This podcast may not be suitable for young listeners. Steve Lily Journal, entry
number eight, Squatch Operators is Uncle James Still Alive? Jimmy Rayburn cranked down
on the wrench and tightened the last bolt holding the transmission in the late models
Clado. He had been working on the truck for two days. Transmissions were
expensive. He wanted to do a good job for his customer. The man
who owned the truck was a friend. He couldn't miss anything on this job
and it needed to run perfect. When he pulled his hand from the bolt,
he scraped his hand along a sharp edge of something, taking a quarter
inch of flesh from the top of his mental knuckle. He didn't WinCE.
He had done it five hundred times through the years, part of the job
he thought life of a mechanic. He wrapped the knuckles in a clean rag
and stopped the bleeding. It had been a hard, hot week. Scraping
those knuckles bears sealed the deal that he was going to take off early that
day. After moving the lift from under the truck, he lowered it to
the shop floor and he started it and backed out through the overhead door.
One lap around the block and all was fine at slow speeds. Now to
see how it drove on the highway north on mL Cable Boulevard took him to
Highway sixty one, where he headed south and drove twenty miles, turned around
on a small clover leaf exit, and then headed back. His customer's office
was between him and work, so he called working out a deal so that
he would deliver of the truck if the owner would give him a ride back
to work. Now he wouldn't have to wait for the owner to get off
work. He could close everything down and get out of there. Back at
the shop, he took the man's check and dropped it in the cash drawer.
Now finally he was alone. Timed a head to the river. After
locking everything up, he headed south out of Clarksdale to the small community where
he lived. Hooking his boat up took five minutes. His old lady was
still at work. No one would delay him. Now he pulled from the
driveway and headed to the lake, only ten minutes from his house. It
was hot, but he rolled his windows down anyway, he needed to smell
something other than gas and grease. Launching the boat took only a few minutes,
and soon he was motoring south looking for the shoot that he would creep
into and would take him to the bit where he would start fishing. The
croppie were moving into deeper water, but he wanted to get into the late
spawners, where the water flooded the trees. The big females that spawned late
were always fat with eggs and aggressive with the baits. If they weren't biting,
maybe he would switch to looking for brim beds. He had no strategic
plan on these fish. The goal was to get out and breathe fresh air
away from the shop. After cutting the motor, he moved to the front
of the boat and flopped his trolling motor in the water and began to ease
into the trees, swinging a jig next to a large joke. He was
surprised when the fish took the bait to china. The first fish was a
two and a half pound female. He estimated this was going to be the
perfect afternoon. Two hours later, he had his limit in the cooler.
He had drifted and trolled a mile from where he started. The wind was
drifting from the west and he caught the scent of death for only a second.
That's got to be a dead pig or a dog up in those woods.
He thought, Oh, well, time to head home. Maybe he
would head back to Clarksdale and get a pizza for the family to night.
His wife would appreciate not having to cook after a long week. He called
her and let her know his plans. She was agreeable and thought his plan
was fantastic. There was that smell again. It was stronger now. Had
the wind picked up or was he now in the line of the source of
the odor. He wasn't sure, and he really didn't care. Whatever it
was, it was close now. Nothing smells that bad from a distance,
though, I'll go check it out, he thought. There was really no
reason to check it out. The ox bows up and down the river constantly
smelled of decaying critters, fish and turtles, and pigs and dogs. They
were always dying back in that timber But something about this odor was a bit
different. Yeah, he needed to see if he could find it, just
for his peace of mind, if nothing else. He depressed the trolling motor
foot pedal and slowly began making his way through the tangled trees and vines that
grew thicker. Close to the bank, there was a clear path to his
right, but it would take him away from the track of the odor,
or he thought it would, but the odor remained in the area no matter
where he traveled. At the edge of a clear area, he stopped and
hung on to a tree trunk before proceeding. The bottom of the lake was
only a foot below his boat. Now, getting out and dragging the boat
was more than he was willing to do to find a dead skunk or a
dog, So he sat tight and he scanned the bank, the scent of
death hanging heavy in the still air. Nothing looked unusual. No bloated carcass
floating near by. It must be further up on the bank, he whispered
to himself. I ain't wading into that ship to see a dead animal,
he said out loud. He pushed off from the tree, and he sat
back in the front seat and was about to turn the boat around when he
saw it on the bank in a small depression that Beaver's mate, traveling in
and out of the water a hundred times each night, was something that didn't
belong. It was quite a distance away, but he could still see it
that had a reflection. It was shimmering off the water and striking gold.
It looked like gold. Maybe it was jewelry. Now he had to see
it. His first thought was that someone had drowned back in here. He
hadn't heard any reports of missing people on the lake. That didn't mean much,
but yeah, now he had to see see what this was. Without
taking off his work boots, he slipped over the edge of the boat into
the water. Under the water was another twelve inches of mud that sucked at
his feet with every step and made the forty yard wade real slow. Halfway
there, he looked back at his boat, making sure he had remembered to
tie it to a tree. He had, and he resumed the walk.
Only ten feet away, and he now saw the object. It was an
arm laying over a shallow knoll. The fingers dipped into the water up to
the second knuckle in the beaver trail. A gold wrist cuff hung part of
the way down the hand. He stopped, and he allowed his heart to
race. What the hell am I going to do now, he asked himself
out loud, Get your shit together, Jimmy, someone's dead laying over there,
and you need to see what's up. Until he reached the bank,
he never thought it was just an arm in his mind. The rest of
the body lay over the knoll where he couldn't see it. But now standing
over the arm, it was clear a body was not attached. Only the
arm remained, and it was a woman's arm. There was no mistaking the
slender shape of the hand in the fingers. His eyes locked onto the part
of the arm where it was once attached to the body. Six inches of
bone protruded from the flesh. It had not been cut off. This arm
had been pulled from the body. The bone was not broken. He didn't
know the name of the upper bones of the arm, but the ball of
the bone where it attached to the shoulder joint was intact. The flesh was
in tittered and covered, and flies and splayed on the wet leaves and the
mud. He stared at it, not knowing what to do. Now things
had take in a weird turn on this perfect afternoon. He needed to think,
Call the police, he thought, do that now, call the police,
he whispered again to himself Cheff's department. The woman said, this is
Jimmy Rayburn. I'm fishing in the shoe above De Soto Lake. I just
found a human arm on the bank. Silence on the other end. Hello,
did I lose a signal? Jimmy said, politely, Are you sure
it's a human arm? The female voice said back to him. Now he
didn't feel like being polite. Put someone on the phone who will listen to
me, Jimmy, Jimmy, this is Donna Smith. I went to school
with your wife, she said, letting him know that they knew each other.
Oh, I'm sorry, Donna to snap at you. Yes, I'm
sure it's a human arm, with fingers and everything. There's a bracelet on
it. It actually looks fresh, like it was removed from the body today.
But I'm smelling something strong around here. Something dead is real close.
Okay, hold on, she said, let me get the sheriff on the
line. He's here today. He heard a recorded announcement while the line was
on hole, something about the Spring Fair and where parking would be allowed.
Well, that was better than elevator music, Jimmy thought, Jimmy, My
old voice broke in. Donna says, you found a human arm. That's
right. I'm in the hut above the sodo standing on the bank. I'm
looking at it right now. How soon can you get here? We can
be there in forty five minutes. Stay there and do not touch anything.
Well, I'll be able to see you on the bank. Now I'm way
up in the trees, but I'm on the west bank, about halfway up
the shoot. Jimmy said he was starting to feel better now that the law
would be on the way. I'll never find you. Boy, Go back
in the chute, wait for me there. Then gut us back where you
found the arm, and do not touch anything in that area, do you
hear me? Back out of there and get in your boat. I'll be
there soon. I'll be waiting on you. Hurry up. It'll be dark
in an hour. Jimmy took one more look at the arm and pulled his
phone back out of his pocket and snapped several images from the same angle.
