Blood Moon 3 Read online

  The same words had been written all over Ellie in ink. Ink which matched the ink tape in the typewriter.

  The rumors and gossip hang thick in the air. Donovan Reed had lost his mind while trying to write a novel. He needed to be committed. He denied killing his wife. He had no recollection of trashing his own home. After a lengthy court case, he was sentenced to fifteen years in jail.

  On the day of his sentencing, inside the police station where the arresting officer sat behind his desk, finishing out the paperwork concerning the case, behind the locked doors of the Evidence Room, a soft clicking sound started. At first it was too soft to be heard, till finally it turned into a loud banging, the loud banging of typewriter keys typing out the words “The world will know” one last time.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  *~*~*

  Snoodledoogen

  “If all I do in life is get stoned and laugh like Winnie the Pooh, then I am a prime presidential candidate. Since I have no desire to become President, I decided it is time to do something truly extraordinary with my life. I will capture the Snoodledoogen.”

  Gary stared directly into the camera and smiled for a brief moment, almost lethargic.

  “If you are seeing this recording, my mission failed and I am dead. Don’t sweat the details. Just know that I died with my boots on. Some things in life are worth the risk.”

  He watched the bright red bubble on top of his camcorder wither to a soft glow then extinguish itself completely. He pulled the disc from the high tech contraption and slid it into a large envelope. After writing “play me” on the front with the thick black ink of a permanent marker, he dropped it into the slide out drawer of his computer desk, a place he knows it will only be found upon his own demise.

  Gary slowly unzipped his backpack, checking the contents thoroughly. After all, his very survival depended on his supplies. Pulling the thick leather bound journal from within, he zipped the survival gear up and strapped the heavy blade of his trusty knife to the side of his person.

  Opening the blank journal to the first page, Gary felt excitement and fear wash over him. His car keys, his backpack, and his large metallic flashlight lay upon his bed. He was ready, if not overly anxious to begin his own monumental journey. He could not help himself, he needed to start documenting his day now. Right now.

  Putting the felt tip of his pen against the parchment, he increased the pressure and hesitated for a brief moment. As early as he could remember, Gary learned to cherish these moments. You know the ones, the life changing moments that can never be undone. The beginning of something you KNOW will change your life forever. The golden moments in a world that has lost its shine. This was his gold in a world made of brass. Finally, he willed his hand to move.

  *~*~*

  Day 1

  I am about to begin my monumental search for the Snoodledoogen. Before I begin my journey, I need to carefully examine my game plan. I currently reside upon my bed with my gear spread out all around me. I have my map unfolded and am in the middle of re-examining the path I have chosen for myself. I feel as if I have missed something very vital and need to go through what I know in my head.

  I know the Snoodledoogen stories started sometime in the late 1800’s near a small town in Colorado. At that time, they believed it to be the work of the devil. It was an evil spirit sent to claim as many souls for Lucifer as it could in preparation for Armageddon. During this first encounter, supposed eye-witnesses claimed that the Snoodledoogen took the form of only two animals. It had the head of a snake and the body of a bear.

  During this encounter, three men from a group of twelve scouts died at the hands of the Snoodledoogen. The rest came back in pretty rough shape and reeking of strong liquor. It was dismissed as nothing more than a bear attack.

  I have marked on my map a fifty mile radius and shall label it “bear attack” to remind me which event I will be basing my search off of.

  Next time the Snoodledoogen was mention was some sixty years later and about two hundred miles north in the mountains. This occurrence changed the urban legend from a work of Satan to a Native American curse. This time, the Snoodledoogen took was described as having the head of a bear and the body of a wolf, but with the large antlers of a perfect trophy buck creeping out of the large bear skull. Only one survivor this time. What fascinates me is how quickly they dismissed this man’s terrifying accounts of the Snoodledoogen events. Unlike the first occurrence, the man that survived was a well-respected medical doctor with no prior reputation of alcoholism or mental illness.

