Protected Species

A Native American guide, a hunter, and a protected species. SciFi

approximately 4400 words

         

Protected Species
by
Max Griffin

         
         The crisp mountain air puffed in frigid clouds from Dakota's lips as he whispered, "The wolf pack is right there, Mr. Stewart. They're crouching in the brush on the far side of the elk herd."  He peered through his binoculars and scanned the snowy bramble in the little valley below them.  "I see the alpha male and two, no, three more behind him.  The rest of the pack has to be nearby."
         
         His companion shifted and grunted.  "I don't see no wolves.  You sure?"  He used the barrel of his gun to push aside the netting of their blind while he squinted through his telescopic sight.  "Hey," he muttered.  "What the hell is that?"

         Dakota lowered his binoculars and peered in the direction Stewart was pointing.  A ghostly figure seemed to lurk in the shadows to their left, at the edge of the clearing.  At first he thought it might be a bulky man wearing a fur coat, except the proportions weren't quite right.  Maybe a bear?  When the trees shifted in a gust of wind, the figure vanished.  Dakota whispered, "I think it was just a trick of the light, sir.  Things can fool you here in the mountains."  Memories of his grandfather's tall tales of sásq'ets brought a tight smile to his lips.

         Stewart scowled at him and snorted.  "I ain't seein' no hallucinations, boy."  He squirmed on his camp chair and returned his gaze to the herd grazing in the valley below them.  "When do I get to bag me a wolf?"
         
         Dakota frowned and put a steadying hand on the man's corpulent fist. "Hush.  Not so loud.  If you spook the elk, the wolves will go away, too."  He picked up his binoculars.  The alpha's tail twitched and its ears pointed at the prey.  "They'll make their move any second now."  A pine grosbeak whistled a faint pui-pui-pui across the valley, and Dakota inhaled the scent of pine and damp earth.  A high, cirrus cloud passed over the afternoon sun and a feathery shadow fled across the valley. He kept his binoculars focused on the alpha as the lupine predator crept forward.  "Any time now; they're getting ready to attack."  He squeezed his client's arm in anticipation.
         
         Stewart pushed his guide's arm away and spat.  "I told you not to touch me, you little creep."  He stood and knocked his camp chair askew.  The muddy ground of the pit Dakota had dug for their blind made squishing sounds as he clambered out, pointing his rifle across the valley. 
         
         In an instant, the elks' heads snapped toward them.  Light glinted off the lens on Stewart's rifle.  As if they were a single organism, the elk bolted in the opposite direction, directly toward the pack lurking in the brush.
         
         Six wolves sprang into action, all following the lead of the speckled gray alpha male.  They nipped at the heels of the youngest, slowest member of the herd.  The animal scampered away, its eyes alight with panic, but the wolves were too fast.  Blood sprayed crimson on the white snow drifts.  The elk faltered, and a gray swarm of teeth and claws flowed over its body.  While its brothers and sisters fled to safety, the hapless creature became meat for the wolves to butcher.
         
         Stewart's rifle cracked and the report echoed against the granite cliffs.  A wolf, her fur an immaculate white, spun away from the prey and flopped to the ground, staining the snow red about her body.  The alpha male's head lurched upward and his eyes glimmered at them.  The rifle spoke again, and his skull exploded in a fountain of blood and brains.  The rest of the pack howled and started to flee, but not before one more bullet snapped across the valley to claim a final victim.  This one lurched and fell, still undead, across the remains of the alpha male, its body wracked by spasms.
         
         Dakota snatched at the rifle and shoved it aside.  "What are you doing?  One shot.  You were supposed to take one shot.  That was the agreement."
         
         Stewart spat again. "Ain't nobody gonna tell me what I can shoot, buddy-boy, least of all's you."  His piggish eyes glared from above his ruddy cheeks and his jaws jumped. 
         
         Dakota glanced at the rifle and wondered just how crazy the man was.  "It's the law."  He heaved a breath to control his temper. 

