This podcast may not be suitable for young listeners. Steve Lily Journal entry number
seven, Squatch Operators. The Church a painted white church sets on a knoll
in the Mississippi River Delta. The church, as it is called, was
never consumed in the jaws of denominational or theological legality. It is a simple
place where locals met and worshiped as they please. For one hundred years.
By nineteen eighty five, due to locals moving to the city or dying,
the church sat unused except for family reunions and Sunday picnics. The church is
now historical location, maintained by the family who owns the land where it sets.
It has been there since eighteen seventy, built by the people native to
the area who survived the Civil War and by the people who had been set
free from slavery by mister Lincoln's emancipation in the thirteenth Amendment. One of the
oldest buildings in Mississippi, it has survived reconstruction, the Great Depression, and
the weather that relentlessly choose away at all things made by man. When the
war ended, Southern men came home to a ravaged landscape. There was no
economy and even though reconstruction efforts began shortly after the war, the benefits did
not reach rural Mississippi for several years. Those left did what they had to
do to survive. Racial tensions were high in some areas, namely in towns
and larger cities. Politicians have always seemed to preach a gospel of hate and
have an uncanny knack for dividing people for their own game. But in the
backwoods, swamps and hills of the state, freed slaves and poor whites came
together and worked side by side to produce an existence. It was not a
new concept to them. Poor indentured whites and slaves had always worked the plantations
together in some capacity. A freed slaved called July edge Field escaped a plantation
in Calahoma County, Mississippi, in eighteen sixty two fled north, eventually joining
Union forces just north of the Virginia state line. The edge Filled name he
carried was given to a distant relative one hundred and twenty years before, when
he was brought to the United States slave market from an island in the Caribbean
on the vessel edge Field. July edge Phil fought with the Union Army for
two years and was discharged in eighteen sixty five, two weeks after he witnessed
General Joseph Johnston surrender his ninety thousand man army to General Sherman. The war
was over. Edge Phil walked from Durham, North Carolina, to Coahoma County,
Mississippi. It took him four months to get home. There he found
to his great joy that nothing remained of his previous life. Everything he remembered
of the place was devastated, and he saw an opportunity as a free man.
Edge Phil settled for a while on the property from which he escaped.
The slave master's gone and the plantation now operated by the surviving son of his
master. The two men grew up together, and we're friends from childhood.
The new owner, needing a strong hand and a leader to help him rebuild
the farm, The Sun, the only surviving heir to the farm, made
a deal with Edgefield if they could begin producing cotton again and get it to
the markets in Memphis, turning the plantation profitable again. He would need five
hundred acres, or one eighth of his farm to July to do as he
pleased with it. In the fall, of eighteen sixty nine, and after
three hard years of gathering hands re clearing the fields that had been neglected throughout
the war, and after one failed to crop in one like luster, they
ferried one of the heaviest loads of cotton to the brokers in Memphis. It
had all been accomplished with whites and freed slaves working side by side in the
fields. The owner, true to his word and friend, needed five one
hundred acres of the most fertile land in the Delta to July Edgefield on January
twenty second, eighteen seventy. Leaving the county seat that day, the farmer
slave owner said to July, the wends of hate and destruction will come.
JULYE. Not everyone sees you as a full man. If you can work
this land and hold on to it, you will have done much more than
an average farmer in this state. Build something worth fighting for. As they
rode the forty miles home in a cold rain that day, July knew what
he would build. It would be a place where everyone was welcome and they
would all be the same, not black or white, but contributing members of
the human race. It would be something worth fighting for By May of that
year, a thirty foot by forty foot white church house stood on the top
of an Indian mound worn away five centuries of weather, Built with milled wood
from the surrounding bottom land, and erected by the hands that worked side by
side in the fields year after year, it would be a place where people
were decent to each other, a beacon of peace and brotherhood. In nineteen
twenty three, the plantation owners, whose love for July only grew stronger through
the years, and having no children or family who had survived the war so
many years ago, left the entire plantation to July Edgefield. At seventy eight
years old, he was now the largest landowner in Cohoma County. With enterprising
genius, he made the plantation even more productive than the family who had owned
it for the last hundred years. July Edgefield married soon after he returned from
the war all those years ago. He and his wife had nine children.
His youngest daughter married a man called Isaac Shanks. Two generations later. Louis
Shanks was born in Saint Joseph's Hospital in Memphis. Louis Shanks is the great
great grandson of July Edgefield and Lewis is one of my best friends. I
didn't know this about Louis until last week. It's a captivating story. I
suppose a man could write a novel about it. But Louis wasn't telling me
this story for sentimental reasons. I was in the backyard under some shade trees
on a warm spring day in May, relaxing in a lawn chair, sipping
a beer and watching three kids from the trailer park throw a ball for Lily.
This dog is eat up with kids. She sits at the front door
whining until I let her out to play with the children. During the quiet
coming mayhem of all this action, Lewis pulled a chair off the back porch,
took a cold beer out of the cooler, and sat down beside me.
What's up, killer, I asked. Lewis fidgeted with his hands and
beer. He took a long pull, almost empty in the bottle, and
told me the story I just told you about his family's land in Cohoma County.
