TREASURE KILLS (Legends of Tsalagee Book 1) by Phil Truman Read Free Book Online Page B

him that night with Waynette was actually the Hill Man, but he’d heard enough stories and seen enough evidence over the years to convince him the creature was more than just a myth. As far back as the 1850’s the Native Americans who lived in that region had tribal stories of a large hairy man-beast who roamed the woods and hills in the eastern and southeastern part of The Nations. The Choctaw people called him Hill Man Who Yells at Night; the Cherokees called him “He Who Lives in the Hills” and later simply “The Hill Man.”
    Every year or so someone would claim they’d seen the Hill Man ducking back into the woods, or lurking around their out buildings at night, and when an animal—livestock or pet—would turn up dead or missing, the Hill Man always got blamed. Usually, when a rash of sightings and animal harassments would escalate to more than five in a two-week period, Bigfoot investigators would scurry into town from out of the urban newsrooms and academia woodwork to look for physical evidence, and take some pictures. They always left with volumes of eye-witness accounts, a few strands of hair, some plaster casts of big footprints, and some photos of deer, coyotes, and cows their motion-activated game cameras took.
    In all the years of reported sightings, no one had ever gotten a clear or up close photograph of the Hill Man. That continued into the first decade of the Twenty-first Century when having a camera ready at any opportunity became as easy as reaching in a pocket and taking out a cell phone.
    Punch had seen his friend White Oxley’s eighteen seconds of Super 8 movie film he shot in 1977 of what he claimed was his encounter with the Hill Man. It showed some seemingly large bipedal creature walking across a road and into some woods at a distance of some two hundred yards. The film was grainy, jerky, and overexposed in spots with no discernable details of the thing, but White claimed it was no hoax and was willing to sell it to any investigator for a hundred thousand dollars.
    So Punch knew what he was talking about, and he aimed to put as much of a scare in this snotty woman as he could.
    “I seen it not far from here, out near this lake.”
    “Uh-huh. When was that?”
    “It was, um, well, back in high school. I’uz out here one night.” Punch smiled. “Me and this girl.” Sunny looked back at him with distaste. Punch continued. “And this thing, this creature,” He raised his hands above his head, fingers in a claw form, looking very much like a bear in a two-legged battle stance. “...huge, maybe eight, ten feet tall, came out of the woods and started pounding on the truck of my car and growling like nothing I ain’t never heard, and don’t never want to hear again.”
    “What did you do?” Sunny asked, not looking overly impressed.
    “Well, I done what anyone woulda done; I got the hell outta there.” He stopped and thought for a second, then added, “I needed to protect the lady.”
    “Right,” Sunny said with a doubting smile and nod.
    Punch looked toward the lowering sun, at that time about fifteen minutes from dipping below the horizon. “Anyway, don’t think you want to be out here after dark. How far away is your car?”
    “Not far,” Sunny answered. “About a quarter mile or so.”
    “I expect you better get going, then. I’d walk you to it, but I got to get my boat back across the lake. You just stick to the path and I reckon you’ll be awright. I wouldn’t dilly dally, though, if I was you.”
    Punch thought she definitely looked nervous and a little apprehensive by then. Mission accomplished.
    “Well, yes. Maybe I should be heading on back.” She looked here and there, trying to see into the darkening woods. She gathered up her things, her bag of stones, and trudged off into the forest. That little excitement she’d felt fought with her sudden disdain for this man, and that angered her.
    Grinning, Punch watched her for several seconds as she walked away.