Until now, he had not moved from the place that he was standing.
No tracks had been left around the appendage. He wanted to get more angles
in the photos, but the sheriff had said not to touch anything. Well.
Jimmy assumed that meant not walking around the arm too. He dropped the
phone back in his pocket and started back to the boat. He was thinking
a little clearer now, and he estimated that he wouldn't have to wait long
for the sheriff's boat to show up. Once he got back to open water,
it would take him about an hour. From the boat, he looked
hard at the bank so he could remember where he was when they came back.
After locating a couple of landmarks, he eased back in the boat and
pushed it back into the trees and brush. Now in the seat, he
was reaching his foot to the trolling motor pedal when the front of the boat
launched into the air, sending Jimmy with it like he had been shot from
a catapult. On the way down, the trunk of a tree shredded his
shirt and back and rained bark down with him into the shallow water. He
landed on his feet with a thud by some miracle. When he straightened,
he saw a huge creature with its foot in the back of the boat,
glaring at him. The size of this creature sent his mind into a state
of shop. His first instinct was to run, but his feet wearing a
massive roots growing under the water near the tree. He fell forward into the
water, catching himself with arms extended and fighting to get his feet untangled.
Was less and slow. This was the essence of a nightmare, when a
monster is after the dreamer and the dreamer camp move. He kicked and pulled,
and finally gaining his balance to run when the beast's hand wrenched around his
neck. The blow was hard enough to make him lose consciousness. Jimmy woke
and he was being dragged by the leg through the water. The grip the
creature had on his leg was painful. It felt like teeth digging into his
flesh claws, Jimmy thought. Mud and black liquid raked over his face,
entering his nose and mouth. He couldn't breathe. Using his stomach muscles,
he simulated a sit up, raising his head high enough to breathe and see
the back of this massive ape dragging him towards the bank. Good lord,
this thing was huge. The creak such stopped and released its grip on Jimmy's
leg, and then bent over and picked up the arm. Jimmy knew where
he was now. He had not been unconscious long and thinking quickly, but
knowing there was no escape, he dug into the wet pocket, forcing his
hand deep enough into the jeans, Extracting his flip phone. He opened it
and held it firmly in his hand. Jimmy was not surprised when the beasts
reached to grab his leg with its free hand again and began to walk out
of the water, dragging him through the beaver trail and onto the bank.
When he felt dry ground under him, he punched the last number he had
died, and then he dropped the phone on top of the leaves. He
could hear it ringing as the beast drove him away to who knows where.
The last thought Jimmy Rayburn had before passing out again from sheer stress was the
image of his own limbs being torn from his body. He vomited, blowing
chunks of half digested food and bill into the air and choking, and he
passed out again early the next day. The day after, we took down
six squatches in Coahoma County, Mississippi, six squatches that had taken up residence
under an old country church that sat on the edge Field plantation owned by Louis
Shank's family. That very next day we were driving back to take out a
squatch we had missed. Lewis and I were all running on three hours asleep,
which wasn't the worst thing in the world for us. But Hook had
not closed his eyes in forty eight hours. When we returned the day before,
Hook had responsibilities to the MC club that he could not shove. Hook
is not a happy boy without a sleep. He didn't say much. Hook
was driving and I left him alone. A big mug of coffee sat in
the cup holder, and he was putting that liquid away fast. Hook would
be okay and ready to fight when we arrived. I had no doubt about
that. It was still dark when we started the drive. A light fog
made the street lights projecting eerie glow down to the pavement. I wanted to
get past the lights and into the darkness of the delta. Lewis was quiet
too. Rather than being tired, he was nervous and anxious about his family,
namely his uncle, who he had learned only a few hours ago had
been dragged off by a massive squatch. It was the squatch we had missed.
I reached from the back seat once and squeezed his shoulder, trying to
give him some comfort. Lewis responded by laying his massive hand on mine,
acknowledging my concern. We're gonna get your uncle back Lewis, I said,
without much confidence. In my avoid Lewis knew the man had more than likely
been killed and eaten by the beast. In my mind, I wanted revenge.
This squatch was going to pay for this, and I wanted him to
feel every bit of hate we were bringing to his whirld. We rode in
silence for an hour halfway to the farm. I asked Lewis questions to try
to get him thinking and to offer a small amount of relief from his worries.
This whole event was going to be what it was going to be,
and we all knew that had we seen this rogue squatch in our images,
or even known for sure that he was in the area, we would not
have left without his head. That fact was accepted by everyone, including Edmund
Shanks and his sister in law, Ain't Betsy. No one held the strange
turn of events against us. Lewis blamed himself, though the weight of guilt
was heavy on that man. I could see it. He had been cautious
of the whole enterprise to begin with. In our experience, we learned that
squatches could be vengeful if you get in their territory and kill a few the
ones left seemed to hold a grudge. Lewis knew this and waffled on the
decision to take on the mission in the beginning, But there was no going
back now. We had to get down there and do what we could do.
Tell me everything you remember about the conversation with your grandfather last night,
Louis. Did you get a sense of the size and demeanor of this creature?
I asked, hoping to get him talking. I can't remember everything he
said, Steve ain't. Betsy was crying and worried. There was too much
confusion. They just said for us to get back down there as fast as
we could. They had gone back to clean up the mess the squatches made
around the church that had not been there long. When Aunt Betsy walked around
the building only to see her husband being dragged off by a big squatch,
he was screaming for her to help him, but there was nothing she could
do. I asked Papa how big she said that thing wasn't He told me
it was twice the side of the biggest one week killed yesterday. The big
mail we killed yesterday was a big boy. Lewis about as big as any
If we've taken down. I said, for this wasn't be that much bigger.
I don't know, maybe she just misjudged his size. Lewis was in
deep thought and only responded with, yeah, that could be. Lewis didn't
care how big this thing was. There was nothing that was going to keep
him from going after it. I was talking to a man who was going
to accomplish a mission or he was going to die trying. Quit running your
mouth and open that dumbass laptop off of your Steve and get us some mintel.
Hook finally chimed in, I don't want to walk in blind on this
thing. I know Lewis was on a death wish, but I want the
odds in our favor. I'm pulling over for gas up here. Hook pulled
the Excursion into a gas station on the Highway sixty one. The sun was
throwing a blue hint on the eastern horizon. The scene was familiar. I've
watched that sun come up this way hundreds of times while sitting in my boat.
At shooting time. Hook pump gas and I sat in the backseat,
starting the computer, the screen lighting up the interior of the suv, looking
through the menu and finding the button to click. I pulled up the satellite
imagery. Only a red dot blinked in the center of the screen, letting
me know something what's wrong? Closing out of the program, I tried it
again, still a blank screen. This had happened before, and I usually
waited for an hour and everything came back online. I closed the laptop,
hoping we could get an image before we arrived to the farm. We needed
to intel our employers provided. Without it, we weren't the hunters. We
became the hunted. We rode in silence for the rest of the trip.
