Authors: John Luke Robertson

Jase & the Deadliest Hunt (2 page)

GOLDFINGER

YOU ARE SITTING IN THE SHADE
as the river flows by. It’s not that wide, nor is it that deep. You’ve spent half a day walking upstream and crisscrossing the river to check for any animals. But you guys haven’t seen anything. You’ve finished your lunch and are still waiting.

“Is there somewhere else we should go?” John Luke asks. You let him pick the crossbow this time, and he’s itching to use it.

He’s standing on top of a bank leading down to the sand at the riverside. Willie and Cole are behind him, sitting down like you.

“I think you should head out to the middle of the river and chill,” Willie jokes. “Maybe some creature will show up then.”

John Luke seems to decide,
Why not?
So he carefully walks down the bank, crossbow in hand. Next thing you know, he’s standing in the center of the two-feet-deep water.

“Now stay there,” Willie yells. “An hour or two. Something will show up.”

Dense jungle foliage covers both sides of the river. You already feel like you’ve lost five pounds from sweating today.

“What do you think we’re supposed to be looking for?” you ask.

“Bigfoot?” Willie says.

“I haven’t seen anything moving.”

You’re staring at John Luke but not really paying attention when suddenly something bright falls from the sky and darts right onto John Luke’s head. He drops his crossbow, grabbing at whatever’s attacking him.

The rest of you stand up as the flying beast heads into the sky again. You study it and realize it’s a duck.

Except that’s like no duck I’ve ever seen. In my life.

“Jase, did you see that?”

“Well, if you’re talking about the gold thing that landed on John Luke’s head and took off again, yeah, I saw that.”

“What was that?” Cole asks.

“I think it was a duck,” Willie says.

“Oh, that was a duck all right,” you say. “But I think it’s like the hog.”

“How so?”

“It’s . . .
special
.”

You try to say the last word in Count VanderVelde’s enigmatic tone.

As you follow Cole and Willie down to John Luke, who’s out of the river now and seems to be okay, you glance at the Sphinx 300 crossbow in your hands and already know how useless it will be. Soon you’re by the water with the other guys, laughing at John Luke.

“That thing was like a hawk or something! Did you see it?”

“It was a duck, John Luke,” Willie says.

“
That
wasn’t a duck.”

“Yeah, I have to say it was,” you tell him. “And I also have to say

—we’re out of luck, gentlemen.”

“What do you mean?”

You give them a meaningful look. “That there was one of the fastest ducks I’ve ever seen in my life. Not to mention it’s gold.
Gold.
I think if we were in a blind and had our shotguns, it might be difficult enough

—”

“But we have crossbows,” Willie says.

“Yep.”

“John Luke, why’d you take the crossbow?”

“Told you I should’ve picked,” Cole says.

You think for a minute. “Well, this will make for an interesting afternoon.”

“I’m not giving up just yet,” Willie says. “You got your duck call on you?”

You can’t believe he asked you that question. Of course you have your duck call.

“I would think the CEO of Duck Commander would bring his duck call for a day of
hunting
, wouldn’t you, boys?”

John Luke and Cole agree.

Willie mutters something about leaving it back at the lodge. Seems like a flimsy excuse to you.

“Are we going to have to build a duck blind?” John Luke asks. “Wait it out in there?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think that’s an ordinary duck, just like that boar wasn’t any ordinary hog. I say we give the duck call a try. See what happens.”

But it produces absolutely nothing. There’s no sign of the duck at all. You try the duck call again and again for an hour, but it’s no use.

“Maybe it’s ashamed of hitting John Luke on the head,” Willie suggests.

You’re about ready to trek down the river when suddenly you spot the duck, floating as casual as can be on the surface of the water.

“You see that?” you ask Willie.

He nods and gets his crossbow ready.

All of you are standing on the edge of the river, watching the duck glide right past you. Willie shoots first and misses. Then you miss. Then John Luke and Cole miss.

