Jase & the Deadliest Hunt (13 page)

WHEN YOU OPEN YOUR EYES,
the first thing you see is a giant bear growling at you.

Of course, this is just a stuffed head hanging on the wall. But it does give you a bit of a fright.

You glance around and spot Willie sleeping behind a chair. John Luke looks unconscious on the couch, and Cole is on the floor next to him.

You wonder if last night was real. With the swamp rat and the frogs and the spider monkeys and the moose. A
moose
. On a tropical island.

Right now it seems like you dreamed it.

It takes you a minute to sit up all the way. Even longer to stand. You fell asleep by the wall. You were keeping watch at first but must’ve passed out at some point.

Now sunlight is beaming through the windows, no signs of storms outside.

The familiar face of Winchester watches you from the open doorway.

“How are you doing, Mr. Robertson?”

You shrug. “I’ve been better.”

“You survived the stormy night.”

“If only you knew.”

Then you think to yourself that maybe he does know.

“The helicopter leaves at noon,” he informs you.

It could be six or it could be eleven. You have no idea.

“What time is it?”

Winchester smiles. “A little after eight.”

“Tell me you have coffee somewhere.”

“I do. In the dining room.”

“There are no rats or monkeys in there, right?”

He looks a bit puzzled. “Not that I know of.”

“Good.”

Then you think about what he said before.

“So you’re telling me we’re leaving. Really? At noon?”

“Absolutely.”

It’s unbelievable. The idea that you’re actually leaving. The idea that you’ve survived. The idea that you’re going home.

And I’m gonna kill those women for signing us up for this nightmare.

But first things first. You need some coffee and you need it bad.

“Will we see the count today?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a sore loser.”

“Loser? What did he lose?”

“Face,” Winchester says. “He has a lot of pride. And to get this far
 
—nobody’s ever done that before.”

“But what about
 
—? Willie said he knew someone who had done this before.”

“Someone who was selected to come to the island. Nobody’s ever made it to the end.”

“Well, we’re Robertsons.”

“I’m coming to realize that.” He smiles again.

“So what about the prize? The Hunter’s Cup made of pure gold.”

“Yes, about that . . . That was completely made up.”

You shake your head. “Can I at least get a T-shirt?
I Survived Tabu Island and Didn’t Turn into a Mountain Lion
? Or something like that?”

Winchester only chuckles. “The helicopter will be leaving promptly at noon. I trust you won’t be late.”

You laugh. “I’ve never wanted to leave a place so bad in my
life
.”

“Good thing you still have the option.”

To pick your ending, choose from the following:

Go here
for a logical ending.

Go here
for a sci-fi ending.

Go here
for a sweet ending.

YOU CHOSE THE SAMURAI SWORD TODAY,
but now you’re beginning to regret it. What made you think this weapon would be a good idea? Cole suggested that maybe you could creep up on the animal from behind, but the creatures you’ve faced so far have been fast and sneaky.

You’ve been in the cave for at least an hour, maybe longer, when you catch sight of a large ball of fur from your position at the front of the line. You hold up a hand. “Guys! Be quiet,” you hiss. “I think we can sneak up on whatever this is.”

“Told you,” Cole whispers.

The four of you take up positions around the back of the mysterious creature. “On the count of three . . . ,” you begin.

Everyone strikes at once.

But this doesn’t have the intended effect. The thing wakes up, swipes you all away, and gets mad. Really mad.

The thing.

It’s actually a giant bear. Yes. A gigantic, bright-red, fluffy, furry bear. But when a bear brushes away samurai swords like it doesn’t even notice them, well, that’s when it goes from a bear to a thing.

“Did you see that?” Willie shouts.

It’s like the world is in slow-mo for an entire minute.

Your life flashes before your eyes.

You see yourself frog hunting and duck hunting, and you see Phil and your wife and your kids, and then you see the largest set of teeth you’ve ever witnessed on
any
animal.

“Run!” That’s all you can get out before you sprint back through the cave.

Your right boot lands in a small dip in the rocky floor, causing your foot to twist a bit, but you catch yourself with one hand and keep going. The growls behind you are as loud as ever
 
—so far you haven’t heard any racing, pounding bear footsteps, though.

John Luke’s leading the group now. You follow him and the rest of the guys to the left, then straight for a while, then right. Soon you’re stopping, gasping for air, and trying to figure out where that bear is. You and Willie extend your unsheathed swords in front of you. The boys wave their flashlights around.

