This podcast may not be suitable for young listeners. Steve Lily Journal, entry
number twelve. Steel mills rise out of the northeast Arkansas Delta like giant mechanical
roaring monsters from a mysterious steampunk fantasy, an area that was once so poor
every kid born there wanted out by the age of ten. Only three hundred
years before that, ancient forests towered with timber and wetlands, uninhabitable by humans
other than the native people, who figured out a way to live there for
centuries. When the white man arrived, he saw a fortune could be made
from the fertile soul, and they cleared the land for agriculture. The once
beautiful greens and sounds of the forests slowly turned to deserts, where cotton,
beans and rice provided their own unique colors during the growing season, only to
turn to a desolate, dystopian landscape made up of dead cotton plants and mud
in the winter months. I compare the landscape to a desert, but even
deserts have hills. The slightest rising elevation is absent in the Delta. You
can climb a twelve foot ladder there and see everything around you for ten miles
in this flat as a pancake landscape, steel mills stand out. They really
are a remarkable vision and testament to modern man's innovation. Huck Johnson and I
know a few of the men who work these mills. Through our years of
hunting the Delta region, we become acquainted with other guys who like to do
what we do. It's not uncommon after a hard day of hunting or fishing
to walk into a local beer joint and find others like yourself. Friendships are
made and phone numbers exchanged. Later invitations to hunt happened. Details are ironed
out in thirty seconds or so, and the next day we become Arkansas Delta
duck huners. Well, on this day we were hunting with them in an
Arkansas WMA, located about fifty miles from the Big River. It was a
start of this cruise four day weekend. We had two boats and eight of
us sat with blinds concealing our movements. The boats were tied together side by
side under a makeshift canopy or a blind they had constructed earlier in the season.
None of it really mattered. On this day. It was warm,
the skies were once again blue and had no clouds, with only a slight
breeze coming out of the south. It was a perfectly pathetic day to hunt
duck. Will that being the case, most of us were not paying attention
to the sky looking for ducks. We could have and should have packed up
and headed home, but we were having such a good time talking that we
all stayed. Plus, one of these boys brought a hibachi grill and was
about to cook us some venison right there in the boat. And this is
how this big foot killing adventure began. One of the guys in the boat
mentioned a dog that had wandered into the mill. Hook and I love dogs,
and our ears perked up. Has that dog in the mill winder puppies?
Yet? Somebody asked, Yep, they're running all over the break room.
We've been feeding them real good, said another. Best fed dogs in
Arkansas, said a third. Hook and I ask about the dog, and
we listened to the story about a small female, brindle colored pitbull dog that
had wandered into the melt shop. Apparently dogs wander onto the property often,
but this one was looking for a spot that minute to have some puppies.
They knew this when she shot through the breakroom door when it opened, and
immediately curled up on someone's jacket laying on the floor. As they watched,
the first puppy popped out. Eight blackened faces of men gathered around the dog
to make sure this was really happening, and soon all eight were scrambling to
gather everything they could find and make this new mama dog happy and comfortable.
Towels and t shirts and other garments were donated from their lockers, and soon
this mother began having her litter, and after three hours, eight new puppies
were nursing comfortably and warm on the breakroom floor of that noisy mill, and
the malt shop had a new dog to care for. She would stay in
that breakroom and wander the property until men found homes for the puppies, And
then the topic changed. Some of the men had seen a strange thing at
the mill. From the furnace deck, elevated several feet above the floor,
a man could see out the door and across the scrap yard, which was
enormous and covered in mountains of scrap. He could see to the stand of
trees that separated the mill from the Mississippi River. At first, they thought
it was someone from the mill, maybe one of the security people. It
was a figure walking on two legs. He was a big man, looked
like he had a heavy coat on. They said he would appear on the
bank of the retention pond, paced back and forth, and then stop and
scream. None of them could hear the scream due to the noise inside the
melt shot, but there was no doubt this person was yelling with all their
might. And then the man would vanish on the far side of the dam
at their retention pond. One of the hands pointed out to the other and
they discussed how strange that was, and then they went back to work.
