"George, have you seen anything up your way?"
Charles Ramos radioed his hunting partner. The new three
way radios were a great help on the hunting trips.
"That's a negative, Chuck. It's like every creature
with four legs has vanished from the mountain. " George
Aldous radioed back.
The two men had been up on Jones Mountain since sunup and
had seen neither hide nor hair of any game. This made the
two men uneasy since they both always had taken an elk with
a trophy sized rack every year. This year was different
though, even the forest seemed empty, the only sound came
at night when the loons would scream across the lake. Their
hunting partners, John Seals and Bob James had not been
heard from since the day before yesterday, that was another
worry for Charles and George. John and Bob were just as
seasoned in mountain lore as they were and for them not
to contact them had never happened before.
"Hey, Charles, since the game seem to be hiding, let's
go see if we can find their camp. Maybe they have found
better luck than we have." George radioed. A sudden
shiver made him cold all over, even though the sun was bright
and warm that afternoon. George Aldous could sense something
wrong even though his eyes saw nothing amiss.
"Alright George, maybe we can surprise them. I would
love to give old John a good scare. I owe him for what he
pulled on me last year. Remember that bear scare he pulled
on me?" Charles Ramos laughed as his mind brought up
the dark shadow on the side of last years tent. Charles
had wet himself, though he never told any of the others
about his accident. Charles had been mauled by a Black Bear
when he was young and the very thought of another attack
was enough to make his normal he-man persona turn to mush.
Charles and George met at the top of the ridge and used
the electric locator to lock onto the other camps hunting
beacon. The four avid hunters loved all the new gadgets
that came out every year, and had assigned themselves as
the personal demonstrators of the new equipment. This year
they had bought the new locators so that they could always
find each other's camps when they needed to.
The sun was just dropping below the western edge of the
mountains when they came upon their friend's camp. The entire
area around them was silent, there was no smoke from the
campfire and the tent flaps were standing open as if to
wait for the owners to enter. Charles Ramos touched the
burned wood in the fireplace circle, a puzzled look on his
face.
"The woods dead cold, George. There hasn't been a
fire in here for at least a full day maybe longer. See if
you can raise those two on the radios." Charles whispered
as if he was afraid to be overheard.
"John and Bob are too good a pair of hunters to pull
any stunt like disappearing. A rogue bear is one thing,
but disappearing like this is just not their style."
George added. Then he noticed a pile of clothes near the
fire ring. "Hey, Charles, look at these. Isn't that
John's hunting vest and leather over- pants? You remember
how we teased him about them? He swore they were for keeping
the thistle thorns off him this year." George remarked
as he held up the dark brown pants.
"Is there anything else? " Charles asked as he
walked over to where George was hold up the pants.
George was about to say no to the question when he noticed
a plaid shirt and a pair of black boots laying just beyond
the edge of the camp. George wrinkled his brow as he moved
toward the shirt and boots, an uneasy feeling was laying
heavy on his shoulders.
"What's the matter, George? " Charles Ramos asked.
Charles was getting unnerved by his friend's attitude. George
Aldous did not scare easily and now he was very afraid and
Charles was becoming just as frightened.
Charles Ramos tried to shake off the sudden cold of fear
and gave his friend a nervous chuckle.
"George, I am going to gather some dry wood and moss
and get this fire going. It's too late to return to our
camp so we will use John and Bob's. Maybe those two rogues
will return by morning. I know I am going to give them a
piece of my mind when I see them again." Charles said
as he filled his arms with dry sticks and moss.
"Not too big a piece, I hope." George laughed,
he felt the sensation of danger leaving him as the two friends
prepared the camp for the night. The normal routine of a
hunting trip filling his mind. He told himself that the
others had gone after fresh supplies and forgotten their
radios. "Of course, that's all it is." George
remarked to himself.
They found no food in the camp so they ate what they carried
in their own packs, hot coffee was boiling over the campfire
and the flames were warming their chilled bodies. The two
friends were quietly smoking their pipes when they heard
sounds like screams coming from across the valley, then
silence. Both men looked at each other and said in unison,
"Loons!"
A week later the rangers found their two camps, both deserted.
They found no trace of the four hunters, only their empty
clothes. There were no traces of blood nor any sign of violence
in the camps. One ranger noticed tiny holes in the clothing
but put it off to insects.
"Find anything, Roger? The other ranger asked his
partner.
"Nah, not a thing. Looks like the bugs have had fun
with their clothing though. You know how those beetles can
be when they find food." Roger Daltry laughed as he
threw down the ruined clothes.
Both men returned to their Jeep and went down from the
mountain, neither man noticing the sandy soil moving gently
beneath the area near the clothes. Once again all was silent
on Jones Mountain.
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