At first, I didn't believe the story. Now I love Lewis Shanks,
and he had never told me a lie that I knew of in the
two years we had been friends. Why would he make this up. He
went quiet for ten minutes, and I wasn't sure if there was a punchline
to this if he didn't explain further or tell me why he shared this information
with me. I was going to flat out to ask him, but I
waited. Patience is a virtue I lend to friends. Other's minds sometimes don't
move as fast as mine. That's probably to their benefit. I heard Lily
huffing as she ran behind us, chasing the tennis ball thrown too far.
I noticed the sun was orange and low in the western horizon. It will
be dark soon. Louis pulled another beer from the cooler. He leaned back
in the chair, splaying his long legs forward and straight. He took a
deep breath and continued his story. Lewis was born and raised in Memphis.
His father moved to Memphis in the early sixties looking for work and having had
it with farm life. He met Louis's mother not long after. They married,
and a year later Louis was born. He is the oldest of five
children, so he didn't grow up in Cohoma County, but the family spent
a lot of time down there on the farm. Visiting and attending family events.
Louis stayed several summers with his grandparents there, and these are fond memories
for him. Lewis went on to describe how the farm had unwell all these
years, how there had never been any contention between family members regarding who owned
the land. Direct descendants of July would be the heir. The land had
only changed hands twice since July died, and the transfer of ownership had been
peaceful each time. Lewis's grandfather had already chosen a son to own and run
the farm. Lewis's father was one of four boys in that family, and
as far as Lewis knew, none of the brothers disputed their father's decision.
These facts amazed to me, and I immediately had respect for the whole family.
If it had been any other family, lawsuits would have flown like hale
in a thunderstorm. The whole property would have been split up between who knows
how many heirs, and then each heir would have sold it off for cash.
There was something special about this place for them to work together so well
to keep the farm as it was. I suspect mister Edgefille taught us children
well that what you own isn't important is how you live your life and treat
people. But I was just guessing maybe they were all just stupid. Lewis
did say each family member gets a check every fall after the crop of soul.
It must be a decent checks all I can figure. Lewis's grandfather,
Edmund Shanks, the current deed holder of the edge Fill plantation, had been
approached by a wealthy civil rights foundation from Washington, d c. They wanted
to buy the property and make it a historical place for people to visit and
learn about their history. But mister Shanks donated the church in the five acres
surrounding it. Work would soon begin on the area to get everything up to
modern standards, not to the building, but to the area by adding restrooms
and a gate with a donation box should visitors Field compelled to give. Lewis
went on to say the building is in near perfect condition due to yearly maintenance
performed by the Edgefield family. It is a pastime for the family to gather
each spring to repair old sighting porch. Boorge replaced shingles, well as touch
up the snow white paint that has always set the little building. Apart from
the growth of trees and grass around it. It is a beautiful sight,
a sight that puts your soul at ease when you see it. Lewis got
a call from an aunt who was greatly distressed last night. She told him
she thought gorillas had escaped the zoo or been turned loose by a circus,
and they had taken up residence in the old church cross space. One of
the men went to investigate, but was terrified by what he saw. No
one had been back since Edmond was in great distress as well. His church,
his grandfather's legacy, was now being inhabited by strange creatures, and he
had no idea how to extract them. Would Louis know what to do.
Louis hung up the phone and thought about it all night and into the next
day, until he had just walked up to my backyard where he now sat.
He knew what these things were, and he knew how to extract them
from the property. By this time, he and I, along with Hook
Johnson, a new member to our team, had killed more than fifty of
these nasty spawn from hell. But something was bothering him. I couldn't figure
it out, so I just asked him, Hell, Louis, why didn't
you call me last night? We could already have this job done. He
looked at his feet for a minute and then raised his head and spoke,
Steve, My family are good people, I mean, real sweet people.
You can imagine the bullshit that they had to endure during the sixties. Some
of that's fresh on their minds still. My father still talks about it,
and I have a feeling that's why he left. I don't want to full
on war with these things. The truth is, I'm worried we won't kill
them all or there's a larger clan than we can see. I have at
least fifty family members that live in that area. If we let one get
away and it goes rowe, it's going to be a huge problem. Put
in my people at risk isn't worth it. I've been hung on the thought
that we might just let these go and hope they move out with all the
activity about to happen when they begin construction. Now, Lewis had a point.
These delta beasts are mean subspecies. The scariest thing about them is that
they think things through. They also remember last year we thought we had killed
all the squatches in the nest, only to discover two weeks later one had
crawled off and hid while we took heads. We never knew he was there
until a call from our employer came saying we needed to go back and finish
the job. By the time we found it and killed it, the futured
thing had wreaked havoc on a pig farm not far from the nest where we
found him. He had been there in the nest when we opened up,
but had only been wounded after we took him down. I inspected the wound
in his upper thigh. It was festering with infection. When these things are
hurt, they don't lay down and cry like we do. They get mannered
in hell. He must have been close while we took heads, and I
assume he could have killed us all while our guard was down. That fact
alone caused us to make sure one was watching our backs while we did our
butchering, or we set up a perimeter. It is a standard operating procedure
for us now. I didn't say anything to Lewis for a few minutes while
I thought it through. On our regular hired opts, killing every beast in
an area was never our goal. Hell, we were never sure we had
taken the problem squats anyway, This callback issue I just described was a fluke.
