Lair of Bigfoot: Island of Fog, #17

By Keith Robinson

Do bigfoots and yetis really exist? They do in New Earth, and the shapeshifters are on a mission to prove it . . .

When Hal and his friends go on a bigfoot-spotting mission to the mountains, they end up embroiled in the hunt for a killer. Is their quarry a yeti from the neighboring mountain, or something else entirely?

Tensions mount as the shapeshifters find themselves in the crossfire between two powerful clans. Only their wits and transformation abilities can help them uncover the truth behind the midnight attacks . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Unearthly Tales
• Release date: Nov 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223980957

Keith Robinson

Keith Robinson is a writer of fantasy fiction for middle-grade readers and young adults. His ISLAND OF FOG series has received extremely positive feedback from readers of all ages including Piers Anthony (best-selling author of the Magic of Xanth series) and Writer's Digest. Visit UnearthlyTales.com for more.

Book preview

Prologue

Can’t believe we’re draggin’ this sorry piece of junk out, a goblin grumbled. Thought we were gonna break it up?

He was one of four strong fellows tasked with carrying the rickety machine out of the barn. It had long wooden posts inserted all the way through so they had something easy to grab hold of.

Miss Simone sighed. I’ve already told you, and I’m not going to explain it again. Do as I ask, will you, please?

The goblins shuffled off with the fog machine. It had a small engine mounted underneath, but otherwise it was all wooden supports, cogs and wheels, bindings to hold it together, leather bags slung along one side, and a huge set of bellows.

Watching it go, Miss Simone was filled with nostalgia, and she smiled.

At that moment, the shapeshifters dropped in to visit. The giant shadow gave them away, and then the steady thumping of wings. She turned to find the huge dragon descending on her.

Hal landed with a thud. On his back were eight other shapeshifters, all clinging to their perches on his knobbed spine. They had small backpacks and bottles, and seemed ready for a few days away.

This made her smile even more. Looks like you’re all set!

Emily called down to her. "We already said goodbye to our parents, and we thought we’d come by to see you as well. Why are you here, at this old barn?"

And why are those goblins carrying that old fog machine off? Abigail asked. They’re not going to destroy it, are they?

Miss Simone shook her head. They’d like to, but no. I’m putting it back to work.

The shapeshifters stared blankly at her.

Although she’d explained this a dozen times to the goblins—and also to the council and a bunch of parents around the town—she didn’t mind repeating herself one more time to this group of twelve-year-olds. No, wait, they were thirteen now. In fact, they’d be fourteen this month! How time flew.

I’m running the Shapeshifter Program on the island again, she said.

A collective gasp filled the air. Seriously? Robbie said. Why?

Because it remains the best way to create shapeshifters.

Not the quickest, though, Thomas argued. I don’t get it. You figured out how to turn people into shapeshifters overnight. Been there, done that. Why bother with the fog machine and the island?

Miss Simone walked around to Hal’s side and ran a hand across his reptilian shoulder as she looked up at the passengers. "And do you remember the problem with that method?"

The redheaded boy frowned and shook his head.

Emily jumped in with the answer. "I know! It’s not enough to transform like you’re putting on a costume, like those scrags did at the castle in Brodon. You have to know how to do the things you’re supposed to do, like fly high in the sky, swim deep underwater, and especially speak the language. But it was different for us growing up on the island. When we first transformed, I had the naga language at the back of my mind. Dewey could speak centaur. Robbie knew ogre. Hal could talk to dragons. The scrags who became shapeshifters overnight in Brodon didn’t have any of that knowledge."

Dewey spoke up. "Right. The whole point of being shapeshifters is so we can understand the centaurs and the naga and the rest. Not just with language, but how they feel, how they see the world. We’re supposed to be emissaries, and we can only do that if we’re halfway on their side."

"Yup, so while it’s convenient being an overnight shapeshifter, it’s not the same as being a proper shapeshifter," Emily said.

Miss Simone felt her heart swell with pride. "That’s correct. And I’m hoping that, after your visit to the mountains over the next several days, we’ll have a few bigfoots and yetis as friends, and then we can perhaps get a drop of their blood and create some bigfoot and yeti shapeshifters. But I want to do that the right way, because those creatures have a very long history in both Old and New Earth. They’re smart and—"

As far as you know, Thomas remarked. He reddened when he realized how rude that sounded. I mean, you’ve never actually met one. That’s why we’re going.

Indeed, Miss Simone agreed. By the time you get back, I expect the fog will be pumping through to the island, and we’ll have a number of applicants lined up for the program.

People are actually volunteering to spend eight years on the foggy island? Fenton said doubtfully.

