So you follow the boys’ path.
As you ascend the slope, you hear some screams, then a commotion ahead of you. You rush forward, and as you do, here come John Luke and Cole, straight toward you. Falling, stumbling, running.
Their swords are nowhere to be seen.
“What’s going on?” you shout, but soon John Luke and Cole are flying past you.
“Get out of here! It’s coming!” John Luke yells.
You steady your sword and hold your ground. Willie does the same next to you. You don’t hear anything, but that doesn’t matter.
Then you spot it. About twenty feet above you, crouching on the edge of a boulder, is a massive cougar. It’s just . . . immense. Its fur is silver gray, its face round, its ears erect. The animal stares down at you before unleashing a wicked, ripping roar. Fierce and high and cackling.
“That’s a big cat,” Willie says, holding his katana with both hands.
“It’s a cougar,” you correct him.
“I think it’s a mountain lion.”
“Yeah, same thing.”
“Or maybe it’s a puma.”
“Well, yeah,” you say.
“Or maybe a catamount.”
You give Willie a look. “Yeah, it’s a big cat. I know.”
“Maybe a panther.”
“Would you be quiet?”
All of a sudden, the cougar leaps from the rock to the ground close by you, and that’s when . . .
Wait a minute. It looks like Spider-Man.
The mountain lion doesn’t jump with all four paws. It leaps the way a man would leap.
And now it’s standing on two feet, right in front of you.
Now you notice what John Luke and Cole probably saw.
This is no ordinary mountain lion.
“That’s a dude,” Willie stammers.
It sounds crazy, but he’s right. This is some kind of big mountain lion–meets–man hybrid.
I’m losing my mind. I gotta be losing my mind.
“Hello, gentlemen.”
You look at Willie and know you’ve lost it.
“Did you say something?” you ask.
Willie shakes his head and points toward the creature. “He sounds exactly like the count.”
“That mountain lion didn’t just talk to us.”
“Guess again,” the voice says.
Then it rips out another ferocious roar.
You’ve seen and heard enough. Time to sheathe the sword and start running.
You think you hear Willie’s footsteps behind you, but you’re not sure. Brush and branches strike you in the face until you finally make it out of the trees and back onto the dirt path.
John Luke and Cole are standing there, waiting for you, arms hanging at their sides. The rain still pours.
“Did you see it?” John Luke asks.
“Yeah. But I don’t know what I saw.”
“It’s like a human mountain lion,” Cole says.
“No, it can’t be.”
“It’s like an allibeaver,” John Luke explains. “Half-alligator, half-beaver. Except this is half–mountain lion, half-human.”
“Half–Count Chocula,” Willie adds as he joins you, out of breath and doubled over.
“This is crazy,” you say.
Rain falls steadily as you wait a few more minutes. You stare up the slope again and draw your sword, just in case. But nothing comes.
“Did you see how it jumped?” Willie asks you. “It was like some weird-looking thing from a comic book.”
You nod. You’ll leave the island but will be forever haunted by the cougar-man.
The weirdest animal you’ve ever encountered.
The one that thankfully got away . . . until something pounces on you from behind and you’re knocked out cold.
Your story continues in “Cat’s Cradle” in Si in Space.
CRAZY IDEAS
ON THIS NIGHT—your third evening on the island—none of you see Count VanderVelde. But he left you a short and cryptic note.
Congrats on bagging the golden duck. Testy little fellas, aren’t they? I bet you’ve never brought home a duck that color, have you?
Tomorrow you will be hunting in the cave. To make your life (and mine) easier, you’ll only have three weapons to pick from this time: the crossbow, shotgun, and sword. Choose wisely.
You live to see another day.
Sleep tight!
Count VanderVelde
You’re just glad he didn’t say anything about not letting the bedbugs bite. Who knows what kind of bedbugs this island would have.
Before heading to bed, you talk in private with Willie. The boys have already gone to their rooms.
“Is it just me, or does this trip feel a bit strange?”
“You mean the gigantic boars and golden ducks?” Willie asks. “Yeah, they were strange.”
“Well, yeah. But weren’t you expecting something even more . . . exotic?”
“I don’t know. I just hope the count comes back to take us off this island. I’d hate to be stranded here.” Willie laughs, but you’re left with the thought, and it’s not a good one.
What if that actually did happen?
What if you were all left alone on this island? You don’t have any Internet or cell service. You haven’t been in touch with your wife for the last few days.
Maybe this is a prison.
Maybe the world will never hear from you again.
“Hey, you got that look on your face,” Willie says.
“What look?”
“The kind when you have all those ideas rumbling around in your head.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Go get some sleep,” Willie says.
You go to bed, but sleep doesn’t come.
You try and try, but you keep hearing scratching sounds.
I’m imagining that.