But over the next two weeks, this man or men, because sometimes there
were two and once three, would appear and wander the knoll and then vanish
behind it. The question was asked to other departments, who was that man
or men weigh out there on the levee in the evenings. Not a single
department in the whole company had an answer. Two nights before telling us this
story, one of the hands brought a set of field glasses to work.
When the people appeared out on the levee from the furnace deck, he raised
his glasses to see who the hell this guy was. Darkness had almost set
in, but optics these days have great light gathering abilities. He could see
the men like it was daylight. It took a few seconds to bring the
field glasses down from his face and hand them to his co worker. I
think he was speechless. His co worker then made the comment, that's not
a man. What the hell is that? Well, I don't know,
said the other, getting Matt down here to look at this thing. Matt
was the crew's first helper. He's the guy managing the milk crew while at
the same time controlling the furnace. He sets in a control room with walls
carpeted with monitors, all connected to computers. I've seen this control room before.
The Space Shuttle cockpit. Ain't got shit on this room. After the
heat they had been burning was tapped, Matt had three minutes to leave and
get back before they loaded the furnace with another charge. He looked through the
binoculars and took him down for a brief second, and then returned them to
his eyes and watched the man walk off the levee. It's like a bigfoot,
that's all he said. Then he ran off the deck and up the
stairs into his space to begin another heat Bigfoot. One man said over the
radio, we don't have time to worry about that shit. I need you
to, and Matt barked in order so that he could drop a giant electrode
into the fresh pile of scrap. Matt heard him over the radio talking to
each other as they wore. The excitement was thick. They had seen a
bigfoot. Matt rolled his eyes and laughed, looking forward to the bullshit he
would hear for the next month about the bigfoot at the mill, and then
he went back to work. Hook and I were in my boat. I
was sitting on the rear bench. Hook was up front on the bow.
Well. We looked at each other and I mouthed to him silently money while
I made the universal sign for cash by rubbing my thumb against my other fingers.
Well, Hook nodded and smiled. After we feasted on venison in the
boats and actually killed two millards that day, we packed it up and headed
to the boat ramp. On the bank. I approached Matt and I asked
him about the things that he thought were bigfoot. What makes you think those
are big foots, Matt I asked what he looked at me funny and I'm
sure wondering how that question came out of left field. I don't think they're
bigfoots, he said. I'm just messing with those guys. They'll think they
saw bigfoot for the rest of their lives. They'll probably tell a thousand people
about it. Oh yeah, yeah, I hear you, I said,
But do you know for sure what they are seeing? I really don't,
said Matt, best outing figure at someone trespassing on our property, probably hunting.
Eventually our security guards are catch up to him. Well what if it
was a bigfoot? How would it go over if we actually killed one,
I said, laughing. If it was a big foot, go out there
and kill it myself. I could make some cash and retire. Matt said,
Well, that was here would be cool, wouldn't it. Matt I
said, I wanted to get a look at this thing to see what it
was, but I was sure it was a damned squatch. And if there
were more than one hook and I can make some money, I would even
split it with the guys. Hey, Matt, is there anyway you can
get me in the mill so I can see what this thing really is.
Hook and I are staying a few days. We're deer hunting over in central
Arkansas for the rest of the week, but we'll be back over this way
Friday. Yeah, I can get you in. You'll have to act like
a contractor. Everyone in the office will leave early that day so nobody will
run you off. Come on by a Friday afternoon. We all go to
work that morning. Apparently this thing comes out right before dark. You'll have
about thirty minutes to see it. If it shows up again. It's not
a bigfoot thost day. It's a big waste of time, if you ask
me, But it's okay to come and take a look if you won't.
Madness crew loaded up and they left. Hook and I headed to the Ozarks
for two days. We would see them all again on Friday. By Thursday
evening, Hook and I both had killed a good buck with the meat on
ice, we had no reason to stick around the mountains. We headed east
of Blivee One. We got a hotel room. Hook is in a motorcycle
club, you know, like the Mongols of the Hell's Angels. Hook is
a one percenter with friends and other chapters all over the south. He made
a phone call and some dudes picked him up and they went off to their
MC clubs. Shit. I have no idea what they do, and I
don't care. I doubted i'd see hook again until the next afternoon, though.
