Joko (17 page)

Maybe Jocko is talking to his kin
, he thought.

Johnny decided to sit up to get a better view. He carefully raised up above the bushes that sheltered the nest and studied the shadows carefully, looking for movement, but he saw nothing.

Suddenly a dark shape entered the nest. It was Jocko, who put a hand on Johnny’s mouth before he could cry out in terror. When he was satisfied that Johnny would make no sound, Jocko took his hand away, then lay down at Johnny’s feet and curled into a ball. Soon, the sasquatch was asleep.

Johnny was wide awake and on high alert. He wanted to ask Jocko many questions.

“How can you walk the forest without making noise?” he almost said, but he was still afraid to make any noise, even a whisper. And Jocko seemed for all the world to be sound asleep.

Johnny promised himself that if he learned nothing else from his strange companion, it would be the art of stealth. He pondered the advantages of walking silently through the woods. Hunters, trappers, and soldiers would pay a fortune for that knowledge.

Jocko sat up suddenly, and soundlessly, and carefully examined the forest. He put a hand flat on Johnny’s chest and left it there a moment, then moved his hand to Johnny’s forehead. Jocko’s cool hand reminded him of his Aunt Gert’s, testing for signs of fever.

“I’m fine,” whispered Johnny. “What was makin’ that noise?”

In the darkness Johnny couldn’t see Jocko very well, but he could tell the sasquatch was nervous. His hand was trembling. Johnny had assumed that Jocko knew what or who had made the sounds, but now he wasn’t so sure.

The answer came as an image that jumped into his mind when Jocko touched Johnny’s forehead. As if in a memory, he saw a group of four sasquatch walking nearby. The image was dark and fleeting, human-shaped shadows moving among the giant trees.

Jocko removed his hand and seemed to curl up again and go to sleep. Confused, Johnny watched the forest, chewing a leaf that Jocko had given him earlier to ease his headache pain. All he could hear was Jocko’s breathing, a distant chorus of peeper frogs, and a mosquito that whined near his ear. Far away, a loon gave a mournful call.

Beyond the nest was a hopeless tangle of fallen trees, broken branches, moss, and ferns; like a cool greenhouse at night. Johnny wondered how he had gotten to this place, so far from the sea. There was only one answer; the sasquatch must have carried him. But how? Jocko was strong. Johnny knew that from experience. But strong or not, how had he carried Johnny, a body almost his own size, across this impossible terrain? Johnny watched pools of moonlight trace the depths of the forest.
How will I ever live through this?
he wondered.

Jocko suddenly sat up beside Johnny and stared out into the darkness. Every so often he lifted his head and sniffed the cool, damp air. The two of them pressed against one another to ward off the chill. Jocko’s furry body comforted Johnny.

Suddenly, from somewhere in front of them, a simian shriek cut the silence. It was immediately answered by another call from behind. Jocko turned, crouching low, and pressed Johnny down deeper into the nest.

Johnny didn’t struggle. He waited and listened. All he could hear was his heart pounding. But nothing happened.

Seconds turned into minutes, and finally Jocko pulled him from between the large branches where he’d been shoved.

Johnny and the sasquatch looked at one another.

Jocko touched him to make sure he had Johnny’s attention and pointed to his nose. Johnny knew Jocko meant that he could smell something.

They waited, both peering intently into the darkness.

Finally they heard another call, this time far away. Sensing that danger had passed, Johnny laid back down in the soft bed of ferns. Soon he and Jocko were both asleep.

When Johnny awoke daylight was breaking and Jocko was curled into a ball, sound asleep, next to him. Johnny stretched. He was feeling nearly himself again in spite of being very hungry.

He pushed the ferns that covered him aside and carefully stood up. His movements woke Jocko who remained crouched as he examined the forest that surrounded them.

Jocko waited for some time before he rose and stood next to Johnny, then the sasquatch stepped out of the nest and disappeared into the foliage.

Johnny put on his socks and shoes and began exploring the area around the nest, hoping to find a good spot to relieve himself.

As he stepped onto a mossy log it squished under his weight and his smooth soled boots slipped a bit. After a few more steps he looked back toward the nest. He was shocked to see that the nest was nearly invisible amid the greenery that loomed everywhere. Again he found himself wondering about Jocko. “How does he find the nest?” he said softly.

