THE NIGHT OF BIGFOOT

By Andamogirl

WWW

ACT THREE

Later

Moving into a sitting position, Artemus yawned and stretched like an oversized cat, noticing that the room was dark, the fireplace being the only light source in the room.

The wind howled eerily outside.

He looked to his left and saw Moira lying on the bed, wrapped in her sleeping bag, sound asleep. He glanced to his right and saw Jim slid in his sleeping bag too – awake and staring at him and he smiled. "I slept throughout the afternoon and a part of the night too, right?"

Moving one arm under his head, the younger man said, "Right. It was a long nap, yes, but you needed it. How's your leg?"

Flexing his formerly broken leg, Artemus said, "The pain is dull, not gone. I think I'm gonna ask for some leave after that frozen adventure."

Smiling Jim nodded, "And I know where you want to spend those few days, at your mom's home, with Helena and Harry both pampering you."

Rubbing his bad leg, Artemus replied, "Of course. It's my haven. And I'm going to bring Moira with me. My mom and Harry will be very pleased to see her."

Sitting on his sleeping bag, Jim asked his best friend, "Do you want a cup of coffee? Even if I made it?' Then he stood.

Sending Jim a questioning look, Artie asked, "You want to talk to me, what is it?" And with Jim's help, he stood too.

Both Jim and Artie padded silently toward the pot-bellied stove where a coffee pot was warming by the slowly dying embers.

Taking a mug, Jim said in a low voice, "Yes, I want to talk to you," and he poured molasses-like coffee into the mug before offering it to Artemus.

In the bed Moira, her back to the two men, opened her eyes – all ears.

Closing his hand around his steaming mug, Artemus said, "You have your serious face, Jim. What is it you want to tell me?"

Pointing at a chair; Jim said, "Take a seat," and he took his place beside his best friend who had just complied. He sighed and said, "It's about Moira and Bigfoot." Then he told Artie about his conversation with Moira and he added, "I'm sorry."

Looking down at his hot coffee, Artie said, "Well, I'm not surprised, Jim. I knew there was a good possibility she couldn't resist the temptation. Bigfoot is out there…. and she wants to capture it." He looked at Moira and continued, "Trying to capture creatures like the Yeti or Bigfoot is her life's work – and she hates failure. I hope she won't find it. Bigfoot is an intelligent being and it saved us. I don't want to see it in a cage in a freak show – I hate those things."

Jim nodded. "I hate them too."

Artemus frowned realizing something. "And even if she does find it, she won't be able to capture it. She doesn't have my tranquilizer rifle and my darts." He took a sip and grimaced at the bitterness. "Gaah! It's awful this thing should be labeled as poison."

Still faking sleep Moira waited for what the two men would decide to do about Bigfoot… which would determine what she would do.

Placing his mug on the scratched and stained table Jim nodded. "Yes, but when the snow storm is over, she will look for them…"

Artie nodded. "Of course she will, she won't want to give up the idea of capturing Bigfoot, but she won't find them, it's impossible. She will look for them for a few hours and then she will eventually give up. There are feet of piled layers of snow outside and they probably covered the tent and hid it and we don't know where Bigfoot brought us. It could have walked miles to bring us here in safety, and to be sure we'll be safe he probably chose to bring us here because this log cabin is situated not far from a village where we could find help - help finding our train for example."

Frowning, puzzled Jim asked, "Then why bring us here instead of take us there?" He snapped his fingers and said, 'because it avoids people – who could try to capture it or kill it."

Artie nodded. "Exactly."

Jim swallowed a mouthful of coffee. "Then Moira won't capture Bigfoot." And he saw Artie shake his head. He smiled; pleased to know that. "Good!"

Smiling, Artie nodded. "Yes, you're right." He yawned widely and stood. "Thanks for what you call coffee…" And he smiled playfully. Then he shivered and a sudden wave of anxiety submerged him and his intuition sounded alarm bells in his head – again. His smile vanished from his face and he said, "Something bad is gonna happen, I know it…"

Furrowing his brow Jim said, "If only you could know what it is…"

Shaking his head Artie replied, "I'm a special agent of the Secret Service, not a seer. But it's not related to the Bigfoot, as it's not a threat. No, it's something else." He settled his mug next to Jim's. "We have to wait to know what it will be, unfortunately. Good night, Jim."

