Yeti Unleashed Page 23

  Now, huddled around the dwindling fire, Millie relived her worries about the animals whom she had become deeply attached. “Sasha was so...so...I don’t quite know how to out it into words,” she said.

  “Human?” Dixie said, finishing her sentence.

  “That’s it, almost human. Sure, she was a wild creature, but there was a certain quality about her, a softness that I felt when she was sedated and I was in the cage with her. I would stroke her head and muzzle, and she made a sort of contented sound. She would look at me at other times like she recognized me. The way Jimmy treated Bentu was unforgivable.”

  “Why didn’t you report him, Millie?”

  “I was afraid of him. He was weird, different.”

  “Dr. Radner weird?”

  Millie laughed and looked up at the heavens. The stars seemed close, close enough to touch. “Oh no. Dr. Radner is just flaky. Jimmy was scary. I didn’t like him. He did his work and I did mine.”

  “It’s a tragedy to be sure, Millie. It’s unfortunate but Dr. Olson will have to do a lot of explaining when we get back. The board of trustees will have a lot of questions.”

  “Oh, Dixie, I’m so sorry. I feel so responsible.”

  “This crisis wasn’t your doing, honey. Dr. Olson is responsible for the overall running of the primate facility, so he’s the one who will have to answer the inevitable questions.”

  “I don’t think I’d want his job,” Millie said. She threw a small log onto the campfire and watched the flames spark and flicker.

  “It goes with the territory. We’ll face whatever comes together.”

  “You have such a perfect marriage, Dixie. I envy you.”

  “I’ve been blessed, no doubt about it. Harry is a good man.”

  “When did you fall in love with him?” Millie shook her head and raised a hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry.”

  “No, it’s okay. To be completely truthful, I was infatuated with him while I was a grad student but he never gave me a second look. Mostly acted aloof. I thought he was arrogant, in fact. Then, during our first trip to Mongolia, something happened between us. I can’t say what it was but we saw each other differently, and the rest is history. Like a spark or something. As I said, I’m a lucky woman.”

  “I hope it happens that way with me,” Millie said. “Falling in love sounds so exciting.”

  “There’s no one in your life? No special someone?”

  “Not really. My research is what is important to me--the most important thing right now. Dr. Wickingham and I have had a few dates but nothing serious. He seems caught up with himself.”

  “Bernard Wickingham, Millie? Seriously?”

  “That’s him. What do you think of him, Dixie?”

  “Well...”

  “No, Dixie, I want the truth. I’m not serious about him but I suppose I could.”

  “He’s new to the faculty. I don’t know him well enough to advise you. But I would be careful of becoming involved with a faculty member. Just because it worked out for me doesn’t mean it will for you. But I tend to agree with you--the man seems full if himself.”

  “Mostly, he’s been a diversion from my studies, Dixie. However, one day I hope to have a family. And a man like your husband.”

  Later, when everyone was asleep, Millie thought back over previous conversations she had with Bernard Wickingham. He had asked her to call him by his first name, something unusual for a faculty member to do. He talked at length about his desire to become a well-known anthropologist and departmental chairman and how he hoped to find a quick way to the top. He couldn’t wait forever. His research was a closely guarded secret among the graduate students, as he seemed to need no help other than his own in working in the cramped paleontology lab. He had complained repeatedly about wanting his own space and how Dr. Olson had denied it to him, always citing monetary concerns. There was something about Wickingham that was nebulous, difficult to analyze. He was smart, handsome, definitely aloof, having a cool, calculating exterior. The thought of a relationship with him was a daunting one, producing an anxiety that caused her heart to flutter.

  Millie awoke and noticed Drayton sitting next to the fire, staring into its flames. She unzipped her sleeping bag and joined him.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” he said, smiling as she sat next to him.

  “I guess I was dreaming,” she said. “What time is it?”

  Drayton looked at his watch. “Four-thirty. It’ll be getting light soon. Care for some coffee?”

  Millie nodded. Drayton poured her a mugful and handed it over.