When he was gone, I got bored a bar set across the high
way. After a hot shower, I walked over to get some food and
have a beer or two. Now, I never oversleep. There is an
internal alarm clock in my brain that wakes me no later than five am every
morning. But too many beers last night plus a lack of sleep must have
thrown my brain alarm off, because when I woke, the sun was beaming
through the drapes. The waffle house next door was calling my name. I
needed some coffee and some food. Across the room, I saw that little
brunette I danced with all night. I think her and her friends had stayed
out all night. She looked pretty rough. Well. I waved at her,
expecting a wave back, but instead she scowled at me. Well,
I wonder what I did last night to piss her off. I thought the
question was answered when she walked to the table and slammed down a piece of
paper on the table, almost slopping my coffee my lap. There was writing
on the piece of paper, and the writing looked like mine. This number
you gave me last night. It's not really your number, she said,
Her face was red. Yep, she was pissed. How about I call
it and watch your phone ring? She said. Before I could say a
word, she slammed her phone down on the table and she said, listen
to this, and with her speaker engaged, I heard the greeting Jerry's muffler
and exhaust How can I help you? Well, I was busted. I
had given that number out to several women through the years and never knew whose
it was. Well, now I knew. Every head in the waffle house
was turned toward me. I needed to diffuse this situation before someone called the
police. I bet your name really isn't Nelson, is it? She screamed.
Yep, that's my name, I said, And then I got up
with a big smile on my face, and laid a twenty dollar bill on
the table, and I brushed byre and out the door. You are an
asshole, was the last word I ever heard. Let beauty say, you
show got that right. I whispered under my breath. I eased calmly out
of the parking lot and pulled out on the Highway fifty five and I headed
south to Osceola. On the way there, I called Hook to find out
where he was. I could hear music playing in the background. Now I
knew he was at the MC clubhouse. They had probably parted all night.
By the sound of it. The party was still going on at eighth the
next morning. You have any ship left in your room, I asked,
Now, it's all in the truck. Hook said, okay, I'm on
my way in the mill. I want to do a little recon before we
show it the mill this afternoon. Can you get one of your buddies to
bring you two Now? I looked at my GPS and found an intersect in
Oceola. Have them drop you there at three this afternoon, and now I'll
pick you up before we go the mill. Sounds good, he said,
Try to sober up before the anybuddy, I said, I quit drinking last
night at midnight. I'm fine, said Hook, see this afternoon, brother,
I said. Forty five minutes later, I was driving past the gate
at the big Mill. There wasn't any need to pull in yet, I
was just getting familiar with the area. Finally I figured out which building was
the melt shop. This company obviously owned a lot of property. It was
all fenced off. But down the road a few hundred yards, I came
to a gravel farm road that would take me to the south end of the
eternal chain link fence, and I could work my way back to the river.
Straight in front of me, maybe a mile ahead, I could see
a levee. It was the big levee. Behind that was a big stand
of timber That had to be where the squatches lived. There were no other
woods for miles other than where the trees had been left to grow along the
ditch banks. This is where they were. Once on top of the levee,
I got out and I looked around. The timber started at the bottom
of the levee on the river side. The trees went as far as I
could see to the south and to the north. I followed the steel mill
fence with my eyes. The fence came over the levee and then cut back
north. I couldn't see all the way to the inn, but it appeared
the fence went back east and probably terminated at the river. The fence followed
the edge of the timber, and if these were squatches, the fence would
be torn down at some point. And if I could find that, I
knew we were in the money. Halfway to the river, and at the
spot on the fence closest to the timber, I found the section laid to
the ground. A post had been shoved down flat, and in the middle
of that section of fence a trail of squatch tracks were worn in the mud,
and it looked as if they were making trips into this area daily.
The question in my mind was why. After following the trail several hundred feet
and almost to a small retention pond levee where the melt shop crew had seen
the creatures, I saw why they liked this area. A shallow depression was
full of water, and in this water were thousands of crawfish. Squatches will
gorge themselves on crawfish when they can find a good source. They will stay
on crawfish areas for days until they eat every living thing in the water.
They're very destructive. Back at the truck, I called my handlers and asked
if they had any reports from the area, and specifically this location. Within
a minute, a voice came back on the line. Yes, there's activity
in the area. A report was filed just last week on a siding.