         "Who cares?" The hunter smirked at him.  "You told me there's so many they'll just starve if we don't shoot 'em.  'Thin the packs,' you said."

         The guide's lips tugged downward and his face heated at having his own words thrown back at him.  "You know I gotta report this to the Rangers." 

         Stewart snorted in dismissal.  "Report away, buddy-boy.  What're they gonna do?  Fine me?  Big deal.  Ought to give me a reward for killin' wolves.  They're nothin' but worthless predators, anyway."  He slung his rifle over his shoulder.  "Come on.  I want them ears, for my trophy case."  He turned his back and trudged down the valley toward the carnage he had wrought.
         
         Dakota sighed and followed.  "Mr. Stewart, the wolves help keep an equilibrium to the ecosystem.  Without them, the elk and deer populations explode.  They graze on new growth aspen and cottonwood, so those parts of the ecosystem crash, which destabilizes smaller animals as well. The coyote population grows, trying to fill the niche left by the wolves, but they can't control the elk, and other smaller animals suffer.  We bring balance back to nature by saving wolves from extinction and re-introducing them to the environment."
         
         "Yada, yada, yada."  Stewart paused to catch his breath and glared at Dakota.  "I've heard it all from you tree-huggers before.  All that extinction crap ain't got nothin' to do with humans.  Nature is here for us to take what we want." 

         "We're at risk, too." He tried to keep his frustration in check and his voice steady.  "Nature is fragile.  Even humans could go extinct."

         "Won't never happen.  We're the top predator, and have been since the dawn of Creation.  It's the natural order of things.  God gave us dominion over the fishes of the sea and the beasts of the land."

         Despite himself, Dakota scowled.  "It could happen to us.  Seventy thousand years ago Toba, a volcano in Indonesia, erupted and humans almost died out."

         "But we didn't, did we?  That's all bull, anyway.  How could anyone know what happened seventy thousand years ago?  I'll trust God's Word, not some socialist scientist's ravings."  Stewart hitched up his pants. "As to the wolves, try tellin' your ecology crap to the ranchers.  They know what worthless vermin those beasts are." 
         
         Dakota held his peace while he reflected that it had been a mistake to let Stewart hire him.  But he needed the money.  His usual clients hunted elk; the wolf season was new, to keep the population down.  The elk hunters had a genuine love of nature.  They weren't like most city folk, who were disconnected from the animals who gave their lives in order that people might eat.  They understood.  But Stewart was different.  All he brought was high pay, and all he wanted was the thrill of the kill.

         Wind whistled through the aspens and clouds raced across the skies.  Right now, he was stuck with this jerk, and he had a job to do.  He shivered and glanced overhead.  "We should probably head back."  In the distance, the pack sang a lament to the indifferent forest.
         
         "I want them ears."  Stewart plodded through the crusty drifts toward the wolves.  He knelt and used a hunting knife to scalp the white wolf before he turned to the still twitching gray laying atop the remains of the alpha.  He started to saw at her, too.  "Damned thing won't hold still." 
         
         The animal's eyes rolled in her head and her paws feebly scrabbled against the snow.  Dakota pushed Stewart away. "Let me grant her peace, first," he murmured.  He stroked the animal's fur while his blade, sharp as a scalpel, severed her jugular.  Blood poured from the wound onto the alpha before its wine-dark stain spread across the dirty snow.  The wolf shuddered and the light faded from her eyes.  Dakota heaved a breath and wiped his knife on the alpha's fur.  "Now you can take your trophy, sir."
         
         Stewart glared at him through narrowed eyes before he sliced off the ears.  "Too bad the head shot ruined the first one.  How about you take a picture of me?"  He stood, unslung his rifle, and held it at the ready, a toothy grin splitting his face.
         
         Dakota pulled his cell phone from his pocket and snapped a quick photo.  He glanced at the sky again, and noted that billowing cumulus clouds had replaced the wispy cirrus.  "We really should head back now, sir."
         