  I shall label this one “Bear Buck” and will put a star next to it on the map. This seems like a very realistic story, but not the starting point of my journey.

  Where I plan to start is the scene of the latest crime, an occurrence that happened only six months ago. A body was discovered a mere fifty miles west from the “Bear Buck” site. The facts from this event have taught me so much. It seems the Snoodledoogen was never disproved or caught NOT because it isn’t real, but because humanity was yet to invent the technology and scientific protocols needed.

  This time, people believe it to have the head of a ram, half a body of a buck, and the hind legs of a coyote. After thinking about it for some time, I came to the conclusion that the Snoodledoogen takes the shape of the most plentiful animals from the region it is in. Since hunters have thinned out herds of certain animals, the Snoodledoogen is forced to change every time it feeds.

  They found the tracks, little prints that were a positive match to both buck and coyote. The little bit of fur they found wrapped in the mangled body of the victim has been positively identified as fur from a mountain goat. I shall name this site “Positive I.D.”

  Today has been wasted on planning, but with any luck I will still make it to the “Positive I.D.” site before sundown to set up base camp. I truly believe that by working a fifty mile radius of each site, starting with the latest one and working backwards, I will find proof of the Snoodledoogen’s existence. If I am real lucky, I may even be able to get a picture or be able to bring home a carcass. Either way, my journey has finally began.

  *~*~*

  Day 2

  This morning can only be described as a tragedy. After a very long trip into the mountains all I really wanted to do was rest. I worked diligently to set up my base camp but couldn’t seem to get it done in time. It was as if the god’s decided to take a giant whiz on my parade.

  The rain came trickling down at first, just enough to let me know how limited time really was. I got three out of the four poles driven through the canvas of my large dome tent when suddenly it began to pour down torrential rain.

  Soaked and admittedly angry, I had no choice but to leave the vast majority of my gear locked in my car. Anyone that knows me though, knows it takes a little more than a toddler’s tantrum from mother-nature to get me to quit. I finished setting up my tent and pulled the motion sensors from the large back pack and set out on a long wet hike.

  I hiked through the mountains, setting the sensors everywhere I could fathom. My boots sank deep into the soft earth as I walked and my vision was spotty, but I survived.

  I trudged past each of every one, waving my hands in front of the sensors that I had tightly fastened into the nook of the Oak Trees. The tests for those seemed to be a success. I could hear the tiny click of a shutter lens clamping shut in rapid succession. I was sure I would see a blurred image of my arm back at base camp. Well, if the computer was set up that is.

  The real challenge was fixing the sensors that were hidden on the ground. Due to the mud and wind, they kept shifting. I walked past the path they were supposed to monitor and just as I had guessed, nothing but silence accompanied me.

  I adjusted. I readjusted. It was no good. By the time I made my rounds, the damn things had slid out of position once more. I had no choice but to give up and try again later when the rain quit and the ground started to dry out.

  For today, I would have to rely on the hanging
sensors. I understand that it is better than nothing, but no one really knows how tall the Snoodledoogen is. Since he changes his image, he could very well sneak past if he had…the body of a rabbit.

  Now back at base camp, I sit jotting down the events of today in this journal. I am frustrated. I am frustrated at this journal, this trip, and this whole day. The sun never came out and is gone completely now. I can hear the rain pelt off of the canvas tarp over my tent. All I can do at this point is get a good night sleep and hope tomorrow goes better.

  *~*~*

  Day 3

  Today was a day of progress! The rain has stopped, the sun dried up the mud, and my breakfast was awesome. It was a great start to a great day. I finished setting up the workstation and reviewed the tapes from the hanging motion sensors. I didn’t allow myself to feel too bad when I found picture after picture of normal wildlife.

  It seems there is an over-abundance of bats in this area. This gives me hope. I mention this for two reasons. First, if there are bats, there is probably a cave nearby. Although there is no mention of caves in any of the stories, logically, it would be the perfect dwelling for the Snoodledoogen. Secondly, since the Snoodledoogen seems to take the shape of the most common creatures, it would make sense if it now has evolved into a flying creature. A bat creature. The notion does send shivers down my spine, but also fills me with excitement.