He headed back beside the fireplace. He slipped into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he was fast asleep.

Imitating his best friend, Jim said, "Good night Artie," and then he closed his eyes.

He was already sleeping when Moira turned around and watched the two men lying side by side in their sleeping bags. She murmured, "I won't let you stop me," and then she glanced at the window as the ragged and howling wind was rattling it.

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The next morning

The storm had passed. The blizzard was gone but it was still snowing, though snowflakes were tiny and melting within minutes.

Smiling happily Jim said, "The tempest is gone!" Then, with snow at the level of his chest, he left the log cabin and moved away from it.

Suddenly Artemus and Moira still standing inside, with the door open, heard the other man let out a 'Hurrah!' and exchanged a puzzled glance.

Shortly after Jim came back inside and said, "I saw dozens of clouds of smoke above the trees on the left of the cabin. There's a village nearby. You were right, Artie, the Big foot brought us not far from a village. We'll find help there."

Happy to hear that, Artemus said, "Let's pack our things and head there before we get caught in the blizzard again, it may be a temporary lull."

Closing the door behind him Jim said, "You're like some bird of ill omen, Artemus." Then he glanced at Moira who was gathering her things.

He nodded to Artie signaling him he had to talk to her.

Sitting on the bed where Moira was rolling up her sleeping bag he said, "I'm sorry Moira, but with no tranquilizer rifle and its darts you won't be able to capture Bigfoot – and finding them is impossible. They are buried under several feet of snow – and we don't know where Bigfoot brought us. We could be miles away from where we camped. You will have to wait for another time."

She stopped and sighed, "I know." She tied her sleeping bag on each side with the cords provided for that and then opened her backpack.

Placing a soothing hand on Moira's, Artie repeated, "I'm sorry."

Moira pulled out the tranquilizer gun loaded with a dart filled with a powerful sedative and said, "I'm sorry too, Magnus," and then she pressed the trigger.

Hit in his ribs, Artie let out a cry of pain – and surprise and stood, looking at the tuff of small red feathers of the tailpiece of the dart protruding from the middle of his chest.

He croaked, "You didn't…" Then he removed the ballistic syringe loaded with a dose of tranquilizing solution - but he knew it was far too late. The full dose of the sedative had been administered and he would be sleepy in a matter of 30 seconds and unconscious in two minutes.

Ignoring him, Moira turned toward Jim. Before he could stop her, she reloaded in a flash and pointed the pressurized air gun toward the other agent.

She pressed the trigger. There was a second short hiss and the projectile punched into Jim's right shoulder, the needle piercing his skin and flesh as he was moving toward her.

It didn't stop Jim who yanked the dart with a red tailpiece out from his flesh and angrily propelled Moira against the closet wall - but the sedative was already running through his veins. "Artemus was right when he sensed that something would happen," he said, staggering.

Moira moved to the side, heading toward the door while watching Artie stumble and then collapse to his knees beside the bed, and she read disappointment and betrayal in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Artemus," she said. "I want Bigfoot – and I don't want anybody in my way. It's mine."

Shaking his head, Artie said, his voice trailing, "You won't find it, it's too dangerous to go out alone… Don't do that, please Moira."

Moira grinned sure of herself. "If I put myself in danger, it will help me, like it did the first time, and I will use the tranquilizer gun on it – keeping a safe distance. It won't hurt me."

It was Jim's turn to succumb to the powerful drug and he she swayed on his feet beside the bed before collapsing on it, progressively falling asleep.

Moira continued, "Once Bigfoot is neutralized, I'll come back here and you will help me to carry it to the train. I'm sure that you can build a large, solid sleigh for that. And, once in Washington with Bigfoot, I'll be famous! The whole world will know about my exploit! Everyone will want to see it! I don't know yet how I will display it to the public! But it will make me rich! I will be able to finance other expeditions and the greatest explorers will want to have the honor and the privilege to come with me looking for other creatures, unicorns, dragons ...But before this, I need time to find it – without you trying to stop me, that's why I'm going to restrain you, until I can find it. There's firewood piled here and enough canned food for a few days I'm sorry to do that but sometimes the end justifies the means."

