Speaker 1: He was just there. Now, I suppose it would be
Speaker 1: the more accurate way of referring to the thing. It
Speaker 1: was just there, kind of half sitting or sprawled all about.
Speaker 1: It wasn't sitting upright as you or I might. It
Speaker 1: sure wasn't standing. It looked as if it was lying
Speaker 1: on the sofa, except there wasn't a sofa. I don't
Speaker 1: recall if I've ever seen a sofa big enough to
Speaker 1: have held that thing. On occasion, it would look over
Speaker 1: in my direction, not at me, because for the moment
Speaker 1: there was no way for it to see me. At
Speaker 1: least at the time. I hope that to be true.
Speaker 1: It would just look over in my direction and smile
Speaker 1: as much as was possible. I'm not sure that it
Speaker 1: smiled often. It didn't look as if it had the capability,
Speaker 1: but it was sure giving it a good try. One
Speaker 1: thing I am certain of is that it was proud
Speaker 1: of itself and what it had done. That's why it
Speaker 1: kept looking over while trying to smile. I'll tell you
Speaker 1: what it reminded me of, But it reminded me of
Speaker 1: the way my father used to look when he would
Speaker 1: park his mowing machine in the garage after he had
Speaker 1: finished with the yard each week and then go walk
Speaker 1: around on us law. My father was always so proud
Speaker 1: of the job that he had done each week after
Speaker 1: mowing the grass. He loved the way it looked when
Speaker 1: every blade of grass had been cut and all were
Speaker 1: the same height. Again, how everything in that moment was
Speaker 1: just as it should be. That look on my father's
Speaker 1: face each week when he had finished was unforgettable and unmistakable. Well,
Speaker 1: that thing had the same prideful look on its mug
Speaker 1: each time it would look over in my direction. I
Speaker 1: can only tell you of what I was seeing at
Speaker 1: that moment, and I couldn't see all that well, but
Speaker 1: I could see better than I wanted to, and all
Speaker 1: honest see, I wish I had never seen any of
Speaker 1: it at all. That thing was horrible. I don't think
Speaker 1: it to be out of place to call it an abomination,
Speaker 1: something that never should have existed in the first place.
Speaker 1: A talking like that will likely make some folks hot
Speaker 1: under the collar at me, But guess what, I don't care.
Speaker 1: The folks that would raise came with me were never
Speaker 1: in a position that I'd been in. So until you've
Speaker 1: walked in my shoes and all that Now I've watched PBS,
Speaker 1: and I'm not a complete dullard. I know the all creatures,
Speaker 1: great and small thing and the sentiment behind it. Everything
Speaker 1: has a reason for being, and each one is special
Speaker 1: and unique and should be revered in one form or another.
Speaker 1: But this thing has no more business being around than
Speaker 1: mosquitoes or fire ants. And in my opinion, and it's
Speaker 1: just my opinion, the world would be better off without
Speaker 1: some things in it. And the thing I watched that
Speaker 1: was one of them. Sprawled out on the ground as
Speaker 1: long as some of those tiny electric cars that some
Speaker 1: people drive. Now, that probably weighed more than those cars too.
Speaker 1: It wasn't just long. That thing was beefy and solid.
Speaker 1: It wasn't long and lean like a college basketball player.
Speaker 1: It was built, I mean like an NFL pass rusher,
Speaker 1: big thick ropy muscles flexed and quivered each time it moved.
Speaker 1: You could see them all pumped up under its fur.
Speaker 1: This thing was bigger than Figno had been when he
Speaker 1: had been playing the Incredible Hult, much bigger, and Forigno
Speaker 1: was stacked when he had been doing all that, covered
Speaker 1: from crown to ankle bone with filthy, matted, coarse looking hair,
Speaker 1: that was knotted up in a dozen different places, like
Speaker 1: an old stray dog's hair would look before it thins
Speaker 1: out and sheds its winter coat and the spring. And
Speaker 1: it stunk worse than an old dog too, smell like
Speaker 1: garbage as you had let sit inside the can too
Speaker 1: long before taking the bag out, that rich, sweet smell
Speaker 1: of meat that had gone south. That when you smell it,
Speaker 1: it really isn't too bad, but the longer you're around it,
Speaker 1: the worse it gets. That's the way this thing smelled.
Speaker 1: And trust me, it wasn't something else that drifted across
Speaker 1: me on that breeze. I know how right that thing was,
Speaker 1: but I'll get to that in a minute. Thinking back
Speaker 1: on it as I'm writing this, I can still smell
Speaker 1: it in my memory enough that I can almost taste it,
Speaker 1: and when it comes that strong, I easily end up gagging.
Speaker 1: A couple of times. I've even had to heave up
Speaker 1: my breakfast. It's been months since the day I was there,
Speaker 1: and I can still see it clear as day. It's
Speaker 1: lounging around, just looking about, sometimes directly at me, though
Speaker 1: it never knew I was there, or you wouldn't be
Speaker 1: hearing this story that thing had no the problem with killing.
