It started a couple of hours ago as you hiked up the mountain. You all got soaked when it began to rain, but that wasn’t a big deal.
The big deal started with the strange sounds. Loud, ferocious cat noises. Everyone assumed they belonged to a cougar. To some kind of mountain lion.
So you all searched the area around this cliff.
John Luke was the first to spot it.
He fired a shot with his crossbow and actually nicked it.
But then he was out of there.
When he reached you and Willie, he was screaming with terror. You couldn’t understand what he was saying at first. It sounded like “The mountain lion talks—it talked to me.”
Surely John Luke had a little too much fun in the sun the day before. Or maybe the strange food and stranger animals have gotten to him.
Then Cole came out of nowhere, screaming that the mountain lion had legs like a human.
At that point, you were beginning to think something was wrong with both of them.
But that was before you saw it.
That was before you heard it.
No, it wasn’t mocking you. It wasn’t laughing.
No. It sounded like . . .
That can’t be. So don’t even think that because there’s no way.
But you know what you saw and heard.
You saw the mountain lion walking on its hind feet like some kind of weird something.
What do I call it? A mountain man? A coug-man? A man-cat?
At that moment, the mountain lion opened its mouth and said, “You act like you’ve never seen a cat walking on two legs before, Mr. Robertson.”
The voice sounded just like Count VanderVelde’s.
So he’s secretly half-cougar, and I’ve secretly lost my mind?
The cougar raced up the mountain before you could respond.
You sent the boys down to the lodge after that. It’s only you and Willie now.
Silently you wait with the crossbow aimed toward the flat field just past the steep incline. Willie has gone up to draw the lion out of hiding. He’s the bait today.
So this time, maybe I’ll accidentally take off a chunk of his side with my arrow.
But jokes aside, there is nothing to laugh at.
This is crazy, and you just want to get out of here.
You keep thinking, Am I dreaming? But the rain and the ache in your legs and the fear in your gut mean this is definitely not a dream.
Deep breath in, deeper breath out.
Stay focused, Jase. Focus.
Soon a sopping-wet, hideous creature emerges from the dark. Yes, he happens to be your brother, but that doesn’t change the fact that Willie’s running in complete and utter terror. You’ve never seen him so scared.
“It’s comin’! It’s comin’!”
He rushes up to you, stumbling on the way.
Then you see it. The massive, silver-gray mountain lion. This time it’s running on all four legs. But as it steps onto the flat ground just past your position, it stands on its two hind legs, tall and menacing.
You don’t hesitate.
You fire a shot that hits the creature in the neck. Then you reload fast and fire off another shot.
The hulking mountain lion goes down.
“Did you get it?” Willie asks, panting.
“I got it. Two shots.”
He’s got the crossbow in his hands once again. “Okay, come on. Let’s go see what that thing is.”
You reload your crossbow just in case, then head over to check it out.
But when you get to where the mountain lion should be, you don’t see anything.
“Where is it?” Willie asks.
“It was right here.”
“I’m not seeing anything.”
“It was right there!”
You peer up at the rocky mountainside above you and all around, but you don’t see a thing.
“I shot it,” you insist. “It went down.”
“Well, it didn’t stay down.”
For the next hour, the two of you search for it. You spot a little blood—it’s a strange grayish-red color. The downpour has washed away all but a few traces of the bloody trail, and rain continues to fall.
Eventually you’re forced to give up.
“I know I shot that thing,” you tell Willie. “I definitely wounded it.”
You don’t want to ask Willie about the voice you heard. The fact that it looked like a human on its hind feet is one thing, but the voice . . .
And the fact that it sounded like Count VanderVelde?
That’s just insanity.
But you know insanity. You know it quite well.
Go here.
CHEESY
THE YELLOW PLATE in front of you contains melted cheese over . . . something. Melted cheese over lots of somethings.
“Ah yes, you have the melt,” Count VanderVelde says.
“The melt?” you ask. “I know what a patty melt and a tuna melt are, but what kind of melt is this?”
“Well, this is the weekly melt. We collect various things in a pot over a week and then put melted cheese on them.”
You start picking at the food. “This looks like a fly.”
“Yes, that’s possible. The pot can collect those over a week. We put it outside.”
“You put a pot outside? For what possible reason?”
“It’s a long-standing tradition that the island will feed you. That’s what the natives think.”
“The natives?” you ask. “Are these people who are still here on the island?”
He smiles without answering. Figures. You take a bite, and the flavor reminds you of cheddar cheese and . . .
“I swear this tastes like dirt.”
“You are eating a portion of the island. You will forever have a part of this place within you.”
“Maybe I’m okay with just having West Monroe inside me.”
The others might normally laugh, but they’re having issues with their own food.
Go here.
