Cantina Valley (A Ben Adler Mystery Book 1) (19 page)

“Enough to try to kill you?” Maggi asked.
 
“That’s insane.”

“You obviously haven’t tried our truffles,” Marlon said.
 
“Looks like I need some security.
 
Any idea who could help me with that, Ben?”
 
The Bigfoot truffle king gave Ben a wide smile.

“You’ve got a bunch of former military working for you already,” Ben concluded.

“I know.
 
But I need them up in the truffle hunt and to transport them to PDX.
 
I need someone I can trust.”

“First, you need to call the sheriff and report this shooting,” Ben said.

“What good will that do?”

The man had a point.
 
His house was so far away from the sheriff’s office and most patrols that the only reason to call the police out there was to tell them where to pick up the bodies.

“Let me think about it,” Ben said.
 
“In the meantime you need to arm yourself.”

“I don’t have any guns.”

Ben pulled out his wallet and found a business card.
 
He handed it to Marlon.
 
“That’s an old friend of mine.
 
A private federal firearms dealer.
 
Give him my name and tell him to bring you a selection.
 
He’ll also know about potential private security.”

Marlon nodded his head.

“Now, who runs your crews?”

“A guy named Kevin Engel.”

Ben smiled.
 
“I know Kevin.
 
How do you contact him?”

“By radio.”

“Up in the Siuslaw or at his Compound?”

Marlon’s brows shot up.
 
“I guess being a local you would know about the Compound.”
 
He pondered the question.
 
“I believe he’s up with the truffle crews.”

“Contact him immediately and tell him you were just attacked.
 
If they came for you, they might come for the truffles next.”

“Good idea.”
 
Marlon took off for a back room.

Once they were alone, Maggi pulled on Ben’s sleeve and said, “Bigfoot aliens?
 
Nice one.”

Ben shrugged.
 
“What?”

She obviously wasn’t buying what Ben was selling.

“Sometimes we need to have an open mind, Maggi,” Ben said.
 
“When you look up into the stars, it’s not difficult to imagine life on other planets.
 
It would be truly arrogant to think we are the only semi-intelligent creatures in this universe.
 
Look how far we have come in just a hundred years.
 
It’s not a stretch to think that other aliens might be much farther along in technology.”

Maggi simply stared at Ben as if he was an alien himself.

20

Ben went out to where the shooter had shot from, finding scattered brass in the wet grass.
 
Looking back toward the house, with the help of leaning against the thick fir tree, he realized that the distance was about 100 yards—an easy shot for an average marksman.
 
Someone with a little more skill could have put one bullet into Marlon’s vitals easily.
 
Even with the rainy conditions.
 
Yet, the first shot had missed its mark by five feet.
 
He picked up one of the spent brass from both ends, pocketing it without touching the main part of the metal just in case the man had been stupid enough to leave his prints.

Then he walked back to Marlon’s house and met Maggi inside.

“What did you find?” she asked.

“As I suspected based on the sound of the shots, the gun was an AR-15 in 5.56 mm.”
 
Ben glanced up at the pattern of bullet entries through the glass and knew he was right.
 
Although a little glass had fallen to the floor, for the most part the bullets had simply penetrated without doing much real damage.
 
That meant the bullets had not deflected much either.
 
Yeah, the shooter had intentionally missed his target.

“What are you thinking?”

“Don’t tell Marlon this, but I think the shooter was just trying to scare him.
 
A guy with full-on Parkinson’s could have made that shot.”

“Still, the shooter could have actually screwed up and hit someone,” she reasoned.

“I know.
 
That’s why Marlon needs protection.
 
This could have just been an initial warning.
 
I’m more concerned about what will follow.”

“Do you plan to help this guy?”

“I’m a bit torn, Maggi.
 
This all started by trying to find your brother.
 
We’ve found him.
 
He doesn’t seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary.”

Maggi bit her lip, her eyes shifting toward the floor.
 
“I know.
 
But with this shooting, I think you might be right.
 
What if these people try to attack the source?”

“That’s why I told Marlon to warn his crews.
 
We could push the issue and head up into the mountains to warn your brother in person.”

“Would you do that for me?”

“If my truck will make it up those roads,” he said.

Marlon entered again and said, “That won’t be a problem.
 
We can take my truck.”

“Did you warn your crews?” Ben asked.

“I got through to Kevin.
 
He’ll make sure the others know as well.”
 
Marlon lifted a large GPS unit and added, “I have the location of my crews in here.
 
Coming with me?”

“I will,” Ben said.
 
Then to Maggi he said, “Why don’t you take my truck back to my place and wait for us there.”

“No way in hell,” Maggi said.
 
“I need to talk with my brother.”

“Awesome,” Marlon said.
 
“I’ll lock up.
 
Meet me out at the garage.”

Ben and Maggi wandered outside and toward Ben’s truck.
 
He opened his front door and shoved the seat forward.
 
From a rack built inside the back of the truck seat, he pulled out his own AR-15.
 
Then he found a small satchel on the floor and turned to Maggi, who looked a bit shocked.
 
“What?” he asked.

“You’re all kinds of interesting, Ben,” she said.