  “Think we’ll find them today, Mr. Drayton?” she said.

  “Don’t know. Anything is possible.”

  “Mr. Drayton, were we at the facility derelict in our duties to allow this to happen? Dixie says Dr. Olson will have to answer some serious questions when this is all over and done.”

  “Millie, the Primate Research Facility followed every guideline and regulation required by the feds. They even inspected us on two occasions--we had no issues. So, the short answer to your question is no, we weren’t irresponsible. Now, Dr. Olson will, most certainly, be required to give a full report on the incident but I think, once all the facts come out, we’ll be fine. And Dr. Olson as well.”

  “That’s good. I was worried. And for Dixie, too.”

  The eastern sky belied a faint glow, the starlight diminishing. Other members of their search team were rousing and gathering around the campfire, drinking coffee. The cool breeze that had blown up during the night had quieted, and it promised to be another hot day. Millie threw the dregs of her coffee on the ground and joined Dixie and Harry, who were sitting together.

  “I hope we find them today,” she said. “I don’t think they can survive very long in this heat.”

  “Me too,” Harry said. “I’m not used to sleeping on the ground.” He rubbed his back and stretched.

  Dr. Siscom joined the group and pointed toward a small butte.

  “I found some large tracks back that way,” he said. “Looks like they might belong to our animals.”

  Harry, Dixie, and Drayton jumped to their feet and rushed to where Siscom led them. There, on the ground and imprinted in the loose soil, were a number of large, human-like footprints.

  “That’s them!” Harry exclaimed. “We found them!”

  “They’ve been here, that’s for certain,” Dixie said. “How much earlier it’s hard to say.”

  Siscom knelt and felt the tracks. “These have edges that have hardened,” he said. “A day old, at least.”

  Millie followed the tracks a short distance and noticed they headed into a shallow gorge. She was unable see much beyond the immediate area.

  “Okay, folks,” Drayton said, “from here we’re on horseback. So we need to get the horses saddled. Dr. Siscom, can you and Harry see to that, while the women and I get the gear packed and the fire extinguished?”

  The veterinarian nodded and set about his work.

  Millie caught Dixie’s eye.

  “Horses,” she said. “Just great.”

  Chapter 26

  Dr. Reginald Pauling couldn’t believe the headline on page three of the San Francisco Chronicle. He sat at his desk and slurped his coffee, wondering how the article had made it into the paper. The headline and article read

  CAL PACIFIC IRRESPONSIBLE IN YETI ESCAPE

  Indifference to security concerns, a desire for national notoriety, and academic hubris led to the escape of two animals housed by California Pacific University in Nevada. The resulting carnage, which left a number of people dead, was the direct result of omissions that were the responsibility of university president, Dr. Reginald Pauling, departmental chairman, Dr. Harry Olson, and the research facility director, Dr. Miles Radner. So says a member of the faculty who is in a position to know the facts. The person wishes to remain anonymous for the present.

  The anonymous faculty member named Dr. Olson and Dr. Radner as having direct supervisory functions for the saf
ety of the animals and employees of the Animal Research Facility in Northern Nevada. Their dereliction led ultimately to mass destruction of property and man people killed. State and local law enforcement are currently searching for the animals, known as Yeti.

  The article went on to outline how California Pacific University did not follow federal regulations in its security surrounding the Primate Research Facility.

  Pauling collapsed in his chair, stunned by the article. He knew immediately that the press would be at his door, demanding answers. He called Radner at the primate facility.

  “Miles, have you seen today’s Chronicle?” he said, his tone conveying a stress and anger.

  “I saw the article some time ago, Dr. Pauling,” Radner said in a weak voice. “Shameful is what it is.”

  “More than shameful, Miles, it’s libelous, that’s what it is.” Pauling allowed his remark to sink in then continued. “Any idea how something like that got in the paper?”

  “No, sir, I don’t. I thought my news conference the other day went extremely well. You saw it?”