Speaker 1: Also know that better than I want to. You could
Speaker 1: see it in its eyes, and that thing didn't take
Speaker 1: lip from anything. They were hard eyes, like everything it
Speaker 1: had ever seen was ever gonna see was beneath it
Speaker 1: or inferior to it, big and dark, yellowing, some as
Speaker 1: if it was old. Maybe it was old. I don't
Speaker 1: know how anyone could tell. You couldn't go by how
Speaker 1: it moved, because it was spry enough. It didn't move
Speaker 1: its arms to waste something with old, worn out joints moved.
Speaker 1: If it had an edge, it scratched, real limber like,
Speaker 1: no matter where it had to reach, and some of
Speaker 1: those places were best forgotten, along with the smell. Now
Speaker 1: this thing had no shame. What it did have were hands,
Speaker 1: a big, strong, leathery looking hands that were covered with
Speaker 1: that nasty hair on the backsides. Its feet were the
Speaker 1: same way. It may have gotten shorted on looks, but
Speaker 1: it made up with the foot size. Now I fell
Speaker 1: a pretty big shoe, but its feet were at least
Speaker 1: twice as white as mine and maybe twice as long.
Speaker 1: But out of everything that was so horrible but hypnotizing
Speaker 1: to look at, I think it's teeth or what held
Speaker 1: my attention the most. The four in front corners of
Speaker 1: the top and bottom were sharp and long, like dog's teeth,
Speaker 1: and the rest were short and thick and blunted, just
Speaker 1: right for grinding against whatever meat or flesh Those sharp
Speaker 1: ones had ripped from something. Each one seemed about the
Speaker 1: size of my thumb. Before you say anything, no, all
Speaker 1: wasn't close enough to see them that well. One of
Speaker 1: its teeth was missing, and the space between the ones
Speaker 1: that remained looked about the width of my thumb. And now
Speaker 1: I'm fine with guessing at it like that. If you
Speaker 1: want to know them more precisely, then you go find
Speaker 1: one and peel its lips back and you can take
Speaker 1: a look. That'll be your affair, but I won't be
Speaker 1: going with you. I've had my share and that was
Speaker 1: enough to do me. Now you have a fair idea
Speaker 1: of what it looked like. That was what I was
Speaker 1: trying to accomplish, and I've described it as best as
Speaker 1: I could without drawing you a picture on paper. And yes,
Speaker 1: I have done that a couple of times. I haven't
Speaker 1: shown my drawing to anyone, mainly because I have no
Speaker 1: ability to draw. It looked like something an elementary school
Speaker 1: student might have drawn. But when I look at what
Speaker 1: I put on paper, I can see exactly what I
Speaker 1: was trying to draw, and it sends shivers up and
Speaker 1: down my spy. Anyone else might think I was doodling,
Speaker 1: but when I look at my drawings, they scare me
Speaker 1: to death. I bet you're wanting to know how I
Speaker 1: came to see one so well without it seeing me. Well,
Speaker 1: that's what I'm going to tell you right now. Now.
Speaker 1: I'm not especially bright, not as dumb as some, but
Speaker 1: not as smart as a lot. I can't ever remember
Speaker 1: how to tell a joke, and I never have been
Speaker 1: much counted telling stories. But I'm not a liar, and
Speaker 1: I'll tell you what happened to me, and it'll be
Speaker 1: up to you if you want to believe me or not.
Speaker 1: Of all the things i'll lose sleep over being believed about,
Speaker 1: this isn't one of them. This is what happened, and
Speaker 1: I know it did because I was there. I'm not
Speaker 1: what you might call a regular nine to five guy.
Speaker 1: It's not that I don't believe in working for whatever
Speaker 1: I want or might end up having. I just don't
Speaker 1: like being told what to do. There is something about
Speaker 1: following orders that I could never get beside now work,
Speaker 1: And to tell you the truth, I think I work
Speaker 1: harder than most because I'm always out hustling up something
Speaker 1: to do. I just don't go to the same job
Speaker 1: and do the same thing every day. I don't answer
Speaker 1: to anyone for the most part. If I go without
Speaker 1: supper or a pack of smokes or new use when
Speaker 1: I need them, then it was all my fault for
Speaker 1: not trying a little harder. I don't take orders, but
Speaker 1: I don't blame anyone but me for my situations either.
Speaker 1: I'm as likely to be painting a house as I
Speaker 1: am to be chopping saplings out of a fence row.
Speaker 1: I've dressed stiffs in the basement of the mortuary, and
Speaker 1: the next day I handed out flyers in front of
Speaker 1: the Pigly Wiggily for a beauty salon. It's not the
Speaker 1: easiest way to put dough in your pocket. But if
Speaker 1: I have enough to get bone, I don't have to work.