It had never happened before or after. Lewis made me think about this
in a different way than we had always approached squats killing. This situation was
going to take a little more thought. Lewis, how about we just called
Hook drive down there tomorrow morning and gather some intelligence. I would say,
let's go right now, but we both know those nasty things are out all
night. If we get there early enough tomorrow before daylight, we can watch
them come back in and know what we're up against. Then we'll make a
call to our friends in the government to ask for any information they may have
gathered. How do you feel about that? I was letting Lewis say okay
on everything from here on out. These were his people, and everything we
did needed to be approved by him. But I did tell him that once
the shoot and started, things could go any number of ways. He knew
this and nodded, okay, Steve, call Hook, Let's leave at three
am. Let's give us plenty of time to get set up before daylight.
Now we had a plan, Lewis slowly walked back down to his trailer,
like a man who couldn't figure out who he was. The kids had all
gone home by now it was dark. Lily lay on the grass next to
me with a yellow tennis ball in her mouth. I called hook and lighting
him out for the next day. Then I flipped open my burner and pulled
up a number that I was only supposed to use in dire circumstances. I
was told if I ever used that number, I had damned well better have
something to say. Not sure whether this was one of those times I called,
anyway, The call was answered immediately. Hello, mister Lily, a
pretty voice said on the other end. I didn't even hear it Rain,
I said, stay the purpose of your call, mister Lily, She said,
with no emotion. Okay, I need my team to be sanctioned on
a kill mission, and I need all the intelligence you have available one moment,
please. The line went silent. Soon a man's voice came on the
line. Tell me what you have, Steve hitting the highlights. I told
the man what I knew. I'll be back with you within the hour.
Stand by, and the line went dead. I sat in the lawn chair
for fifteen minutes and drank another beer, and then the burner buzzed in my
hand. I flipped it open. Yes, sir, but it wasn't a
sir. The same female voice I had heard before began to talk. I
have been instructed to tell you that intelligence is now available on your server.
Everything you need should be there. The line went dead again. Lily and
I walked back in the door, and she took spot on the couch,
laying on her back, ready for me to scratch her belly, which I
did. The laptop was dashed in a floor vent. Now I don't know
why I started hiding it there. If anyone stole it, they didn't have
a password, but it made me feel a little bit like James Bond.
It gave me a sense of security. And damn we do live in a
trailer park on the outskirts of Memphis. Half my neighbors or meth fiends anything
night chained down, wound up in a pond shop and later shot in their
veins with the password entered correctly. After the third try, a fall popped
up on my screen. There was a bunch of information on this clan.
My employers have been tracking this clan for two years. Their main base of
operation was confined to an island cut off from the river by an ancient oxbow.
When the river flooded in the winter, they moved to dry land and
eventually made their way and held up under this church build building. Apparently the
accommodation suited them. From the written intelligence, there were seven Bigfoot in this
clan, but from the satellite thermal images that appeared, there were only six
squatches in this group. Aunt Betsy was sure that she had seen five,
which left two unaccounted for. I pulled up a file which was a recording
of a satellite feed yesterday during the daylight hours. I gave it time to
adjust pixels on my screen and took a minute to find the church in the
dark landscape, but I finally zeroed in on it. This thermal imaging technology
can pick up heat structures through just about anything, even steel plate. Not
surprised when I saw three images within a footprint of the building come into focus
in glowing orange and red on my screen. Each image was still except for
the largest, which I assumed was the alpha. He was laying harves on
them, but seemed to be fidgeting. Thirty seconds later, he rolled to
the side and another big foot appeared. He had been laying on top of
the other. I'm not even going to guess what was going on there.
So now I could see four creatures, leaving three unaccounted for. This worried
me. There were clear images in the file of six distinct individuals. Normally
we would have to locate those at a later date if they didn't show up.
But then I thought back to my conversation with Lewis and his being adamant
that we kill every one of them. The problem is is that you can't
kill what you can't see, or can you. The wheels in my mind
started turning. I knew almost everything I needed to know about this particular clan.
On the drive down, I would check the satellite again and get a
fix on these things. Closing the laptop and placing it on the charger so
that I had a full battery tomorrow. I walked in my living area and
sat out in my recliner and I cracked a book. I couldn't concentrate on
what I was reading, so I closed a hardcover and watched the ceiling fan
until I was tired enough to go to bed. Lily jumped and following me
into the bedroom, perching herself on the bed before I even got to the
door. Undressed, I laid down flat on top of the covers and let
the ceiling fan blow over my body. Lily spent a minute scratching in the
sheets, making her nest, finally plopping down beside me while I reached my
arm around her to powder stummach. The butterflies came, and my stomach felt
like we had just driven over a railroad crossing. The feeling lifted and put
me in a state of euphoria. This was a ritual every night before a
kill mission. We are in a dangerous business, and I wondered if any
of us would ever let our guard down long enough to be ripped apart by
one of these things, or would one of these things ever outsmart us.
