Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Took A Job HUNTING CRYPTIDS. We Found Something Worse | Scary Stories

Episode Date: October 14, 2023

We aren't getting out alive.      Story from mrbeefthighs Make sure to check out more of their work at u/mrbeefthighs                        Original Post: You don't have to respond to every email you get at work. I learned that the hard way. (Part 1) : r/nosleep  Original YouTube link: I Took A Job HUNTING CRYPTIDS. We Found Something Worse.      For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Darren Curtis Music - YouTube  Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every day, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

I work for an animal removal company in Atlanta. You see a lot of strange things at this job, and I have had my share of the unexpected. But I've never been scared, you know, not really scared, until I took a job in the North Georgia Mountains. It all started two weeks ago. I was at work when I received this bat-shit crazy email. This is what it said. Calling All Wildlife Warriors I recently came up.

across some glowing reviews of your company, and I would like to ask you for a quote for your services. Now, you may not want to accept this offer at first, but if you are the fearless animal removal experts that the reviews paint you to be, then you'll accept the challenge I'm about to set before you. Now I have it on very good authority that there is a Sasquatch in the North Georgia Mountains. I know, I know, you think I'm crazy. But my cousin Eli has seen it firsthand. Not once, but twice.

Damn near scared him half to death. Now, Eli and I have been talking, and he thinks he has a pretty good idea where this thing has been living. You might want to ask me where. But I won't give you that information now, because I don't want you to run up there and bag and tag this monster without me. The plan is to capture the beast alive.

If push comes to shove and the beast has murder in its heart, well, we may have to shoot him. I'm not sure how aggressive these things are, but I've never seen a news report of someone being slain by a Sasquatch, so I assume they aren't overly unfriendly. The only obstacle Eli and I are facing is our lack of animal handling skills. I don't even have a pet dog, and, you know,

Eli really only traps squirrels. And neither of us believes that talent will have much overlap with bigfoot hunting. And that is where the seasoned professionals come in. I'm talking about you. Now I know this is a lot to ask a common man, but maybe you aren't so common after all. Maybe you are destined for greatness. Like Eli and myself.

Now you'd have to provide some traps, bindings, and maybe some treats for the animal, as well as your general knowledge of wildlife. Eli has already volunteered to be bait, And we've both agreed that on the off chance the Sasquatch has a grasp of the English language that I should be the one to speak on behalf of our party. Eli and I will both be chipping in to pay a handsome day rate. I expect this will take three to four days, one of which will be plotting and strategizing up at Eli's house. However, in the event of my mind,

death or Eli's death at the hands of the squash, total pay will be reduced by 50 to 100%, depending on if one or both of us die. Think about the possibilities. Be a part of the team that made history. Have your name etched in stone among mankind's greatest heroes. Buzz Aldrin, Julius Caesar, Eli Tebitts, Ross Tebitts, insert your name here, oh yeah, and Jesus Christ. Not to mention the effect this could have on your business. I mean if you can handle a Sasquatch, then people are going to have no problem paying top dollar for, you know, raccoon removal. Heck, I'm sure people will hire you just to have you come out and shake their hands. Please get back to us soon, as we aren't sure if this beast is migratory, and we do not want to miss our chance at history.

Sincerely. Ross Tibbitt. He ended with the quote, It's hard to be a diamond in a rhinestone world. Dolly Parton. Yeah, I know. I know it's insane. But it was too damn funny not to do a follow.

up. I had to at least find out what they were paying, so I sent an email back, saying I was interested, but I needed more details before I could clear my schedule. A few days later, I got another email from Ross detailing what they would need, bear traps, predator urine to hide our scent, a deer stand, rope, bear mace, a sleeping bag, snares, a snare pole, and a winning attitude. My salary? $650 a day. Now I had most of the equipment already, and I could pick up the rest in one afternoon of

running errands. And I had found the winning attitude as soon as I saw how much they were paying. So I emailed them back, agreeing to the job. Two days later, I was in the North Georgia Mountains, wondering if this was going to be easing money, or if two meth heads named Eli and Ross were going to kill me. me and wear my skin as a raincoat. I was really hoping for easy money. Eli's cabin was this small wooden shack near the Georgia-North Carolina border. The two cousins greeted me as I pulled in. Ross was short, pudgy, and he had oil-slicked back hair. He was also manic, talking

a mile a minute about how my drive was, how beautiful the weather for me was, and how we were gonna make history. He peppered every conversation with quotes about success and greatness. Now some are born great. Some achieve greatness. Some get it as a graduation gift. Robin Williams said that. Now we are going to achieve greatness this weekend. And I'll tell you that much. You know, and Theodore Roosevelt once said. It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried." Ross was incredibly annoying. I'm not going to lie.

