Alec Kerley and the Terror of Bigfoot (Book One of the Monster Hunters Series) Read online

  Book One of the Monster Hunters Series

  Douglas Tanner

  Alec Kerley and the Terror of Bigfoot

  © 2013 by Douglas L. Tanner. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Viola Estrella

  For my son, Alec

  “His body was rough, he had long hair like a woman’s; it waved like the hair of Nisaba, the goddess of corn. His body was covered with matted hair like Samugan’s, the god of cattle. He was innocent of mankind; he knew nothing of the cultivated land. Enkidu ate grass in the hills with the gazelle and lurked with wild beasts at the water-holes…”

  - The Epic of Gilgamesh

  c. 1300 BC

  “Coming back to the fire, he stood by it a minute or two, peering out into the darkness, and suddenly remarked, ‘Bauman, that bear has been walking on two legs.’”

  - Theodore Roosevelt

  ‘The Wilderness Hunter’

  1892

  “To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die.”

  - The Book of Ecclesiastes

  Southern Labrador, Canada

  Fall, 1001 A.D.

  Its long, square sail already lowered, the 54 foot Viking knarr slowly approached shore, quietly slicing through the early morning fog like an ancient specter. Leif Erikson, the ship’s owner and leader of this 35-man expedition, ordered the rowers to cease and hold, allowing the ship to coast to a stop. At 6’5”, with long, red hair and shaggy beard, and powerfully built, Erikson was a large and imposing man, even in the simple garb of a Norse sailor: an over-sized, long-sleeved shirt that was tight at the top and loose below the waist, where a belt around the outside of the shirt was tightly strapped; and long, narrow pants met by ankle-high shoes.

  This was not a crew of Vikings in the popular sense: wild and rogue Berserkers with horned helmets and two-headed battle axes. No, this was not a war ship — there were no dragon heads carved into the wood at the bow and stern of the boat. Leif Erikson and his crew were sailors in a simple merchant ship, exploring a new land to see what natural bounties could be found. But they weren’t unarmed; all Norsemen carried weapons, which were indicative of their social status — a sword for the wealthy, and a spear for the common man, while all usually owned shields, hand axes, and the single-edged knives known as seaxes — and they knew how to use them.

  Known for his wisdom and good judgment, Leif Erikson also possessed extraordinary eyesight, and he scanned the white beach and forest beyond closely. It looked promising. Certainly much better than the first land they’d found on this, the initial voyage of the legendary Norsemen to North America — 500 years before Columbus landed in the New World. That first land (modern day Baffin Island) had been desolate, devoid of life, one great slab of rock. So Leif had named it Helluland, meaning ‘flat-stone land’, and the expedition had set sail south in hopes of discovering a place more hospitable.

  “What do you think, Leifur?” asked a diminutive, older man with a receding hairline and restless eyes. This was Thyrker, a German whom Leif’s father, Erik the Red, had captured years ago and brought back to their village in Iceland. As was tradition with the Vikings, at age eight Leif had been sent to live with a teacher, in this case Thyrker. Under Thyrker’s tutelage, young Leif had learned the reading and writing of runes, the Celtic and Russian tongues, the use of weapons, plant studies, and the ways of trade. He’d also been taught the Old Norse sagas. At age 12, Leif had been considered a man and was sent back to his father’s house, but he and Thyrker remained close, and Leif had brought him on this new adventure. Standing next to Leif, Thyrker resembled a child conversing with a giant.

  “At least I see green, foster-father,” Erik smiled, “which is a keen improvement over our last stop.”

  “Indeed!” replied Thyrker, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Then I am anxious to feel that green verdure beneath my feet and discover what secrets this new land harbors!”

  “Agreed,” said Leif. Then, turning to his first mate, he ordered, “Drop the anchor and lower the boat. Thyrker and I will take ten men to scout the shore. You’ll stay with the rest.”

  This new country was flat and wooded, with broad stretches of white sandy beaches, and the land sloped gently down to the sea, where the waves lazily rolled up to the shore in a low roar. Overhead, seagulls squawked and danced in the ocean breeze. Though still early morning in October, the air temperature was already 67 degrees Fahrenheit, and would reach a high of 84 before the day ended; the climate of the Earth’s northern hemisphere was significantly warmer at this point in history.

  Armed now with his three-foot long sword, worn in a leather-bound scabbard suspended from a strap across his left shoulder, Leif Erikson led his men into the green wooded undergrowth.

  “Markland,” he muttered.

  A large, blonde Norseman named Atli was nearby. “What was that, Leif?” he asked.

  “Markland!” answered Thyrker, who was behind Erikson. “Forest-land. Seems fitting. Is that what you’re calling it, Leifur?”

  “Yes,” Erikson replied. “Flat and wooded. This country shall be named Markland.”

  As they hiked further from shore through the forest of balsam firs, the ocean roar became remote behind them. The air here was damp and fresh and pure and earthy.

  Geir, another crewman, exclaimed and jumped back as a Ruffed Grouse, a land-dwelling bird that was nesting in some dense undergrowth two feet in front of him, suddenly blasted into the air in a flurry of wings. The entire company burst into laughter, as the red-faced Geir smirked.