It should have scared the shit out of me, but it didn't. Instead,
I formed a smile on my face, and a warm glow of hate
began to build in my soul. It felt like a shot of bourbon on
a cold winter night. I lived for these days, but I knew all
things come to an end. Someday. I closed my eyes and I drifted
off to sleep, and I whispered to no one, not yet. Lewis
and I were drinking coffee at my kitchen table when Hook pulled into the front
yard in his Ford Expedition. It is a massive vehicle he has modified extensively,
and more comfortable than either of our vehicles, so we always enjoyed the
ride with Hook. Hook walked in the front door. Lily barked and was
ready to attack until she figured out who he was, and then she pushed
him onto the couch and covered him with dog slobber. Hook loves Lily,
so he sat there and he got re acquainted. When Lily was satisfied that
Hook now knew that she loved him again, he got up and sat down
at the table with Lewis and I poured some coffee and took a deep breath
and asked, okay, boys, what are we up against. I think
that dog loves you more than me, Hook, I said, while slurping
a drink. Dogs love me. I don't know why. It's not because
of your breath. You've been drinking, I said. I just left the
club. We threw back a few shots as we closed the place down,
and I'm good to go there You will get to know Hook better in future
general entries, but for now, let me hit the high points about him.
Hook Johnson is a full patch member of a local MC club. The
club is a national brand, and I will not give you their name.
I prefer no animosity from these guys. I have met a few at parties
and other function with Hook, and they all seemed like nice fellows. None
of us know what Hook's function is in the order of authority within the club.
We do know that two nights a week he provides security at a strip
club on Lamar in Memphis. We think these guys rotate shifts doing that work.
Regarding his other activities within the club, we're in the dark, and
we're fine with that. These guys are organized crime and they work in teams
or crews. Members are expected to contribute to the club financially by any means.
Honestly, there's really no telling what Hook does to contribute, but it
can't be a good thing. He has, however, assured us that it
is never and never will involve hurting other people unless they ask for it.
He is a big man with muscled arms covered in tattoos of dragons and skulls,
and other images. I can never seem to make out long legs elevate
him to at least as tall as Lewis, who is six foot. His
light brown hair is tiing a ponytail hanging out the opening behind his ball cap,
and dressed in a black tshirt and jeans. So without the tattoos and
jewelry on his fingers and wrist, you would never know he is a one
percenter. I have known Hook forever. Hook and I went through school together
until he dropped out Brady to go to work. We lost touch when I
was gone for a few years, but were reunited when I returned. I
trust him with what we do in this bigfoot killing enterprise, Hooks said,
this is the money. He doesn't kick up through the crew to the MC.
He has the blessing of the club to do whatever he wants on his
own and keep his own gigs for himself as long as he meets his quota
every month. Very egalitarian, if you ask me. We all finished our
coffee and loaded into the expedition for the two and a half hour drive to
the Little White Church, getting Hook up to eight. On the drive down,
I checked the live imaging system on the laptop, and there were no
creatures laying in the house, which meant they were still out doing whatever they
do. Hook told me to pan out and check everything within two hundred yards
of the building. I had done that the night before and saw nothing,
but it was a good idea gladder in hell. I did too, because
one then two smaller images came into view on the screen. These images were
smaller because these squatches were upright, possibly in trees. They were centuries to
watch out for the clan. One was set up just off the narrow dirt
road that we would approach from, and the other was on the opposite side
of the church, almost in a straight line, with the steeple on the
other side, both two hundred yards from the building. I have two centuries
here, Hook, and I told him where they were located. While showing
the screen to Lewis. Lewis hummed and rubbed the whiskers on his chin.
We're gonna have to take both of those out before we even pull in the
yard. Steve, that shouldn't be a problem, I said. The creature
furthest away from the church needed to be our first target. Then we could
take out the century on the road and pull right into the churchyard. A
large field was only a few yards from the Century number one. I figured
if we got close enough in the expedition, we could draw him out,
making him curious enough to come to us. Finally finding the field in the
dark, after getting turned around a few times, Hook pulled across a covert
and a ditch and then parked the vehicle. I opened the laptop and saw
that we were parked within an acceptable distance so that we could walk to the
woods edge and try to draw him in. Hook stayed in the expedition watching
the real time thermal image while Lewis and I walked to the woods. I
stopped at an opening with water in front of me, while Lewis walked another
few yards and entered the woods. I would make the noise, keeping the
dumb ass squatches at tension on me while Lewis ambushed him from his left flank.
The squatch knew we were there. They always know when a car parks
near their locations. Sometimes they come to investigate and sometimes not. Hook's voice
was in my ear through our COM's network, and I heard him tell Lewis
and I that the century had not moved. He was sure the thing was
in a tree. Start that stupid shit you do, Steve Lewis said over
his radio. They always get a kick out of the things I do to
distract one of these ignorant monsters. Squatches get accustomed to natural human sounds like
cars rolling past or even parking in a field, but make an unusual sound
that gets their attention, and they are so stupid that they have to come
and take a look. And this night was no exception. Yeah, so
beautiful to me. Can't you see? Oh my god, Steve Lewis said
over the coms, Please don't sing that song again. Hook was laughing in
our ears. He's moving, guys, just jumped from the tree heading your
way. Joe Cocker, You're everything I hope for. You'reverything on me.
Kill this thing quickly so this dumbass will shut up with that song. Hook
said. When I'm done with this squatch, I'm gonna shoot Steve. We
think Hook, Lewis said, in a serious tone, Fine by me,
list, I can't take it. You so beautiful, can't you see?
