Jase & the Deadliest Hunt (3 page)

WINCHESTER IS RIDING IN THE HELICOPTER
back to Fiji with the four of you. You’re so glad to get away from Tabu Island, to finally be heading home. Ten minutes into the ride, Winchester decides to tell all of you a little more about the island. And about Count VanderVelde.

“The things you saw on the island . . . you didn’t imagine them. They weren’t in your heads. They were scientific experiments many years in the making. These were the count’s life’s work. But some of them went wrong, as you may have noticed. Terribly wrong.”

You raise your eyebrows at Willie and keep listening.

“VanderVelde was a multimillionaire businessman. The fact that he uses his honorary title of count shows how arrogant he happens to be. He bought this island and dreamed of creating a Jurassic Park. A
real
Jurassic Park. Of course, he
was crazy enough and rich enough to find people who could assist him in performing the experiments. Oh, it wasn’t like he managed to make dinosaurs or any new species. He never even got close
 
—he only created messed-up versions of existing animals.”

You have a question that’s been burning in your brain ever since you climbed Mount Fear.

“Did the count ever
 
—did he ever experiment with himself?”

Winchester gives you a very serious gaze, then shakes his head. “My honest answer is I don’t know. But I’ve wondered. Sometimes he acted strange. Sometimes I saw unusual things. Things that gave me nightmares for days.”

Yeah, I saw some strange things too.

“Well, I’m glad to be leaving the mad professor behind,” Willie says.

“I am too,” Winchester replies. “It’s about time I left that place.”

He pauses for a moment, then asks all of you a question. “Do you have any work for a seventy-year-old?”

You can imagine Winchester and Uncle Si hitting it off. And who knows? With a little practice, this guy might be able to make a duck call with the best of them.

“Maybe.” You clap a hand on his shoulder. “There could be a job at Duck Commander for you. But you’ll have to know some people to get it.” You give him a smile.

Speaking of Duck Commander . . . you cannot
wait
to get back to West Monroe and the very normal animals you always took for granted.
What I wouldn’t give to see an ordinary duck right now!

THE END

Start over.

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

THE THUNDERSTORM MAKES YOU FEEL
like the whole island lodge is going to blow down. The power has gone out, and now the inside is illuminated with candles. You’ve had dinner but are still waiting in the living room to see Count VanderVelde. If indeed he shows up.

Since he might have gotten
shot
today.

But just as a blast of lightning illuminates the darkness outside, the door swings open and the count enters the room where all of you are gathered. He’s wearing a black turtleneck and walking slowly.

“Winchester tells me you have a bit of a dilemma,” the count says.

“A bit of a dilemma?” you reply. “Nah. No dilemma. What kind of dilemma would we have?”

“We shot a mountain lion today,” Willie tells him.

“It took an arrow right here,” you say, pointing to your neck. “And then around here.” You gesture toward your side.

The count nods but doesn’t say anything. He looks suspicious and shady, but then again, he often seems that way.

“It is always interesting what the mountain produces, isn’t it? Even I am constantly surprised.”

“Meaning what?” you ask. “There are different animals up on Mount Fear?”

“This island is an unpredictable place.”

“I can predict something,” you say. “I predict we’re going home tomorrow.”

“Never predict what tomorrow will bring. That’s a dangerous thing, my friend.”

You want to tell him that you’re not his friend. And that
you’re
very dangerous. But you don’t say either. At the moment, he seems to have the upper hand.

A boom of thunder shakes the windows.

“Every now and then we get these storms. It will pass.”

You can’t help staring at his turtleneck. “A bit warm for a turtleneck, isn’t it?”

“I was chilly earlier, to be honest.”

You narrow your eyes as you wonder if he’s telling the truth.

“A bit earlier?” you ask. “Like earlier today?”

“Yes.”

“Were you on the island today?”

Willie interrupts your line of questioning. “What Jase wants to know is when we will be able to head back home.”

You’re glad he didn’t ask
if
you’ll be able to head back home. That’s the real question on your mind.