We picked this up on one of the internet bickfoot sides. We can't determine
if it's a hoax or not. Someone from a steel mill in the areas
had multiple sidings along the river. I can forward the details if you need
them. No need for that, I said, I heard the report straight
from the source. Anything else. Nothing we can tie specifically to squatch activity.
We know they're there. You can pull up a SAT image to see
for yourself. There are four unsolved missing person cases at this time in that
county. All the missing were reported to be close to the river. Looks
like there were two birdwatchers and two hunters, all gone missing at different times.
I would say, we have a problem. Claned there. Good word
getting to this before we did. All the intel will be on your laptop
in sixty seconds. You are clear to engage and terminate the clan if the
opportunity is there. With my computer in my lap, I pulled up the
live satellite images of the area a mile north of my location and in the
middle of this patch of woods. I saw three images. It was now
one thirty in the afternoon. The sun was bright. These squatches were asleep
in their nest. You know that because they're horsottle. If you can see
arms and legs, that means they're laying down. Three would not be a
problem, especially if they were coming to this crawfish pond every night. We
could set up on these dumbasses and catch them all unaware as they came through
the fence. I panned out on the screen to make sure that I had
not missed a century. I wanted to get this whole patch of woods in
the screen. Maybe a heat signature would show, but it would be faint
with the as much area covered. I didn't see anything, but I also
lost the signature on the three I had seen asleep. So I zoomed in
a bit and got their images back again, and then I started panting the
woods slowly with the keypad mouse. Ten minutes later, not seeing anything,
I made the assumption this clan was confident that they had not been detected and
no centuries were needed. But just as I got to the area in front
of me, a red image shone bright that some bitch was right in front
of me. I could see my truck right there, only a short distance
away. He had been there the whole time, watching me. Now,
there's only a few times in my career as a bigfoot hunter that I've gotten
the shivers. Well I got him this time. I was being careless,
and thank god I hadn't gone into the woods without checking the satellite. Now,
I'm not saying he would have gotten me, but he could have,
and I didn't like that. Well, I pinched my fingers and zoomed in
on him, and I watched him. He was in a tree. I
could see his head moved back and forth. He was only twenty yards into
the tree line. Well, I thought about going in taking him now,
but that would bust up the whole day. We had four sure kills right
there, and if the other three heard me shoot, they wouldn't come to
feed this evening. So I left him alone. I'd consult with Hook on
this intel and get his input. Now, I picked the phone up and
I called Hook, Are we still on for three o'clock? I said,
I'm already here, he said, having a cup of coffee. A little
gas stacon at the intersection on my way. Hook and I were headed to
the mill and I called Matt to make sure we were still on for the
big Foot viewing. He said the guard would let me in the gate and
on the drive. Hook and I devised a plan that would bag all the
Squatches, hopefully at one time. It's quick in and out. We would
worry about explaining to the meltshop crew later. It didn't matter what we said.
If they told the story to anyone, they'd be dismissed as a lunatic.
And the price at that time was seventy five hundred dollars ahead and this
was going to be a thirty thousand dollars payday, and we'd split it with
the guys and the melt shop. Before I drove Hook to the levee,
I checked the satellite image to see if the century was still there. If
he was, this was going to be a problem. We would have to
make some changes to the plan and figure out a way to take him out
silently. But luck was on our side though. Lookout Squatch must have gotten
board because he was moving back to the nest. All four Squatches were up
and moving. They were hungry. After a long now, Huck jumped out
of the truck on the levee and made his way to the damaged fence.
From there he would move in and set up in a stand a scrub brush,
and right at the edge of the river bluff he carried his ar ten
was several twenty round mags. He would set up behind the crawfish pond and
I'd come at them from the scrapyard. The plan was for me to distract
them while he opened fire. The field was opened, the woods were a
good distance away, making them great targets should they make a run for the
trees. But all plans fall apart when unforeseen elements enter the stage, and
that's exactly what happened on this night. But I don't want to get ahead
of myself just yet. The man in the guard shack called Matt on his
radio. Matt said, to let me in. Matt didn't know I had
dropped hook out earlier and told the guard there were two of us. I
just told the guard my co worker had called in sick. Okay, drive
all the way to the end of the building and take your way around the
back. He said, you see that tower above the roof right in front
of us, that's the melt shop. The big doors always open on the
back. Bark outside and walk on in, but don't block access to that
door. I nodded, and I went that way. Matt stood just inside
the building and the massive door to the melt shop. It was the loudest
place I've ever been in. I looked past Matt and watched the most spectacular
thing happened I had ever seen. One huge electrode was slowly dropping into a
giant bucket. The men standing close to the furnace looked like insects in comparison.