Hook broke in. He's running right at you. Steve, heads up,
boys, Lewis said, softly. I got him, meaning that he had
acquired the target with his NDGS. Then I heard two solid thumbs three seconds
apart from Lewis's silence to ar ten sent you in. One is down,
Let's go get number two. Twenty minutes later we stopped in the narrow gravel
road at the closest point to the next century. This time Lewis and I
walked straight at the squatch. He was only one hundred and twenty yards in
the woods, so we took a different approach. After fifty yards of walking,
we started to sprint towards the tree. Hook's voice told us to change
our direction ten degrees to the left. The squatch was still in the tree,
but he was nervous. When we were within thirty yards, Lewis and
I parted ways, splitting paths as if we were going around the tree on
both sides. This confuses the hell out of him. That room sized brain
under their skull cap doesn't process real fast. When I finally got him in
my NVGs, he was looking at me, and then back at Lewis,
and then back at me. Hell, if we waited long enough, he's
gonna die from whiplash. But that wasn't his fate. That night, I
stopped and started flapping my arms like a bird and clucking like a chicken walking
away from a nesting box. And I flap my arms and flap my arms.
Then I left my leg and do a real loud fart sound with my
mouth, finally finishing the performance off with a sigh of relief. Ah ah.
The squatch, twenty feet in the tree and standing on a stout branch,
did not know what to make of me, but he kept his head
turned my way while Lewis got a shot off. The squatch's head slammed against
the tree trunk, with brain matter and pieces of skull bursting upward. And
then I heard the thump of Louis's rifle when that filthy thing hit the ground.
Every branch that broke off while he was falling piled up on top of
him. Louis and I both charged the tree in case he wasn't dead.
He never moved a muscle, but Lewis put one more in his face for
good luck. Sentry two down, I said to no one and every one.
Louis was already heading to the vehicle when I heard him say, let's
go. It's gonna be daylight reel soon pulling into the drive, and even
under the headlights, I was amazed at the beauty of this little place.
It was the whitest church I'd ever seen, and set in the most appropriate
location, in a clearing in the bottom land, Setting on a large rise
in the ground the old Indian mound. The building was surrounded by a florescent
green from the trees and shrubs that adorned the area. I wanted to sit
still and look at it for a while, but we were running out of
darkness and I needed to get set up to see what we were actually dealing
with inside the church. But I was anxious for this job to be over
so I could sit and look at the place where so many friendships had been
made. We each took up a position covering three sides of the church,
leaving the front entrance blind. They wouldn't come from that direction most likely,
but two of us had a slight view of the front yard in case they
did. If it moved, we were going to see it. I had
the back of the church. Lewis was to my right and Hook was to
my left. Each of us spent a minute to build a small blind to
conceal our outlines. As we waited, hoping one of these nasty things didn't
walk right over us on its weight of their new lair. Good daylight wouldn't
be available for another fifteen minutes, so I flipped on my NVGs in case
they came in before daylight. There was just enough light coming over the horizon
now that I could actually see better without the night vision, so I stuffed
it in my pocket. Looking around at the locations the others were supposed to
be, I didn't see anything. My guys were well concealed. Next I
focused on the church building only forty yards from my hide. Clearly something had
been crawling under the church. Lattice boards blocked the cross space around the building.
At the rear and right side, a large porson had been torn away.
Fresh dirt was thrown onto the immaculate lawn in a pile I estimated was
two feet high at the center. This is what these inbred su bitches do.
They get tired of stand out in the rain and the elements, so
when they find an old home place, a trailer, or any structure for
that manner that they think is abandoned, they get in under it, digging
a deep hole to sleep. Actually set up housekeeping. In these situations,
there are places like this I have seen where it left no doubt the creatures
had lived there for years. We were lucky, in my opinion, that
these had only moved in recently. That meant they weren't twenty feet in the
ground. That's right, twenty feet. This happens through the years because these
things shit where they sleep. What sort of animal does that? I mean,
pigs do, But they do it because they're confined in a pen.
They have no choice. These things are free to roam, and they still
shit in their own bed. It's hard to describe how much I hate these
chashy things. But when the excrement piles up, they get a juvenile to
clean it out for them, meaning the mords cleaned out and thrown from under
the structure. The deeper the hole gets. From where I sat, I
could smell squat shit right now. There was now enough light in the sky
that I saw a group of mids fly over and wings whistling. I clicked
my throat, Mike, heads up. They should be here anytime. Boys.
All we want is a head count. Just as I finished my message,
hook clicked in, saying danger close. I've got one coming in behind
me. Oh make that too, make yourself real, small hook man,
and we all went silent. I didn't hear any shooting or signs of conflict.
When two young males popped out of the woods ten feet from Hook's height,
they had walked right past him, he never said a word. The
man has nerves of steel. Within a minute, a big one, which
I assumed was the alpha, came into the yard with a female behind him.
Both walked in between Lewis and I. He clicked his mic, letting
me know, but I had seen them already hunched over and blowing squat schnot
down as chest as he walked. The one turned and chuffed something to the
female. She obediently did as he ordered. He must have had a cold,
because the whole front of his chest was covered in some filthy looking good.
The female crawled on under the house, and then the male stopped,
took one look around as if to make sure no one was in the area,
and then he slid through the lattice work and they were out of sight.