         Stewart's gaze followed his to the skies and he snorted.  "You afraid of a few clouds, buddy-boy?  There're four more wolves out there."
         
         "Sir, the weather in these mountains can change in a heartbeat.  Trust me, we don't want to get caught in a storm.  It's my job to keep you safe."
         
         "Yeah, well I'm not payin' you to be chicken."  He frowned and his gaze flickered back up the slope, toward their blind. "Hey, it's back.  Illusion, my ass!"
         
         Dakota turned and a shiver passed through his body.  He was right: this was no trick of the light and shadow.  A tall, furry creature stood on two legs, half-hidden in the depths of the forest, staring in their direction.  Stewart raised his rifle and fired, but not before Dakota managed to snatch at the barrel.  The shot went wild and the creature whirled and disappeared, still striding on two feet, into the woods.
         
         Stewart swore under his breath and then shouted, "What did you do that for?  I had it in my sights!" 
         
         "You're only licensed to hunt wolves.  Whatever that was, it wasn't a wolf."
         
         Stewart's voice held no doubt.  "It was a bear.  What else is covered with fur and walks on its hind paws?"
         
         Dakota frowned.  "That wasn't a bear.  It didn't walk right.  It walked more like a man."
         
         "You sayin' some mountain man's up here, walkin' around in furs and spookin' hunters?  I don't believe it.  It was a bear, I'm tellin' you."
         
         Dakota just shook his head and trudged back to their blind, leaving Stewart to follow.  He folded the camp stools and camouflage netting and loaded them into his pack. 
         
         By the time he was finished, Stewart had huffed his way back up the hillside.  "What are you doing?  I want to go after that bear."  Sweat gleamed on his features.
         
         Dakota shook his head. "We've got a two hour hike back to the trail head and our jeep, if we don't get caught in a blizzard.  We need to leave now."  He glanced at the edge of the forest where the strange creature had stood.  I'd like to be away from whatever was stalking us, too.
         
         "I checked the weather this morning before we left.  Ain't no blizzard coming, buddy-boy."
         
         Dakota pointed to the now overcast skies.  "Sometimes these storms just pop up.  No one can forecast them."  He tugged at his parka.  "It's getting colder, too.  If you are so sure you know everything, why did you hire a guide?"
         
         The hunter shrugged. "You know them wimp Rangers won't let hunters up here without licensed guides.  But you work for me, not them."
         
         "Maybe, but you don't pay me to risk my life.  I'm leaving.  You can come with me or stay here and die. I don't care."  He turned his back and strode toward the woods, where the strange creature had stood.  His back itched as he imagined Stewart pulling out his rifle and pointing it at him.  He breathed easier when the crunch of the hunter's clumsy footfalls and the rush of his wheezing breath reached his ears.
         
         "Wait up.  Don't go so damned fast."
         
         Dakota paused at the forest's edge and knelt to examine the footprints he found there. 
         
         Stewart stopped beside him.  "What you lookin' at?  I thought you was in a hurry to get out of here."
         
         Dakota glanced up and then pointed back to the tracks.  "Look here, Mr. Stewart.  Tell me what you see."
         
         The man glanced at the ground and did a little double-take.  His eyes widened and his mouth split in a grin.  "Them's mighty big foot prints.  They look like a man's bare foot.  About size twenty, I'd say." 
         
         "It's almost two feet long."  He pointed.  "Look, there's a big toe.  It's just like a human foot, except huge."
         
         "You sayin' that was Bigfoot we saw?"  Stewart started to laugh.  "Maybe we should look for the tooth fairy, too, while we're at it."
         
         Dakota shook his head.  "I'm not sure what it was.  There are legends, but I've never seen one for real."  His grandfather  would have been certain it was a sásq'ets, but Dakata knew that was just folklore. 

         Stewart's voice dripped with scorn.  "It's just ignorant superstition.  Ain't no such thing as Bigfoot."

