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“The Link Between Those With Thumbs”

The following is an entry directly from a research diary of the Author. Unedited and untouched for the benefit of Darkest Entry listeners.

        There are topics of the paranormal that have been studied and explored to such a tiring degree and yet have yielded no fruitful truths. These tales will mostly make their way in and out of conversation with no new angle or development. I don’t know why I took this particular listener tip more seriously than the others but it was a gut feeling, the least scientific prediction method possible. It wasn’t for absolutely no reason, however, as my interest peaked after one tiny detail – Bigfoot is real and he strangled a bear. I asked the listener for what evidence they had and he simply said “the bear, I have it, right here.”

        I loaded up my truck with camping equipment and decided to pay this bear a visit. The listener lived in a small country town just about an hour and a half away. I arrived at the edge of the forest and parked in the visiting lot, it was all walking from here on out. It was early in the afternoon and the sun was still shining through my shaded sunglasses. I stroked the rubberband-bound beard of my face that resembled nothing like my ordinary mustache and pulled the camo baseball cap on top of my head until it was tightly fitted.

        The listener would meet me at one of the checkpoints in the park and then bring me to the now slightly decomposed bear. The man told me he was a recreational athlete that competed in strongman competitions such as stone lifting and was just getting some extra exercise and relaxation by hiking when he came upon the animal. He told me his hobby because it confirmed his suspicions that the attack on the bear was not by a mere human, that there was no way a human could be that strong to withstand a bear's offensive attack and crush the windpipe of the animal in the manner that he saw.

        He was standing at the agreed spot and we shook hands, introducing ourselves.

Name: Otto

Age: 34 Years Old

Occupation: Mechanic

Body type: 175 meters height, maybe around 140 kilograms, very muscular, bald and shaved.

Other details: Hiker, strongman competitor, show listener

        Otto brought me about 2 kilos further into the forest as we talked about mostly him while I declined any personal questions that he asked. I questioned his theories on what had happened to hopefully extinguish any doubts of a hoax. He was an avid bigfoot believer, as well as many other cryptids, but he made it a point that this was the only in-person experience he had ever had. He wanted to believe it but had enough self-respect to not try and talk himself into believing things that were not plausible. His family didn’t share any stories of seeing or hearing a cryptid either, he just loved to read stories online and listen to shows such as mine that collect stories from other people. The bear was just something he saw while hiking in the forest, as he said he does often.

        We arrived at the bear, laid on its back and now further turned into mush and while it collected legions of hungry flies that would help nature run its course. I walked over to see the all telling neck of the bear and a single bead of sweat quickly formed on the side of my forehead at the sight. It was totally crushed. It was like a squeezed aluminum soda can, completely contrasting the size of the head above and the mighty chest below. This was definitely not the work of a human, there was no grip on earth that could do this type of damage.

        Next, I examined the nails of the bear and there was plenty of dried and crusty black blood to give evidence of an attack or now possibly, self-defense. You could spend all the time in the world thinking of animals that could win fights against bears but none of them would match this description or they weren’t even local to the area. Let’s say someone smuggled in an animal for some sick deathmatch, it would take an elephant, rhino or maybe a hippo to outlast a bear and their attack methods would never match this.

        I took several pictures and samples of the area, thanked Otta for his information and was about to part ways when he mentioned one last source of bigfoot knowledge in the area. There was a famous stock car racetrack nearby that’s filled with a group of bigfoot hunters. Otto claimed that he never talked with them about the subject and didn’t want to report this particular find because they emphasize that they are hunters of bigfoot, not just people wanting to witness the revered ‘squatch. For my listeners, I encourage an attitude of coexistence with the paranormal and Otta recognized that these people had perverted aspirations of mounting bigfoot’s head like a trophy. He said he only told me about them because it might be possible that they have more information from their excursions in the same forest. In my expert opinion, it’s more likely another classic case of the bored and the drunk with too much free time.

