Bigfoot Crank Stomp (12 page)

Sure thing. Just need to make it out of the woods.

Russell stopped for a moment and looked around. Everything looked exactly the same. He knew Bigfoot was behind him. But ahead of him?
Shit
, he thought he would have hit the Loop by now. He just hoped he wasn’t walking in one big circle. He remembered hearing stories about people doing that. The idea made him slightly queasy.

“Well looky what we’ve got here.”

Russell froze as a gun cocked to his right. Slightly queasy became full on queasy in a microsecond. He shifted his head enough to catch a man in a Sheriff’s Department uniform pointing a .38 at the side of his head.

“Easy, asshole,” the deputy said. “No sudden moves.”

Shit
, Russell thought. He wondered if he could overwhelm him. Somehow get the gun away and take off.

“What’d you find?”

A different voice. Somewhere behind Russell. Feet approached. So much for overwhelming and running away.

The second man came around and stood in front of him Russell. Another Sheriff’s Deputy. The name tag read BETTS. He reeked of beer.

“Found me the guy Stanger was talking about. The partner of that dead guy at the house.”

“There were a bunch of dead guys at the house, Pronger.”

“The dead drug dealer.”

“Oh, yeah.” Betts stepped closer. “Russell, right? Russell O’Brien.”

“That’d be the one.” Pronger circled around and stood next to Betts, barrel a few inches from Russell’s face. “Fits the description and all. He’s the one that went running off into the woods when the shooting started.”

Fuck
, Russell thought. They knew his name and description and had already connected him to fleeing the scene. Son of a bitch times a thousand.

“Guess he got himself lost in the woods,” Betts said.

“No shit.” Pronger smirked. “You think he meant to come back the way he started?”

Back the way I started? Russell felt like someone had just kicked him in the balls. Managed to escape Bigfoot only to walk right back into the waiting arms of the Sheriff. Fucking cursed.

“Life’s a bitch, ain’t it?” Pronger said. “Sheriff’s going to be real happy to see you.”

“Not as much as Bigfoot.”

They chuckled.

Russell didn’t get the joke. “What do you mean happy to see Bigfoot?”

“Who said you get to ask questions, asshole?” Betts said. “By the way, where is the big hairy bastard?”

Russell motioned his head over his shoulder. “Back there sleeping. Why don’t you go wake it up?”

“Smart ass,” Betts said. “Should pistol whip your ass.”

“I’m not joking. It’s back there sleeping. Hit the wall after that meth rage.”

Pronger rose up on his toes and peered over Russell’s shoulder like he’d be able to see the creature out there in the dark. “Seriously? It’s sleeping?”

“Yeah. Knocked the fuck out. Chased me up a tree. That’s how I got all turned around.”

Betts smiled and looked at Pronger. “Guess it’s our lucky night.” Then he shifted back to Russell. “But not yours.”

No, it’s not.
“So, you two are looking for it?”

“Sheriff wants to get his hands on it.” Pronger said. “How far back is it?”

Russell shrugged and wondered why the Sheriff would want to get anywhere near the thing. Then he realized he probably wanted to make money off it. Maybe there was a way out of this after all. “About a ten minute walk. Don’t know how long it’ll be out for. Might want to go kill it while you’ve got the advantage.”

Pronger licked his lips. “Maybe we should.”

“What about this asshole?” Betts said.

“Take him with us.”

“No fucking way,” Russell said. “I ain’t going anywhere near that thing again.”

Pronger’s lips tightened and he pressed the barrel against Russell’s forehead. “Who said you got a choice?”

“You’ll have to fucking kill me.”

“That can be arranged.”

Russell swallowed and gritted his teeth but he wasn’t going to yield. He’d rather die with a bullet in his head than go back there and get his arms torn out. No way he was dying like Mickey.

“Sheriff wants to take care of it, remember,” Betts said. “We take care of it, he might get pissed off.”