Eli, on the other hand, could not have been more different from his cousin. He was older. He had leathery sun-damaged skin and was going gray on the sides of his head. He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was mostly in short declarative statements like, Or, nah. Or less often, some strange southern platitudes, such as, Ross, you ain't got the sense that God gave a goose. Or, I reckon that squire should be matted in a wet hen. Yeah, this was going to be a long three or four days.

The first night was spent plotting and strategizing, as Ross said, the thrusts. of their brilliant plan was this. Eli would somehow draw it out of the cave he suspected it was hiding in. If the monster, by some ridiculous freakish miracle, knew English, then Ross would reason with it? Convince it to let us take it captive? I don't know. As dumb as this guy was, I had to admire his confidence, though. In the event the Sasquatch was lured into the open, And it did not possess a firm grasp of English than I had been instructed to do my thing. Incredible minds hatch, incredible plans. I had to keep thinking about the money to stop myself from thinking how stupid this entire situation was.

That night, we all slept in the one-room cabin. There was only one bed, so I took a sleeping bag on the ground. Ross took the bed, and Eli sat in a chair near the window and slowly sipped moonshine the entire night. You know, I don't think he slept at all. As I said before, he rarely spoke, but his eyes said enough. The guy was scared. At times, I caught a tremble in his hand as he brought his cup to his lips. That was the first time I thought, if only for a moment.

These guys might not be so crazy. The next morning we set off. I carried an assortment of traps, lures, snares, and sprays. Ross carried camping gear. Eli carried provisions and a shotgun that I was extremely aware of at all times. We hiked the entire day without much luck. Periodically, Ross would stop the group and let loose one of his Bigfoot calls which sounded a lot like Arnold Schwarzenegger in the midst of an orgasm.

Yeah, well, anyway, about two hours before nightfall, we decided to stop and set up camp for the night. We dropped our bags and started making camp when we heard a ruckus from deeper in the forest. Ross held his finger to his lips to urge silence. I raised my snare pole in readiness, and Eli leveled the shotgun. at the bushes. The noise grew louder and louder. Bushes shook and a sharp coughing sound punctuated the otherwise silent forest until what looked like a gorilla burst from the foliage and ran directly toward us. Freeze! shouted Eli, gun at the ready. The gorilla instantly stopped dead in its tracks, and its hands shot up in the air.

Don't shoot, it said. I knew it would speak English. Ross sauntered forward with one hand extended in a show of peace. With his other hand, he slowly pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and kept them hidden behind his back. We mean you no harm, oh great one of the woods. And then the gorilla ripped off his own face, revealing a man underneath who looked directly at me.

Brad? You ever go on a faraway vacation, and you run into your neighbor walking down the beach? This was a lot like that. Just replace vacation with Bigfoot Hunt and neighbor with my biggest competitor. Kenny, what the hell? He said. I dropped the snare pole and walked over to him. I know this guy, I said.

And then another voice from the trees above us. Oh, hell, Kenny, what did I say? Never take off the mask. And another man was sitting in a tree stand about thirty feet above our hands. The damn squatch could be watching us right this instant, and you done blow your disguise." And now it was Eli and Ross's turn to be surprised, as they turned and saw the man in the tree. Milton? Ross turned to Eli, red-faced, and jabbed him in the chest with his finger.

I told you not to tell anyone else about this, Eli. And then he pointed the finger up at Milton sitting in the tree. And now we have competitors! Eli, showing emotion for the first time since I met him, pointed up at Milton and yelled, You said you didn't believe me. You said even if it was true we should leave it alone. Ahem? Eli wheeled around and looked at Kenny, who was not a little, who was now peeling off his gorilla costume.

You promised you wouldn't tell nobody. Milton stared back down at us from his perch. Yeah, well. He leaned forward and spat on the ground below him. His saliva was dark, and it stank of chewing tobacco. I lied. More movement from the bushes drew our attention. And another man burst into the campsite.