MORE COWBELL
“WE LOOK LIKE A BUNCH OF FOOLS,” you say as you glance forward at John Luke, Cole, and Willie, who’s leading the pack as point man.
Each of them is carrying a cowbell in one hand and a drumstick in the other.
“Then you look no different from normal,” Willie says.
“I’m holding a cowbell.”
“You’re the one who picked it!”
“What if it doesn’t even work?” You’ve been second-guessing ever since leaving the complex.
Winchester told you to make sure the target is at least five feet in front of you before engaging the cowbell. You’re more curious than anything to see if this really, truly is a weapon.
“Why don’t we find out what this baby can do?” you ask. If nothing else, you could throw it at the target. Or hit the animal over the head with it. Or ring it really loud as a diversionary tactic.
“Yeah, let’s try it out,” John Luke says.
You’re sweating like a dog and seemingly have been walking in circles for the entire morning. You simply want to take a break and have some fun.
“Okay. Y’all stand behind me. I’m going to give it a try.”
You’re near a slight opening in the woods where the blue sky can be seen. You hold the cowbell out and strike it hard with the drumstick.
It doesn’t make a noise at first, but then a sharp blast goes off right in front of you.
“That’s like setting off an M-80!” Willie says.
“I think it fires in the direction you’re holding the cowbell,” you say. “My left arm was pointed this way, and that’s where the blast went off.”
Suddenly another blast sounds. Then another.
“Hey, knock it off!” you call out to John Luke and Cole. “You’re going to scare everything away.”
Cole smiles. “We’re just testing it.”
“Wonder how many rounds we have?” Willie asks.
“Guess we’ll fi
nd out, won’t we?”
Before continuing, you examine the damage. The cowbell left several six-inch-deep holes in the ground. Whatever and however the cowbell is firing, it sure does pack a punch.
You decide to lead for a while, but soon you get off the trail you’ve been following and head into dense growth. You’re surrounded not only by towering, ancient trees but also by thick vines and brush.
“We should backtrack,” Willie says. “I’m being eaten alive by mosquitoes.”
“I think it gets a little clearer ahead,” you reassure him.
After another few minutes, you’re engulfed by weeds and branches and vegetation, so much so that you can hardly see your feet.
“Okay, this is ridiculous,” you say.
John Luke and Cole hold their cowbells high as they wade through the mess.
Then you feel something jam up against your leg. Something moving.
You pull aside the brush only to see something dark and thick and ugly. Really, really ugly.
A hog.
The biggest hog you’ve ever seen.
For a second you’re about to—wait. You have something that shoots off bomb blasts.
“Gentlemen, I think—”
“Right there! I got something, right there!” Willie is yelling and screaming, and the next thing you know, blasts are going off on all sides of you.
You see two—no, three, four, five—hogs bolting away. Not waddling or scooting, but darting away. Meanwhile, the explosions all around you are tearing tree bark and vines and ripping through shrubs and leaves.
Soon everything quiets down.
Not one hog was touched. They’ve all disappeared.
You run in the direction they may have gone, but it’s pointless. They’re too fast.
You just got beat by a pack of massive island hogs in a footrace. What’s that all about?
“See where they went?”
“No, I didn’t,” you yell, sucking in breaths. “Not with you guys blowing up the entire forest!”
You all stand there looking at the devastation around you. Cole hits his cowbell one more time. There’s just a dull thud. “Guess I’m out of ammo.”
You shake your head. “I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous in my life.”
Unfortunately you won’t be able to use your cowbell anymore, even though you’ve still got several rounds left. The hogs, or whatever they were, are gone for the rest of the day. It’s like they were never here in the first place.
You can’t go on without game to bring to the count. Your mission is over.
The women are gonna wonder why you’re back so soon.
“Don’t tell anybody I picked the cowbell,” you warn the rest of the guys. “Or that I got outrun by a hog.”
“Oh, I’m telling them,” Willie says. “The world’s gonna know about this. Trust me.”
Some grand hunting expedition this turned out to be.
THE END
Start over.
Read “Let the Good Times Roll: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
NASTY
YOU’VE BEEN IN YOUR ROOM for thirty minutes trying to sleep when you first hear it. Not the thunder outside or the wild, wailing winds.
No. It’s a scratching sound. Above you. Then to your side. Then underneath your bed.
You get out of bed and try the light switch. Nope, power’s still out. You find a candle to light, but as soon as the light spills over your room, you know you have trouble. Trouble you hope you can handle, but on this island, who knows?
There’s a long, dark-brown tail sticking out from under your bed.
Where’s my gun?
But this isn’t home. And you weren’t allowed to bring your gun. Right now, you don’t have any weapons in this room. Not even a pocketknife.