“You see that thing flick away those swords?” Willie asks.

“Yeah, I saw it.”

“Why are we even holding these, then?”

“I don’t know, but I’m gonna keep mine right here.” You clasp it more tightly. “Somehow it makes me feel a little safer.”

The booming roar of the bear echoes through the cave again.

“A
little
safer.”

“We have to get out of these caves,” Willie says.

John Luke turns with a frustrated expression. “I was trying to take us that direction, but they just keep winding around and around.”

You sigh. “I say we talk once we’re outside.”

“Then
you
figure out how to escape,” Willie challenges.

So you take the lead through the maze of rock surrounding you. The deeper you go into the caves, the more chambers you discover. You spend half an hour trying to get anywhere you recognize, but everything looks the same.

“What if we can’t get outta here?” Cole asks.

“We’re gonna get outta here.”

Then the bear howls again.

It sounds closer.

“Aren’t we trying to get
away
from that?” Willie asks.

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

You take a passageway that seems to be leading up. That’s good because most of the way into the cave, you were heading downhill. So you have to be getting closer to the exit, right?

“Hey, you guys smell that?” John Luke says.

“What?”

“Hold on.” He stops in the middle of the passage. “Yeah, that. Smell it.”

You take a sniff, trying to see what he’s talking about. Sure enough, you smell it too.

“That’s strange,” you say.

“It smells like Chick-fil-A,” John Luke says.

“It smells
exactly
like Chick-fil-A,” Willie confirms.

But you don’t see any delicious fast-food restaurants around here. No drive-through windows and no waffle fries.

“I’d like to say let’s find out where that smell is coming from, but let’s don’t.” You start walking until you hear a roar that’s closer than before.

No, it’s not just closer. It’s
right
in front of you.

You realize two things in that instant.

First off, you’re all about to go down.

Second, somehow this massive red bear that can barely even squeeze through the cave smells like a chicken sandwich from one of your favorite restaurants. No joke.

I’m going to die thinking of chicken and waffle fries. That’s just unfair.

“Boys, head the other way.”

“What are you doing?” Willie asks.

You hold the sword up and face off with the bear. “You too, Willie. Go. Get the boys out of here.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Absolutely,” you say.

“Jase, I don’t think
 
—”

“Go!”

Your cry echoes all around these walls. The three of them take off, leaving you there with your katana, the bear, and the scent that’s more delicious than ever.

“Just you and me now,” you tell the hulking beast approaching you. You hold your ground, the sword tight in one hand, the flashlight in the other.

Perhaps you’ll be able to do some damage before it defeats you.

Steady now. Steady.

The bear rips loose with another roar.

You stare at it for one more moment. Then you nod, take a deep breath . . .

And toss your sword at the bear before taking off. In the opposite direction.

Come on. You’re no Gandalf the Grey.

No. You’re Jase Robertson. And you’re pretty fast when you want to be.

You run at top speed for what feels like hours, but finally light burns your eyes, and the mouth of the cave comes within sight.

You’re out. The bear didn’t follow. Maybe he was impressed with your courage and bravery. Or maybe he was insulted by your taking off and running.

Maybe he’s just lazy and didn’t want to come after me.

You’re kneeling on the ground, exhausted, when you feel a hand grab your shoulder. You look up and see Cole.

Thank you, God.

“You made it,” he says.

“I made it.”

Willie and John Luke are safe too. Everybody looks sweaty and tired and in need of a long shower.

“Well,
that
was sure interesting,” you tell them.

“Did you kill it with your bare hands?” Willie asks. “Or with the sword?”

You shake your head. “No. But it’ll never forget me. I promise you that.” You begin to lead them down the mountain toward the jungle and the lodge. No reason to wait for the Jeeps
 
—you’re ready to get out of here.

“Hey, guys, I have a question,” John Luke asks.

“What?” Willie says.

“Why’d that bear smell like Chick-fil-A?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “But I sure am hungry.”

THE END

Start over.

Read “Let the Good Times Roll: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”

“SO YOU
HAD
TO GO WITH THE COWBELL,
didn’t you?” Willie asks John Luke.

You let John Luke pick the weapon this time.

“It’s just a hunch.”

Willie shakes his head. “Sometimes you gotta know when to say no to your hunches.”

You’ve been walking along the river all morning when you finally see an animal. An unexpected kind of animal. Right there in the middle of the shallow water. Floating so happily downstream. Glistening in the sun.