Boyd? Ross and Eli shouted in unison. Milton, how many people did you tell? We got half a fanning county out here. Ross demanded. We all camped together that night. It turns out Milton and Boyd were barflies who Eli would get drunk with on occasion. A week or so ago,

Eli had gotten a bit too drunk and spilled the beans about the Sasquatch and how he and his cousin would catch it and become rich and famous overnight. Rich and famous was too good for Milton to pass up, no matter how crazy the idea was. But he didn't want to split the money with Eli and Ross, so he got his own animal control expert and tried to catch the beast before Eli and Ross could get to it. Boyd was only allowed to tag along because he was too dumb to ask for money, and he'd do pretty much anything Milton told him to do. And Milton figured this would be a good time to have somebody like that by his side. While Ross, Eli, and Milton were in their own world talking, and Boyd was off collecting

firewood, I leaned over to Kenny, and I asked him how much he's getting paid. You're getting paid?" he asked. I'm getting blackmailed. I didn't ask him any more questions. Eli Ross and I climbed into our way too small tent, and we tried to get some shut-eye. I definitely would have preferred to sleep outside if the mosquitoes weren't so bad. Sharing a tent with those two, it was hell on earth. Not that any of us got much sleep.

At least I wasn't in the tent with Milton, Boyd, and Kenny. I could smell Milton and Boyd from outside of their tent. I could not imagine what it was like inside. Not long after we put the fire out, the smell showed up. A thick, choking odor. It was a mixture of rotting meat, skunk, and wet dog. The noxious fumes came so sick. suddenly, both tents erupted into hysterics, blaming one another for passing gas.

The arguments were cut short, though, by what followed. A series of loud whoops echoed through the forest around us, bouncing off the trees and cliff sides. None of us could tell where it was coming from. It could have been a mile from us, or it could have been just outside the light of the dying fire, and then the noises changed. They grew louder and more pronounced, as if the creature reveled in the terror it brought to our campsite. Whatever it was, it came closer. It clawed at tree trunks, emitting sharp scratching sounds, and then it moved on to low guttural growls that vibrated through the ground. The unseen creature, It seemed to possess an otherworldly intelligence.

It was like it was teasing us. It mimicked the calls of nocturnal animals in this chilling imitation. Ross, Eli and I, we exchanged bewildered glances, unable to comprehend the nature of what lurked just outside the light. Suddenly, the forest reverberated with high-pitched, screeches that sent our hands to our ears, and then it shifted again to the screams of a wounded animal, and then again, to a series of eerie laughter echoing off in the distance, and then silence. I heard the other tent unzip their flap, and then I heard Milton say,

Get out there and put a few more logs on the fire. You don't want this thing sneaking up us in the dark, do you?" A moment later, Boyd emerged from the tent. He hurriedly gathered a few pieces of nearby firewood and gently but quickly place them around the embers of the fire as to not smother it. All of us silently watched him from our tents, and then we heard a new noise. A quick, breathy whistle cut the silence for just a moment then. A sickening crack as a fist-sized rock struck buoyed in the back of the head.

He crumpled instantly in a heap next to the fire, his arms and legs twitching in a sick rhythm. The rock that hit him was still embedded in the back of his skull. Again, laughter boomed through the forest, and fear went through us. Our imaginations conjured nightmarish visions of a monstrous entity just beyond our sight. My heart raised and my mouth grew dry. The creature grew bolder and it moved closer to our campsite. It rattled trees and snapped branches causing them to sway and creak.

For the first time, we heard heavy footfalls of the creature as it ran circles. around our campsite, whooping and pulling down limbs. The logs Boyd placed in the campsite began to light, and the fire grew from embers to a healthy flame, and it continued to grow. As the fire grew, our circle of light grew with it. The creature in the forest seemed to back off. We no longer heard the footsteps, and the laugh. seemed farther away. The whoops and yell stopped. And then finally, the horrible rotten smell

was gone. Still, nobody moved. Nobody even spoke. Not even when an ember from the campsite jumped on DeBoid's back and it caught his shirt on fire. We didn't even move when the fire spread to his greasy hair. We all sat in silence, and we just watched him burn. What did I got myself into? We broke silence when the sun came up. Hell of a night, Milton said, crawling out of his tent. He stood up and stretched his hands into the air and yawned. Smells like bacon, don'ty? Screw you. Eli said, You don't even feel bad, do you?