This thing was huge. It sounded like a war. I don't even
know what makes it so loud, but it shook me up. Matt never
flinched. He and his crew went through the process fifteen to twenty times a
day, on every shift, and the noise never let up. Slider an
hell in there, I screamed at Matt. Let's go outside. He said,
outside, I could hear a little better. Look, I can't let
you inside. It's pretty dangerous in there. He said, Well, that's
fine with me. I never seen anything like this. It's amazing to me.
You fellas do this for a livin' knowin you boys worked. If the
mill was one thing, but seeing it happen, that's another experience altogether.
Yeah, it's pretty crazy, but you get used to it, said Matt.
The money's too good not to do this, so we just try to
stay alive an pump as much still out the door as we can. I
didn't know what to say. My eyes were locked on the big fire monster
across the floor of the shop. Mat broke my stare into the buildin.
If those guys out on that levies show up, it should have many time.
Now. This is the time of day. We see em every night.
I looked in the direction of the crawfish pawn and I couldn't see over
the piles of scrap. And then I look back into the building and I
saw guys walking on a deck over the furnace doing something dangerous. That's the
elevation they needed to see that far, Otherwise they would have never noticed these
squatches. If you want to get closer so you can see, Steve,
we have a TVs. There's one right there, Matt pointed down the building.
Don't drive your vehicle out there, you'll get a flat tires on the
ATV's or phae filled. I'll bring you a hard hat and some ear plugs.
You have to wear those on this property, or a safety manager might
stop you. Other than that, go see your big foot. I got
a hard hat and ear protection in my truck. I'll head out there now.
If I see anything, I'll call you. How about that sounds good?
Enjoy your nice Steve, Matt said, laughing. I pull the ATV
up to the back of my truck and I dropped my aar ten across the
seat, and then I closed the topp or over the bed of my truck.
On the building, I saw cameras all along the eve line. They
had to been seventy five feet up in the air. We were being filmed,
and they just caught me throwing a rifle in one of their ATVs.
I wasn't sure what implications this had, but it was too late now.
I mainly hope this didn't get Mite in trouble. This whole thing wasn't worth
him losing his job for letting me in on the yard. But again,
the damage had already been done. Might as well move forward. I weaved
my way along the pass between the piles of scrap. Huge machinery was scooping
up buckets full of the stuff and racing back to wherever the charging bucket was
located. They paid me no mine to them, I was just another hand
doing something in the scrapyard. Finally, after getting lost in the spider web
of roads in the scrap yard, I could see the levee forming the bank
of the pond. It was thirty minutes before dark and it was cool.
Wasn't a cloud in the sky. And just at the crest of the knoll,
I saw a big dark head moving up and down, and then it
fully appeared on top of the levee. This was a big one. He
stared at the giant fire monster inside the mill like he wanted to fight it,
but he never made his roar. This time. I clicked my mic
and I called for Hook. Are you set up, I asked. I've
been here for thirty minutes watching these things waging around in the pond, waiting
to hear from you, said Hook, I'm fifty yards from the pond.
I got one standing on the bank. I can't see the others, I
said, I see him, said Hook, you take big boy on the
bank and I'll take out the three digging in the pond. Are you ready?
Well? I wasn't ready. I needed to get a bead on this
thing in front of me. I don't think he could see me, which
was good. I guess I blended in with the scrap or or if he
had seen me, he didn't care either way. It never moved when I
stepped out of the ranger. Then I rested the rifle on the mirror someone
had installed on this ATV, and I clicked my mic. Let me take
old big boy out first, I said, when you see fall, you
get to work on the others. Waiting on you is all I got back
from Hook. I lined the dot up on the squatch's head and I squeezed
one off That big suva bits dropped like a lump of shit. I waited
to hear Hook to go to work. Now. I never heard shots.
