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

I’m not sure if anyone thought about it that deeply, but when Carmen said, “What, no cookie dough!” we all broke into laughter. It felt so good to laugh.

Reinhardt, doling out bowls and spoons, invited us all to dig in. Dan scooped out a gluttonous chunk of sea salt caramel, then, bypassing the bowl, shoved the whole thing in his mouth, and moaned what I think is the word “sploosh” (a reference to his favorite show, Archer ). Nobody seemed to mind. Bobbi even joked, “You must really like the protein.” I don’t know if she meant Halo’s extra grams of protein or… something else, go Bobbi.

Pal, with eyes now half the size of her face, glanced at her parents for permission, then practically leapt onto the pancake and waffle. My favorite. I wasn’t greedy though, a few scoops at the bottom were more than enough.

Oh my God! You forget. Even though I’d been having a sweet ration since this began, a spoonful of agave or honey, or some of Mostar’s real brown sugar. It’s not the same. The surprise! That cold mix of cream, ice, and sweetener cocktail: sugar, stevia, and what, heaven?

“Not having any?” I looked over to see Dan offering the mint chip pint to Reinhardt. Sitting back in his chair, hands on his belly, he shook his head. “I’ve had enough.” And for a second, he looked genuinely chagrined. “I’ve been hoarding these for too long, intending to engulf them alone.”

“And in one sitting,” added Carmen, which made us all laugh again. Reinhardt too. Pink cheeked, he took the jibe in stride with a theatrical bow.

Still laughing, he gripped his wineglass and, to my utter surprise, pointed it toward me. “Our hostess!”

“We got us!” added Mostar, which prompted a chorus of “We got us!”

I felt my eyes sting, my throat tighten, as everyone burst out into spontaneous applause.

And only when the applause died, in that first moment of silence as we drank, did we hear the cries outside.

No one spoke, all of us probably wondering if we’d really heard it. But then, a moment later, crying. Human.

As a group, we dropped everything and rushed out into the night. It was clear, close to the village, maybe halfway up the ridge, in a densely wooded clump above the Boothes’ house.

A lone voice. Piercing. Agony. Like when you’re little, the sound you first hear from a friend who’s fallen hard. That long rush of diaphragm torment after the initial shocked inhale.

“Vincent?” Bobbi’s voice, wobbly, questioning.

Then she hollered, right next to me. “Vincent!”

Effie covered Palomino’s ears, leading her back inside as Vincent’s next long shriek broke into echoing sobs.

Bobbi looked at me. Why me? “He’s hurt,” then, to Dan, “We have to go get him!”

Dan stepped toward the sound. Just one step, because Mostar reached out to grab his arm. She missed, but held him firmly by a clump of shirt.

“No.”

Her expression was blank, practical.

“Don’t.”

More distant sobs, quick, soft, then suddenly launching into another long scream.

“He’s hurt!” Bobbi looked incredulously at Mostar, then to Dan. “He needs help!”

I saw Dan wiggle his arm slightly, pulling at Mostar’s grip. Testing?

She wouldn’t budge. “That’s what they want.”

It took me a second to realize what she meant. I suddenly wanted to throw up everything I’d just eaten.

Dan got it. I saw his shoulders sag.

Carmen and Reinhardt too, not the shoulders, but the understanding. A moment of surprise, then a mental shift, Carmen facing back out to the ridge with Reinhardt studying his shoes.

But Bobbi, “They!” She threw her hands up. “What ‘they’? You can’t hear them!”

“Can’t you smell them?” asked Mostar.

Even with the wind at our backs, the stench was overpowering.

“They’re keeping quiet on purpose.” Mostar kept her attention on the ridge. “They want to draw us out, pull us apart.” The way her eyes squinted, flicking from side to side. “Sniper trick.”

“Wha…,” Bobbi started to say, then, as if she’d just picked the winning lottery ticket, her whole face broke into this wide smile. “You’re crazy!” Shaking her head with this little half-chuckling gasp. “Crazy! Sonofabitch post-trauma…”

And then she spun back to the darkness. “Vincent! We’re coming, baby! We’re coming!” And over at Dan with a head-jerking c’mon !

And when he didn’t move.

“What’s the matter with you!” Her eyes focused on him, then out to the wider group.

Dan, just standing there, believing Mostar but wanting to help Bobbi so badly. The way his eyebrows narrowed, lip quivering. I would have said something, I know I would have, but then I noticed his face. The light thrown on his skin, just the barest shade brighter. And behind him, Carmen shouted, “There!”

She was pointing past us to the space between the Boothe and Durant houses. None of us had noticed it until then. We didn’t realize that the lower half of that space had been partially blocked by something. And that something was now running up the slope behind the houses. The one with long legs. Scout. Watching us all this time? Frustrated when we wouldn’t take the bait?

I watched him vanish into the brambles, just below a gap in the trees. And in that gap, at the top of the ridge, lit by the glow of the houses…

I can’t be sure if it was Alpha. You can’t tell at that distance. And I’m not sure of what I think it was waving at us. Had to be a branch. And it must have been cracked in the middle. Why else would it have dangled like that? And there’s no way, no way I could have seen what my brain keeps telling me were fingers.

“We can’t.” Reinhardt, speaking to the back of my head, then, as I turned to the group. “Mostar’s right. We can’t go out there.” And to Bobbi, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” In the pale motion-light glare, I watched her lips go white.

“Bobbi”—Reinhardt gave a resigned shrug—“please just look at the situation with—”

Another scream and Bobbi pointed to the darkness. “Listen!” Eyes wet, bouncing slightly like a child. At the next scream she grabbed her hair with both hands. “OhmyGod ohmyGod…”

Dan tried another quick lunge away from Mostar, his free arm reaching behind his back for the stabber he’d hidden under his shirt.

She must have seen the bulge. Or just suspected? “Dan!” Her voice raised in warning, her other arm grabbed his.

Bobbi looked at both of them, hands out, rasping, “Please.”

Carmen edged toward her. I followed. I don’t know what we thought we would do. Comfort? Restrain?

Carmen barely touched her shoulder before she threw it off in a wild, frantic swipe. “Please! Please!” To all of us. “ Please! ”

“Bobbi,” said Reinhardt, soft and soothing, “you have to understand that there’s nothing we can—”

“YOU!” She growled, turning on him. “You’re doing this!”

Then the howling began, Vincent’s pain drowned in a bellowing chorus.

Like a starting gun, that’s how I think of it now, because the sound seemed to launch Bobbi at Reinhardt.