He didn't have to go out there. Milton nudged the corpse with his boot. Boyd's back was charred where the shirt had burnt off, and his hair had completely burned away, leaving a blackened scalp punctuated by a fist-sized rock stuck about two inches deep. Well, I'm glad he did, though. I reckon he saved our asses." Eli walked away from the conversation and began packing camp. For the first time since I met him, Ross was silent.

I crouched down next to him and softly asked him if he was all right. He looked up at me and said, The greatest glory in living lies not in the lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. That's Nelson Mandela. He was going to be okay, I thought. All right, Piggy. Milton called the Kenny, who was sitting on a log eating a granola bar.

Get packing. We're bird in daylight. Go to hell, Kenny replied, taking another bite of his breakfast. Not so fast, my friend." Eli shot back. He held up his cell phone in one hand, and he pointed at it with the other. One call, that's all. Don't forget that.

And without another word, Kenny stood up and started packing camp. Before we left camp, Eli Ross and I had a team meeting, if you could call it that. This campsite would be our meeting point. If any of us got lost or separated, or if Milton went crazy and started attacking people, we would meet back here. Eli also instructed me to lay down the three bear traps I'd brought with me around the campsite. If Bigfoot chased us, maybe we could lead it into one. And if Milton was chasing us, well, we'd get him the same way.

We packed our bags and headed off. I followed a few minutes behind after setting the bear trap in our designated spots, and I hurried to catch up. We walked mostly in silence, each of us contemplating the previous ten hours of our lives, the new-found respect for a creature half of us believed to be myth. The haunting melodies it made. The sickening crack of Boyd's skull splitting. Regardless of how the events of this hunt played out, I think after the first night in the

woods, each of us was changed forever. We were scarred by these events, and we would carry that with us for the rest of our lives, however long that may be. I honestly don't know why I stayed after that first night. Money wasn't good enough for the danger. Maybe I was scared to walk back alone. Maybe I'm just a follower and was more comfortable just doing what I was told. I don't know.

I think back to the email that started this whole mess. Ross wrote, I know this is a lot to ask a common man, but maybe you aren't so common after all. I think this was like a once in a last. lifetime chance at something great and why not take it? Either I spend the next 40 years of my life taking raccoons and squirrels out of addicts and probably die on the job having never achieved anything. Or, you know what, I take a chance and I die doing something no one has ever done before. Or maybe, just maybe. I survive.

Then I get a hell of a story out of it. Sure, I'll end up being the psycho at the bar raving about Bigfoot, but at least I'll know the truth. Milton seemed to be the only one in a talkative mood, mostly telling everyone how he had Kenny by the balls. Kenny did not say a word the entire time. It was not a fun walk. About 45 minutes after we left camp, the smell hit us again.

finally shut Milton the hell up. Eli silently led us to the mouth of the cave we'd been searching for. The smell, it was insanely powerful. The five of us stood there, and the reality of the situation began to dawn on us. None of us had a plan. None of us had experience with anything like this, so what the hell were we doing here? Not a single one. one among us was some brave explorer driven by overwhelming curiosity and the promise of discovery. None of us really wanted to be here. One of our party members had already been killed by this creature without us ever laying eyes on it. What the hell did we think we were going to do? predictably. It was Milton who broke the silence.

All right, Piggy, in you go." He whispered, towards Kenny, while nodding towards the cave entrance. Kenny calmly walked past Milton and whispered into Eli's ear. Eli's eyes flicked between Kenny, the cave, Milton, and back to the cave again. And then he smiled, and he handed Kenny the shotgun. All right, Piggy, get in the cave. Kenny said, leveling the shotgun at Milton. Not so fast, my friend.

Milton began, pulling his phone out of his pocket. One call, and Kenny interrupted him. Like I give a crap. And then smoke belt. from the shotgun, and we watched as Milton's hand exploded into a fine red mist. All of us, even Milton, stood in shocked silence, with the exception of Ross who muttered to himself, I must not fear. Fear is the mine killer. Fear is the little death. I think I knew that one. That was a Frank Herbert quote.

I have to admit, Milton took it like a champ. He didn't scream, but he erupted into a quiet rage like you do when you stub your toe at your girlfriend's parents' house. His face twisted in pure agony, and he hopped around in a circle whispering obscenities. And then he brought the mangled stump that used to be his hand into his gut, and he pressed it to his shirt to try and stop the bleeding. He hopped around a few more times, then regained his composure. Go to hill all of you, he said, before heading slowly towards the mouth of the cave.

