The Easton Falls Massacre: Bigfoot's Revenge: Easton Falls, #1

By Holly Rae Garcia and Ryan Prentice Garcia

A MISTAKEN IDENTITY

 

US Army Veteran, Henry Miller, embarks on a hunt at the edge of the Black Forest. Distracted by a personal matter, he strays from the path and finds himself too close to the East Cascade Mountain Range. Before he can turn around, he spots what he thinks is the biggest bear he's ever laid eyes on. Dreaming of bear stew and a soft bear-skin rug, Henry raises his rifle.

 

AN ANCIENT TRUCE

 

Something lurks in the forest on the other side of those mountains. An ancient race of Bigfoot that have kept to themselves for centuries, until one of them defies the alliance and crosses the mountain range. Kellen Tsosie, a member of the Kwakiutl Tribe tasked with keeping the alliance between man and beast, tries to warn both Bigfoot and man. No one will listen.

 

A TOWN IN TROUBLE

 

When these two intersect, alliances are broken and events set in motion that will leave residents of the town of Easton Falls, Washington, fighting for their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Easton Falls Publishing
• Release date: Mar 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736943205

Book preview

Dedicated to Carl Mikel, Sr.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Dad (Carl Mikel, Sr.). You have always believed, both in us and in Bigfoot. To Linda Mikel Hartsfield, Rhonda Cantu, Heather Lander, Andrea Goyan, and Laurie Hicks: thank you for your wonderful beta reading skills, tips, and suggestions. To James Karm and Jim Sybers, glad we made it home. To those who didn’t, you are never forgotten.

1

Slung low on the horizon, the sun’s golden rays pierced through the branches of the mountain hemlock and fir trees. The Cascade Mountains rose from the east like a sleeping giant, their rugged terrain a natural barrier between man and the wild forests of Washington. On the wind, rust-colored leaves whispered of autumn as they swirled around a young doe lapping at the edge of a small stream, her hooves squelching in the soft mud of the bank. Birds flew overhead, cawing to one another as the trees danced in the breeze. A fresh burst of wind brought with it an unfamiliar, earthy scent. The doe’s nostrils flared at the offending odor and she raised her head, twitching her ears. Wide eyes scanned the forest around her, but the cause of the scent stayed hidden, biding its time.

The doe turned warily back to the stream, every muscle tight and twitching beneath her fawn coat.

Kellen Tsosie crouched in the thick underbrush twenty yards away from the thirsty animal and tried to ignore the thorns scratching his legs. There had been rumors around town of strange sightings in the area, but the reports were inconsistent. Some said the thing had to be the biggest grizzly they had ever seen, others swore it looked like a gorilla, forgetting that the Pacific Northwest had never been home to any gorillas. Others swore it was the Dzunukwa, from the legends of the Kwakiutl tribe. Some called it Bigfoot, or Sasquatch. Kellen had hoped the sightings were none of those things, but couldn’t deny what was right in front of him. An ancient creature who knew their kind wasn’t allowed to be so close to the stream. Forbidden, even, to leave the foothills at all. Yet there it was in front of him, shattering a centuries-old alliance between Tsosie elders and the Bigfoot clan.

When his father died the year before at the age of ninety-three, Kellen became the sole keeper of that alliance. A job that, until then, had been mostly unremarkable. When he first heard of the slaughtered cattle and missing pets from the ranches on the edge of the invisible boundaries, he thought it was a grizzly. Hoped, really. Sometimes they went rogue or rabid, though rarely. But standing in front of him was no rabid bear, and Kellen could no longer deny what was happening. A Bigfoot openly rebelling against the alliance. Kellen hoped it was just one, and not the entire tribe. In awe, he stared at the massive creature in front of him. He’d only seen pencil drawings by his great-great-grandfather. No one had been face-to-face with one of them in decades because of the alliance, understood and passed down by generations of Tsosies. An alliance breaking right in front of him.

Large brown eyes peered out from behind the base of a black cottonwood tree, fixed on the doe who had settled into the damp moss at the edge of the stream. All signs of danger drifted away on the early autumn breeze. Her eyes fluttered then closed as she fell asleep. Kellen held his breath, hoping the Bigfoot would forfeit the easy meal and return to the mountains. Instead, the creature emerged from its hiding place and crept toward the sleeping doe. The large fur-covered feet barely made a sound as it covered the distance between them in seconds.