        We said goodbyes and I informed him that he would know the results of my investigation alongside all the other listeners if there was something to report. I had the scene well documented and unloaded some things from the truck to prepare an overnight campsite. I would be returning here but after first making a quick trip to the race track just to make sure I’ve covered all angles. There was no need to make allies or enemies with wannabe paranormal trophy hunters but if they had any accurate observations of this bigfoot, then it could potentially make the investigation easier. It also might help to know when their hunts take place so I don’t get a drunken present delivered from the barrel of a gun.

        The evening races were in their final preparations when I arrived. You could hear all the engines revving up and the raucous crowd was pouring in with their ice chests stocked with beer and their favorite racer’s faces printed across the shirts they wore. The Author’s home a few towns over was known for its mix of country folk and city people but the town where the races were taking place was truly the reddest of necks. These were farmers, truck drivers and hard working tradespeople all looking to wash away the day's stresses with the roaring motors and thundering pipes as they made their way around the packed asphalt and to the clunky metal bleachers. I was wearing my camping attire and fit right in as many others were also making a weekend out of the event and would be around outdoors as well.

        I sat smack dab in the middle of the bleachers to get a good observational point to look for those that matched Otto’s description. Most of the teams were wearing matching uniforms with sponsorship logos across nearly every available space. I used my binoculars and scanned around various pit crews until one particular fellow stood out. He was very large compared to the rest of his team and all the other teams as well. He was clearly over two meters tall with a huge, healthy bush of hair that went down to his shoulders, an equally bushy beard covering the front of his face as well. He wore a long sleeve shirt and long pants with knee pads and massive boots, covering almost all of his skin from head to toe. The arms of his shirts and pants stretched from the bulk of his muscle as he spun several tools around various nuts and bolts on different parts of the car. He was an intimidating fellow but no obvious sign that he was hunting nighttime cryptids.

        Upon further scanning, it was clear which group were the hunters Otto spoke of. Among all the sponsorship patches on their uniforms was the most prominent piece, front and center on their chest – Sasquatch Watch. I’d heard of the company before, some sort of tactical gear company that claimed to be owned by military veterans and sold over-the-top tools for civilians that they would wait all their life to feel that the purchase was justified. For example, the local TV commercial for the brand advertised thermal glasses with full-body heat imaging. It showed some guy in cargo shorts using them to hunt down a deer with a rifle with so many attachments, you’d think he was hunting a group of rebel mercenaries. “A man’s way to fight the unknown”, the tag line said with a deep baritone voice over the twangs of a distorted guitar.

        The driver laid on a hammock next to the teamcar while wearing his uniform, a mask over his eyes and his shoes kicked off. They were clearly confident at what they were doing and were possibly a fan favorite as the face of the driver was on so many of the shirts that were around me. Many of the crew members were rowdy, horseplaying around as they suited up the car for piston-firing battle.

        I cracked open my lemon-lime soda and watched on as the cars lined up to the starting line and the crowd began to roar louder and louder for the carbon fiber horses. I talked to a man sitting next to me with his family and asked him what was the storyline of the drivers this week, were there any rivalries or underdogs that I should be paying attention to. He told me the Sasquatch Watch car was on a tear lately, winning four of the last five races. The Bobby Bobby Bobson’s Tires car came in second several of the last races and was looking for their first win of the season. He mentioned four or five cars that could potentially win but he would place his money on the Chili Bean Dreams car because he heard they had an engine overhaul done thanks to a huge donation from local business man, Turk Madderson.

        I then asked him what he thought about the hulking mechanic that dwarved those working alongside him. He said that he was an all-star mechanic that die-hard fans spoke about with high regard. Not much was known about him, he didn’t say a single word to anybody. No one knew if it was by choice or if he was physically unable to. Hejust did his job and did it with ease thanks to his calculative brain and sturdy strength behind the tools. I thanked him and smiled at his family. They had kind faces and I felt welcome, cheers’ing our cans together and wishing for a good race.

        The race was eventful with a tight four way dogfight over the second half of the two-hundred lap race. Sasquatch Watch mostly stayed in first with Chili Bean Dreams, Bobby Bobby Bobson and the veteran Dr. Willie’s Wild Willie Pill cars changed their places again and again throughout the race. In the end, Sasquatch Watch pulled away and secured victory after one last close call with the Bobby Bobby Bobson car where they nearly collided with each other but Bobby Bobby Bobson’s evasive maneuver blocked the other two cars, causing them to slam their brakes and lose all their momentum to catch first.