Goodness, no! This will be a two-month program, with a mixture of age groups rather than newborn babies. Anyone from, say, six to twelve. It always works better with children, and it’ll be a couple of months of fog and then done. The island is private, away from the invasive magic of New Earth. I think the procedure will stick better, and I’m hoping some of the deep-seated inner memories and instincts will transfer as they did for you.

But why the fog, though? Thomas asked. We don’t have a virus to worry about anymore.

Miss Simone was beginning to think Thomas would make a great goblin, the way he grumbled about everything. I’m including winged creatures in the program. The fog will dampen their flight. Nobody wants eight-year-olds getting frightened at their first transformation and shooting off into the sky in a panic.

Thomas scoffed again. "Who would get frightened about that?"

Judging by the looks they all gave him, everyone was thinking the same thing: that Thomas was a prime example of an unprepared shapeshifter transforming for the first time and dashing off in a panic. At six years old, he’d accidentally run out of the woods and off a cliff. Others, with wings, might hurl themselves into the sky and quickly spin out of control.

She couldn’t let the program fizzle due to an accident like that. A few safety precautions would help keep it all under control.

Well, I think it’s cool, Lauren said. I bet there’ll be plenty of volunteers?

Oh, plenty, Miss Simone said. The nine of you are an inspiration. The only problem is the vetting process. It’s mind-numbingly boring.

Abigail laughed. Well, we can’t wait to see the island back to its former glory. Can we visit?

Mmm, perhaps. But not unannounced! Maybe I’ll let you walk around there in a few days, before we start the program. Now, until then . . . remember, Hal, don’t go swooping in when you visit the bigfoots and yetis, or you’ll scare them into hiding.

We know, Darcy assured her.

The mountain has two peaks, Miss Simone went on. A double summit. Land between them; that’s called the saddle. Walk up the forested side first. Understand? That’s where I believe the bigfoots are.

Don’t you mean bigfeet? Thomas said.

Miss Simone sighed. We could argue about that all day. Is it bigfeet or bigfoots? Yeti or yetis? Let’s stick with simple plurals—so bigfoots and yetis. Okay?

They all agreed, though she had the feeling they weren’t relishing the walk up a mountain. But it was important to approach with caution.

Be careful and good luck, she added.

Thanks, Miss Simone, most of them chorused.

Hal nodded and made a chuffing sound, then began flapping his wings. He took off shortly after, and Miss Simone watched him go, marveling at the power and sheer spectacle of a monstrous dragon.

Make friends with bigfoots and yetis, she murmured as the shapeshifters shot away into the early-morning daylight.

Chapter 1

Wood-Knocking

Are we there yet? Robbie called.

Hal grinned but kept his eyes on the trail. We’ve been climbing this stupid hill for five hours, so we have to be about halfway by now.

"Wait, what? Only halfway?"

A few titters swept through the group. He’s messing with you, Robbie, Lauren said. But then, after a pause, she added, We’re not even a quarter of the way yet.

That brought more chuckles. Still, although the mood appeared light on the surface, Hal knew they were all wondering the same thing: Were they making a huge mistake trying to creep up the mountain? He didn’t want to bring it up again and start an argument, but his aching leg muscles demanded it was worth another try.

I see a clearing ahead, he commented, keeping his tone conversational. You know, just in case you all changed your mind . . .

I’m with you, Thomas growled.

Yep, Fenton panted. Of them all, he was the most out of breath, and he’d lagged behind the rest of the group since they’d started up the slopes that morning.

Before anyone else could chime in, Emily sighed and repeated Miss Simone’s clear instructions. "Guys, how many more times? They’ll see us. We’re supposed to quietly observe, not leap in and frighten them all to death."

"Suppose they frighten us to death? Robbie countered. Suppose they jump out and crack our skulls?"

That reminded Hal of the bigger question: Being stealthy was one thing, but were they making a huge mistake in coming here at all?

"Yeah, they’re the experts at creeping around the woods, Thomas said. They could be watching us at this very moment. How is that any different from flying straight up there? We could have saved ourselves days of climbing through mist and rain!"

Really, Thomas? Emily retorted. Days? Not even five hours, actually. And it was only misty at the foot of the mountain—

A resounding crack! echoed through the woods, causing everyone to freeze. Hal tensed and automatically scoped out his immediate surroundings, looking for a spot large enough to transform if he needed to. He edged away from his friends, knowing he needed a bit of distance to avoid knocking them off their feet when his massive reptilian bulk materialized out of thin air.

They all stood in silence, listening hard. Where there had been the constant chirping of birds and scampering of rodents, now it was a deadly stillness as if the wildlife had paused in alarm.

Any chance that was a squirrel cracking a twig? Dewey said, breaking the silence.

Yeah, a squirrel the size of a deer, Robbie retorted.

Abigail blinked at him. Why not just say a deer?