Eli walked over to Kenny, pulled the shotgun out of his hand, and loaded a shell to replace it. Milton stood on the threshold of the cave mouth, and he turned around. And then he turned back into the mouth of the cave, and calmly went in. The three of us who remained looked sharply at Kenny, who couldn't seem to take his eyes off the ground in front of him. I think Ross was about to break the silence when we heard from deep in the cave, singing. It was Milton, half crying, half singing.

When I get to where I'm going, on the far side of the sky, Ross whispered to us then. Yeah, but he's going to hell, isn't he? The singing continued. It echoed off the walls of the cavern with an eerie reverb. I'm going to land beside whom." That last exclamation. It was the last we heard of Milton. Instantly all of us froze in a combination of respect that someone had just walked so calm like to such a grisly death, but also it was fear that what we had been hunting was now here

in front of us. Also, it could probably see us. And then suddenly we could hear it. Loud foot falls and heavy breathing. I slowly started backing away from the cave entrance. Eli and Kenny did the same. Ross stood planted, entranced by the sound of the approaching horror. Eli shouted for him and and told them to move. But Ross remained as if his legs were stuck in concrete. And then suddenly, this massive figure emerged from the darkness of the cave mouth. It towered over Ross, who now stood only feet in front of it. It had to have been somewhere between eight and ten feet tall. Its massive frame was adorned with thick, reddish-brown hair. It's Its deep-set yellow eyes were at the same time both intelligent and primal,

and it sat in a skull the size of my entire torso. Its arms were long and muscular. Its legs were short and powerful, and of course, its feet were huge. It held one of Milton's arms by the wrist and was chewing on the biceps. The next part of this story is the most unbelievable part, but I swear to you this really happened. Scouts honor, the Sasquatch removed Milton's arm from its mouth, looked down at Ross, who was pissing his pants six feet in front of the hawking monster, and it said, I swear to you this happened.

Now, I don't think the Sasquatch can speak English. I don't think it can understand English either. But I've seen videos of cats that they sound like they're saying howdy. And I've seen dogs that sound like they're saying I love you. I mean, just the night before we heard the Sasquatch mimic a thousand different creatures while it terrorized our camp. So it's not out of line to think this monster had somehow heard that word before and just randomly decided to mimic it.

That specific word, that specific moment. But my God, what bad timing for Ross to hear the beast say that. instantly whipped his head around towards Eli, and I told you so look. A massive grin spread across his face. He craned his neck to look up at the immense creature. He cleared his throat and then said in this ridiculous vague accent, Oh, great one of the forest, may I offer you a cigarette? And then he pulled the cigarette out from his pocket and extended it towards the creature.

I could not believe what I was seeing. The hairy Colossus gently laid Milton's tattered arm on the ground and gingerly reached out towards Ross's hand, as if he was going to say, Hey, thanks, I needed a smoke." Ross turned his head toward us again, and I have never seen a smile that wide. The giddiness on his face conjured up images of children at petting zoos who see a llama for the first time and think they're taking part of a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Only in Ross's case.

I guess that really was true. Ross cleared his throat once more and said, Yes, yes, my good friend, would you like to? And then in a flash, the Sasquatch's arm lashed out, and it grabbed Ross's extended arm by the elbow. The only sound Ross had time to utter was a bewildered "'Hah?' "'Before the animal flung him high over his head, "'down under the rock floor of the cave.

"'There is no doubt in my mind. "'Ross was dead on impact. "'Blood shot out in every direction, "'but the brute continued hulk smashing "'and rag-dalling the corpse "'until until Eli fired his shotgun, "'striking it in the midsection. "'The giant,

A giant ape dropped the bloody pulp that had, just moments ago, Ben Ross, and it turned its attention on us. The Munster looked down, and it placed its huge hands over the small wound the shotgun had made on his stomach, and it pulled it away, revealing a small amount of blood. I think the expression on its face was shock, but I don't know for sure. Even if the wound was insignificant for a creature of this size, I don't think anyone had ever made it bleed. It bent down and began packing the wound with leaves and dirt. And we took the opportunity to break for the campsite.