        The driver of the Sasquatch Watch hopped out of his car triumphantly, blasting a champagne cork straight into the crowd, hitting an older gentleman right in his bald spot as he wildly waved his cowboy hat in support of the car. Deder Vonman, the driver of the victorious car, had his name flashing on the large LED screen at the center of the audience stands as his theme songs rattled the ears of all those either cheering in support or those booing out of favor for their chosen driver. He was cocky and waved goodbye to the other drivers that were piling in behind him, not exchanging any friendly wishes with the losers of the race. The scenes continued for quite some time but it was apparent that the party was not stopping, meaning that I would not have an opportunity to meet and talk with the day’s heroes as they turned to beer and whiskey to fuel their good time. I knew who they were and would have to find another way to talk with them on another occasion as my time would be much better spent at the site itself, seeing what I can find during the late night hours.

        I returned to my truck and unpacked just a few more things and set out for my campsite that was set up before traveling to the races. I knew the walk back after meeting with Otto earlier but the world is always different through a nocturnal lens. The moon painted the trees and the Earth with its pale blue light, showing me the way forward. As I walked around, I looked at my surroundings and listened to all the buzzing life that surrounded me. It felt isolating in that I was the only human taking these steps at this time but through all my work with the paranormal, it almost feels more natural to be with those that are so unlike myself.

        At the campsite, I placed most of my belongings in the tent and took a seat at my unlit fire. If I was to light it now, that would be the end of subtlety and would certainly end any chance at finding the hairy beast. I gathered a few tools from my bag to help scout the area better. First was my EMF device that would be used to detect any irregularities in the electronic frequencies of the area. All places with life have vibrations that form a natural amalgamation of interacting waves that become harmonic over time. Sasquatch is not a normal being, if they do exist, and likely emit a wave pattern that causes some dissonance. Next was another of my slugs from my collection, this one a habitant of the permafrost from the ancient mountain located in the northern hemisphere, Mujjetekappat. I have nicknamed it Heartbeat because by absorbing the mucus of this slug into your skin, it allows the person to change their heartbeat willingly, conserving energy, slowing down breathing and allowing for optimal tracking without detection.

 I transported him using a thermal insulating container that keeps it comfortable outside of the natural habitat.

        Finally were my can of bear spray and tranquilizer darts. This was a friendly mission. There was no situation in which I would be bringing back a body or harming an innocent creature but this is a top-level cryptid that, if half the stories are true, could potentially bring down animals that humans could only overcome with a tank. If need be, I would incapacitate, observe for their own safety and then withdraw from the area completely.

        The only interaction needed for this mission to be a success is to record the thumbprint or marking from the beast in my special book, as I have done with many cryptids before. So I lathered up in slug mucus, switched on the EMF and packed the tranquilizer darts and bear spray in my bag, setting off for the evening.

        After two hours of searching a large radius around where the bear was found, I had my first clue. There were several squirrel tails that were laid next to each other like the tails of shrimp on the side of a plate at a seafood buffet. The creature is most likely an omnivore, eating vegetation in the forest as well as eating small animals such as squirrels, rabbits, birds and fish. The stories all place him much taller than a gorilla but with a similar build, which would require quite a large amount of protein for maintenance.

        About one more hour later, the racket of squawking birds filled the air as they appeared to flee their area. They should be asleep at this time but the disturbance was certainly worth investigating. I took just a few steps into this new path and the EMF reader began to trigger a significant change. Walking around the city, this type of change could be shrugged off for a hundred different interference related reasons but in this secluded area, there are only a handful of causes I can think of and they all require caution. I let the slug mucus work and slowed down my heartbeat, walking, lowering my breathing and continued walking.