But both Artemus and Jim were unconscious long before she ended her last sentence.

Moira grinned in victory. "Sleep well."

WWW

Later

In the tall, dense forest, three Chinook warriors who had spotted traces left by an elk in the thick snow, stopped and lifted their eyes toward the sky as a bald eagle flying above the cedar trees let out a series of high-pitched whistles.

It started making circles above the three men and they found this odd. Then when the bird of prey landed graciously at their feet they knew it meant something.

Eagles never did that. But this wasn't an ordinary eagle – it wanted to tell them something. It was a messenger, a messenger from the Great Spirit.

Looking up at the Indians the raptor released a 'kleek kik ik ik ik' call and then it took off, flying toward the snow-covered tops of the trees.

It made another circle in the air and then headed north – making new circles in the dark sky, waiting for the men to follow it.

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Eight hours later

Slowly opening his eyes, Jim woke up with a blinding headache. He realized first that the blizzard was howling – then that he was in a dark log cabin, barely lit by a few embers in the fireplace.

He realized after that that he was lying on the bed in an awkward position: his right wrist was attached to his right ankle.

He glanced at his limbs and noticed that he was restrained with a pair of manacles – and then he frowned in confusion. "What the…" He slurred.

He heard a moan and rolled over on the bedspread and groaned, feeling nauseous. He looked down to the floor and then discovered his partner there, lying on the rug, eyes closed, limp; his right wrist and ankle manacled together.

He frowned trying to remember what had happened but his mind was foggy. He felt sluggish - and his mouth was pasty like after a good bender.

But he didn't remember being drunk – and how on E arth had he ended up manacled like that? And why? And who did it? When? For what reason?

He leaned toward Artie using his free hand, he reached out and shook his shoulder. "Wake up Artie!" He said, but the older man just moaned plaintively. Insisting, Jim nudged Artie's shoulder again. "Wake up!" And Artemus began to stir. His fingers twitched.

He squinted his eyes open and Jim's face swam into focus after a few blinks. "Waaaa?" he asked. He wanted to rub his face, but couldn't and he used his other hand to do that. He winced. "Headache…" Then he realized that he was restrained and pulled at the manacles. "What happened? I don't remember… my old noggin' full of tapioca… like… after… hangover."

His brain leaving his molasses-like state, Jim said, "We're restrained… more like sedative. We've been knocked-out."

Resting his head on the rug, Artie murmured, "Hmm… pretty heavily sedated… " Then pulled at his restraints further and winced. "Ow…"

Looking at his companion, his brow furrowed Jim said, "I can remember some things… The blizzard, Bigfoot, the cabin…" And suddenly everything came back to his mind. "Moira! She used a tranquilizer gun to knock us out, then she left to capture Bigfoot!"

Remembering what had happened too, Artemus said, "And she stole our manacles too to keep us stuck here… She's a very resourceful woman – and I'm mad at her! But I can't blame her. She did what she thought was necessary." Hearing the wind howling, he paled in worry. "She's outside! In the blizzard!"

Jim nodded. "Yes, she is. She used a dart with red tailpieces to knock us out, then she left what must have been 8 hours ago. She wanted to put her life in danger so that Bigfoot would be forced to save her again… so that she could use the tranquilizer darts on it."

Pulling at the manacles again, Artie said, "We need to find her! She could die of hypothermia before Bigfoot finds her!"

Shaking his head, Jim moved into an uncomfortable sitting position on the bed and said, "It's impossible. We're restrained, and…" He looked at the small window and finished his sentence. "Even if we could break free It's dark outside, it's probably the middle of the night and there's a hell of a deadly blizzard and we don't know where she is. We can't do anything."