Speaker 1: If I don't feel like it now, I can go
Speaker 1: fishing instead. People locked in a cubicle can't do that
Speaker 1: whenever they feel like it, can They not without getting fired.
Speaker 1: I mean A while back, I was doing some work
Speaker 1: for the Italian man who owned a nursery. He's a
Speaker 1: real nice man, and he throws work at me whenever
Speaker 1: he gets these big pushes. He knows I work hard
Speaker 1: that I don't get bent when he says he doesn't
Speaker 1: need me any longer. If he had hired someone to
Speaker 1: do what I was doing, he would either have to
Speaker 1: find them something to do when the job played out
Speaker 1: or fire them. And with me, he just RILs off
Speaker 1: a few bills and shakes my hand until the next time.
Speaker 1: It works well for the both of us. He had
Speaker 1: called me and said that he had two tractor trailer
Speaker 1: loads of rose bushes coming in, one trailer one week
Speaker 1: and another the following week. Eight thousand rose bushes on
Speaker 1: each trailer that had to be pulled from one gallon
Speaker 1: pots and reset into two gallon pots so they could
Speaker 1: keep growing bigger. You ladies might think that roses are
Speaker 1: the best things since indoor plumbing, but after twelve or
Speaker 1: fifteen thousand, you won't care if you never see another
Speaker 1: god dang rose. The work was rough, but it paid well,
Speaker 1: so I was on the fence about it being my
Speaker 1: last day doing that job. A bunch of us were
Speaker 1: sitting around eating a sandwich in the midday stoppage when
Speaker 1: mister big and Zoli came walking through with the man
Speaker 1: who was his foreman for the nursery. They were talking
Speaker 1: as they walked. Actually, mister big and Zoli was talking
Speaker 1: and James was listening. I wasn't eavesdropping, but I did
Speaker 1: hear him, and it was not hard to hear. Mister
Speaker 1: bigg and Zoli. I really like him, but I'd never
Speaker 1: take him fishing. He even says good morning at the
Speaker 1: top of his lungs. So what do you think he
Speaker 1: was talking about, Well, he was talking about bat guano,
Speaker 1: that's droppings from bats. He had some plants coming in
Speaker 1: the next few days that really took to bat Guanoh,
Speaker 1: it's supposed to be really good fertilizer, but for the
Speaker 1: load of plants he had come and it was the
Speaker 1: very best. According to someone, he was warning a good bit,
Speaker 1: really badly. But the stuff was so expensive that he
Speaker 1: would lose money on his plants if he bought the
Speaker 1: bat stuff. They were almost out of the shed we
Speaker 1: were all sitting in when I slid off of the
Speaker 1: world bench I was sitting on and ran down to
Speaker 1: catch up with them. I got them stopped, and I
Speaker 1: told them that I was sorry for interrupting them, but
Speaker 1: I could get them some batpoop if they really wanted some.
Speaker 1: It wouldn't be all nice and neat and bags like
Speaker 1: if they had ordered it. But I felt real sure
Speaker 1: I could get them ten or twelve five gallon buckets
Speaker 1: full if that would help them out. They looked at
Speaker 1: me like I was crazy, but I just stood there. Well.
Speaker 1: We talked a bit, and they asked me where I
Speaker 1: could go get so much, but I wouldn't tell them that.
Speaker 1: And mister bigg and Zolie and James were both nice men.
Speaker 1: But if I told them where the stuff was, they
Speaker 1: would have sent a couple of guys and they could
Speaker 1: have gotten it for themselves without needing me at all.
Speaker 1: I had just found a new source for cash, and
Speaker 1: I was keeping it to myself. James kept mumbling about
Speaker 1: how what I would bring would be pure and not
Speaker 1: mixed with filler and sand, how sixty gallons would be
Speaker 1: equal to twice or even three times at a bag
Speaker 1: they could buy, how it would go further and be
Speaker 1: a lot cheaper. In the end, we settled on a
Speaker 1: price per bucket, and that the nursery would supply the
Speaker 1: buckets and the shovel, and I promised to work through
Speaker 1: the weekend and bring them the stuff the monday coming up.
Speaker 1: Those were two happy men walking away. I knew it
Speaker 1: was going to be kind of a nasty, gross job,
Speaker 1: but I was feeling pretty good myself as I went
Speaker 1: back to work on those damn rose bushes. Now, before
Speaker 1: I tell you the rest of this, I'll say one thing.
