An Interrupted Rendezvous

Joe was stuck.

Or, more accurately, his leg was ensnared by the metal teeth of a bear trap. Worse, it was late at night in the middle of the woods, so any chance of help was slim. Joe thought as he thumbed over the rust.

Thing must be old as hell. No way would anybody lug something like this all the way out here.

Inhaling deeply, he wedged his fingers through the steel jaws, trying to pry them apart. After a few seconds, he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea. He feared that he wouldn’t be able to release the trap entirely, and if he ran out of energy and released the trap when it wasn’t fully open, it could snap back and do even more damage. Resigning himself to whatever happened next, Joe reclined against a nearby tree, setting aside his duffel bag.

“Well, looks like this li’l critter got himself in a fix. He ain’t lookin’ too well.”

Joe had been on the verge of sleep from the stress, but the arrival of two figures from the bushes just ahead instantly sobered him up. Upon first setting off the trap, Joe had shouted reflexively. The noise he made from that is likely how they found him.

Before him were two men wearing identical plaid shirts and overalls. The one on the left, who was the one that spoke, was a lanky fellow, well over six feet but well under what he should have weighed. On the other hand, the man on the right with the vapid-looking face was at least a foot shorter, but what he lacked in height, he more than made up for in width. It was hard to tell if it was muscle or flab, but it was unnerving just how horizontally gifted he was.

“Hey!” Joe said, “you two have gotta help me out of this!”

The two looked at each other, then the tall one spoke in a sonorous, southern drawl.

“Wutter you doin’ out ‘ere, boy?”

Damn, of all the people that could’ve come to my rescue, I get a team of nosy, negative-IQ, backwoods hicks.

“Doesn’t matter!” Joe said in disbelief. “Listen, I’m in a hurry. I’m supposed to be meeting someone out here, and… Wait, are you two…”

Joe didn’t want to give any more away. If these two weren’t his dealers, this could get problematic.

Again, the two looked at one another.

“No,” the tall one said. “We’re probably not who you’re looking for. Lonnie, check his bag.”

“What?” Joe shot back. “No! That’s none of your business! What I’m doing here is private, and you two can’t just…”

He trailed off. As the big one, Lonnie, got closer, Joe realized that both were carrying handguns. Erring on the side of caution, Joe decided to keep his mouth shut. He had pitifully limited options with which to defend himself.

They set the trap. Why else would they be out here so late? It’s obvious! These two are likely hunting here illegally.

“Yancy!” Lonnie said in an unfittingly whiny voice as he pulled a bag of white powder from Joe’s bag. “I don’t s’pose this is flour!” He tossed the paraphernalia to his partner.

What is this? Do these morons think this is a buddy cop movie?

“Tsk tsk tsk. For shame,” Yancy said as he eyed over the bag before pocketing it. Joe swore under his breath. That was supposed to hold him over until he got the next supply from his dealer. Now though, it looked like he wouldn’t make it to their meeting.

“Well,” Yancy said, “we would be delighted to give ya a helpin’ hand, but first, we’re gonna need ya to help us out with somethin’ important.”

I don’t like where this is going.

“We’s gonna use you as live bait!” Lonnie giddily said. He sounded like a child.

What?

“And sonny,” Yancy said with a big grin, “maybe while you’re out here, you can get a start at kicking that nasty addiction of yours.”

Joe could feel the beginnings of a headache forming, part from the early stages of withdrawal, part from utter annoyance. He was at the point where he really didn’t care what they wanted from him. He just wanted to get out.

“What the hell are you two hunting?” Joe asked.

They looked at one another for a few silent moments. They both nodded before turning back and, in unison, promptly stated, “Squatch.”

***

Those two took everything from him.

At least, that was what it felt like. Really, they just took his drugs, but to Joe, that was his everything. Even before getting trapped, Joe had felt the early signs of withdrawal – anxiety, sweatiness, shakiness. It was all unpleasant, and it likely wouldn’t be over anytime soon. Since he was left alone, his pain had gone from “terrible” to “unbearable” to “Jesus Christ! I’ll gnaw my leg off to get out of here!”