Acknowledging that but upset, Artie asked, "Then what? We wait for her to come back? Or wait for Bigfoot to bring her here again? We don't know if she's still alive. She could be dead! We must do something, Jim! We have to help her." He managed to sit and pointed at his backpack sitting on the wooden floor next to the door. "I have a knife in it. I can unlock the manacles with it in ten seconds tops."

Looking at Artie's backpack, Jim said, "She probably took it. She's very intelligent – unless it's a concealed knife, of course."

Smiling at his best friend, Artie said, "How well you know me Jim… it's well hidden in the right shoulder strap, in the thick lining." Having said that, he dragged himself on his butt toward the door, which he reached five long minutes later.

He retrieved his well-hidden knife and used the tip to open the manacles. It took only ten seconds. "And voilà!" he said, proud of himself.

He unlocked Jim's manacles in no time and opened the door – and was greeted by darkness, swirls of snow and by the whistle of the demented wind. He blew hot air on his quickly freezing fingers in an attempt to keep them warm.

Moving beside Artie Jim said, "I know that you're worried about her, and me too, but we can't help Moira for now, we have to wait this out."

Closing the door before Jim and he were both chilled to the bone, Artie nodded sadly. "Yes, you're right. I hope she's okay." Then he headed toward the bed.

He slumped on it, shoulders hunched and rubbed his forehead. His headache was still here and even worse than before as he was stressed but he wasn't sleepy anymore.

Seeing that Artie could use a pick-me-up, Jim grabbed the bottle of whiskey he had left on a shelf and filled a mug.

He took his place beside his partner and placed the liquor-filled mug in his hand. "Moira is a fighter. I'm sure she's fine."

Nodding absently, Artie took a sip – and swallowed the whiskey which burn his throat. "I hope you're right," he said fighting welling tears.

He was ready to take a new sip of alcohol when he froze – and Jim too – hearing a loud cracking coming from outside.

Suddenly one of the tall lodge pine trees (Pinus contorta subsp. Latifolia) from the forest surrounding the log cabin toppled down with a deafening noise and crashed down in the middle of its roof.

Both Jim and Artie were caught under the remains of the roof and ceiling and under a compact mass of branches covered with snow and ice. The walls collapsed in their turn and the blizzard invaded what was left of the log cabin.

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Later

In the morning

Regaining consciousness Jim immediately realized that something was wrong. He was lying on his side and gusts of ice-cold wind loaded with big snowflakes swirled around him.

He was frozen and was shivering.

He frowned in confusion. The last thing he remembered was… that loud cracking noise and then the roof of the log cabin had collapsed under – apparently – a toppled pine tree unrooted by the powerful blizzard.

He managed to disentangle himself from the branches on top of him and yelped as he felt his left arm hurt but it didn't stop him. "Artie?"

Moving to his knees, wincing, Jim looked around him amid the piles of branches which surrounded him. "Artie?" He called, his voice being lost in the howling blizzard again. Artemus was nowhere to be seen, but he had to be close. "A rtie?"

The younger man struggled into an upright position, winced then he looked at his injured limb and noticed that there was a long piece of wood embedded in his biceps. There was a lot of blood soaking the fabric of his shirt but, luckily, the pain was bearable and it wasn't a life-threatening injury, he thought as a series of violent shudders shook his frame. "Artie?"

Opening his eyes, Artemus realized that he was trapped under the branches of the tree that had collapsed on the log cabin.

He was lying on his back, his arms to either side of his body. His head was turned to the right and all he could see were branches of a pine tree. "Jim?" He called. No response. Only the loud whistles of the blizzard could be heard.

He used his hands to try to push himself up, but nearly passed out from the intense pain that surged through his right leg and he slumped back to the snow-covered floor, grimacing. He realized that something was pressing on his leg, pinning him there. "No, no, no, not again," he said thinking that his leg was broken, and he yelled Jim's name. He kept yelling it for a couple of minutes – and he was glad to see Jim kneel down beside him a few seconds later. "You heard me!" He said, his voice hoarse. "I need help. There's something on my leg, I think it's broken, again, and I can't move."

Frowning in worry Jim said, "Okay, don't move Artie, I'm going to go under those branches and move some of them to see what's wrong with your leg."

