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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

“Hey Sheriff…over here!”
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 Pullman.
“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 future.
“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 here!”
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 forest…a…”
“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.”
“Ok…thanks anyway.”
“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” the vehicle.
“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 baggy.
“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.


…and 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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