Marlon’s garage door opened and the former professor backed out a large black SUV with big oversized tires.

Ben climbed into the front passenger seat and Maggi got into the back behind the driver.

“Wow, Ben, you come prepared,” Marlon said, gazing at the AR-15.

Ben shoved the barrel of the rifle down at the firewall by his feet.
 
“His name is Justin,” Ben said.
 
“Justin Case.”

“Sweet.”
 
Marlon cycled through the GPS sitting in a holder on his dash.
 
It finally acquired satellites and a sexy woman’s voice came on saying she was ready to navigate.
 
“All right.
 
Let’s rock and roll.”

They drove out of his parking area and then hesitated at the front gate as it opened for Marlon slowly.

Ben pointed at a spot along the edge of the road.
 
“Looks like the shooter parked out far enough so the camera didn’t pick him up.
 
The vehicle left in a hurry.”

“You’re right, Ben.
 
I guess I need to upgrade my security.”

“Unfortunately, in our society the more you have the more someone wants to take it from you,” Ben reasoned.

It took them a half hour to cruise through their valley and start up the coast range, the sexy woman telling them where to turn.
 
Ben knew these roads from his youth, having driven them many times hunting and fishing.
 
He had just gone trout fishing in this area the day he met Maggi.
 
Since this wasn’t a major road leading from one of Oregon’s larger cities to the coast, traffic consisted mostly of logging trucks and recreational locals.
 
During the rainy season from November to April, not many braved the road, which quickly went from a narrow paved highway to an even narrower dirt track encroached on both sides by blackberry brambles.
 
As they rose higher in elevation, the berry bushes gave way to young oaks and evergreen saplings.

The Coast Range was owned mostly by three entities—the National Forest Service, Oregon State Forests, and the large lumber companies.
 
In this particular area, Ben knew that they were now in lumber company land.
 
He could tell by the gates that led to roads off the sides.

“Do you have lease contracts with the lumber companies?” Ben asked Marlon.

“Yes.
 
I convinced them to deal only with me in exchange for this place not turning into the wild west.”

Ben had heard stories of mushroom hunters clashing for territory on public lands in Oregon.
 
Private land was easier to control, he guessed.
 
The land was now clearly marked as private and to keep the hell out or be prosecuted for trespassing.

“I’ve never been up in this type of land before,” Maggi said from the back seat.

Marlon looked at her in the rearview mirror.
 
“The private companies do a better job maintaining the land than our government.
 
They have a monetary incentive to do so.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ben said.

“Profit is a great motivator,” Marlon added.

The driver slowed and pulled over to the right, waiting for a large logging truck to pass.
 
Then Marlon powered up and spun the tires.
 
He punched a button, putting the vehicle into four wheel drive, and the rig powered forward with ease.

“The road looks like goose shit,” Ben said.

“It’s slick all right.”
 
Marlon paused and then said, “Were you just fucking with me about Bigfoot to try to get information?”

“You don’t think it’s a viable theory?” Ben asked, avoiding the man’s question.

“Truthfully, it’s the best theory I’ve ever heard.
 
I really think you might be on to something.
 
The problem then becomes more acute.
 
How do we prove it?”

Ben had considered this as well.
 
“It’s kind of like God, I think.
 
You either believe or not.
 
Or maybe you’re on the fence and don’t really know for sure.”
 
He thought about what Marlon had added to his theory.
 
“You’re the biologist.
 
Do you think shape-shifting is possible?”

“Absolutely.
 
Not in humans, of course.
 
But in other creatures on Earth it is not uncommon.
 
Look at the chameleon, which changes color to match its environment.
 
Even more realistic is the octopus, which not only changes
 
color, but also changes shape and texture.
 
Let’s say the Bigfoot can change to human form.
 
He could be living among us right now.”
 
Marlon suddenly turned to Ben.
 
“Shit.
 
You could be one.”

Ben laughed.
 
“Not likely.
 
I wouldn’t have joined the Air Force.”

“They could be infused throughout our society, Ben.
 
There have been sightings in every state in America, from Maine to California.
 
From Minnesota to Texas.
 
Like I said, perhaps they can only maintain the human form for a short period and must go into the woods when they shift back to Bigfoot form.”

Maggi leaned forward, stretching against her seatbelt.
 
“How would they give birth?”

Marlon considered that conundrum.
 
“Well, not in a hospital.
 
The medical people would be able to determine they were not human.
 
Maybe once they get pregnant they head up into the wilderness to give birth.
 
There have been many sightings of younger Sasquatch.”

All three of them sat in silence for a while, considering the prospect of what this former professor was postulating.
 
Ben reasoned that he had questions about his own faith in God, so could he possibly believe in shape-shifting Bigfoot aliens?

A squawk from the radio broke the silence.

Marlon grabbed the radio, pressed the talk button, and said, “Say again.”

A bunch of garbled talk came over the small speaker.

“Was that gunfire in the background?” Ben asked.

“You’re not coming through,” Marlon said into the radio.

“How far are we to the first camp?” Ben asked.

Slowing the truck, Marlon turned onto a smaller road heading to the south.
 
“About two miles up this road.”
 
Then into the handheld radio Marlon said, “Say again.
 
You’re not coming through.”