  Thyrker, who was clearly enjoying himself on this trek, took note of some of the plant life: ferns, wild blueberries, and downy rattlesnake orchids. As he was stooped over to admire a wild rose, Thyrker realized there was a footprint in the soft earth next to the flower. It looked like a human print, made with a bare foot, but this print was enormous — around 20 inches long and 8 inches wide. And it was deep. The man this print belonged to must have weighed eight hundred pounds! Thyrker squinted and shook his head in disbelief. A shiver ran down the little man’s spine.

  “Leifur…”

  Erikson turned around. The other men stopped. Thyrker pointed at the footprint grimly. “There be giants,” he murmured.

  Erikson examined the print as the other Norsemen pulled out weapons and peered into the surrounding forest. Then he cautiously began to lead them forward again.

  Just after the group passed a large boulder that was covered with ferns and moss, the ground sloped downward and they could hear the rushing of a stream somewhere ahead. They broke through the trees to see a rock-strewn brook some 20 yards below them at a slight descent. On the far side of the brook was a sheer rock wall some 10 feet high. The forest began again on top of the wall, with dense trees and foliage.

  The Norsemen hiked down the slope to the running water. A few of the men knelt and tasted it while the others continued to peer around at the increasingly foreboding tree line.

  A huge rock the size of a wagon wheel flew out of the trees and landed in the brook a couple of feet to the right of the kneeling men with a loud splash, inundating them. They exc
laimed and stood at attention. Leif and the others stared at the area where the rock came from.

  “Skellrings,” murmured a dark-haired man named Audun in a low baritone, glancing over at his commander.

  Skellrings: barbarians, thought Leif. He nodded at Audun in agreement. “Check it out,” he ordered.

  Audun took two men and carefully approached the tree line where the rock had flown out. Leif watched them disappear into the woods. Turning to his other crewmen, be began to bark out orders. “Form a circle, raise your— ”

  A deafening, blood-curdling shriek drowned him out and cascaded over the entire area, reverberating off the sheer rock wall on the opposite side of the brook and sinking down into the bottom of his soul. Leif’s mouth went dry and it felt as if the hair on the nape of his neck stood on end. He prayed to God that was not one of his men. But… it couldn’t be. That scream was unearthly, unreal — it didn’t sound human.

  It wasn’t human.

  Geir swore.

  Erikson quickly glanced around at his men. They were wide-eyed and pale — even paler than usual. Thyrker appeared as if he might vomit out of fear at any moment.

  Then Audun flew backwards out of the trees nearly ten feet and landed on his back. He was immediately followed by one of the other two men who had gone into the forest with him — who also was apparently thrown back out of the trees. Literally thrown. Who, or what, could do that?

  Leif stared at the two men for a second, trying to take this in. They were alive, but badly shaken.

  “Leifur, there’s Thoror!” Thyrker shouted hoarsely.

  Erikson turned to where Thyrker was pointing and saw Thoror, the third man who’d gone with Audun, running out of the woods 30 yards away from where the other two men had been thrown. Thoror’s long, dirty-blonde hair was in tangles, his shirt was half-torn from his body, and his right arm hung limply at his side as if it had been jerked out of the shoulder socket. His spear was gone and his eyes were wild.

  “Demons!” he screamed.

  Pandemonium struck. As if a bomb had just gone off, the little company of Norsemen suddenly exploded into a disordered mass of yelling and hysteria.

  “VIKINGS! VIKINGS!” Erikson’s voice boomed.

  Everyone stopped and breathlessly stared at him.

  “We are Vikings!” he shouted. “And we will not be taken by fear!”

  “Leif, look!” someone yelled.

  Erikson glanced around to where Audun and the other man were just standing up. Ten feet away from the two men, at the edge of the tree line, stood a monster. A tall, hairy, two-legged giant of a monster.

  It was like a huge, hairy man, with extremely broad shoulders, no neck, a cone-shaped head, and covered with reddish-brown fur. It had a flat face that was almost human. Almost. But it wasn’t human. It had red eyes, red like the fires of Hell. And its lips were drawn back in a snarl, exposing long, sharp incisor teeth on the top and bottom of its jaws.

  Erikson’s heart was thumping loud and hard in his chest, and a lump formed in his throat so that he couldn’t swallow. Audun looked back at Leif with terror in his eyes. But Norsemen were taught to defeat and banish fear — and to defeat their enemies.

  “Audun! Engage!” Erikson shouted.

  Audun picked his axe up off the stony ground and raised it over his head, faced the hairy beast, and charged at it, yelling. The creature roared, knocking Audun’s axe-hand down with one hairy arm and viciously grabbing his neck with its other hand, all in a single, swift motion. Audun’s yell was abruptly cut off and replaced with the sound of choking. Then the monster threw him back another ten feet, where the Norseman crashed onto his back in the creek side gravel.

  Erikson’s men began yelling in unison at him, all trying to get his attention at once. Around the perimeter of the clearing, more of these gigantic creatures were peering out at them from amongst the trees. One emerged from the forest above the rock cliff and glowered down at them fiercely. Erikson counted a total of maybe six that he could see, but wondered how many others there were that he couldn’t see. He even thought that he caught a brief glimpse of a small creature standing behind what appeared to be a female.