        I didn’t have to walk far either. Around 50 meters north, I saw her up ahead in the forest, limping as she walked, holding onto one tree at a time as she dragged a large metal clamp around her hairy ankle. She looked to be over two meters tall but it was hard to tell in her hunched over position, wincing in pain with each step while dragging a metal trap audibly as she powered forward. It was as the legends say with her humanoid figure that was complimented with ape features. She had bushy, wooly hair around everywhere but her feet, hands, breasts and face, similar to a gorilla but her hair was a dark shade of brown.

        It appears I might not be the only one searching for the female bigfoot and this might be the luckiest catch a bear trap has ever had. She had ripped the chain out of the ground and had a chance to escape but at the risk of potentially losing her foot. The right thing to do could not have been more clear, I loaded the tranquilizer and extended the blowgun. I was going to play it safe, remove the trap, bandage her up and try again. It’s against my honor to collect the mark of a cryptid when they are unconscious.  

        My plan could not move forward though as a thunderous fist smashed onto my back with a hammering blow. My gut collided with the ground with such force that I bounced up a few centimeters but I didn’t touch the ground again. Whoever hit me grabbed the back of my shirt and tossed me to the side into the tree with tremendous force. I clenched my teeth in pain and looked up from the dirt and saw just the back of my assailant. That man from the track was standing there, looking forward onto the bigfoot and then back at me. I once again saw the bearded face, with his eyes covered by the brim of his hat, but this time up close and with a threatening glare aimed right at me.

        And then I heard him speak.

        What did you do? He said.

        Nothing. Is that your trap? It’s not right, let her be. I replied.

        I know. He said to me with his tone softened. Sorry you saw us.

        He leapt off the ground and landed about fifteen meters from where he originally stood, now right in front me, with dirt and dust cast into the air and on my face. He lifted his foot to stomp directly on my head but I quickly rolled over with the bear spray in my left hand and sprayed the dreadful mist into his face. He lurched backwards and grabbed onto his face but the spray had also wet his beard, providing a long-lasting extra layer of defense. I quickly got to my feet and ran over to grab my blowgun that I dropped when he initially hit me. I had enough ammo to incapacitate both and I aimed for the man in front of me until the female bigfoot roared a mighty roar, distracting my aim momentarily.

        The man leapt forward, this time directly over me and pounded the earth as he stomped forward to the bigfoot while still blinded. He slapped his hands around her body until he found her leg and reached down to the trap. With just his hands, he destroyed the punishing grip of the bear trap by widening it until it snapped. He then grabbed the bigfoot and placed her arm around his shoulders and hoisted her up. He looked in my direction and shouted at me with a primal yell, still with his eyes clenched shut, then leapt forward and began to run with impressive speed. The confounding part of it all was that it clearly looked like he had lost none of his vision. He moved through the forest as if the trees themselves were whispering where to go next. I sprinted after the two as he swerved and hopped around the trees with ease. It could not have been more difficult to follow them while my body ached with potentially broken bones from the beastly bludgeoning that I just received. I could not have kept pace if it wasn’t for the fact that he was holding the female who undoubtedly was quite the weight to bear. She was not fighting back against him, it was with familiarity that she clung to him for safety after he had freed her.

        A loud shot rang out through the night and we both slammed our feet to a stop in the dirt, looking dumbfounded at each other as we knew it was neither of us firing. We looked around for just a moment.

        You’re protecting her aren’t you. I said to the mechanic.

        Yes. He replied.

        Then go. I instructed.

        I looked at her face and she had fear painted all over but it was directed at me, her hands squeezed around the man. The shot wasn’t far off and I could investigate it while they escaped. So the two of them continued to run through the forest and I sprinted forward to the source of the gunshot with some thoughts. First, it was too late for hunting so there was no way that this was a shot with a reasonable purpose. Second, it was a buckshot coming from a shotgun so it was far more likely that it was either in self-defense or with bad intentions.

        I confirmed that I was going in the right direction as I began to hear the voices of a group of people. They were loud and argumentative, shouting at each other about the situation. I climbed up onto the trees and jumped a few branches forward to listen in on what they were saying exactly. They were angrily arguing about what to do following the firing of the shot, now obviously a mistake and with one person from the party lying flat, blood splattered all over his clothes and the ground. I recognized some of the faces of the group, it was the victorious team members from earlier, the Sasquatch Watch car crew.