He knew it was odd that his dealer wanted to meet in the woods, but then again, the guy was supposed to be very discreet and sell some top-of-the-line Brazilian stuff that would turn his mind into soup. He had been looking forward to it.

Instead, he’d be getting different kinds of hallucinations.

Joe shut his eyes and covered his ears, but he could still see everything perfectly.

He was back younger, back at home. His parents were out of town on business often, so most nights in his youth were spent alone.

This time, however, things were different. His friends from Middleton High were there. They were aware of his opulent home and wanted to capitalize on it. At school, Joe was the undisputed “rich kid”, a title with which he was less than pleased. He didn’t want that label, but at the same time he wanted nothing more than to belong. If he had to be the rich kid to have a place with others, then it was worth it.

It was funny, looking back. He wondered how he ever considered those people to be his friends. After graduation, they never spoke to him again.

He snorted his first line that night, and then, the world went black.

***

Joe was laying on his side.

He could smell the puke right in front of him.

Did they roll me to my side? Well, I guess it’s comforting that they don’t want me dead yet.

As expected, the trap was still firmly locked on, and the two psychos were nowhere in sight. He sat up, still shaky, but alive. He never wanted any of this. Again, he thought back to the first time he used.

For my entire life, I’ve been alone.

Then, on the forest floor, Joe heard something approach.

He whipped his head around, and there it was – Sasquatch. It ran directly toward him in a peculiar fashion: arms limp by its side and lifting its knees up to its stomach. It was a sight so stupid that Joe determined he was not actually awake.

“Damn, am I dead?”

The Sasquatch knelt in front of him, showing a smile with all its teeth. Each tooth was thin like a piano key crammed into a gigantic mouth. In contrast, its eyes were beady little black dots surrounded by a sea of wrinkles.

“Where do you get your dental work done?” Joe said with an air of flippancy.

The Sasquatch responded by reaching both of its skeletal-fingered hands into its front pouch.

“Is this thing like a kangaroo?”

The Sasquatch took its hands out and presented its clasped hands before Joe. In a deep voice, it spoke.

“Take, man. Take. You big boy. You wanna feel good? I be your guy.”

And then a dart found its mark squarely on the beast’s head, causing Joe to jolt back. He knew then that he was awake.

The hunters exited the nearby bushes, with Lonnie shouting, “We gots ‘im! We gots ‘im! Yeehaw! Let’s bag the varmint!”

Yancy pulled apart the Sasquatch’s hands, holding up the contents for Joe to see – small bags of white powder. Joe stared on awestruck, and noting this, Yancy decided to elucidate matters.

“Squatches are some of the most notorious underground drug dealers. Lonnie and I enact vigilante justice to keep the streets clean. No biggie.”

That explained nothing to Joe’s satisfaction. He glanced over to Lonnie, who was taking a picture of himself next to the unconscious Sasquatch.

“Isn’t it just some guy in a suit?” Joe asked.

“Huh? No,” Yancy replied. “Why would Sasquatch wear a suit. That’s just plain dumb.”

Lonnie chimed in. “You high class folk like your Squatches in fancy duds, city boy?”

That elicited a slight chuckle from Yancy.

“Oh, and you’re free to go, by the way,” Yancy said. “Our traps are designed to immobilize, not maim. You got ‘nuff fat and muscle so that any fracturing is minor.”

Joe nodded. His heart rate returned to normal. Lonnie, after prancing around like an idiot, released him from the trap without any fuss.

Before he left, Joe felt like he needed to say something. He didn’t bear any more malice toward them, mostly just bemusement mixed in with a dash of gratitude.

“I can’t believe it took two idiots like you for me to realize I had a problem.”

Yancy grinned. “Now, don’t blame yourself, kid. People can’t survive on their own. It’s easy getting on the wrong track, but setting yourself right? That’s tricky.” He glanced to Lonnie. “That’s why we help one another. Too much damn trouble doing it by your lonesome. You feel me.”

Without even thinking, Joe nodded. Yancy helped him stand. Like he said, it wasn’t as bad as it felt. He imagined he might need to hobble for a day or two, but in all likelihood, it would heal by itself.

“Thank you,” Joe said to both of them, and wordlessly, they nodded back.