He took another step and slipped into a boggy hole, catapulting him head first into a tree.

Dazed, he pulled himself to his feet and relieved himself where he stood. A black jay mocked and scolded Johnny’s clumsiness from the safety of a high branch.

“Damn!” said Johnny, as he tried to orient himself. He could no longer see any evidence of the nest. He turned around and scanned the woods. “Wait a minute! I can’t be lost already.” He began to panic. “No, no, no!” Then he caught himself. “Calm. Think.” He remembered his father’s advice about being in the woods. “Never panic. Never panic.”

Examining the ground more carefully, he could see the trail of crushed ferns and ruptured moss he’d made in the forest floor. Following the trail of destruction he soon arrived at the nest, wet, but relieved. There was nothing he could do but listen to the forest and the gurgling of his empty stomach.

Finally, with the sun climbing higher the forest began to warm and he drifted off to sleep.

This time he awoke to a different sound. The nest was being torn to pieces. Johnny opened his eyes in time to see a dark form looming over him. He screamed and scrambled out of the nest as a huge paw swiped his shoulder, tearing his coat sleeve.

It was a hungry grizzly bear, and Johnny was a handy meal. It lunged forward, twice snapping its jaws only inches from Johnny’s foot. But the bear was getting its paws tangled in the limbs supporting the nest. It pulled back and howled at Johnny in frustration.

Of all the animals Johnny knew, the grizzly bear was most feared. Any mountain man or Indian would tell you to run if you saw one, and one this size, riled and hungry, was almost unstoppable. Johnny looked around for a weapon but found nothing but branches at hand, and the grizzly was already half way through the nest, roaring hungrily at him. The bear bellowed in rage and lunged forward. For the first time in his life Johnny knew what it was to be prey.

He yelled at the bear and grabbed a branch, thrusting it into the bear’s snapping mouth. It was useless. The bear bit through the branch and continued his advance. In fear and desperation, Johnny kicked wildly at the bear’s maw. His boot connected solidly with its jaw, but the only reaction it brought was an angry roar and more resolve. Its jaws snapped inches from Johnny’s heel. Johnny screamed again and dove behind a rotted stump; the bear cuffed it away in a shower of wet splinters.

Now Johnny was sure he was going to die. In blind panic he fell backward, rolled over and clawed his way through the ferns. He could almost feel the bear’s hot breath at his back.

He dove again, this time behind the roots of a large fallen redwood. There he found a large broken branch with a sharp end and turned to defend himself with it.

Suddenly the bear reared up and roared.

Out of the corner of his eye Johnny saw another animal move toward him. At first he thought it was the bear’s mate coming to join the feast. He tried to get to his feet, but the ground crumbled to muck under him and he fell again. When he hit the ground he turned over and pointed the stick menacingly at the bear, but the bear didn’t lunge at him. It stood its ground and roared again.

Johnny had lost sight of the other animal. He looked all around but saw nothing. Then he heard a twig snap behind him.

This is it
, thought Johnny.

The other creature leapt over Johnny and landed on two feet between Johnny and the grizzly. It was Jocko. He looked small next to the bear, standing there waving his arms at the towering animal. The bear hesitated. It waved its claws in the air and dropped briefly to all fours.

Seizing the moment, Jocko turned to Johnny and pushed him away. The force of the shove knocked all the wind from Johnny and sent him rolling over backward. He scrambled to his feet in time to see Jocko standing his ground before the bear as it rose to attack. With a grunt it lunged at Jocko, flashing a huge set of sharp fangs.

There was a blur of motion and a loud crack, like a large limb breaking. The bear reeled over sideways and fell to the ground.

Jocko stood over the body and rubbed his right hand.

There was blood on his knuckles where his fist had been cut on the bear’s teeth. Jocko waited for the bear to get up and attack again, but the grizzly never moved. It was stone dead.

Johnny sat down, stunned, and stared in disbelief at Jocko. “You killed it,” he said blankly. “You, you killed it with one punch.”

Jocko held out his undamaged hand to help Johnny to his feet.