Speaker 1: I didn't tell those men where that backcrap was because
Speaker 1: I didn't want them going in and getting it, and
Speaker 1: that's what they would have done, and I wouldn't blame
Speaker 1: them if they did. For my own good, I kept
Speaker 1: the location to myself. It's the same reason I haven't
Speaker 1: said the name of the town where I live in,
Speaker 1: and I'm not going to that's for my own good
Speaker 1: and yours. I listened as often as I can to
Speaker 1: Cam's program, and I like it, and that's why I
Speaker 1: sent this to him. But I read the comments from
Speaker 1: y'all sometimes, and I don't want to turn on the
Speaker 1: local radio one day and hear about some stranger from
Speaker 1: Oklahoma or Pennsylvania getting torn to pieces or killed. If
Speaker 1: one of you curious types knew where the story took place,
Speaker 1: you'd be wanting to come and do some poking around.
Speaker 1: I don't need anyone in and up in the graveyard
Speaker 1: on account of what I saw, so trust me, you're
Speaker 1: better off stand right where you are and just listening
Speaker 1: to how things happen. Now, I'll get back to the story.
Speaker 1: As I mentioned earlier, I like to fish. It's how
Speaker 1: I relax and come Saturday night, there isn't much anything
Speaker 1: better than a plate full of fresh fried fish with
Speaker 1: onion rings and iced tea. I have this place where
Speaker 1: I like to wet the hook because I always have
Speaker 1: the pond of myself, and I never leave out from
Speaker 1: there without a stringer full. It's real dark there, trees
Speaker 1: all around keep most of the water shaded out of
Speaker 1: the wind, and it's my kind of place. But it's
Speaker 1: as hard as pushing a chain to get there, and
Speaker 1: that's why no one's ever there. Anyone with a fishing
Speaker 1: rod knows of it, but it isn't worth the hassle
Speaker 1: for them to get there. But I have a four
Speaker 1: x four square body that won't ever win a beauty contest,
Speaker 1: so I don't mind getting there back before Hector was
Speaker 1: a put the brains in the Highway department decided that
Speaker 1: a tunnel was needed to get from here to somewhere
Speaker 1: else faster, so they figured that going through a mountain
Speaker 1: was better than going over or around it. What they
Speaker 1: didn't figure on was that the mountain wanted no part
Speaker 1: of it. Those crews didn't get more than halfway through
Speaker 1: before someone realized that they were spending more time fetching
Speaker 1: out all the mountain bits that had fallen during the
Speaker 1: night than they were spending on the actual digging and boring.
Speaker 1: The machinery they kept having to throw away because of
Speaker 1: being crushed by fallout didn't swallow easily either, and the
Speaker 1: sixth man to die in that hole really tied the
Speaker 1: bow on all of it. They stayed long enough to
Speaker 1: shore everything up inside like they were going to continue
Speaker 1: the next day, and then everyone just split and never
Speaker 1: came back. Nature has been taking it back ever since.
Speaker 1: And the entrance to that tunnel that goes to nowhere
Speaker 1: isn't more than a couple of hundred yards from where
Speaker 1: I like to fish. I expect you wouldn't have been
Speaker 1: able to hear yourself think down there when all the
Speaker 1: construction was going on, but it's quiet now. They closed
Speaker 1: up shop, chewed up the road on the way out
Speaker 1: so no one could go mess it around down there
Speaker 1: and set audios. But they hadn't counted on me, and
Speaker 1: how much I liked to fish. I don't guess they
Speaker 1: didn't figure on me being the nosy type, else they
Speaker 1: would have sealed that great hole up. The first day
Speaker 1: I found that pond was also the first day I
Speaker 1: went snooping around inside. And that's how I knew about
Speaker 1: the bats. I can take her leaf snakes and spiders
Speaker 1: and rats and wasp I may not like them, but
Speaker 1: they don't bother me. But bats are a different thing altogether.
Speaker 1: I'd never cared one way or the other about bats,
Speaker 1: because I'd only ever seen a couple. But inside that tunnel,
Speaker 1: well that'll change your mind, all right, thousands of them
Speaker 1: hanging there, quivering and twitching, and the dern floor of
Speaker 1: that tunnel near covered with their droppings. The first time
Speaker 1: I went in there, the smell was so rank that
Speaker 1: it made me sneeze. And I guess the racket woke
Speaker 1: them nasty devils up. They dropped off the roof and
Speaker 1: swarmed around, flying about one hundred miles an hour, not
Speaker 1: out of the tunnel, just around and around until they
Speaker 1: calmed down and they roosted again. I just squatted down
Speaker 1: and covered my head. While it was going on. It
Speaker 1: had been like standing in the middle of a pile
Speaker 1: of leaves and someone switching on a leaf blower from
Speaker 1: every direction, except that the leaves and the tunnel could
Speaker 1: if they wanted to. Now I don't care if bats
Speaker 1: do eat mosquitoes. I hate the creepy little things, and
Speaker 1: I couldn't wait to get out of there. I only
Speaker 1: went back in a couple of times after that, and
Speaker 1: not very far either. I really didn't care if I
Speaker 1: never went back inside again. They could have the tunnel,
Speaker 1: if I could have the pond. But then the idea
Speaker 1: of making good money for not a lot of work
Speaker 1: came up, and I started talking myself into going back
Speaker 1: in and staying in while I worked. It hadn't seemed
Speaker 1: so bad an idea when I was talking to James
Speaker 1: and mister Bigg and Zoli, but the more I thought
Speaker 1: about it later, the more I wished I had said nothing.