        They were drunk and loud, shouting blame chaotically as their friend was already too close to death to help, with wide-open holes showing that he was shot from the back. I listened in for more clues to why they would be out here in the first place when they had left to party earlier. They were discussing how to not get in trouble for what went down, as their friend was still breathing on the ground. It was an awful group of people that believed in self-preservation over all else. They were shouting out ideas to each other about potential solutions.

        Feed him to a bear!

        Write a sad note!

        Terry sucks! Put his fingerprints on the trigger!

        One of the men shouted that they had to get back to why they came here in the first place, time was of the essence. I heard him shouting at the others, “The trap! The trap! We have to go before it gets away!” It was apparent that they had left the celebration earlier and had received some type of alert about the activation of one of their bear traps. This was their hunt and they had such faith that their target was captured that they ended their party just to see the hopefully trapped sasquatch. Now, they have lost one of their own and were in a drunken panic.

        Let’s just get the ‘squatch and blame it on them. This is the closest chance we’ve had since Derek saw her washing in the river. I forgot, did she look good at least Derek? Pervert, heh heh. One of the men laughed.

        I had to hope that the mechanic had taken her far away by now and was somewhere safe. The only thing I could do is go back to the trap and trick them with the location if I could find the sensor on it. While I still had the effects of Heartbeat, I let my heart beat much faster now to deliver the oxygen I'd need to sprint back to the trap and dispose of the sensor. Thankfully, their drunken stupor wouldn’t allow them to challenge my pace nor establish what I had done with their trap by the time they got there.

        Everything went according to plan. I arrived at the site and observed the trap, finding a compact black box that could only be the location of the sensor. I could smash it right then and there but there could be data in their communication device that tells them the last location and it wouldn’t be wise to risk the unknown in this way. I didn’t have the strength of the mechanic or the female bigfoot but I was able to use two large rocks to break at least most of the chain off. Quickly I began to run towards the front of the forest where I would hopefully reach my truck and then send the sensor somewhere that would forever throw them off from the trail.

        When I was nearly a kilometer away from the edge, there was an ominous collection of lit torches further up that I could see between the trees. Reinforcement had arrived for the bigfoot hunters and they had come prepared to carry out the same mission. The lie must have spread already. They must have called somebody and a small town sticks together, especially in the face of a beast. I moved closer just to confirm and saw a large crowd of the local town people, carrying torches, guns and various weapons such as baseball bats and crowbars. It was an angry mob here to avenge the fallen human by capturing the evil beast of the woods.

        The forest was not so large that it could not be combed through if you had enough people and by the sight of the crowd, it looked like a large militia had arrived. I only had to worry about whoever had the tracking communicator and had to think quickly of a good location that would buy the mechanic some time. I heard the sound of a rushing river and there was my option. It would send either a message of a beast too fast to possibly capture or they might assume the injured creature had drowned while escaping, so I tossed it in and hoped for the best.

        I could not in good conscience leave without at least trying to find the mechanic and let him know what was coming and see if I could help.  I quickly made my way back to the path that the mechanic was running and continued on, finding the mark of his boots in the mud that would help me find them. Several kilometers ahead, the boot marks were erratic and showed that he had dodged the trees with no signs of downed branches or sliding in the mud. Could the temporary blindness really boost his other senses so much that he could sense things around him? It doesn’t work like that. Not for ordinary people.

        The footsteps started to run parallel to a river moving downstream and ended in a waterfall just a little bit more ahead. When I reached the edge of the waterfall, I saw a decently sized lake below, big enough for campers to kayak and swim about. The river that the lake fed into on the way out was much smaller and moved slower than the rushing stream before it. The footsteps ended right before the water and didn’t move to the side, appearing to show that the mechanic dove straight into the lake below and if this river was the same that I had thrown the tracking device in, they hunters now had a direct target as the tracker likely floated down to the bottom of the tranquil lake.

        I had to dive in and see what direction the tracks might have gone if the two of them were able to make it out of the lake. If only I knew what would have unfolded after I blinded him but to be fair, I still was not one-hundred percent positive that we were on the same side. For all I knew, he ran off the bigfoot just as the hunters would have done but based on the female’s body language, I think there was more to learn.