Four squatches were now under the house, feeling safe and cozy, ready
for a deep sleep. We had taken out two. That left one on
accounted for this bothered me and all the photos in the intelligence file, I
could only put six together at one time. However, the written reports were
playing there were seven in this clan. Maybe he or she had died,
or maybe they moved on. There was no way to know, but I
hope we wouldn't have to be dealing with a ghost squatch. We gave him
time to settle the in before we moved back to the vehicle parked at the
road. All of us took deep swings into the trees and circle back to
the truck to avoid walking through the yard. I laid my gear in the
back of hooks truck. Lewis was right behind me and he said, how
are we going to get those things out from under the building? We have
that problem and we don't know where number seven is. I said, Hooks
spoke up. You think number seven is still here? He was looking at
the laptop, scanning the area, not finding any heat signatures. He saw
nothing. Well, apparently it's gone, I said. I wish I could
call our people in consult with them, but they don't want to hear from
us. I think we need to figure out how to kill these last four
and collect our money. Now you're talking, Hooks, said Steve. Now
you can't go in there popping off smoke. Ornades are lighting fires to get
them out. No damage can be done to this building. Do you understand,
Lewis said, with deep conviction, I understand. I said. Let
me think on it for a while. Y'all want to go get some breakfast.
These things ain't going nowhere. We can talk about it at the restaurant.
Damn good idea, Hook said, I'm starving. Hook was always hungry.
He had a big body to feed. A truck pulled up beside our
vehicle on the road. An outstepped up man who had to have been eighty
years old. Behind this truck he pulled a small boat coming in this area.
Lewis stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the man. It was his
grandfather, Edmund Lewis. Why didn't you tell me you were coming down?
You know you can't come down here without seeing me. Mister Shanks said,
I was going to call you when I got here, Papa. It was
earlier when we rowed in, so I didn't want to wake you and grandmother.
Hell boy, I don't care if you wake me and your grandmother don't
sleep anyway. Don't you ever dare rob me of the joy I get seeing
your ugly face. We all laughed, and mister Shanks said, introduce me
to your friends, Lewis. Introductions were made and we talked about nothing for
a while, and then we told mister Shanks what we were up to.
His demeanor changed. He was worried about us. These things had a history
here and mister Shanks knew what they could do to humans. No details were
given. It's probably best, but we explained that we had a plan to
get rid of these squatches. We just need to put the finishing touches on
the plan. He scratched his chin with a perplexed look on his face,
and he finally added, maybe it's time we leave them things alone. They
won't stay here forever. They come and go. It's been that way since
July acquired this farm. The problem is that my friends in DC will be
here next week. What would it look like if something bad happened to them
while they surveyed the property. I just can't have that. Boys. My
only option is to call a thing off. They will be so disappointed,
but I can't see any other way in the silence of defeat. I looked
down the road and back to mister shanks truck the boat. An idea had
formed in my sick head. Mister Shanks, are you headed to go fishing?
I was the brimmer bedding up right now. I caught forty last Tuesday.
But I'm staying with you boys. I can't miss time with my favorite
grandson. Edmond said, how about you take me fishing with you for two
hours? I said, Lewis and Hook will head down to town and get
some breakfast. You and me can go catch some fish. Show me where
those brimmer bedding up. They all looked at me like I was crazy,
but I knew exactly what I was doing. Tell your grandfather to take me
fishing, Lewis, I winked at him. Maybe he got the drift,
maybe not, but Lewis finally asked a man to please take me fishing.
Mister Shanks agreed, and I turned to my team and said, now y'all
go get breakfast. I'll be back here by noon. Be here then and
we'll finish this job and be home by dark. Don't ask me any questions.
In the passenger rear view mirror from mister shanks truck. I saw both
of those giant men standing in the road looking like lost puppies. Mister Shanks
and I were going to a lake close by. He thought we would catch
fish. He couldn't have been more mistaken. Mister Shanks letting me off at
the church driveway, where Hook's vehicle still sat. I walked back to the
boat and pulled a large cooler belonging to mister Shanks. I set it down.
I stood and waved as he pulled away. Lewis and Hook had left
the area earlier because the expedition was parked in a different location, not far
from where we had parked that morning. Both doors were opened and huge feet
were propped in the door jams. Both men were asleep. It was eleven
fifteen am. Wake up, fellas, I said, let's get to work.
While they wiped their eyes standing in the road stretching, I walked to
the back of the expedition and open Hooks cooler. He always carried food with
him on these gigs in case we were held up overnight or longer. Inside
I found one package of bologney and another package of ham, both new and
unopened. I then walked to the cooler mister Shanks had loaned me and I
opened it. Inside were two thick burlap sacks tied shut with wire. I
untied both, dumped a water meat in each sack, and I rewired them
up and turned to let the guys know where I wanted them position. They
immediately began asking questions, but didn't have time to explain I was ready to
go to war. I told them to set up basically where they had set
up this morning, but without a blind or hide. I wanted them to
bear face the squatches and stand ready to fire. I promised them the squatches
would come out and it would likely be a Turkish shoot, but that they
needed to be ready because these things would be moving. They both reluctantly agreed
and moved to their spots. I strapped both burlap sacks to the back of
my vest. They were heavy as hell. I slung my rifle and started
walking to the church. By the time I got there, I was heaving
these sacks weighed forty pounds each. Add to that my rifle and packed and
ten loaded magazines of three h eight twenty rounds each. I must have been
carrying an extra hundred pounds altogether. But it was going to be worth it.
