black stars burned into her face. The other photographs were close-ups in color of the triangular footprints.
"Christ," Bradford said, "he's on your mountain."
He pulled up his denim shirt and turned his back. Standing out like a raised birthmark was the same star Ashby had seen on Janice.
"I had three skin grafts and that's the best the doctor could do. When the skin heals, it re-forms into this shape."
"You're sure you saw the Snowman?"
"My Sherpa did as well." Bradford placed the pictures face down on the table. "What do you want to do?"
"Trail him," Ashby said.
"You'd need a team to go up after him, and equipment. But you're not in shape. You wouldn't last five minutes on the mountain."
"What would you suggest?"
"You're after a story—I want to hunt him down and kill him."
"How?" Ashby asked.
"I'll find a way."
The Snowman climbed along a sloping shelf in the forest, and his feet petrified the snow and ice into grotesque molds. A high screeching roar commingled with the wind striking tree branches and resonated when the wind subsided until it seemed as though a giant female Kodiak were being mimicked.
The roars were answered, and rushing up the fagade of a precipice were two male Kodiaks, sexually excited as the love calls became more passionate and insistent. The claws of the Kodiaks dug into the ice, scraping a path along the cliff lines. The bears, frost coming from their mouths, were aroused and sniffed the air for the scent of the female. They stopped on a moraine, which was an accumulation of stones and debris brought down by the glacier.
The two bears now confronted each other. They were almost the same size and weight, one just about ten feet on its hind legs and weighing something over thirteen hundred pounds. Its competitor in the pursuit of the female was more than eleven feet and weighed almost fourteen hundred pounds. The largest known living flesh-eating animals on the face of the earth were without the knowledge of fear.
They roared menacingly at each other. The smaller one raised its front paws to attack. In that instant it was seized from the moraine by its head, and as it thrashed the air viciously the Snowman crushed its head in his mouth.
The other Kodiak immediately began a retreat. It scampered exhaustedly away from the massacre until it reached a couloir. It took refuge in this gulley in the mountainside. It had stopped to rest, bellowing breathlessly, when it was plucked from the deep furrow by its hind legs. The Snowman's claws probed the soft belly of the bear. Still alive, its intestines exposed, the Kodiak gave a low, groaning sigh, ululant and yielding, as the Snowman impaled it on his horned chest. His teeth dug deeply into the bear's head and ripped through the skull.
Bradford lived in a tent next to the Yaqui's. It was without comforts, and all he could offer Ashby was a place on the canvas floor. A smoking kerosene lantern with a blackened wick threw off flickering tongues of light.
Ashby observed a canvas camp bed, a sleeping bag, a pair of worn boots, an old backpack, some denim shorts, and a torn work shirt drying on a clothesline. The mean smell of poverty pervaded the tent.
"Any idea of what an expedition would cost?" Ashby asked.
"Thousands. No one'd make that kind of investment in me," Bradford said without self-pity. "Not again."
"Suppose I had access to money people."
"How'd you get them to part with it?"
Ashby wondered about the value of candor at this moment. Perhaps it might be best to be straight with Bradford, so that there would be no misunderstandings later. Bradford unquestionably could be dangerous. There would be no way to control him unless a bargain was struck at the outset.
"A major corporation owns the ski resort. They've spent something like twenty to thirty million—no one knows for sure—developing the resort and putting in runs and lifts. They've built town houses and condominiums. Some bad publicity and they'd have a hell of a lot of
"Christ," Bradford said, "he's on your mountain."
He pulled up his denim shirt and turned his back. Standing out like a raised birthmark was the same star Ashby had seen on Janice.
"I had three skin grafts and that's the best the doctor could do. When the skin heals, it re-forms into this shape."
"You're sure you saw the Snowman?"
"My Sherpa did as well." Bradford placed the pictures face down on the table. "What do you want to do?"
"Trail him," Ashby said.
"You'd need a team to go up after him, and equipment. But you're not in shape. You wouldn't last five minutes on the mountain."
"What would you suggest?"
"You're after a story—I want to hunt him down and kill him."
"How?" Ashby asked.
"I'll find a way."
The Snowman climbed along a sloping shelf in the forest, and his feet petrified the snow and ice into grotesque molds. A high screeching roar commingled with the wind striking tree branches and resonated when the wind subsided until it seemed as though a giant female Kodiak were being mimicked.
The roars were answered, and rushing up the fagade of a precipice were two male Kodiaks, sexually excited as the love calls became more passionate and insistent. The claws of the Kodiaks dug into the ice, scraping a path along the cliff lines. The bears, frost coming from their mouths, were aroused and sniffed the air for the scent of the female. They stopped on a moraine, which was an accumulation of stones and debris brought down by the glacier.
The two bears now confronted each other. They were almost the same size and weight, one just about ten feet on its hind legs and weighing something over thirteen hundred pounds. Its competitor in the pursuit of the female was more than eleven feet and weighed almost fourteen hundred pounds. The largest known living flesh-eating animals on the face of the earth were without the knowledge of fear.
They roared menacingly at each other. The smaller one raised its front paws to attack. In that instant it was seized from the moraine by its head, and as it thrashed the air viciously the Snowman crushed its head in his mouth.
The other Kodiak immediately began a retreat. It scampered exhaustedly away from the massacre until it reached a couloir. It took refuge in this gulley in the mountainside. It had stopped to rest, bellowing breathlessly, when it was plucked from the deep furrow by its hind legs. The Snowman's claws probed the soft belly of the bear. Still alive, its intestines exposed, the Kodiak gave a low, groaning sigh, ululant and yielding, as the Snowman impaled it on his horned chest. His teeth dug deeply into the bear's head and ripped through the skull.
Bradford lived in a tent next to the Yaqui's. It was without comforts, and all he could offer Ashby was a place on the canvas floor. A smoking kerosene lantern with a blackened wick threw off flickering tongues of light.
Ashby observed a canvas camp bed, a sleeping bag, a pair of worn boots, an old backpack, some denim shorts, and a torn work shirt drying on a clothesline. The mean smell of poverty pervaded the tent.
"Any idea of what an expedition would cost?" Ashby asked.
"Thousands. No one'd make that kind of investment in me," Bradford said without self-pity. "Not again."
"Suppose I had access to money people."
"How'd you get them to part with it?"
Ashby wondered about the value of candor at this moment. Perhaps it might be best to be straight with Bradford, so that there would be no misunderstandings later. Bradford unquestionably could be dangerous. There would be no way to control him unless a bargain was struck at the outset.
"A major corporation owns the ski resort. They've spent something like twenty to thirty million—no one knows for sure—developing the resort and putting in runs and lifts. They've built town houses and condominiums. Some bad publicity and they'd have a hell of a lot of
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