They got up early on their quest to find the Sasquatch.
After a quick breakfast, they headed north as instructed by the locals.
After a quick breakfast, they set off with fresh supplies and a renewed enthusiasm.
The sky was clear, the birds were chirping and their spirits were high. They planned to explore for the first few hours and then stop for a break.
The going was tough but both were in reasonable shape and maintained a steady pace.
Their path rose slightly and there were many loose stones underfoot so they weren't rushing. A couple of times Joseph lost his footing, but was able to regain his balance, calling on his many years playing ice hockey back in Courtenay.
Looking cautiously around, he noticed the pine trees were thick in these parts and wondered how rescuers could find people, let alone get to them.
Considering the events of the past few days, that wasn’t the best thing to have on one’s mind.
Stop it, he scolded himself, you're scaring yourself. Focus on something positive.
Through a gap in the trees, his keen eyes spotted a large bald eagle soaring majestically in the sky above them; a black shape silhouetted against a perfect blue sky. Excitedly he called Peter over but he was out of hearing and, as Joseph realised, had been for some time.
Panic started to set in.
He was all alone in the woods.
His hands began to sweat.
17
His heart pounded like drums. He raced forward in desperation, eyes darting everywhere.
Still nothing.
The loud snapping of branches alerted him to his immediate left. Half expecting to see a large, hairy monster rumbling towards him he was relieved to see Peter come into his line of sight.
“Sorry, I guess I wanted to start lunch early. Must've skipped ahead.”
“That's OK” Joseph responded, as his heart slowed to a steady pace and his sweating eased.
Together they got a hearty fire going and settled down for a well-earned break.
The early morning hike had exhausted them both, however the view was stunning. They could see for miles on a three hundred and sixty degree radius.
The green landscape of trees seemed to go on forever.
Joseph inhaled.
There was a strong scent of pine in the air and it smelled like his mother's air freshener.
That made him smile.
They headed off soon after and Joseph was enjoying himself so much in the warm air that he had forgotten that they had come this way to search for the mythical creature known as the Sasquatch.
The ground had leveled out into a plateau environment, with long grass and big, sturdy pine trees around them.
They stopped in unison at the edge of a clearing and gasped.
There in the middle of a large field was a large hairy animal of some sort hunched over.
They stared in amazement.
Could it possibly be? However, as it stood up they both realised they were mistaken.
The wolf turned without warning and, faced them.
Man and beast eyeballed each other, about 100 metres apart, each studying the other like two old men hunched over a game of chess.
“Don't move” Peter whispered.
Joseph had stiffened when the wolf turned towards them and his muscles began to ache.
To their horror the huge beast began moving, ever so slowly towards them, each step like an eternity, as it got ever closer.
18
Stalking its prey before the kill.
It gradually increased its speed. It was now just 50 metres away.
Their hands were shaking as they slowly crept backwards into the trees.
Without warning, a large eagle flew into view at an alarming speed and made a beeline for the spot where they had first seen the wolf. Fearing the loss of its meal, it turned on its heels and sprinted after the eagle, lunging at it.
However, the eagle was too agile and feathers flew as the the wolf missed its target.
Both were sweating profusely and not because of the warm day.
Their hearts thudded inside their chests like an out of control drum solo.
Their earlier experience with the cougar had displayed the unpredictability of animals in the wild and they had had no idea what the wolf was going to do next.
But what was it feasting on before being interrupted? They edged closer, unsure of what they would find. They inspected the crumpled heap that lay lifelessly at their feet. It had thick reddish-brown fur with large incisors at the front of its mouth. Large claws at the end of huge gorilla like hands.
It was unlike anything they had ever seen.
Were they standing over the tattered remains of a Sasquatch?
The creature that had divided opinion for hundreds of years.
“I…I don't believe it” Joseph uttered, his voice trembling. He stuck his foot at and nudged it. To his shock, it moved slightly, and they leapt back in surprise.
It got up, with ferocious speed swung an arm out, and caught Peter on the shin, ripping through his pants and drawing blood, before getting up and hobbling clumsily away, trailing blood behind it.
Joseph cried out as Peter lay on the ground in serious pain. There was a large gash on his leg that needed immediate attention. Rummaging through his pack, Joseph found the first aid kit and cleaned the wound before applying bandages, which seemed to stop the bleeding.
“We'd better rest here a while,” Joseph instructed, taking charge with surprising authority.
He unrolled a mattress and Peter lay down and went to sleep almost immediately. Joseph checked his pulse. Slightly quicker than normal but not too concerning.
His own pulse was a lot quicker.
His hands were covered in Peter's blood, and he cleaned them, keeping an eye on Peter out of the corner of his eye.
19
With Peter in no condition to move, Joseph decided to set up camp even though his watch told him it was only 2:30 in the afternoon.
Sleep took him and he was soon in a deep coma-like state.
The wolf stood, poised as it eyed the two humans that had interrupted his feeding. The taste of flesh was fresh in his mouth as he crept to the edge of the clearing.
Should he strike now?
