A Girl's Guide to Guns and Monsters - Martin Harry Greenberg [99]
In the depth of winter I listened, amused, thinking him a fascinating old man with a colorful history and a gift for storytelling. Standing in the woods today, feeling something watching, listening to shrieks, staring at disappearing hair . . . I’m not laughing. All his stories and theories accumulated in my brain until out there in the woods I just knew.
Fact, not theory.
I expected him to see the hair and open up. Usually, I’d respect his reticence but with animals dying and Ned Dietrich hovering, we don’t have time for discretion.
Bernie smokes in silence then finally says, “Not extinct.”
“You’re having me on, right? This is like the bears. Or unicorns.”
“More like the bears,” I say.
Dean’s widening eyes indicate the dots are connecting. “You’re telling me . . . today . . . that really was Bigfoot? Bigfoots . . . Bigfeet . . . more than one?” His voice rises an octave.
“No, likely just one.”
Bernie nods. “Common reaction on their part . . . throwing rocks, trying to scare people off.”
“That shriek—”
“They can bounce their screams,” Bernie explains.
“They what?”
“Like throwing your voice,” I clarify.
“So, Bigfoot ventriloquists live in our woods and you DIDN’T TELL ME?”
“I didn’t know!” I did, actually, I just didn’t know I knew.
Dean glares at me. “And Bigfoots don’t leave tracks? I’d think they’d leave pretty damn BIG tracks.”
“People only ever find random prints.” More facts rise to my brain from last winter. “Bernie thinks yeti take care of tracks, but sometimes get surprised or don’t have time. They apparently just don’t move very heavily through the world.”
Bernie smiles at me, approving. “No need to be scared,” he tells Dean. “They’re all bluff. It’s how they get by. Sweet-natured, really. Not doing this killing, for damn sure.”
“You’re absolutely certain?” I press. “Nobody but you has talked about yeti to me. Now my sheep gets eaten, a yeti appears in my woods, and Ned Dietrich mentions them, all in one day. Coincidence? Why would someone bring up yeti to Ned?”
“That’s what I want to know.” Catherine glares at no one in particular. I get the distinct feeling she’s glowering at an imaginary Ned. “No matter how big that man’s mouth is, he doesn’t say things randomly. If he’s talking about your yeti-friends, Dad, he’s got a reason.”
Bernie’s jaw sets, stubborn. “Nobody would have reason to point at yeti. I’m certain, dammit. They got nothing to do with this. They wouldn’t, it’s not in ’em. That one in the woods today? Was a travel companion.”
“A what?”
Bernie sighs. “It came with the one that’s here visiting. They always move in pairs or more.”
“Here visiting?” Dean blinks. “Like . . . HERE-here?”
Bernie nods. “The one in the other room.”
“Does it know what’s going on?” I quell my own surprise in favor of grabbing the opportunity for information. “Do they talk?”
“Oh no. They touch you, then think at you.” He waves both hands beside his head as if shooting thoughts at me.
“You get it in pictures in your head. Not sure what they know. You showed up before I had a chance to talk to him.”
“Will he come out with us here?”
“Think so, if I . . . encourage him.” He heads out of the room, pausing to leave his pipe in a ceramic dish on the coffee table that looks like a handmade present from a grandchild. Maybe the yeti doesn’t like smoke.
Catherine shoots us an apologetic look. “Might take a few minutes. They’re incredibly shy. Took him forever to convince them to even be here when one of us was around, and they still won’t talk to us. They do not like wolves. Hell, they really only like Dad.”
I nod. We wait in edgy silence until Bernie reappears, along with an indistinct, opaque shape that is hard to look at. He enters the living room, the strange distortion of air close by his side. My eyes struggle and I realize it must have a large arm draped over his shoulders. Where the yeti touches him, I can see straight through to the wall and furniture behind him.
The air beside Bernie starts to brighten, shimmer. My