The wind picked up again and the doe jumped from her resting spot, nostrils flaring and eyes wide. She stared at the beast for a brief second before turning to leap across the small stream and back toward the safety of the underbrush, but she was too late.  As her front hooves splashed into the water, two powerful arms grabbed her from behind and lifted her high into the air. The bewildered doe lurched and twisted, trying to escape the painful grasp. Hooves beat out a rhythm against the enormous beast’s body and the doe’s frantic bleats pierced the distance between them and Kellen.

Tears wove their way down Kellen’s rugged face, twisting and curving around the deep lines. A branch cracked as he stood from his hiding spot, drawing the creature’s focus away from the struggling doe. Man and beast locked eyes across the water. Kellen took a deep breath and willed his hands to stop shaking. He shook his head, staring at the Bigfoot. It remained frozen, defiantly keeping its arms wrapped around the deer. Kellen watched as the animal pulled the doe to its chest and, with a massive arm, reached toward the doe’s neck and twisted. She stopped flailing and hung limp in the arms of the beast.

Kellen turned from the stream and began the long walk back through the forest, his heart aching and heavy.

2

Henry Miller and Kate Johnson were inseparable. That is, until Henry joined the United States Army. That had caused their first real fight, the down and dirty kind where both people said the hurtful things, the ones you couldn’t take back. He loved her, he did. He loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone else besides his parents, but serving his country was all he’d ever wanted. It was something he needed to do, and if she couldn’t understand that about him, then maybe she didn’t know him at all. That was the last thing he had said to her as he stormed out of her parent’s house that night.

He shipped out the next morning for basic training with only his mom to see him away at the airport. He waited longer than he should have, hoping Kate would show up. He found out later that she did, but had stayed out of sight behind a stack of cheap paperback books. She said she never knew why she didn’t show herself, but had stood there and watched his plane leave the runway, tears streaming down her face. Before that fight, he promised her he’d stay in touch and they did for a while. It’s easy to pretend you didn’t mean what you said when you’re miles away. It’s easy to forgive and forget, push those things back to deal with another day.

When Henry wasn’t training, he was cleaning. He felt like a janitor until his deployment to Iraq. But there was a lesson in there somewhere, he was told. When the other, non-janitorial training finally paid off in Fallujah, Iraq, he saw things a lot more clearly. Henry spent thirteen months in Iraq the first time, and experienced more death and gore than he had ever seen in any movie. IEDs continuously blocked routes, killing soldiers after they drove over a perfectly placed shredded burlap sack on a dirt road. Concealed as trash, it would hide a pressure plate and an explosive with a few pounds of nuts and bolts for maximum damage. When the convoys rolled by, the explosion would be followed up with small arms fire from AK47s by extremists dressed in civilian attire. Blending in with everyday townspeople, you never knew who the enemy was until they started shooting. That kind of stress was hard to deal with, constantly assessing those around you and looking for signs they weren’t what they seemed. Writing to Kate was the last thing on his mind after dealing with that level of chaos on a daily basis. Even when word arrived that his dad had suffered a heart attack and Henry knew he wouldn’t be able to get home in time for the funeral. Even when the devil danced among them, claiming life after life of his friends. He couldn’t talk to her about any of that, didn’t know how. The letters between them slowed, just small talk and nothingness until they eventually trickled to a halt. Ten years was a long time to wait for someone. That’s a lot of frigid winters without another body to warm you up. He told her he understood if she moved on, but that had hurt her feelings and he had to do a little damage control. Of course, he loved her. Of course, he wanted to spend his life with her. But he needed to be there, for who knew how long. He thought forever, but life seemed to have other plans for him. Plans that included roadside bombs, convoys ripped to shreds, and seeing his friends torn apart.

One scorching-hot day during an escort, there had been no debris on the road, no sign of anything out of place. But somehow, one-minute Henry was in the gunner’s turret of the Humvee behind a large metal shield and the next his body had catapulted four feet into the air. A brutal combination of dust and flames flooded his line of sight. Gasping for breath, his lungs filled with burning debris and chemicals, causing breathing issues he would deal with for the rest of his life. Falling back onto the Humvee, his head had struck the shield, tearing a gash above his right eye. Crates of gear stored at the rear of the Humvee shot forward, slamming into the back of his legs. The impact blurred his vision and blood flowed into his eyes from the wound on his face. He scanned the area for the enemy, but no one fired at their group. He considered himself lucky that day. They had buried the IED too deep