They seem to be coming from everywhere. Your bed. The ceiling above you. The walls around you. The floor underneath you. You can’t help thinking about bedbugs again.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Every time you get out of bed and turn on the lights, the noise stops. You examine your pillow and mattress, as well as the walls and floor, but nothing is there. The scratching starts again as soon as you flip the light switch.
Yeah, you don’t sleep well. But tomorrow is a new day.
A brand-new day for a new hunt.
Heading to the cave.
Only one question remains: Which weapon will you choose this time?
If you pick the crossbow, go here.
If you pick the shotgun, go here.
If you pick the sword, go here.
If you try to leave the island because you’re worried, go here.
MWAHAHAHA
THE SECOND TIME the candles go out in the living room isn’t because the wind blasts open the doors.
No. Something inside the room blows them out.
You’ve been waiting on the couch for the count to return. You’re almost asleep when you hear the puff of air and everything goes dark.
“What’s happening?” you ask, wiping your eyes. “Willie? Cole? John Luke?”
“Something’s in here with us,” Willie says in a low, soft tone.
“Where are you, Cole?”
“Over here.”
“I’m here too,” John Luke adds.
Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, but not fast enough. A streak of lightning glows through the window. The whole lodge seems to shake as the wind howls.
“Let me try to find the matches again,” John Luke says.
You hear movement, then a jolting, breaking sound. Something crumples to the floor.
“John Luke?” Willie shouts.
There’s more movement, more shuffling, more breaking.
Now you’re up and trying to help somehow.
You find the matches and light a candle. It stays lit long enough for you to see what’s happening.
There are cougars in the r
oom. Except these cougars are standing.
Really? Come on.
Then one of them with white hair like Winchester’s launches itself at you.
The candle goes out, and so does everything else.
The wind howls outside.
You can’t see the moon above, but you’re betting it’s a full one.
THE END
Start over.
Read “Let the Good Times Roll: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
THE HORROR
YOU STAND ON THE BEACH as rising waves crash onto shore. The wind picks up as the sun goes down. You hold your katana high and wait for the monster to raise its ugly head again.
You are the only one left.
It’s taken your group out one by one.
The relentless, soul-sucking beast.
A creature of the dark, with a heart residing in the night.
First it forced John Luke to go back to the lodge, his ankle twisted after getting stuck in a two-foot-deep hole.
Then it bit Cole on not one ankle but both. Wretched, deep bites. He too needed to return to the lodge for treatment and pain medicine.
The sickly, terrible animal.
You don’t even want to remember what it did to Willie. How it attached itself to his face, laughing all the while.
Oh yes, the brute laughs and laughs.
The possessed pariah protecting its turf on the beach.
Willie cried like a baby while screaming for you to get the thing off his beard. There was a point where you couldn’t tell the difference between the thing and Willie’s beard. It was a truly terrible sight.
You checked Willie out after you managed to knock the gopher away, and he simply had some scratches on his face. No big deal. He was being overdramatic.
But now it’s only you and the monster.
You know it will be nighttime soon. The creature (and its foul stench) will go back to the hole it came from, and you’ll miss your chance.
Hopefully you’re not going to let that happen.
I’ve come seeking revenge.
I’ve come for payback.
I will avenge my family.
You stand still, peering here and there. The holes on the beach are clearly visible even in the twilight. You have all been busy today. Not only fighting the foul creature of the night but also digging and trying to find him.
“Come on out,” you call.
It’s time for the final showdown.
Then suddenly a head appears out of the ground, a whole fifty yards from you. Here it comes. The evil, awful thing. The horrific monster.
It’s a gopher.
And it’s approaching you.
It’s running now.
Getting ready to attack.
You hold the sword, totally prepared, and then you think of Willie screaming as the thing launched itself at his face.
Closer now . . .
Your hands are shaking.
Your sword is poised to strike.
And then . . .
You ditch the sword and scram.
You’re not about to have that thing chewing on your head.
I’m no Evander Holyfield, and that gopher’s not Mike Tyson.
You’re not taking any chunks.
I mean chances. Not chunks.
You run and don’t look back. If you look back, the thing might sail through the air and start nibbling.
No.
No.
You were the last Robertson standing.
And you bolted.
But that’s because this is no ordinary gopher.
This is no ordinary island.
And this is no story Willie will ever hear. Jase running away from a gopher? Jase who?
Tomorrow you’ll be heading back home. Back to ordinary. Back to normal.
Thank goodness.
THE END
Start over.
Read “Let the Good Times Roll: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
STRANGER THAN FICTION
“CONGRATULATIONS, GENTLEMEN. The boar’s head will make a terrific trophy once it’s stuffed and mounted.”
It’s now evening, after the sun has slipped away and the wind has turned warm instead of hot. The table is set for another feast, and Count VanderVelde has made his entrance. You thought the count would probably be gone for the rest of the week, and you haven’t decided if this is a pleasant surprise or not.