“Tomorrow. If all goes well.”

“If all goes well?” you ask. “What’s that mean? If the storm doesn’t take us away tonight?”

The count looks pleasantly surprised by your statement. “Exactly, Mr. Robertson.”

The way he says your name
 
—so formal. Mr. Robertson. Nobody calls you that. You get goose bumps, and you’re not a fan of geese.

“You never know what the night will bring, do you.” He gives you that smile of his.

Suddenly a blast of wind rips open the main doors of the room, and all the candles go out. You and Willie rush to the doors, slam them, and try to find a way to relight the candles.

“Is everybody okay?” you ask as you blindly search the room. With all these candles, there has to be a lighter or matches around. And shouldn’t the count already have them lit again? He’s the one who knows this place.

“Yeah,” John Luke’s voice says.

“Cole, you there?”

“Yep.”

“Count? Are you there?” Willie asks.

Silence.

“Count VanderVelde?”

More silence.

Oh, great.
He must have disappeared like a vampire bat. “I think he’s gone.”

You locate some matches in the drawer of a side table and light a couple of the candles.

“Where’d he go?” Willie asks, squinting into the shadowy corners of the room.

“I don’t think I want to know.”

The boys look concerned. Well, you probably do too.

“What should we do now?” John Luke wonders.

Questions. All these questions. You wish someone else would answer them for you.

Do you go to your bedrooms and try to get some sleep?
Go here
.

Do you stay in the living room and wait for the count to return?
Go here
.

Do you head to the weaponry room to arm yourselves?
Go here
.

YOU’VE BEEN DYING TO FIND OUT
what sort of weapons are available for this hunt. Missy said one of the few requirements Count VanderVelde made was that you couldn’t bring any gear with you. Nothing, in fact. No handguns, no knives, no sights
 
—absolutely nothing. (Of course, you each sneaked a duck call onto the island. No way were you guys going on a hunting expedition without those. Duck calls aren’t “gear.” They’re essential.) Everything you could imagine and more would be here, according to your wife. And the weaponry room might be a clue to what you’ll be hunting.

Winchester leads the four of you into an elevator. He punches in a security code to get the elevator moving, and you begin to descend. How far down, you’re not sure. When the door opens, you realize this whole floor must be the weaponry room.

All of you get off the elevator and say a collective “Whoa.” Willie seems more dumbfounded than anyone else, but that’s not hard for him to do because most of the time he just looks dumb.

Every weapon you know of is here at your disposal, including a lot you’ve never laid eyes on before. It’s incredible. Maybe “Count VanderVelde” is really a pseudonym for Batman. ’Cause it looks like this guy has got an arsenal the size of the superhero’s own.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Winchester’s looking at you. “You will select the weapons of your choice each day. You are permitted to have one large weapon
 
—to the right over there, on the wall. Then you’ll be allowed to choose a couple smaller items, which are straight ahead. Gear and clothing are on the racks and shelves to your left.”

“Wait a minute,” you say. “Do
each
of us get weapons of our choice?”

“You will each receive your own weapon, of course, but all of you will have the same type of device.”

There’s no question where you go first. Gear and clothing are nice, and smaller weapons are necessary, but you want to take a look at the goods. The real
good
stuff. So you and the rest of the gang head to the wall showcasing all the big weapons.

A massive crossbow catches your attention. It’s a kind you’ve never seen.

“Can we take these off the wall?” you ask Winchester.

“Of course,” he says. “There is a small ladder to climb for the items near the top.”

This is like a showcase for some high-end weapons shop. There’s only one of each piece on display, but Winchester reassures you that they actually have multiples of everything. You scan the row of prominent items before you.

“If you like, I’d be happy to name the items you see here, along with their particular highlights.” It sounds like Winchester’s talking about people instead of weapons.

“That’d be great.”

“I see you’re eyeing the crossbow,” he says with a hand extended toward the black bow, which is covered with lots of gadgets and components. “This is a test model produced in Europe by a small company. Called the Sphinx 300. It’s larger than most, but what makes it truly unique is how lightweight it happens to be.”