Speaker 1: But still, a deal is a deal. So I went
Speaker 1: that Saturday morning to shovel up sixty gallons of that mess.
Speaker 1: I tried to be smart about everything, but trying was
Speaker 1: about as far as I got. If I had been
Speaker 1: on the ball, I would have left all my bucket
Speaker 1: at the entrance in the daylight. I could have filled
Speaker 1: up a couple and brought them out and got new
Speaker 1: buckets and some fresh air. But I was in a
Speaker 1: hurry to fill them and have done with this place.
Speaker 1: I knew the whole time that if this worked, mister
Speaker 1: big and Zoli wasn't going to hush until he had
Speaker 1: me bringing him buckets full every week. But I wasn't
Speaker 1: going to worry about that until later. Instead of doing
Speaker 1: as I should have, I stacked all the buckets inside
Speaker 1: each other and slid the handle of the shovel through
Speaker 1: the wire loops, and I put that shovel on my shoulder.
Speaker 1: I would have everything I needed. Once I got in
Speaker 1: deep where that stuff really covered the ground, I would
Speaker 1: have to make a half a dozen trips back in
Speaker 1: and out, but I could go as fast as I wanted,
Speaker 1: because the buckets would be full by then, and I
Speaker 1: would be done when I started fetching them back outside.
Speaker 1: I had new batteries in the spotlight that's attached to
Speaker 1: my ball cap that I wear when I go coon
Speaker 1: hunting or catfishing. I was hoping that the light wouldn't
Speaker 1: bother the bat, since it would be pointed mostly straight down.
Speaker 1: The biggest part of the time I was going to
Speaker 1: have the light, and this seemed the best way to
Speaker 1: see in there. I wasn't worried about noise either. It
Speaker 1: wasn't like I was going to be digging through hard dirt.
Speaker 1: I was just scooping up bat droppings. It was my
Speaker 1: plan to have those buckets filled and sitting in the
Speaker 1: back of my truck by early afternoon, and my reward
Speaker 1: for a job well done was my cooler with two
Speaker 1: sandwiches and three high life sitting on ice beside my
Speaker 1: favorite rod and reel in the truck. Twelve buckets of
Speaker 1: bat crap and me catching a few fish was going
Speaker 1: to make for a good day. The shoveling went better
Speaker 1: than I expected. The stuff was nasty and it made
Speaker 1: my nose burn, but it filled the shovel easily and
Speaker 1: fell into the buckets quietly. If I moved my head
Speaker 1: wrong or too quickly, I could hear the bats above
Speaker 1: me and getting agitated at being disturbed, but I would
Speaker 1: face the light towards the ground and they would settle
Speaker 1: down again. And I stayed nervous the whole time, but
Speaker 1: as time passed, I learned how to operate in there
Speaker 1: sort of live and let live situation. Everything went so
Speaker 1: well that after I had the buckets filled, I picked
Speaker 1: up one and used it to really mash the guano
Speaker 1: down and pack the other buckets as tightly as I
Speaker 1: could with the stuff so I could put more in
Speaker 1: each one. The buckets weren't heavy even after being filled,
Speaker 1: so I tried to give mister Biggins only his money's worth. Finally,
Speaker 1: when I couldn't pack it in anymore, I reached down
Speaker 1: to get the first two buckets so I could haul
Speaker 1: them out, And that was when I heard the noises.
Speaker 1: It was a racket like I had never heard before.
Speaker 1: If you ask me while I was standing there in
Speaker 1: the dark what was going on, I'd have guessed that
Speaker 1: a pack of dogs were really having at each other
Speaker 1: the most awful growling and yelping you've ever heard. And
Speaker 1: there I was so deep in that tunnel that I
Speaker 1: couldn't see the outdoors light or anything else. A ceiling
Speaker 1: full of bats were hanging over me. The most got
Speaker 1: awful fight up ahead of me. And there I was
Speaker 1: sitting in the dark with twelve buckets of bat droppings.
Speaker 1: I was figuring out what I was supposed to do next,
Speaker 1: and a scream came from up ahead, and then a roar,
Speaker 1: like from an animal in one of the old Tarzan films.
