- By Perry
is an RDR Forum member who knows how to write
some really great stories .............I love
all of his work.......because he writes them for
ME and about Sasquatch......;)...............read
on if you dare............
Incident at Big Rock
Sheriff Bill Brockman pulled his head from the
passenger side of the wreck. His deputy, the new
guy Pullman, was motioning for him just down the
bank by the narrow stream. He appeared anxious,
nervously looking around himself and up towards
the hills that climbed steeply in every direction.
Sheriff Brockman meandered slowly around the black
Dodge extended cab pickup and walked lazily towards
“Yeah…watcha got kid?” he said,
spitting tobacco juice as he talked.
Pullman stuttered, “uhhh…well…you’d
better have a look for yerself Sheriff.”
Pullman pointed towards the ground with his slightly
bent index finger. He continued to stare off into
every direction. His right hand rested on the
holster of his Smith and Wesson.
“Christ…” muttered Brockman
as he slid helplessly down the four foot embankment
towards the trout stream, almost losing his balance.
He sloshed through the cold water, slipping several
times on the slimy rocks, but somehow managed
not to fall into the icy stream. Brockman was
not the most agile of law enforcers. More than
twenty five years on the force had taken its toll.
He was overweight and slow; it was a good thing
that retirement was not too far in the near distant
“What the hell is so important that I get
all shiverin’ cold for boy?”
Brockman stared at Pullman, both men were sweating
but for two completely different reasons.
Pullman pointed towards the earth again, his lips
moved but no words managed to form.
The Sheriff peered down towards his feet then
took a small step backward, his mouth slightly
agape. Brown tobacco juice rested on his chin,
a few brown stains covered his kaki shirt and
tie. Brockman was no poster child for the local
Maryland Sheriff’s Department. In all honesty,
he was a disgrace.
“What in the fuck is that!” he exclaimed,
staring directly at what appeared to be a set
of overly large footprints.
“Ther… there’s more of em…they
lead into the hills up that way.” Pullman
pointed towards the green mountain that climbed
steeply only yards from where the two men stood.
Brockman raised his head at looked at Pullman
in utter disbelief. He quickly shouted back towards
the accident scene. “Davis…get down
Deputy Ralph Davis was second in command in the
department. Some said he was a shoe in for Brockman’s
job if the old man would only retire, or if some
had their way, he would simply die of a cardiac.
It was a plausible possibility. Brockman fit the
cop stereotype to a tee, Mr. Donut man himself.
He could pack away the jelly donuts and crullers
like it was nobody’s business.
Davis quickly negotiated the trout stream. He
was a big man but agile, a rugged individual with
a quick right hook, but he also had a passionate
side; he was a devote animal lover and had been
since he was a small child. Other officers picked
on him to this day for saving a monster snapping
turtle that could have easily removed his fingers
or his hand with a swift bite, but that was Davis.
“What do ya make of this Davis?”
Davis squatted down beside the disproportionate
footprint, carefully tracing the outline with
his right index finger.
“Well Bill…I rekin’ this is
a Bigfoot track. A Sasquatch…a man of the
“I get the point Davis!”
Brockman shook his head, turned slightly and spit
a stream of juice. “How in the hell am I
supposed to report this. I gotta single vehicular
accident, two dead adults in the truck, a missing
toddler, presumably, and now a friggin’
Sasquatch. Unbelievable. Call the district investigator,
get them the hell up here and see what they can
make of this mess.”
The three men carefully crossed the stream, but
this time the Sheriff slipped and fell partially
into the stream, soaking his sidearm in the process.
It took both Pullman and Davis to help Brockman
back to his feet. Inside, both officers got a
good laugh out of the incident.
The coroner finished loading the young dead couple
into his meat wagon. Davis asked the coroner,
“any idea who they are?”
Coroner Burns only replied, “the man’s
shirt said Demo on it…I have no idea about
the woman. Your boys have their identification
if you want to know.”
