A Girl's Guide to Guns and Monsters - Martin Harry Greenberg [98]
“Yessir!”
“Doubt it’ll be moving from chicken dinners to people. Not the way these things usually work.” Bernie strikes his lighter, holds it to the pipe, and sucks in. When the tobacco glows, he continues. “Sheep, chickens, dog. None of that says ‘hunting humans’ to me.”
“Never know though,” Ned says cheerfully. “And even so, it’s affecting livelihoods! Hurts the agribusiness. That’s our bread and butter! Not good for the state. Especially when we’ve almost solved our monster problems!”
Bernie nods, placid. “Integration’s working out.”
“Never let it be said Ned Dietrich can’t admit he’s wrong! Hate to say it, but it was the best thing for this state. We’re a haven. Come to Vermont, where the monsters behave! Didn’t trust it, but you gotta believe your eyes. The Policies work and I’ve shut up.”
True. I haven’t seen a letter to the editor from Ned in months. He used to be the first to wade into it with Uncannies in the Brattleboro Reformer Letter Box. The SPHR now focuses on “monster-monitoring,” watching for Policy infractions. They hope to document enough violations to put the Policies back into referendum. In the meantime, I have to admit I don’t think monitoring Uncanny activity is such a bad idea. But right now I want to discuss this with Bernie, out of earshot of Ned.
“Some people are talking yeti,” Ned says, voice bland.
I wince. Damn the man.
“Thought they were extinct,” Bernie returns.
“Didn’t we all!”
Dean chokes. “You mean . . . Bigfoot? The Abominable Snowman?”
“Bigfoot, Snowman, sasquatch, you name it. Gorillas on steroids! Kill you as soon as they look at you!”
Bernie laughs. “You talk like you know, Ned. When’d you meet one?”
“I’ve seen the torn-up sheep—”
“Seen a yeti tearing them up?” Bernie shakes his head. “Never knew a yeti to hunt farms.”
“That’s just it, we don’t know! They’re a mystery. Who’s to say what they’re capable of? Stories say they’ve got hellish tempers! Vicious! They didn’t sign any Policies, however many are out there.” Ned glances out Bernie’s window as if expecting a horde of yeti to rampage across the yard.
“No, they didn’t,” Bernie puffs on his pipe. “Well, nothing else new. Reesa’s sheep, Kroeger’s chickens. Crossed zombies off my list. And no, I’m not going hunting with you.”
“But Bernie, you’re—”
“—retired.”
Ned looks ready to argue, then laughs. “Okay, old man. But don’t think I’m done asking!”
“You know what they say. Definition of stupidity is doing the same thing over, expecting different results.”
Ned roars, tosses me a salute, then claps Dean on the shoulder. Meeting Dean’s eyes, his voice deepens to a confidential purr. “You hear any yeti screaming, you let me know.”
Mostly to break Dean out of Ned’s spell, I say, “Believe me, I pay too much for my sheep to be losing them.”
Ned grins. “Exactly. We’ve got livelihoods to protect!” He jogs out the door and down the steps, whistling.
“Livelihoods . . . people—what do you think he wants to protect most?” Dean asks.
“His career at the Chamber?” I say.
“Don’t be too hard on old Ned.” Bernie says, then calls, “He’s gone.”
Catherine reappears, irritated. “Why is he prattling on about yeti?”
Dean frowns. “Did he say they scream?”
“Possibly.” I avoid his eyes.
“But that was just Ned being . . . Ned. Seriously, they’re extinct, right?”
“So people say,” Bernie hedges.
When he doesn’t elaborate, I sigh. I hoped he’d just come out with it, but apparently he needs a prod. “But they’re not extinct, are they, Bernie.”
He talked yeti with me frequently last winter. I sat knitting while he described how he felt presences in the woods, found tracks, heard noises right out of the old stories. He gave vivid imitations—hooting, yipping, woofing, shrieking. No reliable sightings for over a century, but Bernie didn’t believe them extinct.
He’d seen them.
Having hunted the Uncanny all his life, he had theories. I finished an entire scarf one snowy day listening to how he thought yeti stayed off human radar. He theorized an ability to disappear, something immensely powerful, steeped in magic. Not just fading into the