Sting

By Meghan Jennings

December 2014

Avery tapped the fob of her car keys against the driver’s side door. A chip of yellow paint

dropped onto her shoe, and she frantically jerked her foot back and forth to remove it.

“Bee, get over here!” she yelled, banging her palm on the roof of the car.

A monster the size of a small horse loped around the side of the red-rust stucco house,

Scooby Doo ears flopping and giant paws pummeling the dirt-dry front yard. A cloud of dust

hovered in the air as the dog launched itself onto the trunk of the car, stumbling and scraping

even more black and yellow chips onto the weathered asphalt.

“What are you thinking girl? I don’t have nearly enough stickers to cover up what you

just did. Get in already!”

***

Avery looked at Bee, flopped halfway out the window and still covering the entire

passenger’s seat. Jowls open and tongue out, the dog looked at her as if checking the status of a

progress report.

“You want the radio too, huh? Alright little princess, see how you like this.”

The radio blared. “Get up! Get out! It’s a Tuuuuesday, folks, and we have JUST what

you need to get your day started! Tune into ninety-nine five, rollin’ here liiive with Marty

Atkins! I won’t waste another second of your time so shwoop-de-woop! Let’s go!”

Avery rolled her eyes, reaching for the dial, not really in the mood for Marty’s

tomfoolery, when she heard his voice change.

“Ah, okay, I don’t want to… alarm you, folks, but we just had a listener call in about a

sighting over by Springrun Valley.”

Avery raised the volume over the blasting wind in the car.

“The caller says it was some sorta creature, big. Black and gray and –get this, folks–

walking on twooo feet. Wowza! Sounds like Bigfoot is back for a little taste of the desert!”

Avery’s knuckles were white on the wheel and suddenly she was going 95 in a 50 zone.

“Bee. Honeybee. My girl, I am glad you’re here,” she breathed as the car began to shake.

“Do you have any idea what this means? We gotta get to pop’s place, right now.”

She winked at the canine. “Think we got some air on that last hill.”

***

Avery tucked the small envelope under her arm and raced up to the door, knocking

furiously. “Papa! PAPA! Come to the door! Papa!” She stood, tapping her foot.

Then, through the glass panel to the right, she saw a face, weather-beaten and tan like the

desert buttes rising miles behind the house. He waved from inside.

Exasperated, Avery rattled the door handle. “Dammit, papa, open the door!”

The door opened and the old man laughed, silently, and with a smile wider than the open

desert. He swept his arms wide in a kingly gesture, inviting her into the house. Short bursts of

wheezed laughter escaped through his breath while his shoulders bobbed up and down.

She rolled her eyes. “For someone who can’t speak anymore, you’re lucky I even listen

to you. God knows the mailwoman can hardly handle your foolish games.” She gave his

shoulder a squeeze. “Hey, I have the check,” she said, pulling out the envelope. “Still have

fifteen more years of payments from The Man, can you believe it? Fifteen! They did us right for

once.” Avery embraced him. “You remember who gave me that ticket, don’t you papa?”

The old man scuffled slowly across the room, grasping a jagged red and black patterned

blanket folded faultlessly over the head of a rocking chair. “Misha.” He said. “Misha.”

“Yes, papa,” she smiled, “I know you won’t forget that.”

***

“I have another chance.” She told him. “Bee is in the car and I have my camera, and

Marty just said somebody saw Bigfoot out in Springrun.”

The corners of the old man’s mouth turned down, and his eyebrows furrowed.

Avery stood straighter, eyes narrowing. “You’re right, papa, so give me your gun. You

know just as well as me that I can track just as well as you.”

Her face softened. “Besides, you wouldn’t want Honeybee to miss all the fun, would

you?” She pouted mockingly.

He shook his head, chuckling, then ambled to the bed on the far side of the room and

pulled a pistol from behind the headboard. Avery kissed his face as he brought it over, his whole

body sighing. Aged, dark eyes stared into hers. “Misha.”

“Yes, papa. I love you too.”

***

An hour later they arrived at nowhere. There was no parking at Springrun. There wasn’t

parking anywhere in the desert. The few people who came here either took their all-wheel-drives

out in the brush or parked on the side and wandered til the sun went down. Avery pulled to the

side of the road so that her car hid behind a sparse grove of trees. She faced her passenger.

“Look, Bee. If we get documented proof of this creature, we’ve got something to work

with. Maybe it’s something no one’s seen, an animal or hybrid. I could make a case for us to

keep the extra land for the reservation, too. Raise some attention, y’know.”

The Dane looked back expectantly.

“I trust you, girl. Game plan: don’t mess up.” Avery ruffled the dog’s head. “Let’s get tracking.”

