“A bear could have killed that jogger.”
“You really believe that?”
Darryl looked around. “I don’t know. Just trying to come up with other possibilities. See ya soon.” He pocketed the walkie-talkie, then walked into the redwoods and disappeared.
HE ALMOST had the shot. Big Tim and his two minions had been tracking the deer for half an hour and were finally within shooting range. After darting everywhere, the deer had stopped to nibble on some ferns. On one knee, Big Tim aimed his rifle at the buck with the crisscrossing horns. It was a big animal, probably 350 pounds. Yes—he almost had the shot.
THE EYES shifted. From Big Tim, to the deer, back to Big Tim again.
Gliding silently in the fog above, the predator watched every movement. It instinctively recognized what was happening: the stealthy behavior, the careful deliberate movements. One species was hunting another. But the creature didn’t understand how. Its eyes shifted back to Big Tim. Then to the instrument in his hands. He was aiming it at the deer.
ONE EYE open, one eye closed, Big Tim began to ease down on the trigger. If the buck didn’t move in the next quarter second, he’d have it. The buck didn’t move.
THE CREATURE shivered when the shot rang out.
The predator didn’t know how it had happened, but a metal projectile—its ampullae of Lorenzini had picked it up before it even left the rifle barrel—had rocketed out and plunged into the buck’s chest. The deer staggered and fell onto the dirt. Its heart beat rapidly for half a minute, then stopped. The eyes calmly watched it die. Then they swiveled back to the rifle.
DARRYL FROZE. He’d heard it quite clearly. A gunshot. He ran toward it.
“GREAT SHOT, Dad!”
Big Tim blew the nuzzle. “Yeah, not bad.”
The three men walked toward the dead buck, its horned head twisted on the dirt.
“How we gonna get him back to the truck?” Timmy asked.
“Gotta tie his legs to a stick and carry him back.”
“Where we gonna get a stick?”
Big Tim wondered if his son was brain-dead. “We gotta go find one, Timmy. Come on.”
THE CREATURE watched them go.
Then it focused on the deer.
IT TOOK a while, but they found a perfect stick, eight feet long and as thick as a baseball bat. They weren’t more than ten feet away when they saw what had happened to their prize.
“Jesus Christ! Look at that, Dad!”
“Son of a bitch.” Big Tim suddenly clutched his rifle tighter.
The deer was right where they’d left it. But its chest, stomach, and hindquarters weren’t there anymore. They were gone, replaced by a single gargantuan bite.
“You think a bear got it, Dad?”
“I don’t know.” Tim Jameson knew many bear species had huge appetites, but he didn’t think any of them—black, brown, grizzly, or Kodiak—had a mouth large enough to take a bite like this one. Staring at the mutilated animal, he rubbed his beard. What the hell had a mouth like that? A goddamn whale? He glanced up at the fog. “Let’s get out of here.”
“You don’t want the deer?”
Big Tim looked around nervously. “Forget the deer, Timmy. Something wants it more than we do. Put the stick down; let’s go.”
THE THREE men spotted him from a hundred feet.
“Hey, what’s that black guy doing out here? I thought the park’s closed.”
As they walked closer, Big Tim spoke up. “Hey, mister, I don’t think you wanna be out here just now.”
Darryl Hollis hesitated. “That’s what I was coming to tell you.”
“Mission accomplished. We’re leaving.”
They hustled past him, and Darryl didn’t follow. Something had scared them. As the men disappeared, he looked up at the fog. It was very quiet here. Darryl had never thought about it before, but as big as redwoods were, he realized, they actually deadened sound, blocked it out. He scanned the area. But it was more than just quiet, wasn’t it? There were no animals—none—not even squirrels or birds. He realized he was alone and didn’t have a weapon. He looked up at the fog again. Was something up there?
“Darryl, you out there? Darryl?”
He removed the walkie-talkie. “What’s up, Jason?” He didn’t take his eyes off the fog.
“A lot. Get back here right away. The rangers’ station.”
CHAPTER 62
“SO YOU’LL take care of whatever’s out there?”
Jason nodded to the ranger. “We will.” He, Darryl, and Craig didn’t like making major decisions without consulting Monique, Lisa, and Phil, but these were extreme circumstances. Allen and Laura Meyer were leaving the park in minutes, so they had to make an immediate decision right here in the rangers’ station.
Allen Meyer was tense. He hadn’t cleared the proposed plan with park management. He turned to his wife for support, but she looked away. She was beyond tense. A hearse from the closest funeral home, 110 miles away, had just picked up the jogger. It was the first dead body Laura Meyer had seen in her entire life, and she still hadn’t recovered. She was seated at a desk hugging their eleven-month-old tightly, the way a mother would after seeing her first dead person. Still, she was a fellow ranger, and Allen Meyer wanted her opinion of this potential arrangement. “What do you think, honey?”
“I think I just want to get out of here.”
“Should we let these guys take care of whatever’s out there? They say they want to.”
“Then let them. I just want to go.”
“Well… we can’t just leave them here.”
“We’ve hired local hunters to kill bobcats and things before. It will be fine.”
“I’d have to call Robinson to check it’s OK.”
“Then call him, for Christ’s sake!” Laura exhaled, calming down. “I promise Robinson will OK it. It just means less work for him.” Mark Robinson was Leonard State Park’s lazy and alcoholic director of operations.
Allen picked up the phone, but there was no dial tone. He turned to Darryl curiously. “A bear must have killed that guy, right?”
“Oh yeah.” Darryl didn’t know what else to say. Especially since the ranger had already listed “bear attack” as the official cause of death on the certificate with the funeral home.
Still, Allen Meyer had a trillion questions about what they’d seen out there. “You know, there are still a few things I don’t unders—”
“Jesus, Allen! Enough! Let’s get out of here! Let’s get our baby out of here! Just call Robinson, clear this, and let’s go!”
The ranger shot his wife an angry look. He didn’t appreciate being yelled at like this in front of strangers. But then he eyed his son and nodded obediently.
WITH THE parking lot’s streetlamps buzzing overhead, Allen Meyer shook hands with Darryl, Jason, and Craig. “Thank you very much for taking care of this. I couldn’t get through to our boss, but we have no doubt he’ll OK it.”
Darryl eyed the two helicopters. “We can use whatever we need?”
“The entire park’s at your disposal. Helicopters, rifles, cars, the equipment in the storage shed… anything. You have the keys to the cabin?”
Jason held them up.
“Good. And just to be clear, you guys will be alone out here. All the local businesses know the park’s closed for the prescribed burns, so they’re closed too. There’s pretty much no one within a hundred miles of here, and with the phone service… you’re isolated.”
The three men nodded.