I watched Lewis from the back seat. His eyes never blink, nor did
they leave the road in front of us. We could not get there soon
enough. Sheriff Jeff Blank was elected to office two years prior. Murders were
not uncommon for a small county like Kahoma, and he had worked six since
he was sworn in. Four had been drug related crimes. One was a
case of a husband beating his wife to death with a claw hammer. It
had been a matter of tipe and Sheriff Blank begged the woman to press charges
against the man, or at the least leave him for her safe. She
had family in the area who would help her until she got on her feet,
and she said she would each time, only to fall into the persuasion
of her husband to state he would change this time, he said, over
and over, but he never changed, and she paid for it with her
life. The last homicide was a hit and run incident in the middle of
town. All suspects who had made it to trial were convicted. Two of
the cases were scheduled for trial in the coming weeks. Now he had another
murder to investigate. During his term, a murder was committed every two to
three months, and this one was right on schedule. Jeff Blank or JB
as most people called him, and two deputies stepped over into the Mississippi Game
and Fish Department's boat. The driver, the local game warden assigned to the
area, Remy Smith, pitched them all life vest and then motored into the
deeper water. Remy knew these waters well, and from the description Blank had
given him, he knew right where to go. He had to due west
to make the one mile run to the opening of the chute. There he
hung a hard right, throwing a large wake from the left side of the
boat. The weather had cooled and it was getting dark and a storm was
approaching from the west. A front was forecast to move across the river that
would dump an inch of rain onto the area, move on, and then
lower the late made temperatures by ten degrees. Smith approached the area he determined
was the approximate location Jimmy Rayburn would be waiting. He expected Rayburn to signal
them with lights if he was back in the trees, but there was no
sign of Rayburn's boat anywhere. After making three slow runs up and down the
chute, Smith turned a blank and said, I guess he's still up in
there. On a We'll have to get in there and find him. Blank,
with a disgusted look on us face, said, I told that boy
to get out here so we could find him. Where do you want to
go in? You told me? He said he was halfway down the shoe.
Well we're about there now. Any places as good as any, said
Smith as he headed for the trees. It took him ten minutes to work
through the brush and the small saplings that grew closer to the bank, but
they finally broke into open water. It was shallow no trash impeded their movement.
This is as far as I can get to the bank in this boat.
We're in less than a foot of water. If you're going to search
the area, you'll have to wait, said Smith. The sun had said
enough that they needed light now. Smith switched on the powerful led light bars
rigged to the boat. Then he cut the fifty horse power outboard and they
drifted after the bank and not seeing anything. The sheriff asked them all to
be real quiet. There was a sound ahead of them. It was a
man made object that could be heard faintly. You guys hear that, Blank
asked, I hear it. It's a boat bumping against a tree or something,
responded to Deputy Smith trimmed the boater out of the mud and started it
and then began slowly moving forward. That's when the odor hit them like a
brick in the face. One of the deputies spoke up, that smells like
a corpse. Yes, it does. That's not an animal, it's human.
I smelled that odor in Afghanistan several times. You can't mistake it,
said Remy Smith, now raising his head above the others to see butter.
Sheriff Blank shined a spotlight into the woods. They had just come through,
and he saw a reflection of a metal object. It was in the trees
being blown by the wind that was now picking up. When they got to
the boat, Smith radioed the registration numbers into his office and confirmed that the
boat was registered in the name of James Raeburn of Bobo, Mississippi. That's
Jimmy's boat. Now we've got to find Jimmy, Smith reported to the men.
Blank spoke up. Let's assume the boat as in the general area where
Jimmy made the call an hour ago. If it is, we're in line
with things that he found on the bank. There's no current here, so
remmy, take us straight in and get us as close to the bank as
you can. We'll wade the rest of the way. Smith stopped when he
couldn't push the boat any further with the outboard. They were thirty feet from
the bank. He trimmed the motor down, sticking the prop deep into the
muddy bottom, and then ran a staff through a metal clasp on the front
of the boat to hold it in place. They all waded to the bank
and split up, searching for anything that would give them a blue as to
where Jimmy Rayburn had gone deep inside. They all prayed that he had not
had an accident in the water and had drowned, but no one said anything
about that. Sheriff Blank was furthest up the bank than anyone. The others
had moved onto the interior of the island, searching for anything that would put
them on the trail of Rayburn. Ahead. Blank saw a small rise in
the bank with vegetation growing from it. To avoid sinking in the sticky gumbo
mud, he eased ten feet away from the water to more solid ground,
scanning with his light. The others were out of sight by now, but
he could see the faint glow of their lights in the distance. The small
walkie talkie they all carried chirped on his hip JB. That roting odor gets
worse the farther we move away from the water. Whatever it is, we're
close to it. The deputy making those comments rest the mic key and almost
threw up over the odor. It was horrible. Blank now approached the rise
in the bank and saw it was a beaver trail. Working his way behind
the opening, he lit the area with a flashlight. He immediately saw enormous
tracks leaving the water, barefoot tracks that appeared human, and he would have
been confident in his conclusion that these were human tracks had it not been for
the size and depth in which the depression sank into the mud. Leaning in
closer, now on top of the first track he saw, he shined the
beam of light around, creating shadows by moving the light around and giving the
track an ominous appearance. He wasn't sure because the tracks weren't perfect, but
he can make out claws at the end of all four toes, only four
toes, and then he found another and another, and saw where the creature
was moving. He followed for several paces. The phone began to ring ahead
of him. He saw the light of the screen blinking as the common ring
tone played into the windy night air. He reached for his radio. If
any of fellows lost a cell phone over this way, everyone answered, no,
I have something over here, might be Jimmy's phone. All of you
make your way to me. I will beackon my light in the air so
you can find me, said Blank as he stuck the end of his big
light into the mud, where it shined into the trees. He removed a
small light from his belt and looked at the phone again. It began ringing.
Leaning down he could read the screen. It was Rayburn's wife calling.
He left the phone where it was until the others showed up. That's Jimmy's
phone right there, Blank said to all of them gathered around him, and
that's his wife calling. Just then retrieved the phone, wipe the mud and
water from it, and cycle through the recent numbers called from the device.
There were six calls from Sylvia Rayburn and then two calls to his office.
Look through his picture sheriff, said one of the deputies. Opening the picture
gallery, he saw the images of the woman's arm lying over the ridge of
the beaver trail. There were several images, all from one angle. Come
this way, boys, yell Remy Smith from several yards away. I think
I know what happened to Jimmy. They all gathered around Smith while he pointed
out the tracks that Blank had seen at the bank, and to one side
of the tracks were drag marks. They could all faintly recognize finger marks in
the areas where the mud was barren, not covered with leaves. What the
hell's going on here, said Blank. I don't know, said one deputy,
but we're going to have to follow these tracks to find Rayburn. Now
I'm wondering what we'll find at the end of the trail. They stood in
silence, each one of them in their own thoughts, imaginations running wild.
None of the law enforcement men had an idea what to make of all.
This was an animal on the loose from the carnival, maybe a zoo.
There were no zoos or carnivals in the near area. County ordinances were on
the books forbidding anyone from owning exotic animals. None of this made sense.
Game Warden Smith stared into the darkness. He had wandered into the dark woods
with his light shining slowly into the black, windy swamp. Rain began to
fall in large drops. They sounded like bullets hitting the leaves. Smith walked
back to the group, turned his light off so they could all see his
face. I know exactly what this thing is. When we pulled into ed
In Shank's yard, the sun was up. It had rained for three hours
here, somehow missing everything north on the river. At the last minute,
the front had dipped south and dump most of the rain in Klahoma County.
In the five counties South, Lewis and Huk got out of the vehicle and
stepped onto the porch with mister Shanks. From the back seat, I could
see them all sitting on the porch and talking. I now had the laptop
with the satellite image now working correctly. I enhanced the pixel resolution and zoomed
to the house where we now sat. There was Hook's excursion. I could
see my heat signature in the back seat. There was the roof of the
large Shanks house. Three heat signatures on the porch and three inside the house,
all apparently moving around the kitchen. I was now satisfied that we would
not be at a disadvantage on this mission. We would have the edge.
Would just needed to find this bastard. Without closing the lid on the laptop,
I walked onto the porch. Mister Shanks stood and embraced me like he
had the other men. He was grateful to see us. There. A
table sat at the end of the porch was six chairs. I motioned for
them to follow me over so that we could all see the screen as I
panned the area looking for number seven's heat signature, starting at the church and
knowing the general direction, ain't Betsy said the beast was traveling when he took
Uncle John. I plotted a line, hoping this thing was moving straight to
where we could find him. The line ran out at the Mississippi River.
Along the route. As I moved the cursor, we could see wildlife,
deer, pigs, and livestock, but nothing that looked like number seven.
