Hominid (2 page)

From the blog
Bigfoot Among Us
by Dr. Tess Brannick

This week’s question comes from Ted Hanks in Chicago, Illinois. Ted writes:

I don’t understand why people still believe there is a bigfoot. Isn’t this all just a big hoax?

It’s a common belief that all footprints found or sightings are the result of hoaxers. And to be fair, some are. But the pure scope of the sightings makes it difficult to swallow the idea of a hoax. Bigfoot sightings have been found not just in the United States but all across the globe: in China, Russia, Australia, Ireland, Nepal, South America, and more.

Moreover, the sightings go back hundreds of years. Native American stories have for centuries spoken of their giant brothers in the woods. And other countries have similar ancient tales. In fact, Medieval Europe even had some reports of a bigfoot being caught and held in captivity.

So is bigfoot a hoax? Well, if it is, it’s one that stretches back hundreds of years and has been coordinated by unrelated cultures all across the globe
.

CHAPTER 2

T
ess was heading out of town for a few days for a conference, so she had to cut her trip to the woods short. She left extra food, knowing she likely wouldn’t make it back until Friday at the earliest.

When she reached the ATV, she cast one last look at the path, hating to go. She’d been seeing more and more prints in the last few weeks, and she couldn’t help but feel she was close to making a breakthrough. Honestly, if she had her way, she’d spend all her time in the woods right now. The fever was hard to ignore. But she also knew there were bigfoot researchers who had spent their lifetimes searching for the elusive creature without ever catching sight of anything more than footprints.

With a sigh, she glanced at her watch. She was cutting it close. Hopping on the ATV, she pushed it as fast as she could.

Forty-five minutes later, she spied her red barn. Pulling the ATV through the open barn doors, she wiped it down, grabbed her pack, and jogged over to the cabin.

Her cabin was set on ten acres that abutted Klamath National Forest. She’d bought the property two years ago. A long porch wrapped around the front of the old cabin, and inside was a large open living room with a kitchen off to one side and a bathroom hidden off to the other. The place had two decent-sized bedrooms, one of which Tess had turned into her office, plus a loft bedroom above the living room, which could be reached by a metal staircase.

When Tess’s mother learned she was buying this cabin in the woods, she had nearly had a heart attack. After losing Tess’s dad, her mom had never been comfortable with them going into the woods. But she also recognized Tess was drawn to the great outdoors. They’d fought about her career choice for years. Tess knew that offering to renovate the cabin was her mom’s way of saying she’d finally accepted Tess’s career choice.

Tess had originally resisted, not sure she wanted anything too fancy, but she gave in eventually. And seeing as how her mother passed away only a month after the renovations were complete, Tess was very glad she did. She knew being involved had made her mother more comfortable with Tess’s career choice.

Besides, her mother had been right—having a comfortable place to come home to
did
make all the difference. Tess loved being off the beaten track, but there was something to be said for modern conveniences.

When she opened the door, her ten-year-old yellow Labrador, Shelby, was waiting for her. Tess knelt down and gave the dog a good rub. “Hey, girl.” Then she stepped back and let Shelby out.

Tess zipped into her office. She dropped her pack on the desk and carefully pulled out the casts she’d made. She jotted down the coordinates where she’d found them as well as the time and date, then placed them in the glass-encased bookcase across from her old wooden desk. She already had over two dozen casts in there, the majority of them with the same mark on the bottom of the foot.

Her gaze roamed over the collection, her heart rate picking up. The footprints ranged in size from fourteen to eighteen inches long and six to eight inches wide. These were proof that unknown hominids roamed the woods in Northern California.

The alarm on her phone beeped, and she grimaced. She really needed to move. With one last lingering gaze, she left her collection behind and ran for her bedroom. She had one hour to shower, pack, and get out the door.

I really don’t want to go
, she thought as she stripped out of her clothes and turned on the water.

But you really need the grant money,
her rational side countered. She blew out a breath, acknowledging that truth. Academic curiosity might be a wonderful thing, but it didn’t pay the bills. For that, you needed donors—or better yet, grants.

Tess still had money from her mom’s life insurance policy, but she didn’t want to touch it—not for this. Her mom had supported her, but Tess knew how much her mother had worried about her, so Tess promised herself she would use that money for something that would have made her mom smile.

And right now, she knew if she didn’t get a grant at this conference, she was most likely going to have to close up shop.

