Devolution: A Firsthand Account of the Rainier Sasquatch Massacre(48)

I also keep telling myself that, no matter what, it’s great that everyone’s starting to cooperate. Trading food for Dan’s handiwork, letting me go through all their stuff. People want to help, they want to work together. You can’t deny that kind of progress, and I was starting to feel pretty good about it, sitting there at my desk, when I noticed the first motion light flick on.

The Durants. I saw it a second before a shadow moved in between their house and the Boothes’. Then the shadow took form as the thing slouched up the slope into view.

It looked just like what I’d seen the night before, and it was definitely not a bear!

Broad, powerful shoulders, long, muscular limbs. I saw fingers. Four and a thumb! Don’t get me wrong though. It was not human! The size, the fur, the head! From the back, that huge neckless head almost looked like a helmet. And when it swung that head toward me, I got a good, clear look at its face. Hairless, shiny dark skin. A jutting jaw, lipless, under flat, flaring nostrils. A pronounced brow, shading deeply recessed eyes.

I don’t think it could see me. I’d switched off the desk lamp the second I saw the Durants’ porch light switch on. It wasn’t even looking at our house, more of a slow scan, left to right, across the whole neighborhood. Its movement was smooth, casual. Unlike last night, the motion light hadn’t scared it away.

I whispered, “Dan.” Then, a little louder. “Dan!” My response was a disturbed, hoggish snore. I got up slowly, afraid that it might detect the sudden motion, and walked swiftly but quietly back to the bedroom. Dan was dead asleep when I shook him. “Dan, Dan, wake up. It’s here!”

He groaned slightly, started with, “Wh…,” then his eyes snapped open and he practically shot out of bed.

We spoke in whispers: “Where?” “The Durants’.” “Where!” “Look!”

It was gone by then. I pointed to the empty spot on the slope. “Right there, it was…”

“There!” Dan’s finger pointed farther up the ridge, amongst the trees. Right where the Boothes had dumped their compost. Something was moving up there. Dark shapes in the dim porch light. More than one. We could see branches moving, a brush of fur. I caught sight of a full body, with lighter fur than the rest, auburn. Then it disappeared.

I suddenly remembered and said, “iPad!” Dan grabbed his tablet off the night table. I didn’t think about the light from the screen, how it illuminated both of our faces.

Eyes. At least three beady sets. They’d been darting around, attracted by each new porch light. But when we turned the iPad screen to our faces, all three turned on us. I wanted to duck, but instead told Dan to zoom in. The image was too grainy, especially on video setting. I still can’t believe we don’t own a real camera! They stared at us for a second, we stared back. Then a bright funnel spread out between our house and Mostar’s. Another one behind us!

We turned for the back window. We should have gone on the porch. Too “chickenshit,” as Frank would say. We did catch a view of it crossing from Mostar’s yard to ours. This one had patches of gray fur. The muzzle. Down the swinging arms. The skin was lighter than the first one I’d seen, and spotted. Age? I still don’t know. But I’m pretty sure it, she, was female. I haven’t mentioned this before, mainly because I didn’t realize I was looking at them, but the other one I’d seen had a large, dangling scrotum, noticeable even across the village. This one though, she didn’t have anything between her legs, and I could clearly see small pancaked breasts sagging on her hairless chest.

We only spied her for a second, not enough time to get the iPad up. She ducked under the balcony. Then a scraping, popping noise, and the lid from our compost bin flew across our yard like a Frisbee. We could hear grunts now. Low, quick.

Hm-mhmh-hm.

Rummaging through our bin, probably frustrated because we haven’t been here long enough to leave much. We listened for a few more seconds. Dan looked at me questioningly, making a two-fingered walking motion with his hand. Should we head downstairs? Just close enough to get some video? The porch light would catch it perfectly, and the burglar alarm was still on. I was considering it when this sharp, loud growl pulled us back to the front window.

The Common House. There were two of them. Males. They were smaller than the first one I’d seen, a little shorter and narrower across the shoulders. Younger? They were also identical. Twin One and Twin Two. Brothers? Do brothers fight like that?

Because they were fighting! One had a hand on the bin’s lid. Two tried to nudge him aside. One snarled and with bright, bared teeth, he bodily shoved Two away. Two snarled back and charged, grabbing the other side of the bin. One gave a gurgling bark noise and slapped or sideways punched Two in the face, knocking him back before turning on him with a loud growl. Canine fangs biting down hard into Two’s shoulder. And hanging on despite the three quick punches to the ear.

I could see the blood, bright red in the Common House light. Ironically, the light almost killed our view, catching the ash as their tussling threw up a thick gray cloud. It would have been cartoonish, this flurry of flailing limbs, if it hadn’t been so utterly terrifying. I’ve seen a few fights on Animal Planet and once in our neighborhood a couple of dogs got into it. But in real life, and with this much power. The size, the rage. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I think the ground was shaking!