by Matt Musson
“Yep,” Bog agreed. “That’s probably why the pickup failed last night. When the handle ripped off the whole thing went into freefall.”
Bogdon leaned over. “Here, give me a hand.”
Together, he and Toby lifted the object off the ground.
“It’s pretty light,” Bog declared. “It’s not hollow, but it’s not packed solid – like a bomb.”
Bogdon slid off his backpack and searched through it. He pulled out a portable tool set. “Let’s pop it open and see if there’s a prize inside.”
While Toby steadied the object, Bogdon maneuvered his battery powered screwdriver. In seconds he popped off four screws from a metal panel and pried off the cover with the blade of his pocketknife. He handed the metal plate over his shoulder without even looking back. Since I was closest, I took it from him.
Bog took out his flashlight and shined it inside.
“Electronics. Circuit boards. Batteries. It’s all solid state stuff, but it looks like it took quite a blow when it hit the ground. Everything’s all jumbled up inside.”
He stood up, turned around and addressed the club.
“I believe it is part of some sort of information gathering platform. It does not show any signs of re-entry burns nor does it look like it’s built for outer space. It is probably part of a drone, a spy plane or a UAV.”
“An SUV?” Freddie questioned. “How would a sport utility vehicle have dropped that egg from the sky?”
“Not an SUV, a UAV. It’s an ‘unmanned aerial vehicle’. It’s like a great big radio controlled airplane the military uses to spy on what’s happening below. Anyway, when its data banks are full, it drops one of these balls via parachute. That way, it does not have to land. It can stay on station and keep watching.”
Toby took over.
“That’s what we spotted last night. The blacked out plane attempted to snag the line between the parachute and this thing. But, for some reason there was a weak handle on the object that was yanked off. The parachute was disconnected and this thing dropped out of the sky like a bowling ball.” Toby pointed to the side of the tree, “It hit the tree and snapped off every limb on the way down. The good news is those tree limbs probably slowed it enough so it did not disintegrate when it hit the ground.”
Bogdon added, “We’ll know more when we get it back to camp. We can examine it properly there.”
He held out his hand and I placed the cover into it. Like the tire man on a NASCAR pit crew, Bog zipped those screws back in place.
Meanwhile, Charlie took his machete and went to work on one of the larger broken limbs. He hacked off the branches until he had a smooth strong pole. Using some climbing rope and a rain poncho, we wrapped up the object and tied it to the center of the pole. This allowed bearers, one at either end, to rest the pole on their shoulders.
Taking turns on the pole, we lugged the big egg back down the mountain and found the trail that led to our camp. It seemed pretty light when we started back to base, but the farther we went the heavier the thing seemed to get. By the time we walked into camp and deposited the object in Bogdon’s tent, we were bushed.
As tired as we were from a morning of touch climbing and carrying the egg, when we got back to camp Hondo was ready with an amazing lunch that perked us right back up. He grilled hotdogs over the campfire and used a huge black cast iron pot to deep fry cherry pies.
Wow! Hondo’s hot fried pies and cold sweet tea were worth the trip all by themselves!
After we stuffed down all we could hold, Thor, Shad, Freddie and I did KP duty, while Bogdon, Toby and Charlie got busy disassembling the egg. Once everything was cleaned and put away, I headed back to my tent for a little siesta. I was ready to sleep away the heat of the day and let my lunch digest.
I guess the salvage trip took more out of me than I realized. Or, maybe it was because I missed out on a lot of sleep the night before. Anyway, I slept long and hard. When I finally stirred it was the middle of the afternoon.
I wandered over to Bogdon’s tent and Bog, Toby and Charlie were still hard at it. Several external plates had been removed from the egg and there were components and pieces of hardware spread out across a bedroll. They were hard at it and there was not enough room for another body in the tent. So, I wandered over to a shady spot on the edge of the clearing where Thor was working on his fishing tackle.