Shh, Emily hissed. Guys, the whole point of creeping up this mountain is to arrive without being detected. Don’t spoil our efforts now.

They all listened intently again. Hal half expected to hear the same noise again, but instead, a howl drifted through the trees. He cringed and hunkered lower as the eerie sound faded.

Then, another resounding crack!

Both sounds came from the same place somewhere higher up the slopes, thankfully quite a distance away. Continuing their climb seemed foolhardy at this point.

Thomas whispered, We should fly the rest of the way.

Better still, Robbie muttered, we should fly back home.

As a muted argument got underway, Emily hushed them all and, in a low and fierce voice, said, "We’re shapeshifters. We can take care of ourselves. Miss Simone wouldn’t have sent us if she thought otherwise. We’re here to observe, not fight. We need to be respectful, stay quiet, and hopefully catch a glimpse."

Okay, Darcy said, but what if we’re seen? What if they attack us? Nobody really knows what these creatures are capable of.

They can’t be worse than trolls, Emily argued. Robbie took care of trolls pretty much on his own once. And we have Hal.

Her reasoning calmed the group somewhat.

What was all that noise about, though? Lauren asked. It sounded like someone banging a stick on a tree.

Thomas scoffed at her. "A stick? More like a massive log."

And that howl, Darcy added with a shudder. That was pretty creepy. Not like a wolf. More like a giant man.

Bigfoot, Abigail whispered.

They all went quiet again. Nobody doubted for a second that the noises were caused by the legendary creature itself. This was, after all, the entire reason for the arduous trek up the mountain. But it was one thing to be told stories about ‘wood-knocking’ and strangely primitive howls. Actually hearing them up close was far more disturbing.

Are they warning us off? Emily wondered aloud. If so, they’re onto us. But maybe they were simply talking to each other.

Funny way of talking, Thomas muttered.

No different than ogres, Hal said. That’s what you do when the person you’re talking to is across the other side of the woods.

They listened for a bit longer, then resumed their journey. The need for chitchat had deserted them, and they climbed the trail with very few comments, gazes fixed on the trees ahead and all around.

Hal’s stomach rumbled. It had to be late afternoon by now, though it was impossible to tell without studying the exact position of the sun. The dazzling glare filtering through the leafy canopy from his left was definitely lower than before, but he had no horizon to use as a frame of reference.

He smiled to himself. Using the horizon as a ‘frame of reference’ was something they’d all learned over the past couple of years since arriving in New Earth. Back on the foggy island where they’d grown up, the sun had been a faint haze at best, useless for judging the time of the day. But their stomachs had guided them fairly well, leading them home at about the right time for dinner. Despite all the tricks he’d learned about the sun’s position and the length of shadows it cast, simple hunger remained the most reliable timepiece.

Anyone else ready to eat? he asked at last.

Several muttered their agreement, especially Robbie, but Emily insisted they keep going for a bit longer.

They’d traveled light. Hal had flown them from Carter to the foot of the Slumbering Highlands, a half-day’s ride to the north. There, they’d established a rudimentary base camp and left most of their gear hanging off the branches of a tree where the majority of the wildlife wouldn’t notice. They’d set off up the trail around late morning, exuberant at first. Grim determination took over soon after, and then boredom.

At least the wood-knocking and howls added interest to their slog.

How many bigfoots are there, do you think? Thomas said at last.

Not even Miss Simone had been able to answer that. She felt there were more than one simply because of the reported wood-knocking and howls, as if they were communicating with each other. That could mean there was a whole community of them . . . or just a couple. All she knew for sure was that bigfoots lived on the forested peak, and yetis lived next door on the snowy slopes.

A bad smell wafted over them all, and they abruptly stopped and wrinkled their noses in disgust. "What is that? Dewey whispered. Smells like something’s died."

Yeah, in the bushes, Robbie agreed. That’s gross. It’s like a cross between a dead rodent and . . . He sniffed and frowned. And another dead rodent.

You mean it smells doubly bad? Hal said with a chuckle.

Thomas looked like he was ready to barf. It’s worse than that. It smells like a skunk taking a bath in two dead rodents’ liquified remains.

Oh, gross! Lauren snapped. Enough!

It was pretty pungent. They all held their noses and, scowling, proceeded with caution in case they stumbled upon something nasty underfoot. The stench lingered for another five minutes before starting to fade—or maybe their assailed nostrils got used to it. Either way, the fresher air blowing across the hill was a huge relief.

Uh-oh, what’s that? Darcy hissed. Somehow, half the group had already passed by whatever it was she pointed at off to the side. What do you suppose made it?

Bigfoot, obviously, Emily muttered as Fenton, Lauren, and Dewey crowded close to peer through a gap in the vegetation.