The three of us tore through the forest as fast as we could. It wasn't long before our legs were burning and we were gasping for breath, pushing our bodies to their limits under the weight of our large packs, but we kept going. Branches lashed at our arms and faces like whips as we ducked through the thick foliage. It wasn't long before the forest around us shook with this incredible roar, and the chase was on. We could tell from the periodic roars that it was gaining on us quickly. It would catch up to us soon, and we had to us. had no chance of winning that fight. I grabbed Eli and Kenny, and I quickly doused us with a bottle

of red fox urine I'd bought to cover our scent, and then I grabbed a handful of dirt and pine needles, and I began rubbing them all over me, and I told them to do the same. After about a minute of trying our best to cover our scent, I pulled them both into a dense thicket, and I told them to be as quiet as possible. After a few minutes, the rank odor of the Sasquatch returned. Sweat ran down my face, and my heart beat so fast I was afraid it might give me away. I pressed myself deeper into the brush, my body shaking. The scent of damp earth mingled with the aroma of pine, and I prayed to God it would be enough to evade detection. Every fiber of my being focused on keeping still, blending in with my surroundings.

I realized that despite the smell getting stronger, we hadn't heard the trademark footfalls. I wondered where it was, and then a heavy shadow passed across our hiding spot. It was in the trees. Its thick, powerful arms carried it from limb to limb. Muscles rippled like waves under its thick coat of matted fur. The creature moved silently, almost gracefully through the woods around us, stopping from time to time to scan the forest floor and sniff the air. I didn't make a sound, even as the Sasquatch lingered a few feet above my hiding spot, scanning the area. Its intelligent eyes seemed to search every nook and cranny of the forest, and my heart was racing. But luck was with us, as the Sasquatch's attention shifted elsewhere, drawn to a distant sound or scent. It hesitated before turning away and disappearing into the labyrinth of the forest. We sat in the bush for another 30 minutes before letting ourselves breathe a sigh of relief.

I had survived our first face-to-face encounter with the Sasquatch, but we still had many miles to go before we reached home. We took a few moments to regain our composure, and then we slowly continued our way to the campsite, careful to keep quiet, as we pushed through to our destination. We knew we were getting close when we encountered a smell, not the heavy, rotten musk of the Sasquatch, but the charred and sickly smell of Boyd's burned remains. Eli, the oldest of us, requested a break before we entered our old campsite. I don't think it was to catch his breath as much as it was the fact that he'd lost two acquaintances and a family member in the last ten hours. Going back to the site where the charred remains of Boyd lay,

I think it was just too much for him, especially since we both knew the animals and insects would have started getting to Boyd by now. I sat on the ground next to Eli, and I rested my hand on his shoulder. We didn't need to speak. I've lost friends and family before, too. Granted, not in ways as sudden and incredibly stupid as offering a Sasquatch, a cigarette, but I understood nonetheless. After a few minutes of reflection, Eli and I stood up, dusted ourselves off,

and we were ready to continue our journey ahead. when we heard Kenny scream. Help! He shouted, The bear trap got me. Eli and I both shared a look of regret. With everything we'd gone through since waking up, we'd forgotten about the bear traps.

In fairness, it had been a hell of a day. We sprinted to the campsite, and we found Kenny sitting on his ass. His leg caught in the eye. iron grip of the trap. The serrated edges of the trap sank deeper with each of his movements. Blood trickled from the wounded leg in steady streams staining the ground under him. It was clear his leg was broken in at least one place. Kenny was not going to be walking out of this forest.

Eli and I worked to pry the trap open, but each time we pulled at the jaws, jaws, Kenny would scream and beg us to stop. After two attempts, the heavy musk of the Sasquatch returned. Kenny's eyes grew wide, and he begged us not to leave him. He reached for us as we stood up and backed away. Tears ran down his cheeks. Eli and I again rubbed dirt and pine needles on us, and we jumped into a nearby bush and waited. And it wasn't long before the Sasquot showed up. Kenny went silent, and he stared at the

hulking brute as it approached him. The giant reached out one massive hand and picked Kenny up by the torso, pinning his arms at his sides. His legs dangled below, one of the legs bent at an awful angle where the bear trap still attached to the leg had got him. And Eli and I watched this all from the nearby bush, when we realized we'd made a terrible mistake. We were laying on top of a fire ant colony. Searing pain shot up our legs as the army of ants crawled out of their hive and worked their way from our feet up towards our torsos.