I sure hope he didn't take Uncle James across the river. I doubt that
a possibility, but he's not in that line. Then again, maybe they
don't move in straight lines. It's one of the behavior traits I've never really
thought about. The best I can do is start scanning everything and work my
way out from the church. I told the men, get you, asked
the scanning Steve said, Louis, you men come inside to eat. I
know y'all are hungry. You've been running for a while. My wife makes
a good breakfast and it smells like it's ready, said mister Shanks. I
looked at them, not hearing half of what mister Shanks had said, and
told them I was still on the porch and keep looking for our target.
Mister Shanks said he would be out in a minute with a plate for me.
I scarfed down the big breakfast on the plate he had brought. While
I watched the laptop screen, I heard the screen door open and I expected
to see Hook and Lewis step out. Instead, a thin, well dressed,
a very pretty woman stepped to the table and sat down with me for
a minute. She only looked at me. Not feeling comfortable with the silence,
I spoke up, Well, you must be at Betsy, I am.
She said, Well, I'm very sorry about mister James, Miss Betsy.
We're gonna do everything possible to get him back. I think our chances
are good, I said again, with not much confidence in my voice.
She picked up on that vibe and I saw it. She reached over from
the chair next to me and gently rubbed the top of my arm. She
looked at peace. She remained silent, as if she were debating on how
to say what she wanted to say. The frame of her face was set
with an unearthly glow, almost like I would imagine an angel would look.
It could have been the light, but I don't think so. Something about
this woman let me know that everything was going to be all right. Steve
Lily, you are a good man. Lewis told me your whole story.
I know who you are inside. There's a light in there that only wants
to do good by people. Oh, you might be rough around the edges,
but this world needs rough men to do good, to protect the weak.
Well, that's all I'm wanted to say to you. You're gonna find
mine. James. I've seen it in a vision. James is alive.
He's not very comfortable right now, but he is alive. There are others
two. You have to save them all, Steve, and then you're gonna
have to avenge those who didn't make it. You have to set things right
in this arena. That devil beast thinks he's one. He thinks he's going
to kill you, Lewis, and Hook too, But he won't. I've
seen it. Now, get up and go kill that evil in our lives.
Damn, I thought I had never heard words like this before. What's
worse, I didn't know if this woman was crazy or in shock from the
events of the last two days. In the end, something way deep down
was whispering to me that she was for real. I have to admit I
was nervous about this one, but after her words, I was ready to
go to war. She stood and leaned over, and she kissed my cheek,
and then she slowly walked into the house. My mother had never shown
so much love and confidence in me, and I would never forget that moment
with Aunt Betsy. My phone began to buzz in my front shirt pocket,
and the buzzing jolted me from a tranquil moment with Miss Betsy. I opened
the phone and didn't get a word out when I heard mister Lily, this
is the operation's base. Please hold for an Agent Blue. A male voice
broke in. Must be Agent Blue. My eyes, Steve, Are you
in Cohoma County? How did you get that name? Agent Blue? I
asked, Oh, that's a bunch of horseshit. We pull on the receptionist.
We don't go by code names. We're only messing with her and she
falls for it every time. Okay, good, what's up? Then?
I ask again? Are you in Cohoma County at the edge filled place?
Why? Yes, we are. What do you need, Agent Blue?
Are you down there looking for another target? Oh, let's cut through the
bullshit. We know you're there and after a big one, I want to
share some intil with you before you head out. Now, listen up,
this one is dangerous. Well, hell, they're all dangerous, I said,
right, he said, but this one isn't an anomaly. We don't
think he's of the same clans that roam that area. We've watched the clan
you took out yesterday. Good job, by the way, we watched in
real time. Here, great strategy you had on that one. Well,
I do whatever it takes, I said, right. Well, this one
is faster and appears to be stronger and more aggressive than anything we've seen.
We're not sure what to make of him. The thing is, we've missed
him in our searches. No reports have come in to alert us to this
thing. We did catch him twice during the week preceding your kill mission yesterday.
That's why our reports showed seven, not just the six you fellows took
out. Yeah, I never saw him on the scanner. If I had
wed to gone after him, I said, Well, there's no doubt in
our minds about that. Let me get to the point. Last night,
we picked up radio traffic on a situation south of you. Are you familiar
with DeSoto Lake? Agent Blue ask, yeah, I think I fished it
once. Nothing to brag about. Well, do you know the lake?
He asked, well, there's not much to know, I said, All
these oxpos are about the same. The only variable is the water level how
far you can get into a spot from a boat. But De Soto Lake
us to our south. We believe this thing's moving north when it left here.
I've been searching the air for an hour and I can't find him though,
Well, then you're looking in the wrong place. He did go south
and is hold up on the island between De Soto and the river. The
reports we have compiled are regarding a search for missing people when Lewis's uncle.
There are now three people missing. We believe the squatch, if that's what
this thing is, is responsible for all of them. One of the victims
is known to be dead, and there's no telling what you'll find when you
get to its nest. I'm sending the coordinates to the heat sources that we
are now seeing. You will see several people on the search team as well.
They're working their way to that area is we speak. They could be
there within four hours, and we need you to move fast. Get in
there, kill this thing and get out. Hopefully, if you could do
it quietly, no one will know what happened. Quietly. Are you shitting
me? You do know what we used to kill these things, right,
I said, Surprised as hell he would even mention being quiet. Find the
coordinates on your laptop now while we have you on the phone, he said.
On the laptop, a series of numbers appeared at the top of the
screen. I clicked the numbers with the mouse and the image moved south,
and then zoomed in on the nest. There I saw two heat signatures.
There was no way to know who they were. Could have been Uncle James.
I tried to zoom in tide, but the detail was not there to
make out anything more than human bodies that still had beating hearts. I then
zoomed the frame out. On the bank were six boats surrounded by people.
A few hundred yards from the boats was a line of men and women walking.
They were doing a grid search, and I felt lucky. They were
actually heading towards the south end of the island. Judging from the length of
the line, this search grid would have to make several walks just to cover
the south part of the island. The squatch's nest was on the north end,
so we had time, but we needed to move now. I get
the picture, Agent Blue, I said, cut the Agent Blue, shit,
Steve said the voice. I didn't give you that name. You did
live with it, okay, whatever, he said. Look, we need
the whole carcass on this one, not just ahead. Get it to the
river and we'll have someone there to pick it up. Is all this real
clear so far? Well, it depends on how big this thing is,
I said, I doubt we're going to be able to move it once it's
down. You're gonna have to send in some heavy equipment. And if there's
others around, we'll have to fight for the carcass. They always retrieved,
they're dead. You know, I've never figured that out. Well, we
haven't figured that out either, said Agent Blue. I will have instructions for
you when we have all this worked out, But for now, we're going
to be leaving a box of weapons that you might need on the river bank.
I'm going to send you the coordinates of the drop. Believe it or
not, Steve Lily, we like you and we want you to stay alive
and keep killing these things. Well, send me the coordinates, I said.
I need to get moving if we're going to beat that search team to
the nest. God help him. If that nasty things decides to go to
war with him, he'll kill them one at a time and they'll never figure
out what hit them. Good luck, Steve, he said, If you
can pull this one off, there's gonna be a good bonus in it for
you boys. Well, hell, I'm doing this for free. That thing
took one of my friends. I'm gonna make him pay for that. But
since this government money, I guess I'll take it. Well, I thought
you'd say that, said Agent Blue, and the line went dead. Sheriff
Blank, in his search party of thirty men, had to wait for the
rain to stop before starting their grid search. It was four am when the
weather finally cleared. The front moved through, casting a high pressure system over
the delta. The high temperature the next day was forecast at seventy four degrees.