         "I'm sure you're right.  In order to survive in the wild, creatures that size would need a pretty high breeding population.  High enough that we'd have skeletal remains, a fossil record, or even live specimens." 
         
         Stewart looked smug.  "Whatever.  I toldja.  It was a bear."
         
         Dakota avoided rolling his eyes.  Whatever these are, they aren't bear tracks.  He ran his finger along the edge of a footprint and then sniffed at it.  He wrinkled his nose at the foul odor.
         
         "Smell like shit, buddy-boy?"  Stewart grinned at him.  "I say, let's track it down and solve the mystery."
         
         Dakota shook his head.  "We need to head back to the jeep.  No mystery is worth getting caught up here in a late-season blizzard."  He stood and hitched his pack to a more comfortable position on his shoulders.  "Follow me.  Yell if I'm going too fast for you."  He turned away and strode into the woods, his passage silent as a ghost in the stormy gloom.  Stewart's feet clumped behind him while twigs snapped and brush rustled in accompaniment. 
         
         An hour later, as they crested a rocky ridge line, an icy drizzle started to coat the rocks and snow drifts.  Dakota stopped and waited while Stewart lumbered up the hillside toward him.  "Would you like to take a break, sir?"  Fatigue dragged at his muscles, and the ghosts of his ancestors seemed to dance in the swirl of snow. If I'm burned out, this guy must be dead on his feet.
         
         The hunter plopped down on an outcrop of gray rock and wiped sweat from his brow.  "Seems tougher headin' back than it was comin' out."  He uncapped his canteen and took a hefty swig.  "How much farther?"
         
         "Maybe an hour, unless it gets icy.  It's all downhill from here."  He contemplated the route ahead, mentally calculating the best path.  "If we follow the valley, it might take a little longer but the footing will be more secure.  I don't want you to fall."
         
         "I won't fall. I'm like a billy goat."  He wiped at his forehead with a filthy handkerchief.
         
         "Well, I don't want to fall, either.  We'll follow the valleys."  He decided not to tell Stewart the valley route was new to him.  It was a bit longer, but if Stewart sprained an ankle, or worse, they could be trapped up here. 
         
         His companion leaped to his feet and pulled his rifle off his shoulder.  "Hey, there it is again."  He pointed the muzzle ahead, down the craggy slope toward the murky shadows of the forest.
         
         Dakota squinted through the drizzle.  Sure enough, the ape-like creature was back.  It lurked in the shadows, staring at them.  Its mottled fur fluffed from its body in a gust of wind.  An auburn crest of hair ruffled atop its head.  A foul stench, like a mix of old sweat socks and rancid cheese, wafted their way on the wind.
         
         Stewart wrinkled his nose and swore.  "Sweet Jesus, that monster needs a bath."  His fingers fondled his rifle and the safety snapped off.
         
         Dakota put a restraining hand on the weapon's stock.  "Don't shoot.  It's just watching us." Studying us, is more like it. 
         
         The creature's golden eyes glinted in the faint light.  It wiped its nose with a furry paw, and Dakota thought he saw a hand, with human-like fingers and a thumb. 
         
         Stewart jerked his weapon away. "That ain't no mountain man.  It's an ape of some kind.  A gorilla.  What the Hell's a gorilla doin' here?"
         
         Dakota kept his eyes on the strange beast. "It's not human, that's for sure.  But no gorilla I ever heard of looks like that.  Besides, a gorilla couldn't survive the winter in these mountains." He hesitated.  "It looks more like a caveman, but that doesn't make sense, either."
         
         The creature's paw raised and it seemed to wave, as though beckoning to them. Before Dakota could stop him, Stewart lifted his rifle and fired.  Blood spurted from the strange animal's furry shoulder. It spun around from the impact and staggered against a tree.  Its golden gaze settled for a moment on Dakota, as if to ask, "Why?"  Then it vanished into the forest again, almost as though it had never been.
         
         Dakota whirled and snatched the rifle out of Stewart's hands.  He emptied the chamber and slung it over his shoulder.  "I told you to not shoot."
         