The pain was crazy. It took all my willpower, not to just scream and brush them off of me. They slowly worked their way up my legs onto the trunk of my body, and then my back and then my neck. And soon they were crawling into my ears and my nose. My brain was screaming to my brain. to get him off of me, but Eli and I remained motionless, and I let the swarm of insects just wash over us. The only other choice was death. The Sasquatch, still holding Kenny up with one hand,

took his free hand, and he placed it over Kenny's head. It closed its fingers around Kenny's head and ripped it upward, like it was uncorking a wine bottle. Kenny's head was pulled off effortlessly, and it brought a small section of spine along with it. Kenny never made a sound. The monster dropped both pieces of what was Kenny, and it started sniffing the air, searching. At this point, the fire ants had almost completely covered us. I could feel my skin starting to swell. I took a sideways glance at Eli, and his face was so swollen I could barely recognize him, but we remained absolutely silent. The beast milled around the campside, playing with its fresh kill. After taking a few generous bites out of the man it had killed

the day before, it looked as if it had given up searching the area and was about to leave when. The beast stepped into another one of the dormant bear traps. The animal howled in pain and primal rage. The trap didn't slow it down at all, though. The beast pried the trap off of its foot and then snapped it into. And then in an awesome show of pure strength, it uprooted a small tree and it broke that at half as well. The animal then began to walk around the campsite, testing its injured foot, huffing and puffing in a blinding rage, periodically beating its chest. After what felt like an eternity, we lost sight of the beast. And eventually the smell was gone.

At that point, we felt secure enough to leave the bush. We scrambled out like madmen, jumping around and slapping off the insects as quickly and quietly as we could. Still, neither of us made a sound. We looked like hell. Covered from head to toe in dirt, scrapes, bruises, slick and sweat and swollen beyond our recognition.

Each step we took was agony, but the worst part was the itching. Our entire bodies itched. We scratched our arms and legs so hard they began to bleed, which just attracted mosquitoes and gnats. I won't lie to you. There was a few times when I contemplated screaming, and just letting the beasts take me.

But I quickly brush those thoughts aside. One other thing that really sucked, at this point I had not figured out yet, that I probably was not going to get paid for any of this shit. What a kick in the nuts that was. We moved slowly and steadily through the woods, leaving behind the campsite that had become the final resting place for two of our our party. We didn't talk, and we took short rest often, both to regain our energy, and to listen to the woods around us for any sign of the squash. We slept that night in a thick bush,

taking turns sleeping, so we could wake the other person in case of danger, or if they started snoring. We continued on in the morning, dropping unnecessary items from our packs as we traveled. Eli dropped the tent, sleeping bags, and most of the food. I dropped nearly all of my equipment, with the exception of bare mace as the last line of defense, and the food and water I would need to stay alive. We moved more quickly than the day before, riding high on adrenaline, and with the hope that we could soon put all of this behind us. We were almost back to Eli's cabin by midday. We were 200 yards from the cabin.

When the smell came back, we gathered what little energy we had left and we sprinted towards the cabin. I could hear the pounding of heavy footfalls behind me. The squatch was gaining ground fast. Pure adrenaline pumped in my veins. All I could do was focus on the small wooden shack in the distance. getting closer with every step. I wanted to turn around and look, but I didn't.

I couldn't afford any wasted movement or energy. I had to focus on the cabin in the distance. All I could hear was the sound of two men running through the forest and our own breathing. I immediately knew what had happened. It had taken to the trees. I couldn't resist any longer. I had to look. The terror of anticipating certain death was too much to take. I slowed my pace slightly, and I glanced behind me. Nothing. I looked to the left and the right, nothing on either side.

I tried looking up in the treetops, but the canopy was too thick to allow me to see more than a few feet high. Eli had pulled ahead of me and I was focused on his backpack. That was my new target. Catch up to the man in front of me, I thought, don't be the guy at the end of the line that gets picked off first. I was laser focused on that backpack. My vision narrowed, everything else in the forest didn't matter. All that mattered was following that ratty Jansport bag to safety. My breathing steadied. The pain in my legs seemed to numb. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Insanely, I thought, wow. So this is what a runner's high is. And then my view was blocked by a giant hairy arm that swooped down in front of me and grabbed Eli's backpack and thrust him up