Avery opened both doors of the yellow and black car, and Bee started sniffing.

“Follow.” Avery said. Bee trotted to where she stood.

She pulled the black camera strap over her shoulder, placing over it a protective felt

shield in case she had to run. She opened the glove box, pulling out the sleek black and amber

revolver. Checking the safety one last time, she tucked the pistol in the back of her jeans.

***

Springrun Valley wasn’t like any valley Avery had seen on the east coast. It stretched for

miles, at least 90 til the next mountain range held its head above the hot waves of heat. She and

Honeybee walked along the highway, distancing themselves from the car. 500 paces from their

starting point, they climbed and crested a low-grade hill, peering over the edge to the flatlands

below. It was dotted occasionally with sagebrush and low-lying plains grass, and to the right ran

a river, tame, but tangled at the edges with trees and underbrush.

The two paused for several minutes, Avery scanning the flat space below for signs of

movement. Nothing.

“Thirsty, girl?”

The two moved down towards the river, Avery’s eyes, Bee’s nose, and both their ears on

the alert for a sign of anything. The dirt farther from the hill became damp as they neared the

river. Bee tramped along the edge of the bank, nose to the ground, paws pushing her huge tracks

into the mud along the bank.

Suddenly, she stopped, front left leg raised like a beagle on the hunt. Avery walked over

to where her nose almost touched a slivery object on the ground.

“Looks like someone was here before us,” she muttered. “This hasn’t sunk in yet. No

mud tracks though,” she said, bending down to examine the piece of rope curled over on itself in

the mud.

She saw it happen at once.

As Avery stood up, a small flock of wrens rustled the tree branches by the river.

At exactly the same moment, two startled mule deer shot from behind the brush and high-

tailed it along the dense vegetation lining the river.

“No!” Avery started running. “Hey, Bee, stop!”

The giant dog had flown up immediately and exploded after them, powerful legs pushing,

contracting, tail flailing, growling deep, running after the animals she almost matched in size.

The deer were fast, but so was Bee.

“That girl had one. Damn. Job,” Avery mumbled to herself.

She ran on, even as they were dimming from sight.

***

She didn’t stop to walk. Her breath came in short gasps now, heat stealing the oxygen

from her lungs and expelling the water from her back.

“Bee!” she called “You can come back and apologize now!”

Avery pushed on. Suddenly she could make out the silhouette of a figure through the heat

waves that shimmered like spider webs over the flatlands.

It was big. On two feet.

“Wily, girl, I knew you’d find something,” Avery whispered proudly.

She snapped her camera around to the front and held it at the ready, sliding smoothly on

the edge of the brush, treading the earth quietly on her leather soles. She raised the camera up to

her eyes, twisting the lens this way and that until the focus was just right and she could see…

A man. He was looking down at something. Avery slid the camera back over and around

her torso. As she got closer, she noticed him standing next to what looked like a hole in the

ground. A giant pit.

She approached cautiously, hand resting instinctively on the pistol behind her. Now 100

paces from the man, she heard a faint sound.

Whimpering.

Avery clenched the pistol, sprinted the last distance to the pit, and peered over the edge.

She fell to her knees.

***

A scattered circle of spears pointed to heaven. A spattered ring of blood painted them red.

She saw the loosed up dirt, the pulled up brush. She saw the sharpened tips, the rope trap

underneath. She saw the deer that didn’t get away, skewered ten times through, and then Bee.

Honeybee. Pierced once, but one time enough.

“No. No, no, No, NO!”

The man stepped forward, brown beard. Hat in hand. “Ma’am, I thought the only ones

out was the deer today, I—”

Avery wrenched the pistol from her jeans and pointed it at the man’s head. His hat fell to

the ground as he lifted both hands.

“Leave,” she snarled murderously.

The man kept his hands up, backing away, turned finally, and ran towards the highway.

Avery looked down at Honeybee, who was crying still. Her tongue lolled, her stomach

heaved rapidly as both blood and breath left her body.

Avery carefully slithered down into the pit next to the imposing animal, stroking her face

and shoulders. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, Bee!” She said, unable to distinguish the heat

from the waves in her eyes. “If you apologize now, I guess I can forgive you.”

Bee sniffed her palm, licking her wrist.

“You know, you’re gonna be the one they’ll all be looking for now, don’t you?”

Avery broke the head of one of the spears, running the blade over her palm. A crimson

streak fell down her hand, and she ran her palm slowly along the dog’s cheek, over her ears,

kissing her nose, breaths coming in short, quick huffs.

“Tell mama that me and papa said, hi, okay?”

Avery tenderly placed her hand over the body of her companion, and picked up the pistol.

***