        It was nearly impossible to see where they might’ve gone once I had gone into the lake. I had a headlamp back at the campsite but it was too late for that, I could only swim forward to the lakeshore but a hand gripped tightly around my leg and pulled me deep under the water. Before I could even reach the hand to try and pull it off, the other hand of the submerged attacker grabbed my face, the palm covering from the bottom of my mouth to the top of my forehead. I was quickly pulled in some direction that I couldn’t tell by the creature and was taken through the water for several seconds before finally being tossed onto land. I heard the rushing and whooshing of the water fall and when I looked forward, I saw that I was inside an alcove that the waterfall covered.

        The creature grabbed me by the shirt and lifted me up showing me his face and for the first time his eyes. The mechanic had taken me here.

        Who are you? What do you want? He asked me.

        For now, know that I’m a friend. There’s a much bigger problem. I replied, telling him about the incoming mob of townspeople and hunters that were going to find them in no time. Even worse, the waterfall would have a plunge pool that would keep the tracking device underneath it where it likely sank. The mechanic looked furious but then crouched down to his knees with a more defeated expression on his face.

        This…is my mom. He admitted to me. They always look for her. Today they will find.

        That’s not certain, yet. I tried to comfort this son of a bigfoot with my mind filled with shock, amazement and curiousity. I couldn’t keep to myself one question however. How come you speak my language? Aren’t you like her? 

        She is what you call bigfoot or sasquatch. Dad is like you. He told me.

        Your dad is human? Where is he now? I asked.

        Work. Travel.

        There was so much more I wanted to know but I had to help them ward off the mob first. I turned to see the mother bigfoot now sitting up with her injured ankle turned, with blood now dried black all over. We had to be quick as flickering tops of torches showed through the reflections of the water and through the waterfall. They were far away but they would figure it out sooner than later.

        The two sasquatches looked at each other, gesturing with their hands and changing their facial expressions. It appeared that they were having a conversation without words. I began to wonder just how deep the connections are between those with the ancestral primal blood of the forest ape and how bound they are to nature itself. The woman stood up with the help of her son and I asked him for his name. Junior. Well enough.

        I asked them if they had a plan as I searched my thoughts and calculated the possibilities of each escape route. Junior looked at me and nodded. They limped over to the edge of the alcove, the waterfall dumping deep into the lake right before them, splashing onto their fur. Junior pulled out a knife from his pocket and ripped open his shirt, showing a burly built chest with flesh that puffed with hair similar to his mothers, now more apparent than ever of his half-blood genetics. He cut a line across his chest and did the same to his mom. Both of them painted their hands with their own blood and then knelt to the water, washing it off and letting it diffuse into the lake.

        A mist began to form over the top of the lake as if it was a boiling kettle but without the heat. It turned into a milky fog that rose and covered the entire surface before spreading to the lakeshore and into the forest itself. Both of the sasquatches started chanting in an unknown language and placed their hands in the water once more. I checked the EMF and it was nearing 50 milligauss, much higher than the threshold for human safety. There was nothing I could do but watch in awe as the two of them interacted with nature in a way that surpassed all reasonable understanding. The blood signaled a message to the living ecosystem of the forest itself and it seemed to be responding.

        I placed my hands in front of me, fingers spread and began to focus to reach a meditative state. There was hardly a time that I would be closer to the irregular energy of the paranormal than now with two sasquatches standing so close to me in the deep trenches of nighttime hours. Their ritual activated the collective energy of the forest and I had to at least attempt to plug into it. For all my training as a paranormal detective, there is no more essential skill than to wet your feet into unknown spiritual energy, whether it be in dissonance or harmony. I felt the essence of the forest as I surrendered my own energy into the system and attempted to join in its harmony. It was like being at the feet of a god with every part of the forest combined into one living body so connected through the roots, the flowers, the predators and the prey. It poured back into me as I opened myself up to it and I felt just a sample of what the sasquatch probably could. The invaders of the town were aberrations that the forest system deemed unwelcomed and was preparing to expel them like white blood cells tending to an infection.