She stepped into the shower, let the water run over her, and closed her eyes.
Please let me find someone as dedicated to this project as I am.

And let them have very deep pockets.

CHAPTER 3

Scottsdale, Arizona

C
arter Hayes flipped through the papers on his desk with a scowl.
Everyone wants a handout.

Each year, his foundation donated to a variety of philanthropic endeavors. It was good publicity, and the tax breaks were huge. But people were so greedy.
What ever happened to standing on your own two feet?

Carter Hayes had never taken a handout in his life. He was a self-made man. After graduating Yale, he hadn’t gone to work at his father’s company. He’d taken his trust fund and gambled on himself. And he’d won.

He curled his lip. American Cancer Society, Children’s Charities of America, the Boys and Girls Club of America. The list went on and on. And all these people wanted him to hand over his money to them.

“Sir, have you made any decisions?” Thaddeus Regan asked.

Carter eyed his assistant. Thaddeus had been with him for over twenty years. The two had grown up together in Michigan, although they hadn’t been friends; Thaddeus had been the son of the groundskeeper on his parents’ estate.

Carter shoved the papers away. “I don’t care. You decide.”

“Very well, sir. And I may have found a researcher for your special project.”

All thoughts of the charitable donations disappeared, and a tingle of excitement danced along Carter’s skin. He held out his hand. “Let me see.”

Thaddeus handed him a folder.

Stamped across the front were the words
Dr. Tess Brannick, PhD
. Carter flipped it open and scanned the resume quickly. She had a BS in Zoology (Anatomy & Physiology) from Michigan State University, an MS in Zoology (Anatomy & Physiology) from Kent State University, and a PhD in Anatomical Sciences (Physical Anthropology) from the State University of New York at Stony Brook. She’d also completed a postdoctoral visiting assistant professorship at Duke University Medical Center.

And
she had a well-received blog called “Bigfoot Among Us.” It had received over two hundred thousand hits last month.

Carter’s eyebrow rose when he flipped to the next page, which detailed her blog. The topics revolved entirely around the scientific validity of bigfoot.

Carter had been obsessed with tales of bigfoot since he was a kid. He’d first seen the Patterson-Gimlin film when he was seven, and had been equal parts fascinated and terrified at the idea that a powerful eight-foot hominid was alive and at large in North America.

That year he asked his family to get him a bigfoot for his eighth birthday. His family already had a zoo on the estate, so to him, it didn’t seem like such a big request. But he was given a gorilla instead. He curled his lip at the memory. The thing had never liked him. And it had been old, just sitting there, its fat belly flopping over his legs. Carter’s family had finally gotten rid of it two years later.

But while Carter had lost interest in the gorilla, he’d never lost interest in bigfoot. Owning a bigfoot had grown from a childhood wish to an adult goal.

And Carter Hayes achieved his goals.

“She’s well credentialed,” Thaddeus said.

“So I see,” Carter said.

Carter flipped through the file and stopped at a photograph.
And very attractive
, he thought. She had that girl-next-door beauty, with dark brown hair, deep blue-green eyes, and a spray of freckles across her cheeks.

“Her approach is a departure from most,” Thaddeus said. “I think she may be exactly what you’re looking for.”

Carter flipped through the pages once more from the beginning, skimming the information again, liking what he was seeing. He paused. “What’s this?” He held up a police report. He hadn’t noticed it on his first flip-through.

“Her father was killed by a mountain lion on a camping trip almost twenty years ago. She and her brother were also there.”

“And she still goes into the woods? Alone?”

“Yes, sir. In fact, according to unofficial reports, she and her brother were saved by a very tall unidentified animal. I believe that may be the reason behind her research.”

A strong scientific background, beauty, and guts—an unusual combination
. He smiled.
And the perfect one.

“She’s presenting at the annual cryptozoology conference tomorrow in San Diego,” Thaddeus said.

Carter nodded, already inserting Dr. Brannick into his plans. “Make sure we have someone there to record the presentation.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carter flipped back to the picture. It wasn’t a posed shot. She was laughing, her head tilted to the side.
Yes. She may be just what I need
.

CHAPTER 4

Beauford, California

T
ess drove around a bend in the dirt road, revealing the white farmhouse and red barn in the treeless clearing ahead. Shelby started wagging her tail immediately. Tess rubbed Shelby’s head. “I know you love it here, but you could at least act like you’re going to miss me a little.”