Hal, Abigail, Robbie, and Thomas backtracked a little. Beyond a clump of bushes, a dozen thin saplings had been uprooted, their tops snapped clean off, and the trunks stacked in a crisscrossing manner to form a triangular structure. Vines had been woven throughout, tying it together and giving it a natural vibe as if created by the forest itself.

Okay, so we know this is supposed to mark their territory, Emily said in a voice so low that Hal had to strain to hear.

"We don’t know anything, Abigail argued. That’s why we’re here—to learn."

Why build it off to the side, out of sight? Dewey wondered. Why not next to the trail, so we can see it? What’s the point of a territorial marker most travelers wouldn’t spot?

There’s another one over here! Robbie called.

Everybody fiercely shushed him.

But he was right. A very similar stack had been constructed at about the same distance away on the other side of the trail, again easy to miss.

So our trail goes straight through the middle, Lauren said. That kind of worries me.

Yeah, Robbie said, rubbing his chin. It’s like they built gate posts, only without the gate.

And without the fence, Thomas said. I want to go see if there are more.

Thomas— Emily said.

But it was too late. The redheaded boy abruptly transformed, and a second later, his manticore form dashed off into the trees.

Abigail sprouted her insectoid wings through the fabric of her silky smart clothes. With a noisy buzz, she set off to the left. I’ll check this way. Back in a mo!

Emily clicked her tongue with annoyance. We’re supposed to be incognito, a group of regular people. If we’re being watched . . .

There was no point complaining, though. The cat was already out of the bag, which was fitting since Thomas was a large, red-furred feline . . . mixed with a giant scorpion’s tail and a distinctly human face. He was gone for a minute, then came scampering back, a dash of bright red in the dark greens or the foliage.

There are more weird structures farther around the slope, he said as he reverted to human form. "I guess they are like fence posts, only without the actual fence."

Abigail returned not long after to make a similar report while she retracted her wings.

Okay, Emily said, pursing her lips, so we’re now entering bigfoot territory for real. We need to be quiet, guys.

Or we need to turn around and go home, Lauren suggested. I’m not worried for myself, because I can fly . . . She trailed off and looked skyward, where the thick canopy of branches and leaves almost fully blocked their view of the sky. Well, maybe.

Hal had been keeping up with the lack of launching room since the start. That’s why I mentioned that clearing we passed. Not sure when we’ll get another chance to fly out of this place.

We always have your fire, Robbie said with a nervous grin. You can burn a hole to fly through.

That was way easier said than done. Hal imagined directing his flames at the canopy of branches. What if, instead of creating a handy gap to launch out of, he ended up with an inferno of burning foliage that would roast his passengers in no time?

Let’s keep moving, Emily said. But seriously, guys—no talking, okay?

Nobody was sure who’d put her in charge, but she seemed to have taken the reins on this mission. That was okay, though. Still, Hal wished he’d insisted they stop for a snack before stepping into bigfoot territory, but Emily wore the small backpack containing the food, so . . .

They trudged in silence. The well-worn trail was a bit of a puzzle considering it led into peril. Maybe passersby were safe from attack as long as they kept on moving and minded their own business. That, of course, probably suggested bigfoots were intelligent, choosing not to pick off weary travelers in case they invited attention and even retribution.

The question of whether or not the creatures were smart had been open to debate for a long time. Miss Simone was convinced they were, but that didn’t automatically make them friendly. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’d compared them to ogres; those thirty-foot shaggy giants lacked the gumption to be stealthy, weren’t savvy enough to lay traps, and were too dimwitted to be outright mean. Bigfoots, on the other hand, might be closer to people in intelligence—and people could be very cunning and dangerous when threatened.

Hal mulled this over for the hundredth time as he plodded onward up the slope, trying to ignore his aching leg muscles. Abigail kept pace beside him.

A volley of extra-loud crack! noises stopped them in their tracks. It was the wood-knocking again, only much closer now. The heavy beating of a log on a tree trunk echoed all around, but the shapeshifters pinpointed the source somewhere off to their right, and they all ducked low. Moments later, the racket ceased.

Do you see anything? Emily whispered.

Nobody answered, which Hal took to mean nobody saw a thing. But the woods were thick, and random hillocks as well as dense thickets could easily mask the location of a watching bigfoot.

Hal sniffed the air. Another dead thing? There seemed to be a lot of carcasses lying around in the bushes. He hoped there wouldn’t soon be nine more.

Why are we so nervous? Abigail murmured. "We’ve dealt with bigger threats than this. We’re shapeshifters."

I think the legend is getting in our heads, Hal replied. We’ve seen worse. Only thing is, we were only supposed to observe, but I think our cover is blown.

It’s been blown for hours, Robbie muttered from behind him. He abruptly stood up and said, a little louder, "Come on, gang. They know we’re here. Let’s introduce ourselves