Rook nodded to himself, an idea forming. He knew what he needed to do. If he was right, his action would bring about swift—and possibly fatal—consequences, but that was better than standing here waiting. He switched his light back on. Then in one motion, he pulled out his Desert Eagle and took aim at the large black wolf fifty yards away.
As he expected, a roar erupted from the bushes, and even as he fired, he jumped to the right, away from it. His bullet flew a few inches above the wolf’s head, exactly as intended. He stowed the pistol in its holster, knowing it would do nothing for him now. Then he turned so the headlamp picked up the creature.
It flew past the spot where Rook had stood a moment earlier, but it kept its gaze right on Rook. There was no mistaking the intent conveyed by its round yellow eyes. Rook knew he had to stay out of its grasp long enough to get the angle he needed, at least if he considered it a priority to keep his arms and legs attached to his torso.
He ran for a tree he’d seen in the headlamp earlier. The trees around here were sparse, and those that managed to grow mostly stood no higher than ten feet. This one was taller, and appeared to have a few branches large enough to support Rook’s weight.
He could hear the roar and feel the ground shaking from the footsteps behind him. As he jumped onto a branch about four feet off the ground, he felt something strike his shoulder, knocking him off balance. He managed to get both hands onto a branch above his head, and allowed his body to swing forward until his legs were flying over his head. For a split second, he felt like a gymnast delivering the winning routine—until he crashed down onto the branch and had to hold on tight to keep from falling. Guess I didn’t stick the landing, he thought.
Ten feet below, the creature still roared, and Rook quickly moved up to a branch three feet higher. Now he was out of range of even those long arms. He steadied his breathing and pulled out the Desert Eagle. The gun had proven ineffective the previous evening, but everything had vulnerable spots.
He felt the tree shake and grabbed the trunk with his free hand to steady himself. The monster had wrapped his massive arms around the base of the tree and was straining with the effort. Rook didn’t wait any longer to yell toward the ground.
“Hey, ape man. Look at me when I’m talking to you!”
The creature looked up, fury evident in the glare of the headlamp. Rook fired three shots from the Desert Eagle at its eye socket.
All three shots hit, and Rook felt the yeti’s roar reverberate. It let go of the tree and grabbed its head with both hands. Rook couldn’t tell whether he’d penetrated the brain, but he’d know soon enough.
The creature stumbled away and dropped to its knees. Rook leapt from the tree, Desert Eagle still in his right hand. He didn’t waste ammunition firing at the hobbled figure, but he kept his weight on the balls of his feet, shifting from one foot to the other. The creature jumped to its feet a moment later.
Rook thought, Well, I guess I didn’t hit the brain.
The creature charged. Rook unloaded with the Desert Eagle at its legs, but it didn’t slow down. He prepared both for impact and to leap sideways to minimize it.
Then an explosive shot rang out. The yeti’s hand went down to its left leg and it whirled to the right. Rook’s headlamp followed and he saw a sight that did not entirely surprise him: Eirek Fossen holding an AR-15.
The creature ran at Fossen. Even with the pronounced limp from Fossen’s shot, it covered ground faster than Rook could have. To his credit, Fossen seemed prepared for it, and dove out of the way. A wide swipe of the creature’s paw missed the Norwegian by inches, but the AR-15 flew out of Fossen’s hands. Rook launched himself at the weapon, hoping he wasn’t too late.
Rook rolled and grabbed it in one motion, ending up on his feet. He fired a dozen rounds at the creature, which had changed directions and was nearly upon Fossen. The yeti roared, but the impact of the shots knocked it to the ground, away from Fossen.
The creature kept rolling after falling, and suddenly it disappeared from the beam of Rook’s headlamp. He ran toward the last spot where he had seen it and had to stop before he went over a steep embankment. Looking down, the creature continued to roll, now thirty feet away. Rook fired a few more shots, but he doubted he had hit it.
He started down the slope. Remaining upright proved difficult, as it was nearly a cliff. He established a rhythm, but he knew he couldn’t keep up with something hurtling out of control toward the bottom.
When the ground flattened out, he stopped and scanned the area, but saw no sign of the creature. No bloodstains, no trampled vegetation, nothing. He cursed to himself. Fucking impossible. The bastard is here somewhere. Several minutes of exploration turned up no additional evidence. The thing had vanished.
Rook’s mood became fouler as he worked his way back up the embankment. Twice now, he’d failed to kill it. This time they’d had it in their sights, and a dozen bullets hadn’t been enough. As he came over the top, Fossen was peering over the edge. Rook put his palm into the Norwegian’s chest, pushing him back.