You wonder if there’s any chance this is a friendly creature. Or maybe it’s asleep and will leave you alone for the night. Yeah. I’m sure that’s really gonna happen.
The tail slides under the bed. So much for being asleep. Then a head pops out. A face that looks a bit like a beaver’s is staring at you. No, it’s not a beaver. It’s more like a big mouse. Actually, closer to a rat.
No, wait. It’s a nutria. A swamp rat.
There are thousands of those in Louisiana. So many that it’s actually become a problem.
This particular one looks larger than a typical nutria.
You tiptoe toward the door, but your motion disturbs the nutria. It fully emerges, from its long, white whiskers to its long, gross tail. It crouches in a strange hunched posture and makes eye contact with you, blinking slowly. You’ve probably shot a hundred of these in your lifetime, but you’re not really in the mood for nutria hunting right now. Even if you did have a gun.
“Come on, buddy. I gotta sleep,” you tell the thing.
The thing, however, is definitely not your buddy.
You learn this when it launches itself across the room at you. Jumping across the floor like some kind of turbo-powered kangaroo.
You scream, but the rain and thunder drown you out.
You don’t think the nutria rats back home are this mean. Or this ugly.
But this isn’t West Monroe.
Not even close.
THE END
Start over.
Read “Let the Good Times Roll: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
A HAPPY EPILOGUE
COME ON. CLAP.
You’re still here, and you’re celebrating life.
The credits are running and a groovy Pharrell Williams song is playing. You can dance. Even if you have a beard, you can dance.
Age? It doesn’t matter.
You might be sixteen, but boy, do you have a future.
You might be sixty-eight, but boy, was that an amazing duck call you invented. That made a whole bunch of futures for lots of your family members.
But you can dance ’cause you know something bigger.
Roll the names and the credits.
Rugged, handsome hero—Jase Robertson
Whiny, out-of-shape younger brother—Willie Robertson
Heartthrob #1—John Luke Robertson
Heartthrob #2—Cole Robertson
Weapons provided by Mossberg & Sons
Music by Alan Silvestri
Wardrobe by Armani
Filmed on location on the island of Monuriki in the Pacific
Yes.
Time to dance now.
Come on, Willie. Show us how it’s done.
Clap along and clap in stride.
Come on, Cole. Get jiggy with it.
Come on, John Luke. Show the girls that dimple.
You’re the last one to come in view, Jase, and you’re doing your low-crouching hip-shaking boogie dance.
It’s a new kind of dance that’s gonna be popular one day.
Celebrate today ’cause it’s the only one you’re gonna get right now.
Don’t worry about tomorrow ’cause worrying won’t change a thing.
Be thankful for yesterday ’cause God’s given you every single one of your memories.
Be happy.
This world is full of sadness, so don’t you want a little joy?
This crazy chaos can bring you down, but all you need is a crossbow loaded with a little happy.
Maybe you need a shotgun full of joy.
Spear the dark sadness with a dagger. Slice the hopelessness with a samurai sword.
Aim the rifle and fire and laugh.
And play the cowbell. We all need a little cowbell in our lives.
We all need some laughter.
The credits are almost over. So smile.
Happiness is a gift. So celebrate.
And please—stay away from those nasty nutria rats.
THE END
Start over.
Read “Let the Good Times Roll: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL
A Note from John Luke Robertson
EVER
SINCE THE WORLD HAS GOTTEN TO KNOW the Robertson family, we’ve been providing lots of laughter. It’s a great thing to know we’re spreading a little joy and happiness in the world. As the Duck Commander motto goes, we’re about faith, family, and ducks. And there’s plenty of joy in all of that. Well, unless you’re a duck.
Many times, this world can be the very opposite of joy. Everyone has opinions. Everybody takes sides. Sometimes we get angry and even defiant over the things we support and believe. There’s a lot of hate out there.
Our family continues to choose love. To strive for joy.
I really like John 16:33:
“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”
Jesus is telling us to cheer up. To take heart.
This is the reason we Robertsons have so much joy inside us. We’ve put our faith in the same Jesus who spoke these words. He’s not a made-up character in a book, nor is he just a historical person. Jesus Christ is God’s Son, and he came to bring peace and joy. He came to die for us and to overcome death.
Like these fun books, life is about making decisions and choosing which direction to go. Many times we make bad decisions or wrong choices. But take heart. God knows that, and he still loves us in spite of it.
There’s a Ben Rector song called “Let the Good Times Roll.” I love to crank this song in my Jeep while I’m driving. And wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, I hope you find some good times today—some true joy and happiness. Leave the shadows and worries in the dust.
Thanks for taking these crazy journeys with me and my family. We hope there are many more in the future that we can share with you!
Jase & the Deadliest Hunt Page 12