“Are you thinking about wetting a line?” I asked.
“Yep. Yesterday morning, before the rest of you got here, Hildagrune and I put out some feeding stations North East of the camp. Just this side of the ridge up there is a stream that spills into the clearest, sweetest little string of trout pools that you’ll ever lay eyes on. The water trickles out of each hole and moves on down the mountainside. I know there are some big ole brook trout in that stretch that are just waiting for us. What about it, Jeep? You want to sneak away and try our luck? Looks like the science team is going to be occupied all afternoon?”
“That’s what I came for,” I replied. “Let me grab my gear!”
**********
Heading up the trail to the North, it was a long steady climb. Most of the way we paralleled the stream and at couple of spots I suggested we stop and try our luck. But, Thor was persistent. So, we kept moving up the mountain and closer to his brook trout Shangri-La. It was nearly 5 o’clock when we broke through a thick bunch of mountain laurel and there it was.
It was clear and clean, just like Thor had described it. The shallow and slow moving water was like a series of ponds, each isolated by a small waterfall. It followed the curve of the mountain and stretched out of sight. Each section was like a separate world to be fished. There were sunny spots and shady spots. There was underwater structure. There were deeper holes and shallower, faster moving segments. If you sat down and drew up a perfect trout stream – this was exactly what it would be like.
It was not long before we had our lines in the water. I was using orange salmon eggs and Thor had some sort of trout nugget he had seen on TV. And, almost immediately we started getting strikes. Slowly we moved up the stream casting to likely looking spots and almost every time some hungry little brookie took the bait.
There was a creel limit of four each in this part of the state, but we could easily have taken three times that many. And that wasn’t counting the undersized ones that fought so hard they thrilled us almost as much as their bigger brothers.
It was an amazing afternoon. We weren’t fishing – we were catching! And, the weather was beautiful. It was just hot enough that we stepped into the stream and let the cool water fill our tennis shoes to refresh us. For hours, the fish took everything we threw at them. It was magical.
Finally, with the sun going down and dusk approaching, we finally tore ourselves away. We knew we had to get back before the rest of the club started to worry. Besides, I had a couple of two pound brook trout in the canvas covered wicker creel I got for my birthday. I could not wait to show them off to the guys.
The light faded quicker than we expected. And, walking back down the mountain and under the thick forest canopy very quickly it got hard to see. We tripped over a couple of roots and walked into some thorny vines but we were still making good time. We were about a third of the way to camp when we heard ‘the snarl.’
I call it a snarl. It might have been a cross between a snarl and a yowl. It was clearly loud and feline.
Thor and I stopped in our tracks and looked at each other. Then we heard it again! This time is was louder and closer. Without saying a word, Thor and I started double-timing it down the mountain.
It was a long way back to camp but at least it was downhill. So, we kept moving faster and faster. Every couple of minutes we heard the snarl again. Each time it seemed as close as or closer than before. Whatever it was, it was clearly following us. I had the unsettling thought that we were being hunted.
Every minute it w
as getting darker and harder to see. Thor and I kept smacking into branches and hitting thorny vines that ripped through our clothes. But, we ignored the scrapes and slaps and kept moving.
There is an area where the mountain flattens out. The slope comes to an abrupt halt and the upper valley begins. When we hit this section, Thor yelled, “We’re almost there”.
Calling on the last of our strength we speeded up our pace. Suddenly, like hitting a bottom step by surprise, my knee locked up. I lost my footing and went sprawling out onto the forest floor. When I tumbled to a stop, my hands and legs were scraped and bleeding. My stuff was scattered everywhere. I pulled myself up on my knees and without thinking I started to gather up fishing gear.
“Leave it!” Thor ordered. “Let’s get out of here!”
Throwing down his pole, Thor reached over with both hands and pulled me up to my feet. Together we sprinted for the tree line in the distance. Behind us we heard one more snarl that seemed as loud as any that had come before. We dashed from the forest and popped out into the camp clearing.