  “I did, Miles, yes. I’ll tell you how it got into the paper. Dr. Wickingham.”

  “Yes. He came to see me.”

  “He did? When, Miles?”

  “A few days ago. He wanted me to assist him in getting Harry fired. I threw him out. What impudence.”

  “Bernard Wickingham,” Pauling said in a tone that skewed venom. “He’s responsible for that article, I’m sure of it. He came to me as well, trying to get me to discipline Dr. Olson, to demote or fire him on account of the Yeti escaping the primate facility.”

  “Really? Does Harry know this?”

  “I haven’t told him. Where is he?”

  “He’s out searching for the Yeti as we speak. I don’t know when he’s expected back.”

  “Well,” Pauling said, his irritation growing, “when he does, have him call me. In the meantime, I’m going to meet with our lawyers to determine what our course of action should be. Harry assured me that all federal regulations were being followed up there. That makes the article’s assertion libel.”

  “They certainly were followed. Want me to hold another news conference? I will if it will help?”

  “Thanks, Miles, but let’s wait until after I’ve spoken with the legal team. I might do it after that. It would look better if the university president answered questions. For now, if any reporters call for information, please direct them to this office. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll take care of Wickingham myself.”

  ***

  Drayton spread his map out on the hood of his jeep. He and Harry studied it while Siscom readied the horses. The veterinarian lashed each person’s sleeping bag onto the saddles and, when he finished, ambled to Harry’s side.

  It was another cloudless day with heat waves already shimmering off the desert.

  “Horses are all ready,” Siscom said.

  “Okay,” Drayton said, “we’ll follow the tracks as far as we can then do what we can to pick them up if, and when, they disappear.” He folded his map and walked to his horse. “Let’s mount up. Got your tranquilizers, Gerald?”

  “Right here,” Siscom said, patting the leather pouch that was slung over his shoulder.

  The group mounted their horses and headed out, with Drayton in the lead followed by Harry, Dixie, and Millie. Siscom brought up the rear. They plodded along, single file, following the large, human-like footprints. Harry tried to relax in the saddle but the constant rocking made that impossible. Flashbacks to Mongolia passed through his mind like a stream of pictures as he watched Drayton ahead of him.

  They came to a shallow stream that zigzagged between two buttes. The footprints seemed to pause as there were a number of them at shoreline then headed along the edge of the slow-moving water. Drayton stopped and dismounted. The others followed suit.

  “Look at this,” he said, pointing to the group of tracks.

  “Looks like they stopped here to drink,” Harry said, “then continued on downstream.”

  “Any idea how old the tracks are?” Millie said. She knelt to get a closer look.

  “The bottom of the tracks are dry,” Harry said, “so at least a day, I’d say. Can’t be sure, however. Bruce?”

  “Hours to days would be my guess. Impossible to tell otherwise.”

  Dixie and Siscom splashed water on their faces and the group returned to their saddles. As they continued on, the slopes of the buttes, covered with rock and sand, were punctuated by stands of mesquite, Joshua trees, banana yucca, sagebrush, bitterbrush, and desert gooseberry. Spiny hopsage and evening primrose bloomed and dotted the hillock in pink and yellow. The water, thought Harry, allowed for all this vegetation.

  The stream they followed was only two to three feet deep in its deepest regions. Mostly its depth ran only one to two feet. The water was clear and cold, languid, but sometimes it dropped over a series of boulders creating a series of eddies and currents. Drayton led the group along the shoreline until they came to a series of hot springs lined with more lush vegetation--moss and ferns. He stopped and motioned for Harry.

  “I’ve lost the tracks,” he said. “Harry, hop down and scout around up ahead and see if you can pick them up. The rest of you, spread out and do the same.”