Pronger didn’t move the gun. Kept staring into Russell’s eyes. “Yeah, don’t want to piss the Sheriff off. Tends to do…crazy things sometimes. He’s already pretty excited over all this. Can’t wait to see what he does when we bring old Russell to him.”

“Probably give him the Wheezy treatment.”

Pronger winced. “Hope not.
I
even felt bad for Wheezy.”

Russell licked his lips. He could feel sweat on his palms. “What about Bigfoot?”

“Betts is right. Got to leave the monster to the Sheriff. He’s got a big old plan for it. Can’t ruin it.”

“Yep. We didn’t lay all that meth out for nothing.”

“Meth?” Russell’s hands started shaking at his sides. “You put meth out?”

“Made a trail from the cabin all the way out here.” Betts clapped his hands. “Best way to catch a drug addict is to lead him to the product, right?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck,
Russell thought. He flexed his hands into fists and then opened and then closed. Over and over. It wouldn’t be much longer. It would catch the scent. The sweet smell of bliss would wake its ass up. And then it would be on the warpath again. Coming straight this way. Holy shit!

“Lead him to a death trap,” Pronger said. He lowered the .38 and grabbed Russell by the elbow. “How about we go see the Sheriff before all the fireworks start?”

Betts took him by the other elbow. “Yeah, need to get you out of the way before the real fun begins.”

“This is a bad idea,” Russell said, trying to keep his feet planted. Both men were surprisingly strong, though, and pulled him forward without much trouble.

“Sure you’d say that,” Pronger said.

“No, you don’t understand. That thing will kill us all.”

“Nah. It’ll walk right into the middle of our trap and we’ll put it down nice and easy.”

“Like you did the first time?”

Betts turned and rammed a left hook into his stomach. Russell folded and coughed. Bile burned his throat. Felt like a mule had kicked him.

“We were caught off guard,” Betts said. “Most of us shot wide and wild. It got lucky.”

They resumed walking. Russell coughed some more. His eyes watered. Nauseous and scared. His elbows ached where Pronger and Betts held him in a death grip. He wanted to quit all together. Make them drag him back to the cabin. But fear of Bigfoot waking up and finding the newly laid meth trail kept him walking. He didn’t want to be anywhere near it when that happened. No matter what the Sheriff did, Russell would rather deal with him than it.

“You don’t need to worry about it,” Pronger said, as if reading his mind. “You’ll be nice and safe from Bigfoot. The Sheriff is the one you got to worry about. I saw what happened to Wheezy. Put it this way, you get the same treatment, you’ll never be the same again.”

After tonight
, Russell thought,
I know I’ll never be the same again.
He just hoped he survived to see another day.

GABE

“So Betts and Pronger are out in the woods laying a trail of meth back to here?” Stanger said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And we ain’t got an armored truck to trap Bigfoot in.”

Gabe had just finished shooting his wad when Stanger and Lyle pulled back up. He managed to snort another pinch before they found him standing behind the cabin, staring at the trees.

“Yeah, that’s how it is.” Gabe rubbed his balls through his pants. Ached pretty badly. Could use another round of stroking. “So we lure it back here and kill it instead.”

“I don’t know, Sheriff,” Lyle said. “I don’t like this. Feels wrong.”

Gabe winced. Lyle was such a pussy sometimes. He’d said the same thing with Wheezy. “Gee, Sheriff, I don’t like this. Feels wrong.” Well,
he’d
been wrong then and he’s wrong now.

Stop thinking about it,
Gabe told himself. The thoughts were only getting the juices flowing again and he didn’t want to deal with Lyle and a growing hard-on and a pair of aching balls at the same time. Just too damn…weird.

“I hate to say, it,” Stanger said, “But I kind of agree with Lyle. This feels off somehow. Like we’re desperate.”

Anger pulsed through Gabe’s forearms. Not Stanger. Anyone but Stanger.

“You think we should pack up and leave?” Gabe rounded on Stanger. “What if it gets its hands on some innocent civilians? What if it rips a kid in two?”