  With the rest of the sensors positioned on the ground, I set off to investigate. I found tracks from several different creatures nearby, but none that really caught my attention. I walked for what seemed like an eternity. I started up the north side of the mountain and worked in a clockwise pattern.

  I discovered a small creek about fifteen miles east of the base-camp. I will mark this monumental occasion on my map. I am now convinced the Snoodledoogen remains at the “Positive I.D.” site. A stream to drink from has been confirmed. All I need now is to discover the cave. It would be of sound reasoning to think that an area of land that has water and shelter and an over -abundance of wildlife would be excuse enough for a creature to homestead.

  I need to move the hanging sensors to the watering hole. For today though, I have spread powder all along the bank of the creek. If I am real lucky, I will be able to follow the footprints of the Snoodledoogen to discover the whereabouts of his cave.

  It was nearly nightfall by the time I made it back to camp. It was such a busy day. I ate soup from a can, way too tired to cook. All and all today was a small victory. I just hope I can trick the foul creature into exposing some solid evidence of his existence soon.

  *~*~*

  Day 4

  I am scared. Sometimes, the scariest thing in life is finding out that you are absolutely correct. When I woke up this morning and examined the pictures from last night, I was shocked.

  It seems that the motion sensors near the creek had a close encounter with the Snoodledoogen. Sadly, I cannot pack up and go home just yet. It caught images of various body parts. Like a dummy, I had set them too close to the water and underestimated the size of the creature. A smart man would have placed sensors on both sides of the creek. Instead, I guess excitement overtook logic.

  Here is what I found out about the Snoodledoogen. It appears that it does have wings. Tiny wings. I don’t think they are fully functional, due to the sheer size of the beast. I have a picture of a Mountain Lion head with blood smeared on its muzzle and connected to black fur.

  From another angle I see what appears to be a black bear. There is no indication that the bear isn’t anything more than just that, a regular black bear. I have to base my assumption on logic alone once again. Would a bear be at the same place and at the same time as a mountain lion? Is it a coincidence that the mountain lion head photo showed a tuft of black fur?

  It isn’t real proof, but I know the truth. The third photo showed nothing more than the bear’s hind-legs and a small puff of white for a tail. A deer? The tail of a deer. It is hard to make out, but I am pretty sure that is what I was staring at.

  This isn’t what scared me. After breakfast, I snatched up my camera and headed towards the creek in hopes of finding footprints. There it was, right in front of me, all the proof I myself needed. A trail of powder, with a distinct blend of feline and bear trailed off from the motion sensors and away from the creek.

  My fingers went crazy pressing the button of my thirty five millimeter camera. I zoomed in and zoomed out, I hung from a branch and I stood back. I allowed the wide angled lens of my camera capture the footprints from every position my creative brain could conjure.

  Then I set out on the tedious task of following the trail. At first, the prints seemed to lead nowhere in particular. They went deeper and deeper into the mountain before coming down in a very wide arc.

  After following them for nearly two hours, I found myself looking upon the original motion sensors I had set on my second day here. The Snoodledoogen is very clever! The trail darted to the right and behind the sensors. It was if it could see them and knew right away that it was a trap. I walked past the sensors and further into the wooded area.

  Once again, I felt like it was random, like it was a wild goose chase and the Snoodledoogen was merely amusing itself at my expense. The trail came to an abrupt stop.

  I couldn’t tell if the powder was finally finished and faded beyond my ability to see it or if the creature slept here last night. I searched the area, looking for the cave but to no avail. I caught a glimpse of something blue shining in the sunlight a mere fifty feet ahead of me. Past the branches and thorny bushes of the forest I could see my tent. I felt my heart catch in my throat.

  The Snoodledoogen is real. He is real and he is watching me.