Shelby grinned back at her, her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

“Okay, fine.” Tess shook her head with a laugh. She pulled to a stop in front of the wide porch steps just as the screen door opened.

Seventy-seven-year-old Madge Rollins stepped out. Her long gray hair was pulled back into a bun, her faded jeans and denim top immaculately clean. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry.” Tess stepped out of the truck, and Shelby leapt out behind her. “Got back to the cabin late.”

Shelby scrambled up the stairs. Madge leaned down, a grin on her face. “Hello, girl. We are going to have some fun.”

Madge might have been skinny as pole, but Tess knew she was strong from her many years working the farm. Now, though, she had sold off most of the acreage, and she had people do her planting for her. Her three sons worried about her being out here alone. They wanted her to move in with them. Madge’s response when they’d suggested it had been a snort, followed by: “What, so I can be a glorified babysitter? No thank you.”

Her sons knew better than to try and fight her on it. Besides, Madge seemed to like her own company, and one of the boys came up every weekend to help out. Still, Tess knew Madge’s sons wanted her to sell the place. And it wasn’t just because of her advancing years.

Madge stood up from giving Shelby a good rub, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “So, you’re off to see my boyfriend?”

Tess grinned. “Madge, you know Shawn’s gay, right? And married to my brother?”

Madge cackled. “Well, he might be gay in real life, but not in my imagination.”

Tess couldn’t help but laugh. “I am
so
not telling Shawn or Pax that.”

Madge held the screen door open. “You got time for tea?”

“I could be persuaded,” Tess said, following her in. She’d checked the plane’s status on the ride over—it was delayed, so she’d have a little time before her friend Sasha Bileris came by to pick her up.

Shelby headed straight for the dog bed in the corner with her toys and bones. Whenever Tess had to be out in the field for a few nights or out of town, this was Shelby’s home. Tess knew Madge would like to get another dog of her own, but after what happened to her last dog, she wasn’t quite ready for that.

Tess took a seat at the table, where Madge had already set out the tea and a plate of lemon cookies, and took a sip of her tea. “Any visitors last night?”

Madge crossed her arms with a sigh. “Oh, they were in a fine mood. Hooting, hollering, a few large branches came down. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the racket.”

A couple of miles and a large hill separated Madge’s place from Tess’s. The terrain tended to trap the noise on one side.

“Where about?” Tess asked.

Madge nudged her chin toward the back of the house. “Up the hill. Right about where you put those new cameras.”

“Oh, crap.”

Madge smiled. “I told you they don’t like being spied on.”

“I know. I know.”

Madge was the reason Tess had bought the cabin down the road. For years, Madge had had “visitors” on her property. She’d spotted them in the distance now and then, but they kept to themselves. Every once in a while, though, Madge would come across a deer or elk that had been ripped apart. Sometimes she found footprints. And at night, especially in the spring, it wasn’t unusual for her to hear them making a racket all over the place.

Tess had learned about Madge’s visitors when she was a kid. She and Pax would regularly bike out to see Madge and pepper her with questions. Well,
Tess
would pepper her with questions. Tess was pretty sure Pax only made the trip for Madge’s oatmeal cookies.

And Madge’s nightly visitors were the reason why Madge didn’t have dogs. Her last dog had been so terrified that he had reached a point where he wouldn’t leave the house. Madge finally had to give him to one of her sons. It wasn’t fair to the poor animal.

Luckily, Shelby was partially deaf and didn’t seem bothered by the activity. But Tess knew if Shelby ever got near one, that would change. Dogs were not fond of bigfoot, and the feeling was mutual.

“Did they get close to the house?” Tess asked.

“Nah. We’ve established a respect of sorts. They keep to their space, I keep to mine. Never had problems before; can’t sees why I’d start having some now.”

“I keep seeing tracks of my friend in the woods.”

Madge raised an eyebrow. “You sure it’s the same one?”

Tess pictured the scar on the casts. “Yeah, same one.”

“Hmm.” Madge took a sip of her tea.

“What do you mean, ‘hmm’? What are you thinking?”

“Seems to me he’s
letting
you find those tracks. They’re usually a little more careful.”

Tess sat back, surprised. Madge was right. In all the cases she’d read about, no one had ever found tracks so consistently. She had just thought it was because she was so far in. But what if it wasn’t?

“Why would he do that?”

Madge shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m betting he’ll let you know sooner rather than later.”