Free Hominid by R.D. Brady

feet in front of him—and he was impossible to miss.
    Eric wrapped her in a hug. “You’re looking good, girl.”
    “You too,” she said into his shoulder.
    He pulled back, looking her over. “Seems to me that man of yours is treating you right.” He frowned. “He is, isn’t he? Because I’d be happy to have a little talk with him…”
    Tess laughed. “Yes. He’s great. And yes, he’s treating me right.”
    “Good. Now, when are you two coming over for dinner?”
    “I’ll see what we can arrange.”
    “I’m holding you to that. Now come on back. Bernie Hudson’s already here.”
    Tess followed Eric through the aluminum-topped tables. He stopped in front of a booth on the back wall. A mustached man in his early fifties, with dark brown hair beginning to gray, looked up at Tess with blue eyes rimmed in red, heavy bags underneath them. Bernie Hudson was a man sorely in need of a good night’s sleep.
    “Bernie, this here is Dr. Tess Brannick.”
    Bernie inclined his head. “Doc.”
    Tess slid into the booth. “Call me Tess.”
    “All right.” Bernie stared down at his mug.
    Tess could read the fear coming off him, and the embarrassment. Bernie was not a man used to being scared. Tess decided to ease into the conversation. “So, Bernie, what do you do for a living?”
    Bernie looked up. “I own a roofing company. But my wife and I are avid campers. We spend every spare moment in the woods.” He paused, his voice a little softer. “At least, we used to.”
    Tess waited, giving Bernie a chance to compose himself. “Bernie, has Eric told you what I research?”
    “He said you research bigfoot.”
    “Yes,” Tess said. “And I’m not the only one. It’s a serious discipline. Since 1912, there have been over three thousand bigfoot sightings in the US alone—and of course, that’s only the ones reported. A lot of the reports are never written down, or people don’t even think to report it.”
    “Maybe because they’re worried they’ll sound crazy,” Bernie said.
    From his tone, Tess knew that was Bernie’s worry as well. “Perhaps that is a concern. But bigfoot, or something similar to bigfoot, has been seen all over the globe. So whatever you and your wife saw and experienced, you weren’t the only ones. And you won’t be the last. But if you could take me through it, maybe we can help you understand a little better what happened.”
    Bernie continued to stare at his mug. Tess waited, knowing this wasn’t an easy story for him to tell.
    Finally Bernie looked up. “Like I said, my wife and I like to camp. Every year we get in the RV and take off for a month, hitting different campsites. Usually we’ll park the bus and then hike in somewhere and set up for a few days before moving on to the next place. We’ve been doing it for fifteen years, and we’ve never had a problem before.”
    Bernie’s hands began to shake. “They killed my dog.”
    Tess looked at Eric.
    Eric spoke quietly. “We found the remains of the dog up the trail from the Hudsons’ camp.”
    “I’m sorry,” Tess said. She chose her next words carefully. “Was it like other cases we’ve seen?”
    Eric nodded. “Yes.”
    Tess closed her eyes. Violence with bigfoot was really rare. They never went after humans. But for some reason they really did not like dogs.
    “Why don’t you start with when you first realized there was something out there?” Tess said quietly.
    Bernie took a breath. “We hiked for about three hours—me, my wife Leanne, and our two dogs, Daffy and Tweety.”
    Tess smiled at the names.
    Bernie noticed. “Don’t let the names fool you. They’re Shepherd mixes, over a hundred pounds easy, and tough.” He again looked down at his mug. “Anyways, we set up camp, and the first night was fine, nothing out of the ordinary. But the second night, the dogs started acting weird. They got real nervous, and Daffy started growling low in his throat. I pulled them into the tent with us and grabbed my