At least they would not be dealing with heat exhaustion with their search teams,
and that was a good thing. The main obstacle would be the thick
undergrowth that was well into the growing spurt with the tropical weather now setting in,
and the vicious cotton mouse snakes that piled up on these islands by the
hundreds. With GPS locators in the hands of each man, they were able
to track the grid with precision. Every inch of the large island would be
searched. If Jimmy Rayburn was still on the island, they were going to
find him. After breaking the news to Sylvia, Jimmy's wife, that Jimmy
was still alive. Sylvia had not taken the news. Well, she just
knew Jimmy was dead. Blank was not so sure, but he had to
find the man, dead or alive. Sheriff Blank sat under a canopy that
was set up and acted as a base of operations. He had a small
array of communication equipment and a laptop on the table in front of him.
He watched as the GPS devices moved in sync with each other, leaving a
perfect line in the path of each searcher. Remy Smith sat down beside him.
How's the search going, JB. Remy asked, Well, it's slow,
but sure, said Blank. I expect to hear the radio crack any
minute, but we still have two thirds of the island of search, and
I doubt we get it all done today. Hopefully they'll find Jimmy in the
next few minutes and we can all go home. We can keep a smaller
group here to follow up on the arm that Jimmy called us about. That
sounds like a plan, Remy said, I'm hearing from my guys that they're
determined to find him. Mississippi Game and Fish had ten men in the search
party, two rewardens from adjacent districts, and the other eight were volunteers from
the Jackson office who loved the idea of getting outdoors for a day or two.
Things had finally calmed down and the frenzy of organizing the search was over.
Blank now had time to talk. Remy. You said last night that
you know what this thing is. Tell me what you know. Remy looked
at his feet in deep thought. Then he spoke, it's a bigfoot,
but it's different than an average bigfoot. Now, before you start calling me
crazy, Sheriff, I need you to listen to me real close. I
realize most people think the idea of bigfoot is a joke, but it isn't.
They really do exist. They have, however, adapted to the encroachment
on their habitat by developing ways to remain very well hidden. I talk to
sportsmen every day on the job. They see these things, and a lot
of these guys may have hunted all their lives, but after they encounter one
of these things, they hang it up forever. I hear this a lot.
I've seen evidence of them many times while on the job. The best
evidence you'll ever see or tracks. I have a folder with no less than
twenty images of tracks that I have found myself. But what I want you
to know is that the tracks that you found last night, those tracks right
over there, those are twice the size of any tracks I've ever seen.
There also appear to be claws at the end of the toes. Add to
that, most bigfoot tracks show five toes. This one only has four on
each foot. The four toe thing is not an anomal this thing was born
that way. And last, they normally don't take people. There are times
when they will, but when they do, the abducted raises so much hell
that it freaks them out and they'll let them go, giving the victim the
opportunity to get away. That's not always the case, but generally speaking,
that is a conclusion that I've made. So you ask, and there it
is. I know it's not the explanation you're looking for, but I can
tell you with one certainty, A bigfoot took Jimmy rayburn Sheriff. Blank stared
into Remy's eyes, and Remy thought for a minute Blank was about to knock
him out, but he didn't. His only reply was Smith, you're so
full of shit your eyes are brown. And Blank went back to his radio
and asked for a report from the team leaders. Remy walked to his boat
to do the same. He shook his head as he walked, knowing Blank
had seen the tracks but still could not accept the fact that monsters really do
exist in these woods. They were all about to find out this was all
true, and they were going to find out the hard way. After hanging
up with Aging Blue, I walked into the house. Louis, mister Shanks,
and Hugs sat at the table drinking coffee. I said hello to Missus
Shanks, who I had not met until this very minute. She was a
short, slender woman dressed as well as Ain't Betsy and justice. Pretty age
had been kind to these women in the Delta, or maybe the edge filled
line of men knew how to attract pretty women. Missus Shanks walked over and
hugged me while thanking me for coming back to try to resolve this situation,
and then she sat at the table with her husband. Boys, we got
some good intel, mister Shanks, I'm going to need your boat. We're
going down river. Kill us a monster. Come on, guys, let's
go. Edmond spoke up, Steve. You've been in my boat. It'll
be fine on the river, but with you three boys in it, you'll
be swimming after you cross the first suckhole. The Mississippi River is a powerful
source. Anyone who has traveled the river in a small recreational boat gives her
all the respects she's due. A suckhole is a whirlpool of sorts that forms
in random places along the river and more powerful sections of the waterway. It's
caused by the vicious current. Canoes, kayaks, and small boats are sometime
taken from the surface to the sandy bottom in seconds if the holes are not
avoided. And mister Shanks was right. His fourteen foot boat was too small
for a thousand pounds of dumbass sitting on the deck, and it would take
a while to get down to the Soda Lake with a twenty five horse engine
if it even stayed on top of the water. Edmund Shanks walked out the
door, yelling back at us through the screen door. I'll be back in
ten minutes. Boys. He's going to get his brother in law's boat,
said Lewis. He has a big boat and it'll scoot us down there pretty
quick. In the interim, I filled two glasses of water and drank every
drop I wanted to hide trate before the hunt began. Hook and Lewis walked
out to the excursion and began pulling their gear from the rear end of the
vehicle. Hook carried the standard are ten and a short tactical shotgun, the
same gear I used. Lewis pulled out as M two forty nine saw and
slammed a drum magazine underneath. I don't know how many bullets that thing hell,
but I think it's a few. My phone chirped and I found a
text from Agent Blue stating that arrangements were now made to extract the beast after
we confirmed the kill. Also that he sent ordinance to the weapons drop on
the bank of the river. Hey guys, we're picking up some more weapons
when we get there. I told them, what are you talking about,
Steve, don't worry about it. You'll see when we get there. Mister
Shanks pulled into the yard towing an eighteen foot boat with a seventy horse power
of Yamaha outboard. I told you he had a good boat, said Lewis.
Maybe we can fish our way back, I said, grinning at Lewis.
Lewis didn't respond. I was losing sight of the goal, you know,
I get that way sometimes, and all the confusion of the last two
days, I needed to remember that this was a rescue mission. I started
to put on my game face. Lewis and Hook were way ahead of me
on that Edmond drove us to the ramp he had built on his property into
the river. The three of us climbed in, and mister Shanks back to
usend the water, and we were moving south at thirty five miles per hour
down the largest river in North America. It would take us forty minutes to
reach the coordinates sent by Agent Blue. We reached the mark on the GPS
where the package should have been, but there was nothing on the sandbar.
Maybe they stuck it up in the trees, said Hook. Put me out
on the bank, I said. I ran the forty yards to the trees
and looked around. In front of me was a wooden box, but it
was not intact, making me think it was jump that had washed up on
the bank when the river was up. On closer inspection, I realized it
was our box. It had been crushed and the items inside had been removed.
A few yards ahead, I saw pieces of wood that had apparently fallen
to the ground as the thief made his exit. Before moving ahead, I
looked around the open woods to make sure this wasn't a trap. The demon
squatch was that smart. I figured nothing moved, so I proceeded ahead.
Pieces of the box lay on the ground, contrasting with the dark silk and
dead moss. The trail was easy to follow. The pieces of the box
ended and there were only trees in front of me, so I turned back
to walk the short distance to the sand bar. Something caught my attention on
the ground. Nothing in the woods has smooth edges and shines. I picked
the object up and I examined it, and I was holding a frag grenade
in my hand. A few feet ahead laid another canister that looked a bit
different. It was a smoke grenade, and they both went in my pocket.
I climbed in the boat. We only had a few hundred yards to
go to reach the shortest distance between the bank and the nest, and on
the way I explained to the guys what I had found. I doubted we
could use either. I made a quick call to Agent Blue to tell him
this fucking monster had grabbed our stuff. He didn't believe me. That was
plain to hear in his voice. But by the end of the conversation,
and after he'd told me what was in the box, I think he knew
I was telling the truth. What did he say, Steve asked Hook.