Speaker 1: It took everything I had not to add my own
Speaker 1: droppings to the collection. And then everything went quiet. And
Speaker 1: if the bats had been disturbed by all the growling
Speaker 1: and bellowing, they weren't showing it. The only, and I
Speaker 1: mean the only reason why I picked up two buckets
Speaker 1: and started out was because I knew I didn't want
Speaker 1: to be in that tunnel come dark. When the bats
Speaker 1: started waking up and leaving. I didn't want to go
Speaker 1: back out, but I didn't want to stay either. I
Speaker 1: didn't even want to go fishing any longer. I just
Speaker 1: wanted to go home and sit quietly with every damn
Speaker 1: light in the house on. I took ten or more
Speaker 1: minutes just getting back to where I could start seeing
Speaker 1: daylight again, even carrying a bucket in each hand. That
Speaker 1: I should have been back in five minutes or less,
Speaker 1: but I was doing some slow walking because I was
Speaker 1: really afraid. I didn't know what I was afraid of exactly,
Speaker 1: but I was sure that I should be. The ground
Speaker 1: was soft thanks to the bat droppings covering everything, so
Speaker 1: I wasn't making any noise with my steps, and just
Speaker 1: as soon as I saw the first signs of light,
Speaker 1: I turned off the light attached to my cap. I
Speaker 1: didn't know if anything was up ahead, but if there was,
Speaker 1: I didn't want whatever it might be to know that
Speaker 1: I was in the tunnel. Even slower than before, I
Speaker 1: continued to walk. I saw the hump against the tunnel wall,
Speaker 1: but it didn't register with me that it was anything,
Speaker 1: just a big, dark hump on the side of a
Speaker 1: dark tunnel. The light from outside spilled in, but only
Speaker 1: just so far. I could see shadowy outlines, but not
Speaker 1: any details. Like when the sun is first coming up
Speaker 1: in the morning, you can see but not all that well.
Speaker 1: The difference was that the sun was already up as
Speaker 1: high as it was going to get, but it wasn't
Speaker 1: going to get any brighter inside that tunnel, at least
Speaker 1: not back where I was standing. So I took a
Speaker 1: deep breath of that file smelling air, and I started
Speaker 1: walking again, creeping. I inched my way closer and closer
Speaker 1: to the entrance of that tunnel, and I could feel
Speaker 1: the sweat rolling down my back, and there wasn't a
Speaker 1: sound to be heard. Not even birds or breeze from
Speaker 1: outside was making any noise, and I just kept walking,
Speaker 1: seeing a little better with each step. I began to
Speaker 1: feel better because I wasn't seeing anything moving up ahead.
Speaker 1: Well that doesn't mean that I was skipping and whistling.
Speaker 1: I was still more scared and I had ever been,
Speaker 1: but seeing nothing up ahead was making me feel a
Speaker 1: little better. Whatever had made those terrible noises must have
Speaker 1: had their fracticing gone on, and nothing could have made
Speaker 1: me happier. I didn't care what had made all that
Speaker 1: terrifying racket, and I didn't care if I ever knew
Speaker 1: or not. All I wanted was for the way to
Speaker 1: be clear so I could get finished and get out
Speaker 1: of that tunnel. If mister big and Zoli like what
Speaker 1: I brought to him, I would be glad to tell
Speaker 1: him where I had gotten that stuff now, and I
Speaker 1: wasn't planning on ever coming back here again. No amount
Speaker 1: of money was worth this. As I neared the opening
Speaker 1: and could more or less see. Movement caught my eye.
Speaker 1: Everything was still mostly shadows and dark, but the light
Speaker 1: was making it possible to see outlines of things, and
Speaker 1: one of those outlines moved. I stood very still and
Speaker 1: I watched, but I did not see any more movement.
Speaker 1: It finally dawned on me that what I had seen
Speaker 1: was like when you stack a big pile of cloth
Speaker 1: or tarps up in a heap. Eventually a bit here
Speaker 1: and there is going to shift as the pile settles.
Speaker 1: That is what I believed to have happened. Something had
Speaker 1: been piled up in a heap while I was deeper
Speaker 1: in the tunnel, and it was beginning to settle. That
Speaker 1: was what I had seen. Feeling better, I moved closer
Speaker 1: to see what the pile was. The pile of whatever
Speaker 1: it was stank worse than the bat droppings. As I
Speaker 1: drew near to it, I sat my buckets down and
Speaker 1: I pulled the collar of my T shirt up to
Speaker 1: cover my nose and mouth. I knew it wasn't going
Speaker 1: to help, but I did it anyway. I looked to
Speaker 1: the tunnel entrance and I studied it carefully. I wanted
Speaker 1: to make sure I was alone. Before I switched my
Speaker 1: cap light back on. As bad as I wanted to
Speaker 1: be done with the work and away from there, I
Speaker 1: was awful curious about the huge pile that I couldn't
Speaker 1: see any details of. I switched the light on and
Speaker 1: bent my head down so that the light wouldn't shine
Speaker 1: on it, and then I stepped back, holding a hand
Speaker 1: over my t shirt covered mouth to keep me from screaming.