Something was wrong. I clicked my mic. You're gonna shoot. I'd like
to get home by midnight, I said. Hook didn't respond, Hook,
buddy, what's up? I tried again. The roar of a diesel engine
behind me startled me. Now I looked back. Headlights were blinding me.
I didn't what was going on, and then I heard Matt's voice jump in
Hooks in trouble, and then like an old cowboy. I slung myself into
the bed of the pickup truck like I was sliding up on a saddle,
and I dropped my rifle in the bed to get a better handhold. In
the back of the truck with me were two of the melt Han shops and
that little mama dog they had taken in. Matt drove straight up the bank,
stopped at the top next to the dead squatch. He looked over at
it and shook his head. A hundred yards in front of us stood hooked
in the last dim light of the day, and around him were four squatches.
Hook carried this massive bowie knife with him on our excursions. It was
great for after killed butchering. But right then he was in a standoff,
knife in hand with four squatches doing the best they could to get an angle
on him. They were coming at him from behind like a pack of high
is doing Africa. The big man was too fast for him, though.
When one would come at his back, he would turn and put a deep
gash in an arm or a hand. He was holding his own, but
they were wearing him down. I looked down to grab my rifle, and
I wasn't sure how it's going to make a shot with this rifle and not
run the risk of hitting a hug. But I had to do something.
Things were moving real fast now, and you don't notice details when a stressful
situation is in progress. But when I looked up, I watched the dog
leap from the truck and tear off toward Hook. One of the guys slid
over the edge of the truck bed and yelled, get him girl. A
brindle flash streaked across Matt's beam of headlights. It was the mama dog heading
to give Hook a hand. Matt then maneuvered the truck so that his headlights
lit up, hooking his attackers. Just then, the dog latched onto the
back of the largest squatch's leg and would not let go. Hook saw an
opening and charged into the beast with a pit bull hanging from its leg,
and he shoved that giant bowie knife right into its throat. The creature instantly
grabbed his throat, and then he dropped to the ground and the dog kept
gnawing away. By this time, I was half way to Hook. I
had to get closer to take any shots, and then the loud report of
a rifle boomed over my head and behind me. Who the hell was shooting
now? But I kept running anyway. Hook was out of time, and
then another boom zipped over my head. What the hell's going on? I
thought? As I ran. Now only a few feet from Hook, I
saw only one squatch squared off with him. Two more squatches lay dead in
the mud. Somebody behind me had a rifle. It's a damn good thing
they did. I'm not sure how long Hook would have lasted. I was
taken a while to get there. I scooted to the side to make sure
I didn't have hookin my line of fire. I raised my rifle and I
was about to squeeze around into the sight of that nasty thing when I heard
Hook say, hold up, Steve, I got this. Huh is all
I could say. The beast moved in on his target. I still had
my rifle ready to shoot, but Hook was about to ruin the shot by
being in the way. So it was now or never. Don't you dare
shoot this thing, Steve, Hook said, completely out of breath. The
beast and Hook faced each other in a stand off. I know, Hook,
Johnson, he wasn't waitin for that thing to come at him. He
side stepped to his right an then juke back to his left, moving forward
in the animal space with every step. Before the squatch knew what was happening,
Hook faked with his left hand in the air and came around with that
big knife and shoved it in the squatch's gut. The animals screamed and then
seemed confused. It wasn't used to the puny humans being aggressive. The people
these things had encountered up until now ran away. This squatch obviously didn't know
what he was dealing with, and Hook Johnson. Before the squatch could react,
Hook swung left like he was spinning off a tackler. No. I
think all the guys watching this thought Hook was being tricky with his moves,
but he wouldn't. That spin gave his right arm sentrifical force. He was
building steam, and by the time his right arm swung around, it had
to be moving eighty miles an hour or more. The blade slammed into the
squatch's back, and Hook drove it to the stop and severed the creature's spine.
A loud screech came from the beast as its legs gave out and it
flopped to the ground. Hook pulled the knife free again as it fell and
wound up straddling the beast over its chest. Hook raised the knife wife above
his shoulders and drove it deep into the beast's forehead, and then stood up,
leaving the knife in the squatch's head. And then I heard one of
the melt shot guys whisper, holy shit, did you see that? I'm
standing right here. Dumb asked, yeah, I saw it, said another.