He said they sent two Claymore minds, six frag grenades, and two smoke
grenades. What the hell is a Claymore, I asked. I had never
been interested in military things over the years. I'd heard the term Claymore,
but I never inquired into the details. It makes me nervous knowing that fucker
out there has these things against us. Now, I said, well,
Hook laughed. He didn't know what to do with that stuff, but if
he does, we're all screwed. Brother. Well, let's hope we aren't
screwed, I said. Lewis never said a word. Remy Smith made a
phone call to a friend. While he waited, he described the tracks to
his buddy, a friend who had had an experience with a size squats in
the last year. His friend didn't know what to make of the description.
He had never seen anything like it. It isn't natural, he told Remy.
Something is off about that thing. I would be cautious in those woods.
If he's the size we think he is, everyone there's in danger,
Remy. They are so fast there's no way to escape when they come at
you. It's like being within paces of a wounded line, and you think
the distance is manageable, but it isn't. They are on you before you
even raise your rifle. Their speed is incredible. And if you're within a
hundred yards of this big foot, you're in its kill zone. Is there
any way you can talk any sense into the sheriff so that they can take
precautions. Remy thought for a minute, and that he answered, Well,
the sheriff told me I was full of shit. Well, then there's nothing
you can do, brother, Remy's buddy says, you're right, said Remy,
but I'm here. My friends are out there beating the bushes, and
I have to do something. Well, I hope you think of something,
because if he's on that island, a confrontation is inevitable. I know,
said Remy. I gotta go. Thanks for the advice. Good luck,
said us, buddy. Let me know how things turn out. I will,
Remy said, while disconnecting the line. The game warden walked back to
the command post. Blank was alone again while his supportinents walked back and forth
from the boat, bringing coolers of water and sandwiches for the searchers who were
now slowly making their way back to count to take a break. Remy wanted
to try one more time to ask the sheriff to warn the folks in the
field of the danger. He made his case one more time. Do I
look like an idiot to you? Smith? You want me to stand up
in front of thirty law enforcement personnel and tell them to watch out for a
big foot? You've lost Joe Mine boy. I'll tell them, jb you
won't have to deal with this at all. And if it's not that,
then at least armed them In case I'm right. You could even tell them
there's wild pigs out there in the side arms for their safety, Remy said,
with a small amount of passion in his usually business like voice. By
some miracle, Blank agreed to that, but made Remy promise not to say
a word about Bigfoot. It was now past noon. The crews needed a
break anyway, so he called his office and asked a deputy manning the desk
to bring every pistol and rifle and shotgun they had, and then he explained
why. One hour later, everyone on the teams were armed with something.
It would do no good, though some were about to encounter something they never
imagined in their strangest dreams. After leaving the boat on the opposite side of
the island where the search was happening, Lewis Hook and myself made our way
to the interior of the island. The plan was to approach the nest away
from all the activity happening with the search. It was a natural distraction and
it helped us. The wind had shifted during the day and was coming out
of the northwest. We shouldn't have been able to smell this creature or anything
in front of us in these conditions, but we did. The odor was
thick with death and decaying flesh. I knew what we would find, but
I didn't think Uncle James had been dead long enough to emit such an odor.
I figured it takes three maybe four days for the odor to get bad
enough to smell over a vast area. Now it wasn't Uncle James. I
was concerned with this squatch had been killing people for a while. There are
people that had to have been missing, and I was sure we would hear
about them over the coming days on the news. But right now we had
to get to that nest, confront this thing if it was there, and
kill it. Thirty minutes into our hike, I knew we were on top
of the nest, making sure the area immediately around us was clear. I
pulled the small laptop from my pack and I checked our location. The nest
was marked with a red dot in the center of the screen. It was
blinking. We were within a hundred yards. It was time to split up.
On a usual hunt, we might rush the nest that confuses them dumb
sons of bitches, and they sort of lock up, making them easy targets.
This time was different. I ran all the details Agent Blue gave me
through my mind. This thing was big, he's fast and apparently pretty smart.
We would do better creeping up on this thing and hope the activity opposite
our position provided a bit of a distraction, giving us the element of surprise.
Sir Louis went left. I took the middle and followed the path we
were now on. Hook went right. I would wait until they both swung
out and advanced on the nest, a short distance and making us equally distant
from our target. If we were lucky, the squatch would be there during
the day and we could catch him and a cross fire, and then we
could end this and go home with Uncle James. It was wishful thinking,
but I figured it could happen. My earpiece came alive as they both let
me know they were ready. All right, let's go now. I don't
need to say this. You guys need to check your fire. Uncle James
is in there. No one said anything. I started moving rifle, ready
for anything big, hairy and ugly to cross my path. The smell was
horrible and it was distracting from me. Now I'm sure I heard Hook vomit
to my right. If the element of surprise was in our favor, we
had just lost it. If the demon squatch was there, Hook was already
located and he was on high alert. The nest was now in my view,
it was the usual, albeit larger than most nest we see when we
find a nest. These creatures work hard on their structures. The male builds
them. I think it is to attract females. I mean, what woman
doesn't want to live in a nice pad like this. I could see human
clothing was scattered all over the ground. There was a lot of it that
had me concern. I needed to see this whole thing clearly. There were
shots to my right. Boom boom boom, four in a row. Hook,
talk to me, that thing is here, he yelled. It's just
punched a hole in my thigh. Heads up, he's creeping. Creeping meant
that the animal was on all fours. They do that to be stealthy.
I think it's how they stalk their prey. If you ever see one do
it, There's no way you can walk away from seeing that and believe the
thieves things are natural to our environment. It's like seeing something straight out of
an Exorcist movie. Hook, do you need help? I shouted, keep
moving. One of us is going to get a shot at him. Hook
said, Oh, I love that man, Uncle James, I heard Louis
scream, Uncle James, give me his side if you're alive. There was
nothing but silence. Steve. He raised his hand. All right, we're
coming to get you, Uncle John, said Louis. No words ever sounded
better in my life. Uncle James was alive. I just couldn't see him
from my angle. Lewis's voice was in my ear. For our calms.
Now, Steve, I'm going in to get him. Come up to the
nest and cover me. Moving now, I said into the throat, and
Mike and I ran to the edge of the nest. I was looking for
the demon to come, and brother, he was coming. Hook yelled again,
and then three more shots rang off in the woods to my right.
That's some of a bitch keeps sneaking up behind me and poking holes in my
legs. I'm coming straight at you, Steve. Watch behind me, get
a shot at him. Hook was only twenty or so yards away. Now
I could see him coming towards me. At ten yards, I could see
all of the big man. I glanced at his legs and I didn't see
any blood. He was standing beside me. Now, you ain't hurt.
What the hell you cry baby in about Hook pointed to the back of his
legs. The back of each thigh was a wound that looked like a bullet
hole. Blood poured from his left leg, the right didn't look quite as
bad. We need to get those legs wrapped up or stop the bleeding,
but we can't do it right now. That thing is out there waiting to
pounce. I said to Hook, we should I could stop for only thirty
seconds and wrap his legs. That was too dangerous at this moment. Behind
us, I could hear Lewis talking to James. They were reunited. I
took a peek and they were in and embrace. Lewis had cut James loose
from the tangled knights that he had used to tie him to the inside of
the structure. I saw other figures hanging there. I wanted to help,
but we were about to be clovered by this thing if we weren't careful.
It came at us from the other side of the nest. Inside of the
nest was clear. The structure was burrowed into the vegetation that surrounded the area,
and there was a small clear path of about two feet around it.