No, he would wait, and see what they had planned. He wasn't used to being interrupted during mealtimes.
The time would come, soon, when he would strike and this time there would be no interruptions.
Chapter Seven.
The icy winds shook them both awake on the exposed plateau and they shivered as the chilly late afternoon air blew right through them.
Peter immediately lifted his pants to check the wound on his leg. The bleeding had completely stopped and it had cleaned up nicely. He glanced over at Joseph who was untangling himself from his thermal sleeping bag.
“I owe you one,” he said smiling affectionately.
“No big deal” Joseph's reply was quick. “You would have done the same for me.”
Joseph joined him outside in the cold early morning air. He too had wondered what that
“thing” was. Yesterday he had been sure it was a Sasquatch. But now, much later, he began to doubt himself.
A Bear cub? No, there were no bears in these parts.
Another wolf? Unlikely.
What then?
The reddish-brown fur. The teeth. The claws.
A wolf, he decided, when something dawned on him.
Something horrible.
Something that made him gasp.
When the “wolf” had fled the scene, it had hobbled on its hind legs. Wolves were a quadrupedal species, they certainly did not walk around on their hind legs.
20
“That wasn't a wolf.” Peter's words seemed to cut through the silence that had developed around them.
“I've been thinking about it too,” Peter continued, without waiting for a reply. “Wolves don't walk like that did. And then there's the eyes. Dark and mysterious. Unlike any I've seen before. They seemed, different somehow.”
“So what do we do know?” Joseph asked, already knowing the answer.
“I say we head back to town and hitch a ride back to Courtenay. Apparently, the locals are always going there."
“Yeah” Joseph said thoughtfully.
"We'll ring your mother from town," Peter anounced. "Tell her the weather was turning so we cut the trip short, no need to make her worry."
They had no chance.
Their backs were facing the trees. The wolf picked his moment and ran like the wind, straight for the nearest one. It didn't growl.
Like a deadly assassin it sprinted forwards and leapt at the closest one, claws extended.
Peter.
Landing on his back as he crouched over the fire, the wolf ripped him apart with the strength and ferocity of a thousand men. Peter cried out in agony as the beast tore through him with razor sharp teeth, but it was in vain.
Joseph stood in frozen fear then his instincts told him to run.
Don't look back, just run.
Keep going, he told himself as he pounded through the trees, not sure which direction he was going but not caring either. Fear gave him energy, desperation gave him hope.
Someone had to survive this.
Someone had to tell the story.
Tripping on a tree root, he was thrown through the air and tumbled down a slope before slamming against a large, flat rock face.
Then darkness.
Silence.
In the distance, the wolf howled triumphantly, as it stood over its kill, blood dripping from its huge jaws. Today he would feast, victory was his. He wagged his tail in satisfaction and sat down to enjoy the spoils of victory.
21
Joseph's head hurt. No, more than that, it ached.
Slowly he opened his eyes like a patient after a long operation still drowsy on anesthetic.
Only this was no operation.
This was life.
And the diagnosis was not good.
A small creek gurgled nearby. He followed the sound and the icy cold liquid was like heaven. It soothed him and he drank heartily, then he lay back and slept.
Something was touching him. It crept up his arm. He awoke and jumped up in a panic, swatting the air in desperation.
Leaves.
Just some stray leaves blown about by the wind. He glanced at his watch that had survived the ordeal. You really do get what you pay for, he thought.
It had been a birthday present from Peter a couple of months ago.
Peter.
Was he alive? Instantly he knew he couldn’t be. The wolf had been relentless. It just didn't stop; it was like a killing machine, cold and heartless.
He had to know.
Which way to go?
With no confidence, he headed towards the dimming sun.
His first piece of luck in days.
He emerged from the wilderness a little over half an hour later.
The smell of death polluted the air.
It was nauseating.
He could see their tent about 50 metres away. He knew what was awaiting him and it was overwhelming.
He vomited onto the ground.
Feeling slightly dizzy, he stumbled forward and braced himself.
Nothing.
Not a thing.
22
There was no trace of Peter, the wolf had consumed everything, but that didn't make things easier and he broke down and cried.
The tears flowed and he made no attempt to stop them.
After what seemed like a lifetime, he sat up and took stock of the situation.
He was alone.
He had an idea which way civilization, maybe a couple of days hike away, but he was unsure which direction he should take.
He had to get supplies.
Who knew how long he would be out here for. He had Peter's mobile phone but out here there would be no reception.
He had to be sure.
No luck.
He packed food, clothes and water into Peter's pack. Matches. A torch and the spare battery. He packed up the tent and looked around. Apart from a few sparse items the place was pretty much deserted.
The fire where Peter's last moments were.
Some tatters of his clothes.
He quickly looked away. He looked to his right. Trees trees as far as he could see. Same story to his left.
Mountains in the far distance, reaching up into the sky. He glanced ahead. That would just take me further out of the way.
Glancing one last time at their campsite, the last spot where Peter was alive, he turned around and headed back to to the edge of the clearing, the way he had came.
Away from the scene of the dreadful attack.
Towards the unknown.