Finally out from under the canopy, it was much lighter. Night had not completely fallen. And, there were still high orange streaks in the Western sky. But, in front of us we could see the guys eating supper around the campfire.
Jogging those last few paces into the fire light, we arrived completely out of breath. Bending over and grabbing our knees, we were too exhausted to do anything but gasp. Our chests were heaving and it was a minute or two before we were able to talk.
Freddie spoke before we caught our breath.
“You didn’t have to run home,” he said. “We saved you some dinner.”
I did not know whether to laugh or smack him!
**********
I thought the guys were going to make fun of us when we told them of our encounter with the Wampus Cat. But, they were okay about it.
Toby suggested the Wampus Cat might instead have been a mountain lion or a bobcat, since both creatures were known to pass through this area on occasion. Regardless, he agreed that walking along in the dark with a creel full of fish was a bad idea with a large hungry feline on the loose.
Since we had not smelt the creature, nor spotted any glowing eyes, Thor and I began to relax about the meeting. By the time we finished eating dinner, we were ready to believe that it probably was just a mountain lion chasing a trout dinner. Before we turned in for the evening, we made plans to head out bright and early the next day. We would gather up our fishing gear and look for cat signs.
I went to bed right after dinner, hoping that I would find my new creel in the morning. It had been a long day and I was exhausted. I fell asleep as soon as my head the pillow. But, all night long I tossed and turned. My dreams were filled with burning red eyes. And, I ran and ran. But every time I turned around, the Wampus Cat was getting closer and closer. I kept hearing that snarl and seeing those gleaming white fangs. It was a relief when morning finally came.
**********
Puffy grey clouds covered the early morning sky when I rolled out of bed the next day. I heard Hondo rattling around with the chuck wagon.
While the rest of the team were still sacked out, I wandered over to the camp fire and started trying to build it up for cooking breakfast. I reached down and picked up a piece of firewood and then I let it drop. There was some kind of goop all over my hand where I touched the wood.
I looked intently at my palm and then I sniffed it gingerly, trying to figure out what the stuff was. As soon as I got it up to my nose I caught a strong fishy odor. I looked back down at the wood pile. There were entrails scattered all around! When I spotted a sliced up tail and part of a head, I realized it was the remains of at least one of the brook trout I had caught on the previous day.
Quickly surveying the camp and the tree line, I relaxed when I did not spot anything unusual. I took a deep breath and told myself that probably some raccoon had dragged the fish into camp and consumed it for a midnight snack. I went back to working on the fire. I brushed off any visible fish parts from the logs as I fed them into the flames. Before long I had a real blaze going. I sat back into one of the camp chairs. That’s when I spotted something hanging off the side.
It was my creel.
Whatever wondered into camp last night and devoured that brook trout, also carried in my birthday present. But, no raccoon would have gone to the trouble of closing my creel and hanging it neatly from the back of the chair! Something else had paid us a visit.
**********
“The Wampus Cat is not scaring us off this mountain. I don’t know about the rest of you guys – but I am sick and tired of being messed with!”
It was after breakfast; we had snuck off into the forest and sat down on a couple of fallen logs to have an official Club meeting. Out of earshot of Hondo and Hildagrune we were getting down to business. The mood was angry. Bogdon was speaking. And, although people think he is kind of shy, this morning he was forceful. His face was red and he was definitely on a roll.
“Mr. President, fellow club members, up until now we have ignored the Wampus Cat because we thought that it did not exist. But, clearly someone or something is yanking our chain and I refuse to sit by and continue being played the fool.”
“What if it really is a Wampus Cat?” Freddie asked.
Bogdon thought for a minute.
“As Chief Scientist of the Granite Falls Rangers I can only answer one way: So what? So what if it’s a real Wampus Cat? If we capture it we’ll be international heroes. Then we can give it to Hildagrune for study and she’ll probably make full professor.”