        Please, don’t kill them. There has to be another way. I said to Junior.

        Not my choice. He replied and pointed to the middle of the lake.

        Pointed antlers rose from the waters, twenty times the size of an Elk’s. It was translucent like a cloud with the sun shining through and rose further to reveal its long snouted face. It was textured with fur on the sides of its face despite the body being made of the lake water itself. Water churned and spurted as the rising forest ward spread its limbs, splashing out of the water and spearing its hooved feet into the dirt of the shore. The mob was frozen in place as they gazed onto the mighty spirit that towered over them, casting dread deep into their hearts.

        I remained locked in with the body of the forest system and felt fear stirring in my chest with the threat of a mass slaying of the townspeople that for all I knew, were just there to avenge one of their own. Despite the lie that likely brought them here, there were only a few people that needed to be brought to justice for what they had done. I remembered the faces of the Sasquatch Watch crew and waited for a response from the forest.

        Are these your offerings? A voice said to me, turning its head to scan the crowd.

        They are misguided. I replied. Your presence should be enough. They will be too scared to come back.

        Then come be their final warning.

        In the end, this was my fault. If I hadn't thrown the sensor away then Junior would have handled it accordingly by hiding in the waterfall. I walked forward to the alcove and nodded to Junior and his mother, jumping into the water. The water gripped my entire body and whipped me forward to the center of the lake, pulling me up into the body of the hooved-spirit and to its mouth where I was vomited out into the dirt. The townspeople around me had no clue who I was, a stranger visiting their town in disguise but a fellow human nonetheless. I was on my hands and knees, staring at the scared faces of those with lit torches around me who had clearly lost their will to fight. I stood onto my feet and turned to look at the spirit but it was already too late as the watery horn skewered into my abdomen and lifted me straight into the air. At a great height now above the ground below, blood spattered from my flesh and rained down onto those standing below.

        The screams of the townspeople filled the air as they turned to run for their own lives while I remained floating in the air on a pike as their sacrificial lamb. Life was leaving me, drop by drop. I tried to sense the energy of the forest system and the symptoms of the sickness seemed to leave with each step of the evacuating invaders. Even those careless and vain folks that let their friend die for the sake of their desired treasure would live to see another day, one that felt like a wasted wish for myself.

        The antlered protector finally dropped me back onto the soil, scraping me off its liquid spike. I placed my hand on my abdomen and searched for the hole that drained me of my blood but found none. There was blood all over my skin and the pain was visceral and deep but the evidence of it all was much more subtle, only apparent with a large red ring. The water had gone through my body, there was no doubt, but the spirit had only pierced my skin where there would not be a fatal blow. Mercy was gifted to me for and if my strength could hold up, I would walk out of here nearly on my own.

        Thank you. Will you tell me why? I asked of the spirit.

        The barrier between worlds is not so easily crossed. It will be long before I can be called again. Protect this land at all costs. It may yet use you again if you survive. The spirit warned me.

        I nodded.

        I fell to my hands and knees and again and then flat on my face, falling out of consciousness.

        I awoke with the sun shining onto my tent and bandages around my waist. I quickly leaned up and momentarily flinched in pain from any of the dozens of injuries I received over the evening before. Through the tent wall, I could see the campfire was now lit and something was sizzling on an iron pan outside that smelled like fish. I unzipped the tent and peered through to see Junior, cooking a large catfish over the fire.

        You can move? He asked.

        Yeah but not one-hundred percent yet. I replied.

        That’s not surprising.

        You brought me back?

        Yes.

        Is your mom okay? I asked him but he hesitated to reply for a few seconds.

        Yes.

        That’s great.

        What are you really doing here? What are you searching for?

        I’m a detective. I investigate paranormal irregularities.

        For who?

        For myself, and for others.

        So you will tell the world what you have seen?

        I’m not sure exactly what I have seen yet but no, not everything needs to be disclosed.

        Why must you share anything? Secrets want to be secrets.