I didn't say anything for a while. I let the hook catch his
breath. He was wet and mudded and covered in squatch of blood. He
looked like hell. And when he finally gained a little bit of composure,
I walked up and said, come on, ninja, let's go get you
cleaned up. Hook started walking towards me, and he stopped, and he
went back and pulled his knife out of that squatch his head, and then
walked past me and everyone standing there. I saw him lean over and pick
up his rifle halfway around the pond. I wasn't sure how it got that
far away from him, but I assumed that I would know before we got
home that day. Hook turned and asked everyone there who was doing the shooting
that wasn't Steve's. They are the two shop hands pointed at Matt, who
stood off by himself in the dark with a rifle over his shoulder. You
saved our lives, Matt, I said, what are you shooting? It's
three o eight. Matt said, well, I'm glad you were here.
Well, I would have been ready ahead of time if you all had told
me what you were up to. Lucky I had it in the truck.
It's usually in my gun safe at home, said Matt. Damn lucky,
I said, and we all walked back to the vehicles. Matt spoke up,
Wait a minute, what are we supposed to do with those things laying
out there in the field? Hold on, I said, I'll show you
when i'm done here. If your shift is over, let's go grab a
beer and i'll explain all of this. You have a right to know what
just happened. I walked back to the ATV. Hook was standing behind it,
wiping the gore off his face. I got to get these heads,
I said, go for it, said Hook, I'm done. You're on
your own on this. I'll wait for you here. I jumped in the
ATV and headed towards the squatches. With Hook's bowie, I cut five heads
off and dropped them in a toadsack. With that done and the money parts
in the bag, I chained the leg of each squatch, and with the
trailer hitch, I drug them to the river bluff. From there I proceeded
to flop them one by one into the churning water below. They all sank
and would soon be eaten by catfishing turtles. All the evidence was gone.
We could relax and have a few beers and explain to our friends what had
just happened. Hook and I got in my truck, and the mill hands
left in MAT's truck. Now I bet that conversation and that truck was a
good one, and then we all headed for the bar. Hook was too
worn out and too nasty to go to the bar. I dropped him at
the motel so he could clean up. The place was just across the highway
and he could walk over if he felt like it, But I had a
feeling I wouldn't see him till the next day. A bar was running on
fumes on the way to the motel. He told me what had happened and
how he wind up without his rifle. We both thought there were only four
squatches in this clan when they appeared in the field. Hook didn't worry about
his surroundings. In his mind, all the threats were in front of him.
But only seconds after I'd dropped the big alpha on the pond Bany,
Hook was about to take out the other four when something grabbed him from behind.
It was the fifth squatch that we didn't know anything about. The thing
had picked him up and slung him over the bluff and into the river.
He was fortunate that the current wasn't strong there, but he said it was
deep and he never did find the bottom. Finally, he popped to the
surface a few yards down the river, got a foothold in the bluff and
climbed back up. Then he creeped backed up the bank and he looked for
his rifle, but he couldn't find it. At that point, he had
no side arm, his columns weren't working, so he couldn't call me.
He said he was pissed if they had snuck up on him, and pulled
out that knife and walked up to the squatches who had not noticed him yet,
and he picked a fight. That's about the time. We rolled up
at the pond bank and lit him and the four remaining squatches up with Matt's
headlights. But somewhere in the middle of all that madness, his rifle wound
up in the mud next to the crawfish pond. That last one I killed
with that knife, said Hook. That was the one that threw him in
the river. There's no way I was going to let him off the hook
with an easy death. I wanted him know that I was pissed at him.
Well, I think he got the message, brother, I said.
When I got to the bar, Matt and our other friends had a table
way in the back. I sat down and I explained the whole thing to
the guys. I talked for twenty minutes. None of them said a word.
One of them broke the silence and said, why haven't you told us
this stuff before? Steve, Well, you wouldn't have believed me, would
you. I said, probably not, said Matt. But now you've seen
it. They ain't no way to deny what I just told you. Hook,
and I want to split the pail on this job with you guys.
There's no way we could have done it without you. Hell, I don't
think either of us would be alive if you fellas hadn't it pitched in?