Johnny could barely stand. His knees quivered and his breathing was short. Looking Johnny over, Jocko seemed content that the boy was in good working order. He inspected the tear in Johnny’s jacket, apparently concerned about the damage to it.

“I’m okay, Jocko.” Johnny put a grateful hand on the sasquatch’s shoulder. “You’re the one that’s hurt,” he added, pointing to Jocko’s bleeding hand.

Jocko turned his injured knuckle up so they could both see the wound. Johnny could clearly see two one inch gashes on Jocko’s middle and third finger, running upward from his knuckle. The cuts looked deep, but neither was still bleeding. In fact, the wounds had already closed.

Johnny was amazed. “What kind of a critter are you, Jocko?”

Jocko looked at the bear. “M’paku tu-usshhh,” he said sadly.

Jocko’s mind and body quivered with loathing, for himself and his situation. For the first time in his life he’d had to kill a bear.

Others in his clan had done as much, but always to save a member of their family. Generally the bears ignored the sasquatch as they would mankind. All the bear wanted was a free meal.

Johnny had been such a find for the bear and Jocko knew it. He’d given the bear a warning by standing in front of the animal’s intended meal. But the bear was too hungry to be dissuaded. It had to be killed.

The situation disturbed Jocko deeply. All his life he’d seen the remnants of human brutality: skeletons, entrails and other discarded animal parts that Indians, trappers, and hunters had left behind. To many of his kind humans were synonymous with death. Now Jocko was joined with a human, and death followed. Jocko’s keen nose told him that the bear was a female, expecting cubs.

Johnny shook his head. “Maybe I’ll learn to understand you one day. All I can say is thanks for saving my life.”

The forest had grown quiet during the struggle. Soon it returned to life with the call of a hawk overhead. To Johnny it seemed to be proclaiming the bear’s defeat.

Johnny started walking back to the nest, but Jocko put a hand out to stop him. Having Johnny’s attention, the sasquatch crouched low and began walking slowly and carefully, demonstrating his stealth technique. Still shaking, and wiser to the necessity for caution, Johnny did a perfect imitation of Jocko’s movements. Walking with a slight crouch, he noticed his feet didn’t slip as much on the uneven wet ground. He found himself able to cover ground fairly quickly and resolved to practice Jocko’s ‘walk’ at every opportunity.

Soon the two of them were back at the nest. Jocko made short work of fixing the damage and then pushed Johnny toward it.

“I’m gonna skin that bear,” announced Johnny, as he stepped into the nest and down into the soft green bedding.

“I’m gonna take his hide for wintertime.” He pulled out his pocketknife and clicked it open.

Jocko looked at the shining steel blade and raised his eyebrows. Then he smiled.

“So you think I can’t skin a bear?” challenged Johnny.

Jocko just blinked and continued to smile.

“Yes, well, you’ll see in the mornin’, soon as I get up the gumption.”

The first week of living on the fringe of the Olympic Peninsula had been sobering for both Johnny and Jocko. The episode with the bear had been a notable event, but there had been another encounter; one that Johnny would never know about, and it bothered Jocko more than a skinned knuckle or the killing of the she-bear.

Foraging for food one day, Jocko had encountered a family of sasquatch from the southern mountains; the ones humans call the Cascades. Jocko had never been this far south, nor met any of the southern people. He was glad to see them.

But to his shock, they rejected him utterly, and what made it worse was that they went out of their way to do it. At first he thought it was because he was traveling alone. Young sasquatch almost always travel with their family nearby.

In a way, that was true. Had his family been on hand the confrontation would have been different. Jocko was still young, after all. Other sasquatch would ignore Jocko and his siblings. During rare meetings all that mattered were the actions of adults. Children are exempt from sasquatch politics. It had always been so.

Jocko didn’t question the sasquatch ways. They were based on thousands of generations of experience. Inter-tribal relationships were simple and quiet, so as not to attract human attention.

Jocko had grown up ignorant of the fact there was anything significantly different about him. Many sasquatch looked different. Some are black, some brown, and some had silver tipped fur when old. But when he encountered this sasquatch family Jocko found out how different he really was.

He had smelled them for several days, but, caring for Johnny, had elected to stay away from them. So when he encountered the sasquatch family, the meeting had been b rief and awful.