“I’m not sure I really want to see that thing again,” you tell him. “I’d say it was already a bit overstuffed.”
“What was that, anyway?” Willie asks.
“Feisty suckers, aren’t they?” the count says.
“So explain this to me—when does an animal bleed purple?” You need to be clear on this point. “I mean—we’re not color-blind, right? Is it something special for this island?”
The host picks up a piece of fruit from his plate and devours it. “You’ll find lots of strange things on this island the longer you stay here. By the way—you have to try the strawberries. They’re impeccable.”
“Great,” you say.
“How is purple blood possible?”
“John Luke, please,” Willie says, shaking his head.
But you nod at your nephew with approval. The count never really answered the question. Willie obviously doesn’t want to appear rude in front of the master of ceremonies. You, on the other hand, aren’t so worried about that and continue John Luke’s line of questioning.
“So when you grow the hogs to look like that, does it mean their blood turns a certain color? Is it some DNA thing? Is this island like Jurassic Park?”
“Everybody knows truth is stranger than fiction,” Count VanderVelde says.
You’re beginning to get used to how he doesn’t answer a single question you ask.
“I bet you’re not going to tell me where we’re heading tomorrow, are you?”
The pork on your plate doesn’t look particularly appetizing. You’re not quite sure why.
“I will give you a clue. It involves water.”
“Either the beach or the river,” Cole says.
“Freshwater,” the count adds. “You’ll need to let me know which weapon you’d like to use.”
“We can use any, right?” Willie asks. “Including the dagger again if we want?”
“Yes. I’m feeling generous tonight.”
Which weapon will you take to the river tomorrow?
The crossbow? Go here.
The shotgun? Go here.
The rifle? Go here.
The sword? Go here.
The dagger? Go here.
The cowbell? Go here.
WOOF
YOU OPEN THE ROUND ORANGE DISH in front of you. Smoke rises from the top of it, but you can tell the smoke is cold—maybe it’s actually mist. And whatever’s inside is covered with a cloth.
“Chilled Chihuahua,” the count says. “Quite the treat in these parts of the world.”
You swallow hard and hope you didn’t actually hear what you thought the count said. “Chilled Chihuahua? As in the dog Chihuahua?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What part of the world thinks that eating a tiny dog is a good thing?”
“Have you ever eaten a burrito in a big city late at night?”
You shake your head, then glance at Willie.
“Yeah, he does have a point,” Willie says.
“What?” Cole exclaims.
The count goes on. “It’s chilled so you may fully taste the delicacy of the brain.”
You jerk back from the dish. “Wait a minute—this is dog brain?” You’ve eaten what some might consider unusual food before, but nothing like this. Where are the PETA police when you need them?
“Yes, chilled Chihuahua,” the count repeats in a matter-of-fact way.
When you get up the nerve to actually remove the cloth and see what’s in the container, you have to search. It takes you a minute to locate the small item.
“This looks like
an M&M.”
“Have you ever seen a Chihuahua?” he asks.
“Well, yeah, of course.”
“They’re not very smart, you know.”
Everyone is watching to see what you’ll do. It takes everything you have to put the spoon in your mouth. And a funny thing happens when you do.
It’s not that bad.
You swallow and shrug as the others wait for your reaction.
“What’s it taste like?” John Luke asks.
You’re still trying to figure out how to describe it.
“Well, you know those little hot dogs in SpaghettiOs? It’s kind of like them. The flavor, texture, everything.”
“Ew,” Willie says.
“No, they’re actually pretty good. Got any more in there?”
Go here.
DOUBLE VISION
THE WEIRDEST THING HAPPENS. You feel like you just dropped in here from another world. No, make that another life. And in that life, you were Willie. Talking about nothing like he usually does and acting crazy.
You touch your face to make sure the confusion is over. Feels familiar.
Okay. I’m Jase, not Willie.
Still, this is strange. You were in the middle of some kind of wild story, and now . . .
What am I doing here? Oh yeah, that’s right. Hunting in a cave on a mysterious island . . . for some kind of dangerous creature.
Cole, John Luke, and Willie are in here with you. You guys seem to be lost, and if you are, you know who’s to blame.
“I swear we’ve already come this way,” Willie says.
Yep, sure enough.
It’s cold, and your footsteps echo through the cavern. You have a rifle slung over your shoulder, your flashlight illuminating the way. Everybody’s walking around and making more noise than hunters should. It’s like all of you doubt you’ll find anything in here.
“I’m getting kinda hungry,” you say as the passage begins to slope downward. “Hey, Cole, you hungry?”
You glance over your shoulder but don’t see anything. Then you shine your flashlight behind you and see nothing but rock.
“Cole?”
“What’s up?” Willie asks, a few paces ahead of you. “Hey, John Luke, stop for a minute.”
Jase & the Deadliest Hunt Page 7