Catching my breath for a minute, while I surveyed the area and the
belt, I saw a spot on the lattice work that would be easy to
take off. More than likely one of the squatches had pushed it out and
made my job easier. From my hide this morning, I knew there was
an opening in the lattice work on the backside. I could do this and
do it quickly. Hopefully the squatches were in deep sleep and their reaction time
would be slow when they heard me. If they heard me at all,
you might be wondering why I went through all this trouble to get these beasts
come out. Why not stand outside and yell at them, let them know
you're there. The truth is, as they will not come out, they
know you won't come in, and they just stay put. In most cases,
the places that they are holed up in as abandoned and ready to come
down anyway, so setting fire smoking them out is the best option. But
this was a building we needed to protect from them and us. I was
ready click my rope mic, telling the boys to lock and load and do
not shoot me. As I ran around the building, they clicked back in
the affirmative. I even heard one of their rifles click the safety off over
the mic, so I knew they were ready. I started at a jog
with a heavy burlap sack at each hand. When I got to the first
spot where the lattice was damaged, I dropped both sacks, ran my fingers
into the lattice panel, and ripped it free. The wire came off easy,
and I slung the sack underhanded into the cross space as far as I
could, not waiting to see where it landed. The stink coming from underneath
that place made me throw up in my mouth a little. My rifle was
in my left hand and the last sack was in my right. Now I
sprinting around the corner, almost losing my footing in the grass, but staying
up right long enough to correct my balance, and I ran to the next
corner, where I would make the turn and repeat what I had done with
the first sack. I saw Louis standing at the tree line with his rifle
at the ready. I grinned him as I ran by. The last sack
was now deposited. I quickly made it to my shooting spot and dropped my
pack and stood still for sixty seconds to calm my breathing, and then I
lifted my rifle to my shoulder, flipping the safety off and resting the fore
end in my palm, which was supported by a large tree trunk. It
was about to be game time, Steve. You beat everything I've ever seen.
What the hell is in those sacks? I heard the voice come through
my earpiece. I chuckled into my mic. Let's see how bad they want
to stay into that building with eighty pounds of cotton mouse coming after them.
There was silence for thirty seconds, and I heard Louis say, oh,
they coming out, Hook, make every shot count. No survivors to come
back and hurt my people. Okay, everybody got that. You got it,
Lewis. No one gets out alive, Hook said, And we waited.
I could see movement under the building, and I knew what the dumb
sum bitches were doing. They smelled the meat and they wanted it. I'm
sure I heard a fight or two break out under that church. Soon someone
would back down in a big black, bigfoot hand would reach in to get
a wad of meat. You wouldn't be long now. A roar bellowed from
the cross space and the whole building shook as the first one figured out what
was going on. In a split second, lattice panels exploded outwards into the
yard, and a large mail rolled out into the grass. Came up on
his feet with some of the meanest blackness the Mississippi River delta can produce attached
to his right arm. Began to run in circles, trying to shake the
snake's jaw loose from his arm, but that snake was hanging in there.
When he made a second turn, all three of us squeezed one round off
each almost at the same time, dropping him in the green grass. Trying
not to shoot holes in the church, if you can help it, Lewis
yelled over the calm unit. I could patch a bullet hole, so I
wasn't worried about that. We were doing the best we could with what we
had. But I also knew Louis loved this place. I just couldn't not
take a shot when one presented itself. I hoped Hook felt the same way.
Apparently the second sack had not been opened, because there was still fighting
going on under the house. Even with the unsilenced reports of our rifles.
These greedy things fought over a bag of lunch meat. But the fighting didn't
last long because within a few seconds I heard Hook shoot four rounds on the
side of the building. I couldn't see two down on my side. Wait,
I heard another shot. He was still moving. Two confirmed down in
full view in the yard. Hook said, is either of those a big
mail? I asked Hook, Nope, he's still in there. The biggest
challenge was still to come. Sometimes it takes several rounds to drop a big
mail. The task at hand was to kill him before he made it to
the trees. If he got away wounded, we might be here hunting him
for days. You never never leave a cripple squatch in the woods. They
are the meanest things alive. But the weight wasn't long. That big sum
of a bitch wasn't gonna stay in there long with old cold jaw crawling around
under that house. And sure enough he busted out from under the floor on
my side. Lewis and I both had clear shots, and we hit him
at least six times, but he kept running. He was running right at
me with murder in his eyes. Lewis kept firing, and I watched each
round plow into the left side of this raging creature, but he just kept
coming. It was up to me or I was going to die. This
squatch wasn't trying to get to the woods. He had me singled out and
he was taking me with him to hell. I had two seconds to line
up the dot on his head and fire, which I did, hoping to
God. I hit him in the sweet spot, and then he was on
me. I felt huge hands on my shoulder and face. I fell back
with his enormous weight, and we were on the ground in the leaves,
just inside the tree line. He was dead, but I needed to get
out from unto him in case he revived. You know they do that Sometimes
you think they're dead, but the impact of the round just knocks them out.
I was doing everything in my power to move, but it was hopeless.
Please God, I don't let this thing wake up, I kept saying
out loud. It was still breathing, shallow, its heart still pump blood.
I was a goner for sure if this thing came to suddenly. Hook
grabbed the hair on the back of the beast's head, pulled it back,
and cut its head off in one motion with a huge knife. He carried
on these kill missions. He put his foot on the squatch's back just below
the neck, pulled hard and snapped its neck bones in two, freeing the
head and holding it in his hand, and then dropping it because it was
so heavy. The head rolled towards me and wound up beside my face,
looking at me, its tongue thick and dry like a biscuit and partially exposed.