into the air. Eli yelped as he was pulled into the air, legs kicking. Luckily, he was a quick thinker and immediately slipped out of the backpack. He fell about eight feet back down and crashed onto the forest floor. I stopped to help him up and we carried on. And the cabin was now about a hundred yards from us. 80, 60, 40. And then I felt myself being lifted off the ground and immediately trying to slip out of my backpack, but the straps were too tight. I was lifted higher and higher into the trees until I came face to face with what had been hunting us for three days straight. Its yellow eyes bore into me from under its protruding and hairy brow, and it opened its mouth, revealing rows of large, flat teeth, designed for pulverizing bone. Its terrible breath stung my eyes,

and it made them water. The beast took a sharp inhale, and it screamed in my face. I would describe it to you. But I'll just say it blew out both of my eardrums, which instantly made me dizzy, and it made my ears leak a clear fluid. In a dizzy haze, I pulled out my last line of defense, the beer mace, and I unleashed it on my attacker's face. Instantly the monster dropped me, sending me 30 feet to the forest floor, which pretty much destroyed my left ankle. I remember Eli helping me up, and us running the last 40 yards to the cabin. I remember hearing the monster's pained howls and hearing it wretch and gasp for breath, but mostly I just remember the pain. When we reached the cabin, Eli laid me down on the couch and handed me a shotgun. He then walked over to the

fireplace and he pulled down an assault rifle he had mounted above, as if it was a Christmas Reef. You know how to use it? He asked me, pointing to the shotgun in my hands. I nodded. Eli took cover behind the wall next to the main window and peeked out. I think we'll be all right in here, he said, probably more for his own confidence than mine.

I've got enough guns and ammo in here to invade Iraq. I looked around the cabin. He really did. The cabin was decorated in a style I would call prepper chic. There were ammo canisters stacked in one corner, bottles of water in another corner. There were enough canned goods and peanut butter to last a decade, and enough moonshine to get an entire army drunk. If you were ever to have a last stand against a crazed Sasquatch, You could do much worse than Eli's shack. I rolled off the couch and I crawled my way over to the kitchen where the moonshine was stockpiled. I took a bottle, uncorked it, and I took a couple swigs.

Wasn't good as morphine would have been, but that needed something. Eli looked over at me and smiled. Pretty good, huh? Made it myself. Don't light up a cigarette now, or it'll have you burping flames." He again peeked out the window. Hey, get away from my truck. He opened fire through the window, screaming like someone who's watched too many war movies

but has never been to war. And next, I heard the sound of wrenching metal. No doubt the Sasquatch doing something terrible to Eli's truck. Eli confirmed this a moment later, shouting, Hey, what are you doing in my truck? Eli reloaded, and he kept firing at the beast. If he had half decent aim, that animal should have nearly 30 rounds in it by now, but it was not slowing down in the slightest.

And then there was a crashing sound, and broken glass exploded into the cabin. I looked up, and Eli was a little bit. Eli was no longer there. I followed the trail of broken glass, and I found him dead on the other side of the cabin. The Sasquatch had ripped the tire off of his truck and thrown it at him, caving in his chest. Now it was just me and the Sasquatch,

and I went over my options. try to shoot it like Eli, then die, try to fight it one-on-one like Kenny and Milton, and then die. Try to offer it a cigarette like Ross and then die. Hell, Boyd didn't even get to lay eyes on it and he died. I thought back to that night, hiding in the tent, listening to the whoops and hollers of the beast as it ran circles around our camp.

I thought of Boyd's body twitching as it lay in the dirt before catching fire. As the fire grew that night, the monster had receded deeper and deeper into the woods, and I had my answer. I took several bottles of the moonshine, and I started making Molotov cocktails, sipping as I worked. The entire time I could hear the monster walking circles around the house. grunting and sniffing the air. When I was happy with the fire bombs, I lit a rag on fire with the gas stove, and then I crawled over to the busted window,

and I started lobbing them out into the surrounding forest. And then I crawled back over to the kitchen to make more and repeat the process. Now, there isn't a Hollywood ending to the story. I didn't take down the Sasquatch avenging my fallen comrade. There was no love story. I just did millions of dollars of environmental and property damage, and then when it became too smoky in the cabin for me to breathe, I army crawled out of there.

I got into my truck that was still parked there, and I drove away blindingly drunk. Hell, I couldn't even get anyone to believe me. When I drove myself to the nearest hospital, they They had me arrested for driving drunk. It was the perfect cherry on top of a shitty weekend. You know, I wish I could say I learned something, that there was some greater message to this story, but I don't think there is. Unless the message is, when you're at work, you don't have to answer every email you get.