“Hey Davis, anytime you wanna take off is
ok with me.” Brockman was definitely a man
of few words, but Davis was exhausted. He just
worked a double the day before and although there
was still a question mark regarding the missing
child, he knew that plenty of State Police were
combing the area. He hoped they would have better
luck than he did searching the perimeter.
Davis walked back towards the totaled pickup.
The investigative unit was finishing up with “cleaning”
“Find anything?” Davis inquired.
Ben McGregor, a long time friend looked up at
Davis from within the truck. “Found some
hairs, but I don’t think they are human…too
thick…and I think there was a child in here.
I found a sippy cup with lemonade in it. It is
half full and still cold. Say…what’s
this scuttlebutt I hear about a Bigfoot?”
Davis nodded, “tracks are down the bank
over there.” He motioned with his head in
the direction of the stream.
“Weird…I remember stories from when
I was a kid, but it’s not like I believed
them” McGregor said, peering deeply at the
cracker covered truck interior.
“Well, it could be a hoax. A kidnapping
or somethin’ like that. Guess we will have
to wait to see how this thing plays out.”
“You may be right” McGregor replied,
without looking up from his tweezers and Ziploc
“Well…see ya around Ben. I have mountains
of paperwork to get completed… don’t
want to be all night again. The wife hates that.”
Davis walked away from the wrecked truck and opened
the door to his cruiser. He had a sick feeling
in his gut. He despised when children were involved
in accidents or crimes. It just wasn’t right
that the innocent suffered. Climbing in, he picked
up the mouthpiece to his police radio. “Davis
returning to base…out.” Dispatch acknowledged.
Putting the car into gear, he slowly pulled away
from the scene.
Big Rock Road is a camper’s road primarily;
it is set deeply in the Maryland countryside landscape.
Fishermen, hunters, hikers and campers use the
road year around, but Davis could never remember
any serious accident happening on the road. It
was too narrow and curvy to gain any speed. The
whole situation nagged at him, it just didn’t
see real…and what about those hairs. What
could have left those?
The sun descended behind him as he continued down
the poor excuse for a road, potholes bounced the
cruiser from side to side, splashing mud up onto
its sides. He would have to wash the cruiser before
leaving for home. Another late night and microwaved
leftovers. Davis switched on the wiper blades
and hit the fluid button. Blue liquid streamed
onto the windshield, mixing with the mud splatter,
blurring his vision. “What the…”
Davis slammed on the brakes, his headlights piercing
the early night. He peered forward through the
smeared windshield, then froze, afraid to move
a muscle. The engine squealed slightly from the
dirty water that dripped from it. Small insects
fluttered about in the twin beams of car lights,
giving the lights a fluid motion and a life of
their own. Several feet away, it stood, taller
than any man and certainly covered in more hair
than any primate Davis had seen. In its arms,
it held a small girl, clutching a filthy doll.
She appeared to be sleeping. Davis breathed heavily,
completely unsure as to what he should do. The
creature turned towards the cruiser and walked
slightly hunched over, eyeing Davis as it moved
in his direction. Its strides were long and each
time it planted a foot, the cruiser seemed to
shake. It stopped just feet from the car hood,
slowly tilted its head from side to side several
times, then laid the child down onto a dry patch
in the road. Davis stared blindly as it disappeared
into the darkness and security of the forest.
as I drove down Big Rock Road, I came upon the
little girl wandering aimlessly. She seemed slightly
shook up, but otherwise, unhurt. Officer Davis
closed the brown folder which contained his written
report. The little girl was perfectly fine, bruised
and understandably shaken, but fine. Although
he could prove what actually happened, the last
thing he wanted was for a bunch of Sasquatch hunting
freaks to be out at Big Rock scouring the woods
for that creature…the creature that saved
that little girls life and returned it to her
own kind. Davis shoved the cruisers video tape
into his backpack, closed his desk drawer, then
headed for home, late as usual.
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