        I think it's more complicated than that. I could talk about it for hours but in the end, the world is going in the wrong direction. I think there are things we can learn that move us back on the right path.

        So what does any of that have to do with me? With my family?

        Your experience is so different from us normal people. Your existence alone is a testament to evolution itself.

        Sasquatch stays with nature. Humans just use nature and suck everything dry.

        Yeah, we’ve turned survival into greed. To the point that people want your mom’s head just to show it off. I want people to be more connected. Maybe then they will stop the self-destruction.

        It’s too late. We will wait for the end. It’s coming and we will try to survive  in the new world.

        That’s morbid but I guess I can’t blame you. Will you stay here?

        Yes, protect the land.

        I thought the spirit said that’s my job?

        Yes, you help but you are weak. Only your heart and brain are strong, not muscles.

I guess all I’ve done so far is get stabbed so I don’t blame you for thinking that. However, there’s something I must show you.

        I reached into my bag and pulled out the black book. The very book that I needed Junior’s fingerprint in. He’s the only person to this day that has been told about the book and the curse that it bears.

        The reason that I’m a detective is unknown to me. Previously, I worked for the government but I quit on bad terms. All I remember is my life as their dog and not a single memory before that.

        No childhood?

        Nothing. Just from around my early 20’s and onward. I guess. I don’t even know my age. I can only remember waking up, alone, with this book in my hand. I looked through the pages of the book for any clues but everything was blank. All except for one page that had a fingerprint, my own. I only knew it was mine because I pressed my thumb on the page and there it was, an exact copy. Then the old print faded, leaving just the new one. I started to see so many paranormal irregularities after this. Since that day, I have explored the paranormal world and collected marks of various creatures and people in this book. It leaves just a sample of their spiritual essence.

        Junior listened carefully to what I had told him and then reflected on it for a minute or so, stroking his beard and looking to the ground.

        What do you get from collecting someone’s sample?

        I can see more when I let these irregular waves mix with mine. The world opens up. I simply wish to study it and experience what I can.

        So that’s why you study bigfoot?

        Exactly. There’s a hidden world right in front of my face and here’s this gift that lets me study the unknown unlike anyone else. That’s why I want you to sign it too.

        Why would I want my fingerprint in that book?

        I can’t tell you why it works this way because I don’t know yet. We will have a direct pathway to each other. You can call me if you need my help, maybe in a way similar to how you talk to your mom.

        From far away too? Like a phone?

        Yup. This book appears to connect the dots. Who knows what I may learn of the world as I fill it up.

        I have no reason not to see you as my ally. You may have my print but not my mother’s.

        That’s fair. I will tear it out if you tell me to as well. One more thing. Just as you wish to be kept secret…

        I will keep yours. Where will you go next?

        Back to work. There are quite a few cases that I wish to investigate.

        I hope you can help many.

        I will do my best.

        Junior places his thumb on an empty page and a dark black fingerprint appeared. We ate the fish and talked about his job at the racetrack and my radio show, sharing a few details about what we liked about what we do. I asked what his dad is like but he only said he’s a very normal man who travels for work often and that his mom loves him very much, living together in the forest. They speak the same way that Junior speaks with his mom, no words, just telepathically. I hope to meet him someday as he is definitely spiritually aware. I doubt that a man who impregnated a bigfoot is anything but normal but Junior’s existence alone shows that common ground can be found.

        He seemed more human than bigfoot at this moment but it was a strange sight to see in daylight the titan of a man that he was. I hope to learn much more from this beast of a cryptid but I know that trust is built over time. I left to my truck after we finished eating and began the trek back home with another entry in my mysterious book. I would have to study Junior’s entry and see what the spirit of a hybrid sasquatch has to share with a human.

        This book is a living piece of bound paper, with no words and lifetimes full of mystery. My only wish is to read between the lines and discover exactly what it has done to me, what it continues to do. There has to be a drawback at some point. Since collecting entries, I’ve changed physically at an alarming rate, seemingly only for the better. I peeled the bandages around my stomach slightly and sure enough, just as had been the case a few times before, the wound was not only healed but felt more muscular than before, just a little sore. I turned on the radio and hummed along a familiar road.