Is that why you cut their heads off? Said one of the hands.
Yep, that's the money right there. It's a proof of the kill.
We sat in that bar for two hours talking about the phenomenon. Those boys
asked a hundred questions, and I try to answer every one of them.
I even told him a story or two about other squatch hunts. And after
I could see they were satisfied, I paid the tab and we walked back
out to the parking lot, and soon it was only Matt and I left.
Say Matt, that was some real good shooting out there tonight. You
think you could do this again? We need another good shot with us on
these hunts. You're deadly with that model. Seven hundred two head shots at
one hundred yards in the dark, only five seconds apart. Look, brother,
this good money in this. We could use you now and then what
do you think? Matt looked at the ground for a minute and then raised
his head. I couldn't see his eyes under the brim of his ball cap.
Are you shooting me? Steve? Three hours ago I didn't even believe
in big foot. It was all just a big joke, and then tonight
I killed two of them. The damned heads are in your truck, Matt
pointed at the bed of my truck. And they stink too, all brother,
wait two days they smell a lot worse, I said, gritting.
Matt went on, I need to get my head wrapped around this and ask
a few details. And I can't even think of what to ask right now,
So count me as a maybe maybe not in full time. I'm not
going to give up my job here to hunt these things. Oh, I
hear you, Matt, And they ain't old. Rush to make a decision.
You have my number, a hollow when you think of some questions,
I'll answer them best I can. Hey, Steve, speaking of my job,
that whole escapade we just did, it was all filmed on our security
cameras. I'm not sure how I'm going to explain this one. Hell,
I may not even have a job next week. Yeah, that's gonna be
a tough one, brother. Look, no one's gonna talk about what they
saw on that video. If they do, they'll be labeled as a nut
job. I guess you'll have to handle it best you can. Hook and
I share didn't expect things to go this way. It should have been an
easy in and out job. Hell, you fellas weren't even supposed to know.
Yeah, I understand, said Matt. I'll come up with something.
We are the best damn crew they have. And in reality, we didn't
do anything against company policy. I don't remember reading anything about killing big feats
in the employee handbook. Maybe we'll be okay. All right, let me
know how it goes, will you, I said, Yep, said Matt.
We shook hands and we left the parking lot. Now. I went
back to the hotel room and I slept like a hammer that night. The
next morning, after breakfast at the waffle house, Hook and I drove to
the woods and walked to the nest where we had seen the clan on the
satellite. We did find human remains in that nest, mainly bones. Well,
I called it into my handlers. They would take things from there.
It may have been a hairy night with these creatures, but it was worth
it. We may have saved people's lives. Driving out of the field heading
home, we saw something in the distance on that gravel road. When we
got closer that old Brendall Mama dog was standing on the ditch bank, wagging
her tail, looking straight up at big old Hook Johnson. He stepped out
and started loving on that dog, and they both instantly fell in love with
each other. Call him out and ask him if those puppies were waned off
their mother, said Hook. I knew what he had on his mind.
I hung up the phone. I told him that she had left the puppies
and they were all healthy and still eating lunch meat from lunchboxes. Furthermore,
they had every puppy at home and they would all be gone by the end
of the week. Okay, then tell Matt, I'm taking this dog home,
said Hook. He opened the passenger door, allowing the dog to jump
in, and Hook sat down. Her tail about beat him to death because
she was on me licking my face. And then she turned to him her
savior, and she laid across his lap. I think she loves you,
Hook. What's your name? Her name's Angel, he said, She is
my angel. Yes, she is, I said, Hook Johnson. Angel
and I drove back to Memphis that afternoon and we waited for the next mission.
The day after this event, Matt pulled through the gate at the mill
to start his shift, it had gotten cold. Finally, when the guard
at the gate stopped him and motioned for him to roll down his window.
Matt didn't want to let the heat out of his truck. Reluctantly, he
did and the guard walked over. The guard held out a small, regular
letter sized envelope and inside it was an SD card. What's this, Matt
asked. Our cameras malfunctioned last night, right after your shift got off.
But here are all the videos from each camera looking back towards the river.
I thought you might want these. Well, thanks, Charlie, Matt said.
Charlie, the security guard nodded and smiled. Matt went to work.