  *~*~*

  Day 5

  I am tired and hungry. During the overnight hours, I heard the sounds of snapping branches a mere ten feet away. I tried to drift away and let the healing power of sleep calm my nerves but failed miserably. At some point of the night, I could remember the rapid inhalation and nasty grunting sounds of a beast outside of my tent.

  I tried to ignore this. I would like to pretend it was my imagination, but the footprints proves otherwise. It was here. Right here. The only thing that separated it from me was an inch and a half of canvas fabric. Why didn’t it attack me?

  I started the morning as I always do, by reviewing the tapes. Dead animals. The lens of each motion sensor was completely covered by the bloody rotting carcass of the mountain life. I stare blankly into the dead eyes of a mangled crow in one frame. I could barely see the blurred stripes of a dead raccoon from the creek cameras.

  It was now obvious. The Snoodledoogen was toying with me. I was being hunted. I spent today testing my boundaries. I would attempt to slowly unzip my tent with the intention of grabbing whatever food I could. I was so hungry. It was right there upon the makeshift shelf near the pit of ashes from yesterday’s fire. Right there. Just out of reach.

  I heard a loud growl and stampeding footsteps. I quickly zip up the tent and remain motionless, fear the only thing driving me. The silhouette danced on the walls of my tent, the definitive proof I needed. I did not care. The Snoodledoogen was not going to ever let me leave this canvas prison.

  It slept. It lay just on the outside of my fabric doorway, blocking off my only escape route. I desperately wanted to sleep as well, I could feel my eyes try to shut involuntarily. NO! I MUSTN’T.

  I kept myself distracted and attempted to think my way out of this situation. The tiny canteen I had with me would only sustain my thirst for another day. That was if I was conservative. The sun beat down on me. It heated the inside and turned it into an oven. During midday it was so hot that I could actually see the semi-translucent waves of heat that danced inside my tent. I so desperately want to unzip the door, to feel the rush of air upon my face.

  I am miserable. I have now been awake for almost thirty six hours. The sun has finally gone away and my prison has cooled off some. The hunger pangs are sharp and precise and my water supply is
now completely finished. In the corner of my tent is a small puddle of urine. I regret that decision but couldn’t hold it any longer. The smell is awful but I have no choice but to tolerate it.

  I don’t even care. The snoodledoogen can have its freedom. I will jump in my car the first chance I get and leave all evidence scattered to the wind. The only thing keeping me sane is this journal. I hope whoever finds this understands how precious it really is to me.

  *~*~*

  Day 6

  Another day of hell! I feel so weak today that I can barely move without vertigo setting in. It is another blistering hot day and my throat feels like I drank the granules from thick sandpaper. The morning was spent digging a hole.

  It is funny how some things seem really important to you at one moment and the next moment you no longer care at all. I loved this tent so much. It has served me well on many adventures and I took extra care to keep it clean. Admittedly, it may seem dumb for a man to grow so attached to camping equipment, but in my case, it felt more like my home than the tiny four walls of my overpriced apartment.

  I sank my pocket knife deep into the fabric of the floor and cut out a neat square. I didn’t think twice about any of my actions from today. It was as if survival became a living being and took over my body.

  “You are not strong enough to live so I must do it for you”

  That was what the silent whisper of human nature breathed into my ear.

  I dug deep into the earth with both my blade and the boney nubs of my fingers until I found wet mud. Throwing the globs of mud into my shirt, I twisted and squeezed it. I drank the most disgusting filtered mud water greedily.

  That seemed like child’s play. The hard part was swallowing the grubs and earth worms I collected from the hole without my gag reflex betraying me. It was a horrific success. I ate. I ate and I drank and I survived. I just don’t know how much longer I can struggle. A day? Two? I felt the sting of salty tears roll down my cheek for the first time today.

  I have to face the Snoodledoogen at some point. I will be armed with a tiny four inch pocket knife, him with the deadliest weapons from Mother Nature herself. I know it will my demise. I haven’t decided if it is courage or cowardness that is making me do this.