         "And I told you nobody tells me what I can and can't shoot at."  Stewart rubbed his right hand.  "I think you sprained my trigger finger.  You're gonna be sorry when my lawyer gets done with you. That was assault."
         
         The wind shifted once more, and the sleet bit into his exposed cheeks.  Dakota hitched at his pack.  "You can do whatever you want once we're out of here.  Right now, I'm in charge.  There won't be any more killing."  He stalked to the forest's edge and examined the spoor left by the creature.  Blood splattered like rust on the bark of the birch tree where creature had leaned, and a crimson trail dribbled across the snow and into the woods, in the direction of the valley route. 

         Great.  If the poor animal is injured, it might be dangerous, especially now that we've attacked it.  He surveyed the forest and then glanced back at Stewart.  "Come on, already.  It's starting to ice up."
         
         They wove their way along the valley route.  It followed a frozen stream that snaked through the woods.  Near the bank, brambles and snow-covered baby fir trees clogged the forest floor.  The hillside rose in a steep incline on each side of the valley to a crest of exposed granite spires.  In the course of the next half hour, the sleet changed to snow and soon clouded their vision. Dakota checked his portable GPS.  Still on track. 
         
         Stewart huffed behind him.  "Wait up, will ya?  I need to rest a minute."
         
         He checked the screen on his GPS one more time.  "Five minutes. No more."
         
         Stewart swept snow off a fallen log and slumped onto it.  "How much longer?"  His earlier bravado seemed to have vanished.
         
         "Maybe another thirty minutes.  It should get easier from now on."  He took off his  pack and settled next to Stewart on the log while he surveyed their surroundings.  Potholes in the ice on the stream exuded tiny trails of steam.  The wind whistled through the treetops, but down here in the valley the air was still.  Snowflakes swirled in crystalline ripples, and sparkled like tiny gems where they landed on the ground.  A squirrel chattered at them from a branch and then disappeared into the depths of the forest.  Dakota pulled his jacket tighter and longed for the warmth of the jeep and the promise of civilization.  His grandfather's face seemed to fade in and out of haze, and he shook his head to clear his vision.  Get a grip, man.  It won't be long and you'll be out of here.
         
         Stewart squirmed and their log shifted. "What you think that critter was?"
         
         "The one you shot?  I don't know.  I hope it's not suffering."
         
         Stewart rolled his eyes.  "Jesus, it's just an animal.  What difference does it make?" 
         
         Dakota decided to not honor that with a response.
         
         "Tell you what. I think we should come back tomorrow and hunt it down.  If you want, we can give it a coup de grace, put it out of its misery."
         
         "What?  So you can get another trophy? I don't think so."
         
         "So what if I get another trophy?  You get your bleeding-heart's desire, and I get what I want. What do you say?"
         
         Before he could reply, the wind shifted and a foul stench floated their way: sweat socks and rancid cheese.  Dakota stood and rotated full circle, his eyes scanning their surroundings.
         
         "God, there's that stink again."  Stewart's eyes glinted in the faint light.  "You think I killed it?"
         
         "I'm not sure.  We're downwind from it"  He glanced at Stewart's florid features, unslung the rifle and pulled a round from his pocket.  "Wait here.  I'm going to investigate.  I'll be right back." 

         Stewart whined, "I want to go, too."

         He shook his head.  "Stay here.  Whatever is up there, I don't want your footfalls to announce our presence.  I'll come get you when I know it's safe."
         
         He trudged into the woods, following the scent.  His feet whispered through the newly fallen snow, but otherwise no sound marked his passage.  One minute, two minutes and the smell grew stronger.  He walked in an envelope of sensation, with the forest appearing in front of him and disappearing behind him a fog of snowflakes. 
         
         Then, like a wraith emerging from the netherworld, the creature coalesced in a whorl of snow.  It stopped and stared in his direction, waiting, watching.  A crisp, white bandage covered the shoulder Stewart had wounded.  Its eyes glowed amber in the darkness as it raised its hand in greeting.
         