He wasn't hard to see even while he was creeping. By the way,
they don't lose much speed when they're on all fours. They're just closer to
the ground, making them a less obvious target. But this thing was so
big I couldn't help, but seeing coming quickly, I lowered my ar and
popped off nine rounds. At least four hit him. Once I got my
lead right, the beasts very trial right and we avoided the attack. When
I hit him, Hook had a better angle and hit him two out of
four shots. Now this creature had six pieces of thirty caliber lead and copper
in him. He was hurting, probably even more dangerous. Now we waited
ten minutes or longer and it didn't come back. We felt safe enough to
gather in the nest and discuss our next move. James looked okay. He
was dirty and worn out. He was dehydrated and probably hungry, but he
could walk, and that was good news. I offered a bottle of water
to him, and he said he couldn't drink it with all that smell around
here, but he kept it in his head for later. Now, feeling
like I had a minute, I went to work on Hook's legs with an
extra shirt I carried in my pack. I ripped pieces free and wrapped the
leg wounds. Hook said he was good to go, but I know he
was hurting. Those punctured wounds are the worst. Next, I surveyed the
nest. I counted four bodies in various states of decomposition. The fifth body
I saw was a male. He lay flat on the ground. He was
not bound up to the structure. He wore a mechanic's uniform. There was
no decomposition, so I walked over and rolled him onto his back. If
nothing else, I could get a picture of him so that the family might
confirm his identity. But when I turned him over, his eyes opened.
He took a deep breath, and he smiled like he was glad to see
me. Can you talk, I asked, Hell, Yes, I can
talk, he said, laughing. I've been playing dead for hours. Help
me up. What's your name, I asked. My name's Jimmy Rayburn.
I live close to Clarksdale. How about we get the hell out of here.
Well, Hell, I like that idea, but we're here to kill
this thing, not just save you. If we don't kill it now,
somewhere down the river, he's gonna set up his little house of horrors again.
Someone's going to have to deal with this thing at some point, might
as well be us. A grin spread across Jimmy Rayburn's face, and he
said, I want in on that action. Give me that shot gun.
I'll go get him myself. Whoa there, texts, I said, we're
the squatch killer here. We're highly trained specialists in these matters. Plus you
might get hurt. Are you shitting me? You mean if I had my
own gun right now, you fellows would make me go home? Are you
shitting me? Yeah, I'm shitting you. I said, here, take
this shot gun. Let's go kill this fucker. Steve Lewis said, I
gotta get Uncle James back to the boat. Are you good on this one?
I looked at Hook. Hook nodded in the affirmative. We're good on
this Lewis. I said, get Uncle James back to Ain't Betsy she's been
missing that man. James smiled at me, Steve. We're not gonna leave
the island. We're gonna wait for you at the boat. I need to
get him some water and give him a place to sit and rest, Lewis
said. Hook spoke up. Lewis, take the boat out in the river,
maybe even heading north aways. This thing could double back and cause more
problems for you. I feel better know and you men are off the island.
It won't be safe until this thing's dead. I'll see you at the
boat, said Lewis, and they walked away, Lewis holding James up.
After the search teams had their fill of water and sandwiches, and after they
were all now armed for peg attacks, they headed back into the interior to
continue their grid patterns. Once set up on their lines, they began moving
south. Remy Smith, not feeling right about his friends being out there without
him and knowing the danger they may face, went with a group from Jackson.
He figured if this squatch was going to attack, it would come from
the line's flank, so he positioned himself on the farthest left end of the
line. The searchers were five feet apart and always looking down for anything that
might reveal the location of Jimmy Rayburn. Remy Smith kept his eyes and head
on a swivel, constantly watching for danger. He didn't know how close danger
really was. From the right end of the line. They heard the call
that something had been found. The line stopped while a supervisor went to the
person who called out. Remy was more nervous now than ever. He could
feel it. He knew danger was close. He was so sure of it
that he flipped the safety off on his aar and raised the rifle to the
half ready position. It's just trash, he heard, the supervisor announced to
everyone. No evidence Jimmy had been found. Remy never lost sight of the
woods in front of him as the line began to move again, and that's
when he saw it. At first, it didn't look like an animal,
more like a wad of moss that had been gathering for years off the side
of a tree. He watched it for several paces, and then it moved.
Or did it really move or was he seeing things? When he watched
eyes blank, he knew it had moved slowly. He brought the rifle scope
to his eye. Once in focus, he realized he was looking at the
most hideous beast that had ever inhabited these woods. His life would never be
the same now he knew monsters really did exist. Without lowering the rifle,
he called out to the others in his group. He told them all,
in no uncertain terms, to begin slowly walking away. From him. At
first, everyone was confused. They stopped and stared at Remy. Locked into
a perfect standing shooting position, he yelled again for everyone to begin moving.
Danger was close, he yelled, and he threw in a few explotives to
drive the point home. Still confused, they followed his instructions. Eleven confused
men and women began the slow walk away from Remy. Don't stop until you
can't see me, yelled Remy Smith. I need you to be out of
my line of sight. I know this sounds strange. I'm going to explain
it later, but there would not be a later. Looking through the scope,
he noticed blood running down the squatch's arm and chest. This thing was
wounded. He thought he had heard shots earlier, but the wind was loud
in the trees at that moment. Now he was dealing with a massive,
wounded predator. The two twenty three rounds in his rifle would probably only make
the beast even more angry and desperate. It was apparent the creature was becoming
agitated. The tree had hung from began to move back and forth. Remy's
eyes were locked onto the squatch's face. It was not the face of a
peaceful and gentle animal. This face was full of rage, and it was
about to attack. Would Remy and the others survived this It was too late
to think about that. Now Remy had to act slowly. He began to
squeeze the trigger to send around into the creature's head, and he knew all
hell would break loose when he did. Hey, don't shoot. The voice
in the distance said, don't shoot. He's a nice big foot like Harry
and the Henderson's. The voice grew louder and was plainly coming from straight in
front of Remy. What the hell is going on? Remy thought, Then
he said it out loud so the others could hear him. What the hell
are you doing? He yelled at the man. The voice kept getting closer,
and soon it was directly under the tree where the squatch hung in the
massive oak. Remy never lowered his rifle, but he opened the eye,
not looking at the scope, and saw the man standing in a patch of
vines just under the tree. He was marching like a soldier, singing a
song Remy had never heard. Was this guy nuts? Then the character began
flapping his arms like a chicken while making clucking noises. Every fourth or fifth
step, the man would stop, hike his leg and make a loud,
farting noise, only to begin the song and marching again. Shots rang out
in the woods. They were loud and jolted Remy enough that he lost the
squatch in his scope. Now the squatch was moving and he had trouble reacquiring
the target. The man in front of him, who had been marching through
the twisted tangle of vines, raised his rifle and began shooting as well.
The area sounded like a war zone, taking Remy back to firefights in Afghanistan,
but in all of the current madness. Remy Smith watched in all as
the crazy man in front of him walked his fire down the tree, hitting
the squatch with every single round. When the beast hit the ground, the
crazy man was reaching for another magazine. He thought he was out shot.
Still kept coming from the woods from unknown sources, but the squatch was locked
on to the crazy man. Remy raised his rifle when the squatch began to
spring at the wild man, and he hit the beast three more times,
drawing its attention back to him, but it did not charge. It looked
as if it had had enough. Apparently the nut job standing only a few
yards from the beast of the same thing. Maybe the beast would walk away.
These bullets were obviously not lethal, at least not yet. The beast
and the man stood staring each other down for several seconds. It was a
classic Western standoff. The wild man had lowered his rifle. What the hell
is he doing now, Remy thought. Two others stepped into Remy's line of
sight. Now he knew the source of the other gunfire. They were at
least eighty yards away from him, but he could see them all clearly.
The squatch standing next to the tree, heaving and roaring at the men,
but never making an advance on them. But it was going to come soon,
and Remy knew that, and somehow he had the sense that these men
knew it too. Maybe they knew what they were doing after all. This
was all confirmed when he watched the nut job pitching object to the huge beasts.
Instinctively, the monster extended its arms and caught the object. He stood
still, looking at the green ball that had been thrown to him. Remy
looked back for the three men and they were gone. He didn't know it,
but Steve Lily had armed the grenade and pitched it to the dumb squatch.
The squatch was looking at it like a monkey doing a math problem.