Speaker 1: It was an animal, not just any animal. It was
Speaker 1: the biggest thing I had ever seen, like something in
Speaker 1: between a man and an ape, and it had huge
Speaker 1: patches of blood matting down its fur in a dozen
Speaker 1: different places. Its mouth was wide open, like it had
Speaker 1: been trying to holler when it died, and blood was
Speaker 1: staining its yellow teeth, and big gougers were torn in
Speaker 1: its body, and you could see dark blood pulled up
Speaker 1: on the ground from where it had dripped from the fur.
Speaker 1: I watched its chest and I saw no movement at all,
Speaker 1: and there were no sounds of any kind coming from
Speaker 1: this thing. The eyes were still glads. I see, whatever
Speaker 1: this thing was, it was dead and it was obvious
Speaker 1: that it was. The First thing I wondered was what
Speaker 1: could have been strong enough to kill something so big,
Speaker 1: And then I remembered the carrying on that I had heard.
Speaker 1: Whatever this thing had been scrapping with had beaten it.
Speaker 1: I don't know if the sound made me look to
Speaker 1: the tunnel entrance, or if I looked and then I
Speaker 1: heard the sound. But as I looked toward the light,
Speaker 1: while wondering about what had taken place, I heard the
Speaker 1: scrapping and rustling of something moving in the bushes and
Speaker 1: deadfall just outside. I stood there, frozen, but I did
Speaker 1: have enough sense to switch off my light. Nothing ever
Speaker 1: terrified me as badly as when I was plunged back
Speaker 1: into darkness again. I've been on my own for many years,
Speaker 1: and that was the first time I could recall praying
Speaker 1: that someone would come and get me. I was so
Speaker 1: scared that I was having trouble breathing. It was as
Speaker 1: if I couldn't remember how. And then a giant silhouette
Speaker 1: ambled into view. It looked as though it could fill
Speaker 1: up the entire entrance to the tunnel. It couldn't. I mean,
Speaker 1: it was big, but it wasn't that big. It just
Speaker 1: looked that way to me. It came walking in like
Speaker 1: it owned the place, but it was favoring something a
Speaker 1: hurt leg or a foot, or maybe it had some
Speaker 1: pain somewhere higher up. I didn't know, and I didn't care.
Speaker 1: I was guessing that it had been hurt during that fight.
Speaker 1: I was guessing about the fight too. What I was
Speaker 1: seeing was the only thing I could imagine being large
Speaker 1: enough to have taken down that thing at my feet.
Speaker 1: It might have won the fight, but it had suffered
Speaker 1: in the doing. So. You could tell by how it
Speaker 1: was moving. It was looking deep into the tunnel, directly
Speaker 1: toward where that thing lay dead, and the next thing
Speaker 1: it was going to eventually see would be me. And
Speaker 1: I knew I didn't stand a chance against something that size,
Speaker 1: so when it turned its head to check behind it,
Speaker 1: I dropped immediately to the ground, and I used the
Speaker 1: dead thing as a shield or a barrier. I lay
Speaker 1: there on the ground that was covered in bat droppings,
Speaker 1: and I huddled up against that stinking animal for a
Speaker 1: long time without making a sound. I was listening to
Speaker 1: hear what the other one was doing, but no sounds
Speaker 1: came from it. After a while, I crept up onto
Speaker 1: my knees and I peeked out over the dead body
Speaker 1: and the one that had come in had laid itself
Speaker 1: down in between where I was and the tunnel entrance,
Speaker 1: and it was just sprawled out there. I didn't know
Speaker 1: if it was tired or hurt bad or just guarding
Speaker 1: its trophy after the kill. All I knew for sure
Speaker 1: was that the thing didn't know I was there, at
Speaker 1: least not yet, and that was the only good thing
Speaker 1: that had happened all day. I was guessing that I
Speaker 1: had enough of that bat smell on me from working
Speaker 1: that the thing up ahead couldn't smell me for three
Speaker 1: or four hours or so. I laid there. Every now
Speaker 1: and then I would hear it breathe loudly or growl
Speaker 1: or rumble, and it would shift its position now and then,
Speaker 1: but for the most part, it just sort of sat
Speaker 1: there or laid there. I kept wanting to sneeze, but
Speaker 1: I would pinch my nose until the feeling went away.
Speaker 1: My throat and eyes were burning, and I was beginning
Speaker 1: to wonder if I would ever get out of that
Speaker 1: tunneling back to my truck. At some point, I began
Speaker 1: asking myself if the thing up ahead might actually eat
Speaker 1: the thing that I was laying beside, and if it
Speaker 1: came back to do that. There was no way I
Speaker 1: could remain hidden. I couldn't slip past the thing up ahead,
Speaker 1: and I couldn't go anywhere but further back into the tunnel.
