Somewhere out there was Stryker and his associates, mostly likely scattered into small groups. She wasn't briefed in the methods used, but the intelligence team, including some specialists from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives that normally find illegal moonshine stills, was slowly narrowing down possible locations: too steep, too wet, too rocky, too far from a road, too close to a horse trail. They were certain Stryker's team would need access to trails connected to a back road--exactly like the trail she was searching for.
Since she was too remote for cell phone reception and a radio transmission was almost a dead giveaway, they were sending her out for three or four days at a time with a list of trail coordinates to check. During that time, she was essentially on her own, undercover. They could be watching from behind any tree and most likely had an array of tactical surveillance gear, infrared and night vision for certain.
She found the trail shortly before dark. As usual, there wasn't a parking area, but she managed to fit the camper back off the road, mostly out of sight, between a couple beech trees.
The trail started off at the bottom of a large hill. The Appalachians are an old, weathered, worn-down, mountain range so it's not always clear what's considered a hill and what's considered a mountain by local custom--even though there are some definite mountains. She'd call this one a hill. Regardless, she had a bit of a climb first thing in the morning.
For now, she could relax, cook a little pasta on the propane stove, then catch a few hours sleep. About one in the morning, she would go squatching for a while; bigfoot hunting was her primary cover. She really did want to find a bigfoot. What the hell, why not be serious about it? Besides, she didn't want to risk blowing her cover.
Tasha used to think sasquatches were just a myth that some people took way too seriously and others exaggerated for profit, selling movies, books and souvenirs. Somewhere during mission prep, she changed her mind and began to question: maybe it is possible for them to exist, even if unlikely.
In the end, she wasn't entirely certain about a lot of things after training. Even deep-seated memories that she thought were a part of who she was, such as her original name, had a half-remembered quality to them that made them fuzzy and uncertain. Though not aware of any specific brainwashing, she had handled enough requests for such information to know such programs and techniques existed decades ago (those files were still classified) and were certain to be much more advanced by now. Even if she didn't trust her memories, at least her judgement and decisions seemed to be entirely unaffected. While a weird feeling, it was alright with her, a temporary effect for sure, and reassuring actually. When captured, they would not be able to force much out of her, no matter what they did, since she wasn't certain herself.
After dinner, Tasha took a few minutes to turn on the motion activated cameras, and crank the mast of her roof-mounted listening dish up into position. Both were state of the art bigfoot hunting gear (and also reasonably good surveillance systems for some law enforcement agencies). The motion cameras would record infrared and nightvision video of anything approaching within 100 feet of the RV. Anything large would trigger an electronic warning beep which some squatchers liked to call "the door bell." The listening system would record whenever the motion sensors picked up anything or if loud sounds were detected.
Bigfoots were supposed to be curious and known to look in windows so Tasha closed all the blinds and pulled the curtain across the front of the camper to block the view in or out of the windshield. As much as she wanted to find one, being alone in the wilderness...yeah, there were limits to her bravery--even if her camper was specially re-enforced and had bulletproof glass. She knew she should be more afraid than she was, but it didn't bother her as much as she knew it should. Timor told her millions of lives could be at stake if Styker and his terrorists succeeded; her fears were not a priority.
After dinner, Tasha took a few minutes to turn on the motion activated cameras, and crank the mast of her roof-mounted listening dish up into position. Both were state of the art bigfoot hunting gear (and also reasonably good surveillance systems for some law enforcement agencies). The motion cameras would record infrared and nightvision video of anything approaching within 100 feet of the RV. Anything large would trigger an electronic warning beep which some squatchers liked to call "the door bell." The listening system would record whenever the motion sensors picked up anything or if loud sounds were detected.
Bigfoots were supposed to be curious and known to look in windows so Tasha closed all the blinds and pulled the curtain across the front of the camper to block the view in or out of the windshield. As much as she wanted to find one, being alone in the wilderness...yeah, there were limits to her bravery--even if her camper was specially re-enforced and had bulletproof glass. She knew she should be more afraid than she was, but it didn't bother her as much as she knew it should. Timor told her millions of lives could be at stake if Styker and his terrorists succeeded; her fears were not a priority.
About ten minutes before she was due to make her night patrol, a loud crack and thump outside woke Tasha. She snapped awake instantly, more excited than scared. In just her panties, she quickly headed to the monitors. Definitely not lightning, it had sounded like a tree falling, but maybe it was a bear knocking something over. She had one two nights ago walking around like it owned the place. The "door bell" went off before the computer screens warmed up, and her heart started racing. Something had to be moving towards the camper.
As her eyes adjusted to the light of the monitors, she heard something hit the side of the RV. It sounded like a rock against the corrugated metal siding. She didn't see anything at first then, on the northeast facing camera she saw a flash of heat signature on the monitor, at what was probably the maximum range of the motion sensors, and heard another rock land on the roof. She saw another brief, fuzzy heat signature in the same area: a warm red main body with a fringe of less warm orange, then a thin yellow outline.
She sat there, heart pounding and goosebumps prickling, for five minutes or more, then her cell phone alarm clock went off and snapped her out of the daze. It was bipedal! She reversed the video and watched again. First she saw the large tree limb fall just outside the camper. Was it thrown or did it fall from a tree? Impossible to tell. Then a big blob of thermal imagery flashed for a second. The trees were thicker over there. It could be a bear, a human, maybe a deer...or a sasquatch, but it wasn't clear enough to tell. The blob appeared again. Was that an arm throwing? She zoomed in, but it was too blurry. Then, the third time she saw the blob, it stepped to the side, and she saw a gap between its legs. She couldn't prove it, but she only thought she saw two legs.
She had a recording of knocks and vocalizations that were supposed to be from a bigfoot; they are thought to knock on trees and throw rocks as well as call out to each other through the forest. She played it over the external loudspeakers (doesn't every squatcher have them?) and waited. Nothing. She played it again, then immediately heard a loud double knock, tree branch on tree trunk.
Over the next couple hours, she kept trying more knocks and calls, off and on, with no further response. She watched the video again and again, and was convinced it had to be a human or a bigfoot. It could be a real contact, but there was no way she was going out there tonight to look for it.