  The hot springs were a series of small ponds that contained water whose temperature ranged from 120 to 150 degrees. The Washoe and Paiute tribes used the hot springs as campsites, villages, and sacred places. Early settlers in the 1850s claimed many of the thermal springs near the western Great Basin’s Carson Range and built bathhouses and resorts. As rains fell on the surrounding peaks, it percolated into the rather porous sedimentary rocks. Descending through the rock, it picked up a variety of materials, everything from radium to sulphur. Also, as it moved farther beneath the surface, it heated up from the primal heat of the earth. Eventually, it encountered a large thrust fault, or crack. As water descended behind it, it forced the now-heated water to ascend along the fault line to surface as a hot or warm spring.

  Most hot springs discharged groundwater that was heated by shallow intrusions of magma in volcanic areas. Some thermal springs, however, were not related to volcanic activity. In such cases, the water was heated by convective circulation--groundwater percolating down until reaching depths of a kilometer or more ,where the temperature of rocks was high due to the temperature gradient of the earth’s crust--fifty-four degrees per kilometer in the first six miles.

  Heat-loving microorganisms formed many of the colors in hot springs: bacteria, such as cyanobacteria, and species of archaea and algae. Many thermophilic organisms grew in huge colonies called mats that formed the colorful scums and slimes on the sides of hot springs. The microorganisms that grew in hot springs derived their energy from various chemicals and metals--potential energy sources included molecular hydrogen, dissolved sulfides, methane, iron, ammonia, and arsenic. In addition to geochemistry, the temperature and pH of hot springs play a central role in determining which organisms inhabit them.

  “Don’t you just love that smell?” Millie said, waving a hand in front of her face.

  “The smell is a result of hydrogen sulphide, a gas similar to natural gas,” Harry said from over his shoulder. “It results from anaerobic bacteria converting some of the dissolved sulphur in the water to hydrogen sulphide.”

  “Not my favorite smell,” she said as she ambled around the springs searching for tracks.

  Harry picked up a few tracks interspersed irregularly a good distance from the stream that emptied the hot springs.

  The footprints, difficult to follow in the drier soil, led deeper into the gorge between the two buttes. Paiute Mountain loomed large in the background.

  “Over here,” Harry called out. He climbed back into his saddle, waited for Drayton to catch up with him. “They may be heading toward the mountain,” he continued. “High elevation means cooler temperatures.”

  “It they get up there, th
ey’ll be harder to find,” Drayton said. “Too many places to hide.”

  “They may be searching for a cave,” Dixie said. “Any caves in that mountain?”

  “I have no idea,” Drayton said. “Never been up this way.”

  When all were mounted, Drayton began the trek upward away from the hot springs.

  ***

  Bernard Wickingham folded his paper and tossed it on his breakfast table. Sipping his morning coffee, he felt a familiar smugness, a satisfaction that things were going his way. His small apartment, located near the baseball park and football stadium south of Hunter’s Point, gave an idyllic view of the bay. The apartment was expensive, more than he could afford on his salary, but a new, single faculty member at a university should have some of the finer things of life. He had worked hard to achieve his doctorate and his position at Cal Pacific.

  The article covered the topic nicely without mentioning his name--the reporter had a certain flair in his description of the Yeti situation and who was responsible.

  Wickingham took another gulp of coffee and put the mug in the sink. He tied his tie, grabbed his sport coat, and headed to work. While driving, he reflected on his wanting his own lab and Dr. Olson’s refusal to find him space. It was difficult to work secretly in the paleontology lab where students came and went at all hours. Wickingham had managed a small corner set apart from the main lab but, still, it wasn’t his own space. He had hoped that by being personable toward Olson’s wife, Dixie, that, with time, the man might feel differently, but so far it had not happened.

  An image of the tops of Dixie’s breasts formed in Wickingham’s mind as he pulled into the faculty parking lot. It was a thought that he carried to his office in the Science Building where he doffed his jacket and donned his lab coat. Sitting at his desk, he turned on his computer and began reading his email. As he scrolled through his messages, he paused at one that caught his eye. It was from his friend, a former graduate student colleague, now on the faculty at a university in Texas. Reading the email, a smile formed on Wickingham’s lips and he let out a long, even sigh. He finally had some leverage. The email read: