The Dangerous Adventures of Jeep Muldoon!

by Matt Musson

  I started to point out to Hondo that it was Summer and not likely to get cold tonight. But, before I could add my two cents, Mr. Bart spoke up.

  “You really ought to take more than a flashlight. You need some protection if you are going into these woods at night. This ain’t the city. This is the wilderness. You never know what you might find out there on a night like this. Snakes? Bears? Who knows? You might even run into the Wampus Cat and then you would be in some real trouble.”

  In the shadowed firelight, I could see Hildagrune make her best I’m a grown up woman and I am not about to let anyone tell me what to do face. But, she offered a conciliator comment.

  “Don’t worry about us, gentlemen. We won’t be traveling too far from camp.” To Hondo she added, “And rest assured, that there won’t be any all night huddling!”

  We were settled into a small valley field that butted up against a sheer cliff on the West and a forested strip backed up by a ridgeline over to the East. The couple walked off down the pathway leading over to the ridge. They pretty much disappeared in the darkness as soon as they left the camp fire. We could occasionally see the flashlight as they moved out of the clearing. But, as soon as they reached the trees they were gone.

  Back at the campfire, Bogdon had a question. “Mr. Bart? What was that you were warning Hildagrune about? You mentioned something called a Wampus Cat?”

  “Don’t tell me you boys have never heard of the Wampus Cat? Why the Wampus Cat is the meanest, scariest, deadliest creature to ever inhabit these mountains. Yes sir, I would rather walk into a den full of Grizzly bears, than to meet the Wampus Cat on a night like tonight.”

  We drew in close to the fire. This sounded like a good story was brewing.

  Thor asked for more details, “What is a Wampus Cat? What does it look like?”

  “Nobody is quite sure what the Wampus Cat is or where it come from,” Mr. Bart replied. “But, there are plenty of stories of how it came to inhabit these mountains. Some say it was an old witch that lived here 200 years ago who used to change into a giant cat to snatch her neighbors’ livestock and children. One day her changing was interrupted by a posse of neighbors headed by the local priest. To save herself, the old woman ran into the woods, unable to finish turning. So, she is forever stuck as half cat and half human.”

  Mr. Bart threw another log into the fire and wiped his hands before he continued.

  “Now the Cherokees say the Wampus Cat was an Indian maiden who defied the tribal elders. Instead of staying home and learning the female way, she would hunt the mountains wearing a cougar skin to hide the fact she was a woman. Somehow, through an Indian spell or a curse from the elders, the cougar skin became part of her. She became something that was not exactly human and not exactly cat.”

  About that time, Freddy snuck up behind Shad. Grabbing Shad’s neck from behind, Freddy squeaked, “Wampus Cat!”

  Shad was startled enough to fall forward and out of his camp chair. But, he picked himself up and sat right back down – immediately after frogging Freddie in retaliation.

  The mountain man ignored the squabble and continued with his tale.

  “I don’t rightly know which story is true. Maybe neither? But, what I do know is something lurks in these mountains at night. It hunts with the skill of a cat, but it walks upright with red eyes glowing like hot coals in the darkness.”

  “Have you ever seen the Wampus cat, Mr. Bart?” I asked.

  “Yes, boy. I seen the Wampus Cat. On a night like this, it was… I spent the day checking some traps on the other side of the ridge and somehow I let the night sneak up on me. Course, I wasn’t worried at first. I’d been on these mountains plenty of times after dark. But, there was something different about that night.”

  We leaned forward, drawn in by his words.

  “At first it was just a feelin’,” said the Mountain Man. “But, then I heard the leaves rustle or a spotted bush moving and I knew I was not alone. With my rifle in one hand and my hand axe in the other, I was trekking slowly down the trail. And, then the wind changed and I smelled it.”

  “You smelled it?” Bog asked.

  “That’s right. I smelled it. It had the musk of a skunk and that sweet sickly smell of something long dead.”

  “What did you do then?” gasp Bogdon.

  “I ran, boy. I ran down that mountain. Behind me I heard what sounded like the yowl of a panther, but I just kept running for all I was worth. I could hear those footsteps crunching through the leaves behind me and I kept running faster. It seemed like a mile, but it could have been five. I was so scared that time didn’t seem to be passin’. Finally, I was plumb run out. My chest was heavin’. My lungs was burnin’. I could hardly move another step forward. So, I lifted up my axe and I cocked my rifle and I turned around to face the thing.”

  The big man had our attention now and he knew it.

  “There it was. Its eyes where glowing red. Its mouth was open and moonlight gleamed off spittle and long deadly fangs. It started walking forward screamin’ bloody murder. I did what any man when do when faced by this unknown terror. I aimed my rifle and fired.”

  “Bamm. Bamm. Bamm. One after another I pumped bullets into the Wampus Cat but it kept coming. When I ran out of ammunition I swung the axe as hard as I could, but the Wampus Cat reached out with one hand and ripped it from my fingers. I went for my knife – but, it was too late…”

  We were gripped by his story!

  “Did you kill it?” Freddie asked.

  “Did you scare it off?” Shad almost screeched.

  “What happened?” Bog demanded.

  Mr. Bart waited as the suspense grew. But then he matter-of-factly replied, “Why, it killed me of course. It ripped open my chest and ate my heart while it was still beatin.’”

  “Aawww man!” we groaned as the old mountain man laughed out loud. The old goat had gotten us good.

  “So there’s really no such thing as a Wampus Cat?” asked Toby.

  The mountain man looked up and his eyes glowed in the reflected fire light.

  “Now, I’m not saying that boys. The fact is I’ve hunted these mountains everyday for over fifty years. There’s things up there I ain’t never seen and I don’t think I want to. I’ve heard the yowl on dark nights. And, I’ve found animals torn to pieces – not like no wolf or bear would do eatin’ ‘em. Something tore ‘em apart just for fun. And, I have smelled a rank smell coming up over that ridge line.”

  His voice got spooky again.

  “Was it the Wampus cat? Was it something even worse? I don’t know. But, if I were you, I wouldn’t be wandering around these mountains in the dark. I don’t know what you boys are getting’ paid to count coons – but you can’t spend money if you’re eat up.”

  We sat there pondering Mr. Bart’s words until Hondo got up and brushed off his pants.

  “Well, I hate to break up this little party. But, a cowboy aint ought a stay up late if he’s a working in the morning. Breakfast is at 7 am sharp. And, them biscuits ain’t gonna bake themselves. So, I think we ought to tell Mr. Bart goodnight and turn in.”

  We said goodnight to Mr. Bart and he headed off down the trail towards town. We had set up our tents earlier – so there was not much to our evening routine. All we had to do was brush our teeth and crawl into our sleeping bags.

  I took a swig from my canteen, gargled and spit. Then I asked, “Hondo? Do you believe in the Wampus Cat?”

  ‘Course I do,” answered Hondo. “And I believe in Fairy Godmothers, magical ponies, good honest cowboys and other miraculous creatures.”

  That night I lay awake in my bedroll for quite a while thinking about Wampus Cats and Raccoons and Cowboy cooks, before I finally drifted off to sleep.

  “Wake up, Jeep! Wake up. Something’s outside!”

  My tent mate Toby was shaking me awake. I did not feel like I had been sleeping long. I was groggy and I had
trouble getting up. I opened my eyes and saw through the tent flap it was still dark outside. Toby was beside me. He was bent over and shaking my shoulder.

  “Get up, you pillow hound! Something’s outside!”

  I suddenly snapped awake. “Is it the Wampus Cat?” I gasped

  “Not unless the Wampus Cat has engines,” replied Toby curtly. “Now get out of bed and come see this.”

  I wiggled out of my sleeping bag and stepped from the tent. It was dark outside. With the fire died down to a few glowing coals, it was darker than when we went to bed. It had also cooled down significantly. I did not need to snuggle anyone – but I did want to stop and pull my jeans on.

  “Hurry,” said Toby. “It’s coming back for another pass and you’re gonna miss it!”

  I gave up on the jeans and walked out of the tent in my underwear and flip flops. The sky was so clear it seemed like there were a million stars shining down on us and I saw right away what Toby had gotten me up for. Above a mountainside off to the North, there was a big black object blocking out the stars as it moved across the sky towards us. I could hear the rumble of distant engines.

  As it approached, it got bigger and much louder. Its engines made so much noise the chuck wagon began to rattle.

  The aircraft showed no running lights. But, suddenly it switched on a spotlight, illuminating another object in the sky in front of it. The two objects appeared to be headed for a midair collision. As the first object approached the second object the light gave us more detail. The second thing appeared to be a sphere dangling at the end of a line stretching up into the darkened heavens.

  I grimaced at the last second, expecting to hear a crash or see some sort of explosion. But, the two objects came together without much impact. In fact, the spotlight switched off and the aircraft rumbled straight over us like nothing happened.

  The chuck wagon sounded like it was going to shake apart as the big engines came powering overhead. I was vaguely aware Toby and I were no longer alone. We had been joined our fellow Rangers.

  Freddie, who can almost see in the dark, spoke up as the noise receded. “It’s a four engine prop job, like a C-130. Why doesn’t it have its lights on?”

  “What did it run into?” asked Toby. “Was it an airplane crash? Did something go down over there?”

  “I didn’t hear any crash and I didn’t see any explosion,” said Charlie.

  “Maybe we should get our night vision gear and go search for wreckage,” I suggested.

  “I don’t know what it was – but it wasn’t a collision” said Freddie. “It looked more like the big plane was trying to snag something out of mid air.”

  “Just the same”, I said. “Maybe we should go see what we can find.”

  “I think we should wait until the sun comes up,” replied Bogdon softly. “I don’t think we should leave camp right now.”

  “Why wait?” I argued. “Let’s head out before trail goes cold!”

  “Do you smell something?” asked Toby.

  “What do you mean?” I barked impatiently. I was anxious to get out into the woods right now.

  But, then the wind shifted and I caught a whiff.

  I thought for a minute. “Maybe you guys are right?”

  Charlie made it official, “There’s no sense going off half cocked. We’ll get up in the morning, pack a few things and head out right after breakfast.”

  Toby and I went back to the tent. But, the truth is we played Gameboy until the eastern sky started changing from black to grey. About the time the high thin clouds started to catch the rising sun, we finally fell back asleep.

  By the time Hondo routed us out of our sleeping bags the next morning, the sickly sweet skunk odor was gone.

  **********

  Speaking of smells – it was the smell of Hondo frying bacon that finally got us out of bed the next morning. We awoke to find him working over the campfire. Bacon was browning in giant cast iron skillet. In another skillet, he was making eggs to order. An enormous Dutch oven covered with glowing coals was baking biscuits inside. With plenty of fruit and juice and milk, it was a breakfast worth getting up for.

  “Eat up, boys,” Hondo ordered. “We don’t have no refrigerator. Anything we don’t eat gets thrown out for the Wampus Cat.”

  To Shad, that was like a challenge. He grabbed a camp chair and a tin plate.

  “Well my Mother didn’t raise me to waste food,” he said. “Pass me over some biscuits and some butter. I want to cleanse my pallet.”

  “With a pallet full of biscuits?” Freddie snickered.

  Soon, we all pitched in and helped Shad eat through a couple dozen eggs and at least two pounds of bacon.

  Shad was in rare form. The mountain air seemed to have sharpened his already razor edged appetite. He crunched through the last few rashers.

  “Hondo, is that all of the biscuits?”

  Hondo smiled. He was clearly impressed by Shads ability to eat. But, like every great artist, he liked to see his work appreciated.

  “Boy, I think you finally cleaned me out. What was that? Eleven or twelve you ate?”

  “Fourteen,” Shad answered nonchalantly. “Fourteen biscuits, six eggs and a couple handfuls of bacon. That ought a tide me over ‘til lunchtime. Now lunchtime, that’s when I really get hungry.”

  Hondo shook his head in awe, “I may have to wander down to the general store and stock up on a few things, then. I wouldn’t want you boys to have to walk away unsatisfied.”

  Hondo started organizing his post-breakfast routine.

  “Freddie, why don’t you and Bogdon pickup them plates, scrape ‘em off into the garbage and bring ‘em over to the wash bucket. Charlie, you and Thor come over to the wagon and give me a hand downloading. I got me a floppy disk.”

  Charlie perked up, “Do you have a computer in your chuck wagon, Hondo?”

  “I ain’t got no computer,” Hondo spit distastefully. “I’ve got a big stack of firewood needs downloading off the wagon onto the ground. I’d do it myself – but I got me a floppy disk in my back from chopping it all day yesterday.”

  “Do you have a keyboard in there, Hondo?” asked Freddie.

  “Sure do” said Hondo. “That’s where I hang my truck keys.”

  Freddie continued, “What about software?”

  “Them dang plastic forks and knives and such? Naw, I prefer the real thing.”

  “A hard drive?”

  “Gettin’ home in the winter when there’s snow on the ground.”

  “A micro chip?”

  “That is what's at the bottom of the potato chip bag.”

  “Re-boot?”

  “What you do right before bedtime, when you have to go to the outhouse.”

  Freddie had met his match. He smiled and shook he head in admiration. Then he turned his attention back to cleaning the breakfast plates.

  As soon as Thor and Charlie finished stacking firewood, we packed up our hiking gear. Then, we told Hildagrune we were heading out to check the feeding stations up North and took off down up trail.

  It was a beautiful morning, still cool in the shade of the big hardwood trees. As we crossed over a couple of clear running mountain streams, we scouted out places to return to with our fishing gear. We kept moving deeper into the mountains, occasionally stopping to check our GPS locators and home in on feeding stations. Each feeding station was attached to a tree about four or five feet up. It had a food bucket and a motion activated infrared camera. When we arrived at each location, we checked for footprints. We downloaded pictures from the memory card. And, we refilled the food bucket with raccoon chow. (I bet you didn’t know they even made raccoon chow.) Whatever we found, Toby carefully recorded in his blackberry along with the time and date.

  For two hours we followed a deer trail and hit four separate feeding stations. Then, we climbed a small outcropping on one of the Northern mountainsides. Fro
m there we had a pretty good view of the area below us, and we scanned for results of the midnight midair collision. We couldn’t see any wreckage or fiery crash sites or anything, so I concentrated for a few minutes listening for and sound of metal.

  There was lots of general background noise. People had been camping in and traveling through these mountains for years. The place is littered with old axe heads, horseshoes and broken plows. The stuff is scattered throughout the area. But, when I listened intently and really focused I could narrow down two larger targets. Facing our camp almost directly south, one target was west of the trail we had taken up the hillside. The other target was coming from over a ridgeline pretty far to the east.

  We decided to head back down the mountainside on a Southwesterly course. This would allow us to check out the smaller target, while generally heading back toward camp. It was already midmorning and Shad’s stomach was beginning to rumble.

  After 30 minutes of carefully picking our way down the mountain we reached flatter ground. Chopping through some dense thicket, we were making our way to a stand of pines when Toby spotted something.

  “Hey guys. Check out that pine tree over there. The limbs are all torn off.”

  Following Toby’s outstretched finger, we saw what he was talking about. Twenty yards away was a large white pine with all the limbs on one side sheared off from the top down. It looked like a giant with a machete had hacked off one whole side of the tree.

  Scrambling over to the site, we quickly removed a stack of the fallen branches. At the bottom, resting in a nest of pine needles was a shiny egg shaped object about the size of a large beach ball.

  Thor grabbed it with both hands and pulled. He lifted the object out of a deep oblong indentation in the earth and pine needle thatch. Thor rolled it over so we could get a better look.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It looks like a giant container of silly putty,” Freddie observed.

  “Maybe it’s a bomb?” Shad offered.

  Bogdon and Toby carefully examined the object.

  “No heat shield,” said Bogdon.

  “No scorching either,” Toby observed. “But, look. There’s a broken handle. It’s probably where the cord was attached.”