Winchester takes the bow off the wall and gives it to John Luke. He seems to be in disbelief holding it. When it gets to you, you feel the same way. It’s probably half the weight of your own crossbow.

“The stock resembles a sleek, military-style model,” Winchester explains. “It has the highest-known feet-per-second shooting speed
 
—almost twice that of the closest competitor out there. The draw weight is light, and it’s quite comfortable to cock. But the real magic here, gentlemen, is the arrows.”

He produces one of the arrows from the quiver. “You will have six of these. You won’t want to fire off many of them. They are set to be able to cut through any living, breathing thing. Well,
almost
any.”

You turn to Willie and see him laugh silently. You gotta give it to this Winchester fella
 
—he takes his job
very seriously
.

You hand the crossbow back to Winchester, and he places it on the wall again before continuing on to the other weapons.

“Right here you have the RD-4000 shotgun. It’s a fully automatic, low-recoil, gas-operated 12-gauge shotgun designed for the military. This currently doesn’t exist, according to the government, because it’s simply too lethal. It delivers over three hundred rounds a minute. Three hundred 12-gauge rounds.”

“What are we supposed to hunt with
tha
t
?” Willie asks.

Winchester simply shakes his head. “More on the game later, Mr. Robertson. When you see the count.”

Willie mouths the word
Chocula
as Winchester hands the shotgun to Cole, then moves on.

“This is a Stettinga hunting rifle using specially built 6.55-millimeter ammunition that explodes upon impact.”

You let out a chuckle. “Are we even
trying
to keep any parts of the animal intact?”

Winchester doesn’t react but keeps talking about the sleek rifle in his hands. “You can hit a target over 2,500 yards away.”

“Wait, what?” Willie asks. “That’s like
 
—a really long ways away.”

“I’ve never even heard of that brand,” you say. “Stettinga? Sounds like Stetson cologne.”

Winchester hands you the lightweight rifle, and it feels really good in your hands.

On to the next weapon. He points upward. “This is a genuine katana sword made of a special metal that will not break. There is not a sharper blade on the planet, so right now I’m just going to leave that on the wall.”

You look at the sleek, long silver blade with an ornate black handle.

“So an automatic shotgun or a samurai sword?” you ask.

“That is correct, Mr. Robertson. Along with the other options.”

Become a hunter or a ninja. Hmmm.

“Sure would help to know what we’ll be hunting,” Willie mutters.

You nod and agree with him.

“There is not just
one
thing that you can hunt on the island of Tabu,” Winchester says cryptically.

He takes a knife concealed in a black sheath off the wall, then slides the sheath off, revealing the black blade of a dagger. “This is a double-edged Black Widow dagger. It’s nine inches of the strongest metal in the world. It’s lightweight and easy to carry.”

“That’s all we’d get?” John Luke asks. “We can’t have that along with the rifle?”

“Not these weapons. Each of you will be able to carry a handgun with you along with some of the other assorted gear. But those are more for precaution.”

You can’t see the final instrument until he picks it up off the floor. It’s black and looks a lot like a . . .

Nah, it can’t be
that
.

“This is a six-and-a-half-inch cowbell,” Winchester says in all seriousness.

All of you burst out laughing.

“What’s that gonna do?” Willie asks. “Round up the herd?”

Winchester holds a drumstick in the same hand as the cowbell. “This is an actual weapon,” he says. “Hitting it is the equivalent of throwing a live grenade right in front of you.”

“Let me try that out,” you say.

But Winchester keeps the cowbell in his hand. “Not right here. No bomb blasts going off inside.”

“That thing really works?” Willie asks.

“Yes, indeed. These are the six items you need to choose from. You must take one of them first thing tomorrow morning, when you set out on your expedition.” He dusts his hands together. “Now for our next stop on this little tour.”

If you haven’t been to the operations room,
go here
.

If you’ve been to the operations room,
go here
.