         Dakota froze.  The rifle weighed heavy in his hands, like an anchor.  Frozen puffs of air fled his open mouth and mixed with the driven snow. 
         
         Then the creature spoke.
         
         "Do you require assistance, little one?"  Its voice, soft, yet deep and mellifluous, cut through the frigid air like a hot knife through butter.
         
         Dakota blinked, but the creature was still there.  An unnerving memory danced in his head: a museum diorama of a Cro-Magnon confronting a Neanderthal.  He cast a frenzied glance behind him, half expecting to see a door back to reality.  Instead,  the creature glanced at something in its paw, in its hand.  Something that glowed, like a cell phone. 

         Dakota's eyes widened as symbols slithered like snakes across the screen in the beast's hand.    His voice trembled when he spoke.  "What are you?"
         
         The creature hesitated.  "I'm not sure what you would call me.  Do you have those who protect animals from harm?  Who help keep nature in balance?"  The words bore a strange sibilance, as though his tongue fought with the phonemes of English.
         
         Dakota's head swam.  This had to be a dream.  "Rangers. We call them wildlife rangers."
         
         "Yes, that's it. I've read of them.  We do something similar."  He glanced at the screen again.  This time a reptilian face with an elongated, green snout peered from the device. It emitted a sequence of hisses and whistles. 
         
         Dakota looked from the screen to the creature's face.  "I don't understand.  You're saying you work for the Fish and Wildlife Service?  To protect endangered species?"  Hysteria flicked at his brain now, and he fought to shove it down.
         
         "What a quaint term."  The beast grimaced, and exposed blunt, yellow teeth.  "You might say that's what the P'Sthok do, to atone for their sins."
         
         Dakota staggered against a tree.  This couldn't be real.  "I don't understand.  What are you telling me?"
         
         The creature shook its head and a curious expression crawled across its features, almost like sorrow.  "It all happened so long ago, nearly seventy thousand of your years ago. The P'Sthok's ancestors came here, and brought death and destruction with them.  Your species, and mine too, almost went extinct."
         
         "Seventy thousand years ago? You mean the Toba eruption?" 
         
         The device in the beast's hand hissed and whistled once more.  "I'm sorry.  I must go soon."  A furry hand reached out and stroked Dakota's cheek.  "They're more mature now, and better trustees of what Nature has given them.  Your species has thrived under their protection.  Your planet is a sanctuary, a park for wildlife."
         
         "A park?"
         
         "Yes."  The strange accent seemed to assume a tone of regret.  "But now nature has fallen out of balance. I have no doubt that the P'Sthok, in their wisdom, will repair their error.  Soon, perhaps, they will reintroduce my species, to compete once again with yours."  He blinked, and Dakota thought he could stare at those golden eyes forever.  "I saw you protect me from the ravager, the one who wounded me.  I owe you a debt, little one."

         "But he shot you anyway."  Dakota's heart ached.  "I'm so sorry."

         The device in the creature's hand flashed and hissed once more.  Those amber eyes glanced downward and it murmured, "I have said too much.  Beware of what the future holds for your kind.  I must go now." 
         
         A blue glow suffused the forest and the creature shimmered in the uncertain light.  A puff of air and the scent of burned electrical circuits replaced its foul stench, and then it vanished. With no more substance than a whisper, a dream, or a prayer, it was as though it had never been.
         
         Dakota shuddered. 
         
         A wolf howled in the distance. 
         
         Stewart's ponderous footfalls thudded through the woods and he emerged from the falling snow, dragging the backpack behind him. "Let's get out of here.  I'm ready for a dose of civilization."
         
         Dakota glanced back at where the creature had sat.  Perhaps it had been a dream, a delusion.  Fatigue could do strange things here, in the wilderness. He remembered the creature's last words.  He thought of the wolves, thinning the elk herds, and wondered what fate awaited humankind.