They both rolled the five hundred pound creature off me and I got up.
I was covered and squatched blood and green mucus from his snotty nose,
But I was alive and no worse for the wear hook held up a cotton
mouth by the tail and slung it in the woods. It had bitten into
the back of the beast's thigh and was hanging on, pumping venom for who
knows how long. Bet I'd hurt, I said, as I got to
my feet, No ship Hooks said, did you catch all those snakes with
mister shanks? Damn man, I thought you actually went fishing. We were
a little pissed at you for taking a fishing break on the job. If
I had told you what I had in mind when I left, you would
have shot my idea down, I said, Louis spoke, I can't believe
my papa went along with that. Isn't he afraid of snakes? I think
he is, But I told him this is what it was gonna take to
save y'all's church. So he was all about catching snakes or putting me up
in the woods to find him. He's a good man, Lewis. You
don't have to remind me. Louis said, Hey, do you think your
grandfather loan us a tractor to haul these things off? I asked, the
question was third, of course he would and probably help us do it,
which is exactly what happened. By six o'clock that night, you would have
never known what had taken place in that peaceful churchyard. All six corpses were
floating down the Mississippi River and a strong current. They sank to the bottom
and would soon be eaten by snapping turtles and fish if their stomachs could take
the bigfoot and meet. By seven pm, we were on our way north
to Memphis, and home was six heads in the back of hooks vehicle.
Not only had we saved historic landmark and helped the family of a friend,
but we had also made sixty thousand dollars that day. I felt a big
sense of accomplishment. Lewis's phone rang at one twenty six am on the following
Tuesday morning. He was awake out under his Can I be talking with friends?
There was his grandfather. Louis answered, he heard a woman sobbing on
the other end, but she wasn't on the phone, just in the room.
His father began to console her. Papa, is at you, Louis
asked. The woman continued sobbing as if she were in mourning over a death.
Nausea formed in Lewis's stomach as he waited. He was about to hear
some bad news, and he knew it. After an excruciating wait, he
heard mister Shank's voice in a long tone, Louis, give me him a
minute to walk outside. Louis waited, his hands were shaking, Sweat formed
all over his head. He heard his grandfather screamed or slam shut, and
he braced himself for the news. Something bad has happened. After y'all left
last week, we started cleaning up the mess those damned things made under the
church, trying to get the backyard and good shape before the folks from DC
showed up. We're all old and it takes forever to get anything done.
Anyway, this evening, your uncle James and Aunt Betsy were there putting the
finishing touches on it. They were planting flowers in a new bed we made
where all that dirt had been piled up, ain't Betsy walked back to the
truck to get some digging tools. When she came back around the church,
she saw one of those monsters running into the woods. He was dragging James
behind him. We looked everywhere we could trying to find him, but there
ain't no sign of him anywhere. Lewis, we just got back to the
house and if I call the sheriff, they're just gonna laugh at me.
The damn low ain't never been any help anyway. I need you help,
son, Lewis immediately said, I'll be there before daylight. Papa, Lewis,
is there any hope you understand these creatures? Is there any hope at
all? I need my boy way back. Papa, I don't know.
I would say you probably need to prepare for the worst, but right now
I just need to get there. We'll find him one way or another.
Just start praying, okay, okay, son, just get here as fast
as you can. Oh, Louis, You aunt Betsy says, this one
was twice as big as all those y'all kill the other day. You're gonna
need a big gun to kill this one, Yes, sir Papa, I'm
getting ready to leave. Shortly, Lewis dropped the call. Louis immediately called
me and woke me from the best dream I had had in years. When
I picked up the phone, I was out of it. It took me
a minute to even know who was calling me. Then the line went dead.
I laid there wondering if Lewis had butt dialed my number, but that
mystery was settled when I heard him come through the front door. Lily barked
and ran into the den. She wasn't killing anyone, so it had to
be someone she knew. I walked into the living area and my drawers.
Louis stood with his back to me in the kitchen making coffee, Lily sitting
on the floor beside him, watching every move he made. I sat down
at the table and heard the water began to fill their decanter. Louis turned,
leaning his back against the counter, crossed his arms and said, we
missed one. Steve, my grandfather just called. While those bastards has taken
my uncle James, get your shit together, we've got to get down there
now. Everything made sense now, and my mind was running wild. But
with clarity call Hook. I said, we're gonna need him on this one.
All our gear still at in his vehicle anyway, and I don't think
he's gonna want to miss this. I went back to the bedroom and got
dressed. Lewis had a steaming cup of coffee for me on the table.
He sat at the table now, staring at nothing while he sipped away,
and then Lewis mumble, Hook's going to be here an hour. He's got
to get someone to close down the club. Tell me everything your grandfather,
said, Lewis, I said, as I lifted the cup for a drain.
Lewis conveyed what little he knew. The last thing he said, is
what sent that prickly heat way through my body? One adrenaline pulses for no
reason at all. We had missed one, yes, but it wasn't an
average squatch. It was the alpha. The alpha male that we were about
to hunt would turn out to be the biggest, meanest, fastest, and
smartest creature we had taken on up until that time. It confirmed my thoughts
that these monsters were forged in the furnaces of Hell. I will tell you
that story in journal entry number eight. Mmm. Mmm