Stanger held up his hands. “Easy. I’m not saying we don’t take care of it.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That leaving a bunch of meth for it to follow might not be the best idea. I mean, it has a sense of smell and it knows the house it was getting fed at. We could have made a pile right here and it would have found its way back.”

“I see.” Gabe shook his head. “You don’t understand how this shit works. You think letting it grow into another fiend rage is the way to do it. Cock tease it instead of giving it a taste along the way.”

“No—”

“Yes because if you knew, you’d know the more it gobbles up on the way back here, the less aggressive it’ll be. Aggressive still, but not in a fucking fiend rage.”

“Sheriff—”

“You apparently didn’t see the way it took a couple of shotgun blasts. So let me ask you this: which Bigfoot do you want to deal with? Drugged-up and happy monkey or drug-withdrawal and batshit crazy monkey?”

“Drugged-up and happy.” Stanger placed his hands on his hips and sighed. “I thought meth made people aggressive, though.”

“It’s a bi-product. Depends on the personality. What it really does is boost the confidence. Makes you feel like you can take on the world.” Or a big legendary ape.

“Take on the world, huh.” Lyle snorted a laugh. “Maybe we should take some before Bigfoot shows up. Know I could use a little more confidence.”

You could, could you?
Gabe thought.
Not a bad idea, Lyle.

He did want everyone sharp and focused. Wanted them to shoot straight and not all over creation because their hands were shaking like a bunch of epileptics.

“Come over here.” Gabe headed to the nearest car. He pulled out his last baggie of meth and sprinkled the pieces on the hood. Then he drew his sidearm and held it by the barrel and tapped the pieces into grainy chunks.

“Sheriff, what the hell are you doing?” Stanger said.

“Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures.” Gabe turned to them. “Lyle’s right, we all need a shot of confidence.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Deadly serious.”

Lyle waved his arms. “I was just joking.”

“Joking, sure. But you stumbled onto the truth. When that fucking thing comes out of the trees, we need to be Johnny on the spot. Focused and mean and fail proof. I think we need to use the weapon of our enemy to our advantage in this case.”

“Ain’t doing it,” Stanger said.

“This isn’t a request.” Gabe cocked the gun.

“Or what, you’re going to shoot me? Me? Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m not going to shoot you.” Gabe leveled the barrel at Lyle’s forehead. “I’ll shoot him.”

“Ah, fuck, Sheriff,” Lyle said.

Stanger held up a hand for calm. “Go easy.”

“Snort a pinch then.” Gabe pointed at the chunks. “Now.”

Stanger licked his lips and looked at the meth for a second. “You’re not going to kill Lyle.”

“I’m so fucking serious I’ll kill both of you. If I can’t trust you, I don’t want you around.”

“Let us leave then.”

“Can’t do that either.”

“Why not?”

Gabe reached out and took a pinch and snorted it fast. He howled and stomped his foot. Then he rubbed his growing erection. “Because you’re all fucking accessories now.”

“Jesus Christ,” Stanger said. “You’ve been snorting the entire time we’ve been gone, haven’t you?”

“Fuckin’ A right,” Gabe howled again and pushed the barrel into Lyle’s ear. Lyle whined. “And I don’t like your tone, Deputy.”

“You’re nuts. I always knew you were sort of nuts but you’re actually fucking nuts.”

Gabe laughed and snorted another pinch and jammed the barrel into Lyle’s ear so hard he cried and tried to jerk away. Gabe ceased the movement by whipping the barrel again the side of Lyle’s head. Blood ran from a three inch cut across his temple. He swayed and then dropped to a knee and pushed his hand against the fresh wound.

The sight of it birthed a fresh grin on Gabe’s face. Christ it felt good. It all felt so fucking
gooood!
He wanted to see more blood flow. Bigfoot’s. Russell’s. Whoever else wanted to stick a knife in his back. Like Stanger.