swiping and dodging. One finally caught Two, biting him in the stomach. Two howled, bashing One repeatedly with hammer blows to the back. Thumping, bass drum impacts.

Then this ROAR ! From the darkness, rolling across the village like a wave. The windows did shake this time. I’m sure of it. And from out of the gloom, this hulking mass. As tall as the first male I’d seen. Taller, I’m sure. And female! Wider hips. Breasts. Breast! One had been torn off. I’m not making this up. I checked the iPad footage later. Torn or bitten and scarred over. Her whole body was scarred. Claw marks, four jagged lines down the side of one thigh. Scrapes across both forearms. A bite mark, from a bear, maybe, or another one of them, in her left shoulder, like the kind One had given Two.

One must have regretted that now, when this new woman, the mother? The alpha? Isn’t that the right term? When she smashed him on the side of the face with her hand. He went sprawling, from the blow or just fear, rolling to a squat at her feet. Two didn’t need the blow to assume that position. He shrunk as she turned to him. She roared again, at both of them, and raised her arms for another strike. They cowered, heads down, with these little, doglike whimpers.

I must have done something. My body or just my head, some movement in the iPad’s glow, because suddenly that giant, scarred nightmare head whipped up in my direction. Her eyes locked on mine. And she saw me. I know she did. She reacted. Her lips pulled back into a growl.

And then a burglar alarm.

It was coming from the Boothes’ house, and as Dan and I looked over, we saw another one dashing up the slope behind the house. Its legs seemed much longer than the others, reminding me, now that I look back, of the one that chased me that day. Because now I know I was chased. I know it was one of them. This guy? Because it was a guy, I could see. The first one to arrive? A scout? These are all thoughts I’m having now. Not then.

At that moment I was just shocked at how quickly the other ones had fled. Because when Dan and I turned back to the Common House, we saw that the other three were gone. All of them. All the movement up and around the village, even behind us. We checked the back window as well. The older one scrounging in our compost bin. Gone.

We waited. Watched. Listened. We didn’t move for a full five minutes, which feels a lot longer than it sounds on paper. Silence. Stillness. One by one the outside motion lights timed out. And just as I was mulling over the idea of going outside to check on our compost bin, Dan grabbed my arm and said, “Mostar?”

There she was, all five determined feet of her, trudging across the driveway toward the Common House. She stopped at the black and gray patchwork from the fight, stooping as if to examine something. She looked over at the compost bin, turned back out toward the ridge. Hands on hips. Placid.

Dan muttered, “What the hell…”

But I knew. I could see that all the house lights were still on, and a few people—Reinhardt and the Boothes—were staring at her from their upstairs windows. I told Dan, “She’s letting us all know it’s okay to come out. She’s calling a meeting.”

We were the first ones to reach her, but not by much. The Boothes, robe and slippers, came jogging out toward us. So did Reinhardt (in a kimono!). Carmen was the only one from her house. Effie and Pal watched from the living room window.

“Did you see them?” I’m not sure who said that first, Bobbi or Carmen, but Dan answered with, “Oh yeah, we saw them!” and before anyone could respond, he added, “Those were definitely not bears!”

Whatever Vincent was going to say, Dan’s words shut him up. Carmen too went into reset mode. Mostar kept quiet, maybe waiting to see how that truth would land. She might have regretted it a second later when Reinhardt raised a questioning finger. “I’m sure,” he said in this very professorial tone, “that we all think we saw something other than an ursine family, but… let me remind everyone that given this poor light, the stress we’re all under, the human mind’s ability to fabricate—”