Bogdon paused and let that thought sink in.
“On the other hand, if it turns out someone is pretending to be a Wampus Cat because they enjoy messing with a bunch of middle schoolers… Well, they have picked the wrong bunch of middle schoolers to mess with this time!”
Bog was on a roll now.
“Mr. President, I propose a call to action. I recommend that Company A of the Granite Falls Rangers set a trap for, and capture, the Wampus Cat for the purpose of scientific study and mostly because I am tired of being jerked around!”
“Second, second,” yelled Freddie and Shad.
The motion carried unanimously.
**********
After the vote, we returned to the campsite and began setting up a warm reception for our nightly visitor. The first thing we did was move our tents away from the fire. In fact, we actually moved them some distance so they backed up to sheer rock face behind us that stretched up about 60 feet. With that cliff at our back, it cut our defensive perimeter in half.
We spent a good deal of the morning chopping brush so we had clear fields of fire for our paint ball arsenal. Each paintball marker was taken apart, cleaned and reassembled and we made sure every air tank was charged. In the center of our line of tents we dug out a pit. Of course, we could not dig it very wide or very deep in just one day, so we set up a heavy tarp weighted at the sides. Using bent saplings we spring loaded the tarp to pitch over and trap anything that fell into the pit.
Toby begged a couple of old burlap bags that Hondo had in his chuck wagon. He spent some time weaving them with twigs and twine. At either end of the tents we dug two spider holes and these two Ghillie covers were perfect camouflaged tops.
After all the digging and weaving, we threw on our cut off shorts and headed over to the Ridge, east of the camp to check some feeding stations. Back tracking our marathon run of the previous evening, we found our fishing gear right where we left it. Boy, I was angry as I gathered up my stuff! My palms and knees were scraped up and scabbed over and my back was bruised from the fall. Every time I bent over it hurt and that just made me madder.
We were all hot, dirty and angry. We needed to take a break to clean up, cool off and get our perspective back. So, after we gathered up our fishing equipment, we found a deep hole in the little stream with a clean ro
cky bottom. It was not large – but boy was it cold. It felt like the snow on top of the mountain had just melted and was trickling right down to us. For an hour we jumped and splashed and had the best time ever.
Charlie kept ducking under the water and swimming down to the bottom where it was coldest. Before long his skin was white and his lips were blue. He finally had to crawl out on a large rock slab nearby so he could shiver in the sunshine.
Freddie kept turning over rocks, until he caught a couple of reddish orange salamanders. He named one Zach and the other Cody. Shad built a little raft by weaving willow sticks together, but neither Zach nor Cody fancied ‘the sweet life’ onboard it. They kept diving off the raft and swimming like small orange alligators into the cold clear water below.
The chill of the water was like an anesthetic for my scrapes and bruises. I quit worrying about them and settled down to making a really excellent squirt pistol by cupping my palms and fingers together. Soon, Bogdon, Toby and I were involved in a squirting war that I won hands down. Once, they realized they were outclassed, my two opponents surrendered and all three of us ganged up on Charlie.
He was laid out in the sunshine with his eyes closed and we kept seeing who could squirt water up his nose.
Refreshed, clean and ready to eat a horse, the Rangers finally headed back to camp. My tennis shoes gurgled and splurted water as I slowly wandered down the same hill I had fled down the night before.
I caught Thor’s eye. “No more running?”
“No more,” he said. “From here on in we stand and fight!”
Thor and I high fived with gusto. Tonight was going to be different!
**********
Returning to camp, we found Hondo had a dinner laid out that was certainly up to his previous standards. The menu consisted of venison slow roasted with onions, potatoes and carrots. Hondo stirred up a nice brown gravy to top the meat and vegetables. He also supplied a half dozen loaves of toasted garlic bread.
Sitting around the campfire eating, Shad got curious. “What is venison? I don’t think I’ve ever had it before?”