But before he did just that, he removed the wooden shard from his arm, cried out in pain as more blood poured from the wound.

Ignoring it, he crawled under the branches. He came back a few minutes later, his face grim. He found Artie shivering and struggling to stay awake.

He took his best friend's hand in his in a comforting gesture and said, his teeth clattering, "There's a big branch pressing on your leg. There's some blood… I don't know if it's broken or not."

Closing his eyes, feeling so very cold and tired Artie said, "Find the axe… and try not to cut my leg. I need it." Then he passed out, his breaths coming in small puffs of hot air.

Standing, Jim took a deep breath, trying not to panic. He glanced around him but could see only piles of debris and suddenly spotted a sleeping bag. He had to step over several branches and logs before reaching it. Then he turned around and moving close to Artie again, he covered his partner's frame with it. "I'm gonna find the axe now," he told him.

He found it – half an hour later – and knelt down beside his unresponsive best friend. Artemus hadn't regained consciousness.

He noticed that Artie's face was as pale as the snow piling around them. His features slack and his lips were turning blue with hypothermia. Fear gripping his heart, he shook Artie's shoulder and the older man stirred. "Wake up Artie! Stay awake!"

His eyes fluttering open, Artemus met a pair of concerned green eyes and slurred, "I don't think I can last much longer… go village… safe here… "I'm dying," he said quietly, resigned to his fate. The thought didn't scare him as much as he'd thought it would.

Then he lost consciousness again.

Raising the axe in the air, Jim said, "No, you're not dying, Artie!" Using the sharp tool, he hurried to cut the big branches in multiple pieces – avoiding his partner's trapped leg and then he finally released it. "I won't let you die." He added as a series of violent shudders shook his frame.

Then he cleared out everything around Artemus so he could have room.

He slowly and gently moved Artemus on top of the sleeping bag and pulled it toward the corner of the fallen log cabin – beside the stove. It had lost its top part in the collapsing of the roof but it was still hot, the fire still burning inside.

But it was getting colder and colder with every second passing by. He searched for a second sleeping bag and found one stuck between two logs.

He wrapped his frame in it as his body was losing its heat fast and sat beside Artemus but barely seeing it as the snowstorm was getting worse.

He couldn't feel the heat released by the stove.

Looking down at Artie, closely, he noticed with dread that his entire skin had taken on a faint bluish tint. The skin of his hands was already chapped from staying too long in the chilly air without gloves to cover them. He had particles of ice in his eyelashes and his eyebrows.

He wondered what to do: build a rudimentary sleigh to bring Artemus to the village or go to the village alone, quickly as possible and come back here with villagers to bring Artie to the village. Both solutions would take too much time and for Artie time was running out.

He rubbed his arms and legs to keep the blood flowing in his limbs and sighed. "W-ha-t w-oul-d y-you d-do?" He asked his best friend, his teeth chattering violently.

Usually Artemus had good ideas and found the right solution to any problems. But Artie didn't respond as he was unconscious.

He was panicking – not knowing what to do – when he saw three silhouettes moving in their direction through the blizzard.

He smiled thinking they were villagers – but he smile froze when he saw that the three people were actually Indians.

One of the m was holding a spear and the two others long knives. He stood, his legs feeling like pieces of ice as cold had invaded his limbs and he raised his fist. He knew he had no chance against three warriors, but he refused to die without fighting.

But the three Indians didn't move an inch – they stayed immobile in the tempest, snow swirling around them, looking at the white man.

Feeling drowsiness overcoming his senses, Jim slapped his face to stay awake, but he was so cold he couldn't feel anything.

He looked down at Artie covered with a thickening layer of freshly fallen snow and whispered, thinking he was dead, "I'm going to be with you soon," and he took a step toward the warriors, his clothes stiff with snow. He would die, but he would die fighting.

He took another step the snow up almost to his hips

He was shivering so hard he could barely walk in a straight line and, after a third step he stumbled. His legs weren't obeying him anymore. They were completely numbed. His vision blurred with fatigue, he collapsed in exhaustion to the icy ground, hitting the thick snow, face first.

He passed out.

Tbc.