Speaker 1: But that was a dead end filled with thousands of bats,
Speaker 1: and I really was starting to come unwound. I couldn't
Speaker 1: stop my hands from shaking, and honestly, I really wanted
Speaker 1: to cry. I was so scared and frustrated. And then
Speaker 1: I heard the thing up ahead of me began to grunt,
Speaker 1: and I watched as it rolled over on to its
Speaker 1: knees and heaved itself off the ground until it was
Speaker 1: standing again. And when it moved forward, that is to say,
Speaker 1: it moved toward the dead one that I was hiding behind,
Speaker 1: I was sure that my life was about to be over.
Speaker 1: I didn't have any regret spring to mind, but I
Speaker 1: remember thinking that I would like a few more years,
Speaker 1: and that I didn't want to leave this world ripped apart,
Speaker 1: with all of my pieces scattered around for bats to
Speaker 1: crap on. That big thing up ahead looked toward the
Speaker 1: dead one and bellowed or roared so loudly that I
Speaker 1: ducked my head and I prayed that it would stop.
Speaker 1: The sound bouncing off that tunnel wall was not just terrible,
Speaker 1: it was deafening. I don't know why it stood there
Speaker 1: and yelled some animal thing I'll never understand, I don't guess.
Speaker 1: But when it had gone quiet again, it turned and
Speaker 1: began limping toward the entrance. I watched it until I
Speaker 1: couldn't see it any longer, and then I listened until
Speaker 1: I couldn't hear anything. That was when I finally stood
Speaker 1: for the first time in hours, and I started toward
Speaker 1: the entrance. I didn't run, but I didn't poke around either.
Speaker 1: I walked as fast as I could while listening. For
Speaker 1: all I knew, that thing could step back in the
Speaker 1: tunnel at any time. I reached the edge of the opening,
Speaker 1: and I squinted in the light, even though the sun
Speaker 1: was starting to fade a little. Only then did I
Speaker 1: remember all those buckets of bat droppings. As far as
Speaker 1: I know, they're still sitting in there where I left them,
Speaker 1: because I didn't go back for a single one of them.
Speaker 1: When I saw nothing outside, I ran like the devil
Speaker 1: was after me, and I didn't stop until I reached
Speaker 1: my truck, and I climbed in and I tried three
Speaker 1: or four times turned the key before I could control
Speaker 1: my hands enough to start the engine, and I backed
Speaker 1: up so far and so fast that I set a
Speaker 1: pretty deep ding in my truck bumper against a tree.
Speaker 1: But when I shifted into Ford, I wasn't caring about
Speaker 1: a dent in a galvanized bumper. All I cared about
Speaker 1: was getting home. I never ate that night after making
Speaker 1: it home. I didn't drink as many high lifes as
Speaker 1: I thought I might. All I did was sit there
Speaker 1: and tremble. After three showers, I could still smell the
Speaker 1: bat crap and that thing I had hidden behind. It
Speaker 1: was Monday morning before I started getting an appetite again.
Speaker 1: I stopped where I often did. I ate a bite
Speaker 1: before driving over to see mister bigg and Zoli. He
Speaker 1: was all smiles until I told him that I didn't
Speaker 1: have anything for him. Now. I didn't lie and make
Speaker 1: up a story about why I had failed to come through.
Speaker 1: I just didn't say much of anything. He was quiet
Speaker 1: when he took the thirty dollars that I offered him
Speaker 1: for the shovel in the twelve buckets that I had
Speaker 1: not come back with. He didn't seem all that mad,
Speaker 1: but he hasn't called me about any other work since
Speaker 1: that day. I guess he was disappointed that I'll let
Speaker 1: him down, but I can live with that. The fact
Speaker 1: that I was alive at all was enough for me.
Speaker 1: I haven't been back to my favorite place to fist
Speaker 1: since that day either. I don't know if I'm ever
Speaker 1: going to go back there. I thought about reporting what
Speaker 1: had happened to the wildlife people or the Sheriff's department.
Speaker 1: I didn't think they would believe me, not even enough
Speaker 1: to go in there and see for themselves. But if
Speaker 1: they did, I didn't want to take the chance of
Speaker 1: someone not being as lucky as I had been. I
Speaker 1: guess someone could happen up on that place and do
Speaker 1: that bit of poking around, but I had never seen
Speaker 1: much sign of anyone one going down there, not much
Speaker 1: around the pond and none around the mouth of that tunnel.
Speaker 1: So I just stayed quiet to everyone until I decided
Speaker 1: to write it down and send it to Cam's program.
Speaker 1: The listeners here are about the only ones I thought
Speaker 1: might believe me. So that's my story. Think of it
Speaker 1: what you will. I was not brave when it happened,
Speaker 1: and I was not brave enough to go back to
Speaker 1: try to hunt it down. I was scared, and I
Speaker 1: don't mind admitting it. You can all say or think
Speaker 1: whatever you want, but I know that you would have
Speaker 1: been scared too,