  The monsters had the tactical advantage. “Get back to the boat!” Leif ordered to his company of men.

  They didn’t need to be told twice. With weapons raised, the men commenced hiking back up the hill, following the path they had made on their arrival. Geir put Audun’s arm over his shoulder and helped him limp up the ascent.

  Erikson stood firm and warily eyed the creatures as his men retreated. Why aren’t they advancing on us? he thought. The hairy beasts maintained their distance from the humans, appearing content to only fight if they were attacked. He took a few steps toward the female to try to see the youngster behind her. Immediately, a huge beast-man, larger than the one that threw Audun, rushed from the perimeter and stood directly in front of Leif, blocking his view of the female and ‘child’. It was only a couple of feet from him, and it glared down at him, baring its teeth, a low, rumbling growl boiling up from deep within it. This hairy beast’s pelt was dark brown to black, and it was matted with mud and leaves. The monster was huge — towering at least three feet above Leif, who suddenly became overwhelmed with a horrendous stench, like rotting feces, which enveloped him and seemed to waft from the brute before him.

  Leif Erikson was a Christian. He had been led to his conversion from the old Viking gods by King Olaf himself in Norway. And he silently prayed now to the risen Christ to save his immortal soul from this malevolent devil before him. Sweat dripped down his forehead from his bushy hairline, running into his eyes, burning them and blurring his vision. He began to feel light-headed.

  “Leifur!” Thyrker screamed from somewhere behind him.

  The creature’s red eyes grew wild, darting from Leif to Thyrker, and back to Leif. The low growl increased to a roar.

  Leif’s thoughts suddenly went to his sword, hanging across his chest in the leather sheath. He briefly considered drawing it and fighting for his life. But as he stared up at this monstrous being before him, only one word flashed in his mind: Suicide. It would be suicide to engage this creature in combat.

  Leif motioned with his hand for Thyrker to stay back, to not come any further. Thyrker stopped, and Erikson slowly backed away from the roaring beast, his eyes fixed on its fanged jaws. Thankfully, mercifully, it did not attack him as he backed away. It simply stood its ground.

  Upon reaching Thyrker, Erikson turned and the two of them hurried up the incline to where a few other men waited for him. Before re-entering the forest, Leif turned to look back at the monsters behind them. They were gone.

  In the minds of the Norsemen, the woods had now taken on a dark and sinister aspect, and the forest seemed to reach at them as they ran in the direction of the beach, with tree limbs slapping at their faces and sticker bushes tearing at their legs. A few of them tripped and fell over exposed roots and stones, yelling and cursing. The men kept peering around them fearfully, trying to see if any of the giant monsters were leering back at them from behind the trees. But they saw none.

  Upon reaching the crashing ocean shoreline, they shoved the beached after-boat into the waves, leaped in, and rowed for their lives back to the anchored knarr that patiently waited for them like a dear and welcoming old friend. The other crew members on board the ship were curious and alarmed by the landing party’s panicked disposition.

  Once on board, Leif ordered the first mate to raise anchor and get away from that infernal shore as fast as possible.

  Leif Erikson’s Viking knarr would sail south two full days before they regained the nerve to explore any land again. And they never again sailed to Markland.

  But the monsters remained, being well-known to the indigenous natives of the North American continent, who viewed them with fear and respect. They had many different names for the creatures: some called them Omah, some called them Skukum, some called them Sasquatch.

  And some, modern-day
peoples, gave them a name inspired by their gigantic tracks: Bigfoot.

  Part I

  There’s a psycho squirrel preying on us!

  Alec Kerley stared out the driver side window of the Ford Explorer, leaning over his father. They were sitting motionless in the midst of The World’s Greatest Animal Paradise — that was really the name — outside of Branson, Missouri, in what was, without question, most definitely not the world’s greatest animal paradise. It was a drive-through animal park that allowed the animals to approach the vehicle to be fed through the open windows. Curiously, most of the animals resembled either some form of deer or cow, or, in this case, animals you could see in your own back yard, like this Gray Squirrel.

  “This…uh…squirrel is so used to people throwing food to it that it seems to be waiting for me to toss him something,” his father observed. “Hand me a piece of that animal food, would you, junior?” His dad, Danny, sometimes called him junior despite the fact that Alec was not named after his father.

  Alec opened the paper bag full of food pellets they had purchased at the entrance to the park. “Um, dad, is a squirrel supposed to tremble like that? And he’s getting closer to the car!”

  “Yeah, he’s acting a bit ‘squirrely’. Hah!”

  Alec stared at his father.

  “Okay, hurry, Alec, this little fella’s getting ancy!”

  “Okay, here!” Alec thrust a handful of brown pellets at his dad, who tossed one out to the anxious squirrel. The food pellet rolled next to the truck tire and the squirrel wouldn’t venture to it. The little animal peered at Danny with black, beady eyes, waving its furry chocolate-colored tail back and forth, its body shaking nervously. Then it suddenly scurried toward the truck.

  Alec was alarmed. “Dad! Roll your window up!”