The explosion took all the searchers by surprise. It was not the big boom
sound that you hear in movies. There is a distinctive crack followed by the
echo of the explosion. That son of a bitch just pitched the grenade into
the hands of a squatch and killed it slowly. The three men, obviously
insane asylum escapees, rose from the vegetation and walked to inspect their kill,
All with their rifles at the ready. They stood around the carcass talking after
Remy felt like he could move now, so he ran the football field distance
to see who these guys were. The first one to greet him was the
guy making the chicken noises and farting sounds, and he reached out his hand.
Hey there, mister game Warden, I'm Steve Lily. These guys here
and my friends, this is Hooke Johnson, and this is what you say.
Your name was again, Jimmy Raeburn's my name. Remy instantly pulled the
radio from his belt and he called Sheriff Blank JB. This is Remy Smith.
All right, Remy, go ahead, said the sheriff. We just
found Jimmy Raeburn and he's alive. I think you need to get over here
quick. You're gonna want to see this. Sheriff Blank looked at the flurry
of activity around him. He saw it, but none of it registered.
The shooting startled him and had not expected there to be a confrontation with anyone
on this island. Whoever the perpetrator of these alleged murders was. JB figured
he was several counties away. They had found Rayburn alive, and he wondered
about Rayburn's condition. He thought about calling Remy, but he didn't. He
just needed to get there. He was alive and that was good enough.
Blank called to two of his deputies to ride with him in the Polaris fourth
seedar to the location about a mile away. They arrived at the scene ten
minutes later. Standing around the largest oak in view were the ten member search
team Plush, Remy Smith and two men he did not recognize, and Jimmy
Raeburn. Rayburn stood erected, smoking a cigarette while leaning against a smaller sapling
near the tree. Blank reached in his pocket and retrieved Rayburn's cell phone and
launched it through the air at Rayburn. Jimmy caught the phone. Call your
wife. Now, she's word sick about you, said Blank. Jimmy walked
off in the woods, opened the phone and called his wife. Now standing
at the base of the tree, he saw the beast with its back against
a massive trunk and slightly slumped to its left. The creature was as wide
as the tree trunk, and Blank stared at the animal in disbelief. Its
right arm lay across its belly, its left arm was gone above the elbow.
Its huge head was laid with the chin resting on the chest. The
legs were six feet long, he noted, and ended with feet that were
as big as divers flippers. He took it all in. Give me your
rifle, Remy, the sheriff said. With the barrel, Blank pushed the
head back against the tree. Several wounds from the grenade had ruined what was
once there, but he could make out the general appearance of this thing's face.
Everyone standing around the creature were drawn to the massive set of tea.
There were long canine fans in the upper and lower jaws, and they protruded
beyond the lips. They were yellow and deadly, looking like a tiger.
He let go of the head and it dropped back into its position. Who
are you, he asked one of the strangers standing behind him. Well,
my name's Steve Lily, and this is my buddy Hook Johnson, Lily said,
shaking the Sheriff's hand. Remy said the sheriff, I assume you're going
to explain all this to me later, but right now we need to get
Jimmy to the boat ramp. I think his family is going to want to
see him, and I'm ready to get off this island. With that,
he called to two of his deputies and explained that he wanted them to stay
with the body of the creature until he could arrange for the beast to be
removed and brought back to his office. He wanted this thing on ice as
soon as possible. He mentioned under his breath that he wasn't sure what he
was going to do with it. After that, Sheriff Steve Lily spoke up,
how about Hook and I stay with this creature. I'm telling you now,
arrangements have already been made to extract this corpse. If you will just
be good enough to call this number. My employee will confirm and then explain
everything. Blank looked at Lily like he was crazy. Look here, look
here, here's the number, Steve said, call it on your own phone.
Reluctantly, JB punched the number into his phone. He walked away from
the crowd while he spoke with Lily guest agent Blue. It was a long
conversation which did not surprise Hook and Steve, but when he returned to the
group, he barked orders for everyone to leave the area pack their gear.
The search was over and was a great success. He thanked everyone at the
scene and then left with his deputies and the ranger would Jimmy Rayburn. Looking
no worse for the wearer, Steve said, Remy, I need your phone
number so we can discuss this. Are you willing to do that? At
this point, Remy knew that Stephen Hook were some sort of government operators.
Even though they didn't look the part. In their unconventional way, there was
a professionalism in their character. Yeah, here's my number, Remy, Steve
said, and here's Hooks too. Call either of us anytime. I don't
mind explaining all this to a game and fish man. I won't be able
to tell you everything, but we can talk about these creatures. I might
be able to tell you things that might help you in your job. I'm
really glad to do that, Steve. I've never seen anything like what I
saw today. Steve thought for a minute, not knowing exactly what he was
talking about. Yeah, these things are nasty things, very unpredictable, Steve.
I'm not talking about the creature. I'm talking about how you guys kill
it. What the hell was that performance you did under that tree? All?
That's only a tactic we use sometimes to distract them, Remy. They
have enough human in them that they try to understand. They think things through.
A regular animal operates solely on instinct. These things have a big brain,
and while it's not as developed as ours, they still think and work
things out. We use that tired advantage. In other words, that shit
I did out there, it freaks them out, almost locks him in a
trance, gives us time to get a few shots off. Remy Smith grinned
at Steve lily and then slapped him on the back before walking away to catch
up with his team. I'm going to be calling you this week, said
remy as he walked away, looking forward to it. Steve yelled as Smith
walked into the vegetation and disappeared. Well, I guess this hunt was as
dangerous as any we've ever been on. If this point our kill number was
now fifty three. There was something about this squatch that bothered me though.
Was this a new species or just a rare occurrence. Time would tell,
but I had a feeling we would begin to see more and more of these
mutant critters. By now, we had all made plenty of cash. Hunting
squatches had made us moderately wealthy. All three of us could have quit working
and lived off what we had stashed away for the rest of our lives if
we watched our money or for a long time before we needed to start working
again. None of us even considered that, though it had become an addiction
in a way, we needed the action. What song were you singing this
time? Steve Hook asked, I don't know what it was. I made
it up as I went, well, don't do that again. Sing something
I know, but please do not sing any more Joe Cocker songs. Well,
we both laughed, and I opened my phone and I told the office
we were ready for whatever they had planned to extract this creature, and that
he was way too heavy to move by hand. I was told a helicopter
would be over our location within the hour. Hook and I sat under a
nice shade tree and filled our bellies with water and candy bars. It was
getting hot now. I lit a cigarette and flipped open my phone and sent
the location of the nest to Remy Smith. In the text, I told
him there were bodies there and that he should wait until tomorrow to find the
location. There was no one there that could be saved. He understood why
and immediately sent me a thumbs up. Forty five minutes later, I popped
the smoke grenade I had found back at the sandbar. Two operators repel from
the chopper. They rigged the big gass beast with a net. The hook
was lowered, and we watched that thing hoisted into the air with the operators
attached, and then everything was quiet. Those guys are all business, aren't
they said Hook. They didn't even acknowledge we were here. Kind of piss
me off. I said, let's go see if Lewis is still at the
sandbar. We reached the sand bar and Finally in the sun, we saw
Lewis sitting in the front of the boat alone. He grinned when he saw
us. He had already taken Uncle James back to the boat ramp and the
family picked him up north. We traveled to mister Shank's ramp and there he
stood with Uncle James and a Betsy. They hugged us when we got to
the bank, and they thanked us. Hook dropped Lewis and off at the
trailer park and Lewis pulled a heavy bag from the rear end of the excursion
along with his other gear. He needed help carrying it inside. What the
hell is in this bag, I asked Lewis. He unzipped it and I
saw two clay mores and more grenades rolling around in the bottom. While I
waited for you boys, I walked around and found where the size squats had
scattered the stuff. Figured it might come in handy later. Damn good thinking,
Lewis, I said. The day was over. I walked into the
trailer and I was greeted by Lily. After letting her out to do her
business, I walked into the bedroom and I collapsed on the bed without removing
my clothes. And I immediately went to sleep. I had to be at
work the next morning at six am,