Willie squints toward the river. “Is that a duck?”

“Looks like a gold duck,” Cole says.

“We’re going duck hunting?” you ask. “With a cowbell that explodes things?”

You realize right then that you’re doomed. You might as well start packing your bags now.

Willie aims the cowbell toward the duck. “So can you set off these explosives underwater too?” He sets the device in the river and strikes it with the drumstick. A plume of water bursts out of the river. “Well, that answers that.”

Sure, it missed the duck by about twenty feet, but at least it worked in the water. The duck looks your way, and you swear it does something you’ve never seen a duck do before. It opens its beak wide and blinks slowly.

“Did that duck just
yawn
at us?”

“No way,” Willie says.

“I’m pretty sure it yawned. Sorta a taunting yawn.”

“I think you’ve spent too many hours in the duck blind.”

You get closer to the edge of the river, point your cowbell toward the duck, and tap it with the drumstick. Another explosion in the water
 
—this time closer, but still nowhere near the target.

The duck flies into the sky, but it doesn’t abandon you. It circles above, then lands on the bank across the river and strolls back and forth, totally at ease.

Willie seems to have a plan. “John Luke and Cole, cross the river
 
—you can wade where it’s shallow. Maybe we can try to trap the duck somehow.”

“That thing’s gonna keep flying away,” you protest as the boys make their way across.

“We’ll see.”

Of course, an hour later, all you’ve done is blow up some parts of the riverbank and watch the golden duck fly back and forth. It’s hanging around as if to drive you crazy. It doesn’t ever fly
away
. No, that would be too logical. Instead it lands in the water in front of you every time, sometimes diving and splashing playfully.

It’s definitely mocking you. And what’s worse, it seems to be enjoying itself way too much.

You notice a dense but moderate-size tree beside the flowing water.

“I have an idea,” you tell Willie.

“Oh no.”

“Seriously. It could work.”

Moments later, as the duck is preparing to land in the river again, you tell Willie where to stand.

“Every time, it floats about ten or fifteen feet away from us, right?”

“For some reason, yes,” Willie says, obviously as annoyed with this bird as you are.

“Fire off the cowbell as close to the duck as you can. It’ll head in the direction of that tree like it always does before flying away. And then I’ll set my blast off.”

“And that’s going to do what?”

“Just watch.”

Sure enough, after John Luke and Cole miss with their
cowbells, the golden duck coasts over to your area and stops in its usual spot. It’s like the thing
wants
to die. A duck with a death wish. Maybe. But you believe that, just like the boar you encountered, this is a special kind of duck. It’s got a personality, and that personality reminds you of a girl who plays hard to get. She ignores you but keeps coming around. Every time you ask her out, she turns you down. But she keeps letting you ask her.

And now I’m gonna blow her to bits.

Okay, sure, not all metaphors work very well.

“Whatever you’re up to, are you ready?” Willie asks.

“Born ready.”

He hits the cowbell with the drumstick, and the water in front of the duck shoots upward in an explosion. The duck isn’t harmed, naturally, and it ends up right where you expect, splashing and preening.

You set off your own bomb blast. Except this time you do three in a row, and you point at the base of the tree.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

The tree tears apart and begins to fall. Right in the direction of the flying duck.

Like a bunch of falling, flailing arms, the thick tree limbs claw at the duck and take her down with them.

You and Willie rush over to the duck. John Luke and Cole trail behind.

“Is the thing flattened?” Willie shouts.

But sure enough, the duck’s still alive. It’s pulling and tugging, trying to get out from underneath the massive tree branch that has it pinned. Willie pulls up the limb while you grab the duck.

It makes a strange sound, not much like a quack. Instead it sounds a bit like a smoker’s cough, low and rumbling.

“Sounds like it has asthma problems,” Willie says.

The golden duck has an exceptionally long beak. It keeps coughing and squirming in your hands, trying to get its beak in optimal pecking position. But you’re not letting it go, and you’re sure not letting it peck you.

“Can we bring it alive to the count?” Willie must be getting attached.

You glance at the duck, then back to Willie, shaking your head. “Sorry, Susie Q,” you say.

“The duck’s name is Susie?”

“Yeah. She was playing hard to get.”

Willie stares at the duck in your hands. “Funny how it took a cowbell to capture a duck.”

“Life is full of many great mysteries.”

You look at the duck. She sure is pretty.

Oh, well . . .

Go here
.