The duck, still calm for some reason, is ten feet away from you now. But he’s quickly passing by.

You fire more arrows. But none of them get close.

As the duck begins to fade from view, it flies into the sky, then lands upstream. It’s floating down the river again, allowing you to take shots at it.

“He’s mocking us,” you say as the shiny duck comes close once more.

“What do you mean?” Willie doesn’t get it.

“I mean the duck is obviously taunting us. It’s as if he knows we’re stupid enough to try to shoot him with a crossbow, and he wants us to know that he knows.”

“John Luke picked it,” Willie says.

“He’s even watching us,” you say.
“Look at that.”

Sure enough, the duck seems to be smiling and giggling at you. If, of course, ducks could smile and giggle.
And wait

—did it just wave at us?

You use up the rest of your arrows. Like the golden duck, they’re all floating downstream.

Your ammunition is gone. So’s your pride.

“That was the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to me in my entire life,” you say.

“Oh, come on. I’ve seen you do far worse.” Willie’s humor is not appreciated on the banks of this island river.

“I can’t say I want a hog’s head in my living room, but that duck sure would’ve looked nice.”

The hunt is over. Score: One for the gold duck. Zero for the Duck Commanders.

Phil would be so ashamed of all of you. Which is why he’s never, ever going to find out.

THE END

Start over.

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

DINING WITH THE COUNT

AS WINCHESTER FINISHES
taking you on the tour, he tells you dinner is the next event on the schedule. He lets you go to the room you’ll be staying in so you can take a shower and change clothes. You’d love a nap but know there’s not time, so you opt to stay awake. You decide to splash on a little cologne that Willie gave you. It’s called Duck Sweat

—he calls it awful, but you rather like it.

When you meet the others in the dining room, you notice several people milling around, all dressed in white clothes. You’re not sure if they’re the cooks or the servers or both. All you know is they ask what you’d like for dinner, offer you various appetizers on plates, and bring you the beverage of your choice. They heavily encourage you to try the little pastries with hot dogs in them. So you happily have several.

You love this place and think you might stay here for a while. It could be a good spot to brainstorm ideas for Duck Commander. You are chief operating officer, after all. You need help getting ideas on how to operate. And this place seems to have some really good operations going on.

You stand around talking with Willie and the boys for half an hour before the count arrives. You’ve been wondering if he’ll wear a cape or a beret and look really goofy, but the guy who shows up appears to be a professional businessman. He’s tall and wears dress pants and a button-down, short-sleeved shirt. He has a dark tan and a clean-shaven head, and he greets each of you with a firm handshake, his bright eyes studying you from behind fancy designer glasses.

“I’m so glad to meet all of you,” Count VanderVelde says. “After meeting your better halves, it’s truly an honor to have you here in my home.”

“So you live here?” Willie asks.

“Of course. Didn’t Korie tell you?”

“There’s a lot Korie neglects to tell me.”

“Well, please blame me,” the man says. “I encouraged them to be as tight-lipped as possible.”

VanderVelde doesn’t have a Transylvanian accent, so you’ll have to rule out the possibility that this could be Count Dracula. Instead, he speaks with a Midwestern accent and seems very friendly.

“Our wives being quiet isn’t something that normally happens,” Willie jokes.

Count VanderVelde smiles. “Part of the fun of this expedition happens to be about the expectations you bring into the hunt. And about what happens when you’re in the midst of battle.”

“A battle consists of two sides,” you say. “When I hunt, there’s only one side that counts. It’s whatever I’m aiming at.”

“Please, let’s all sit at the long table and dine. It may be the only time we get the chance to be together like this.”

“Are you going somewhere?” Willie asks.

“Yes. I have certain obligations and places I need to be.”

“So what exactly are you the count of?” you ask. “Not trying to be rude, but I’ve been wondering about that.”

“It’s an honorary title given to me by a small region of the Netherlands. My family is Dutch.”

“Are they cheap?” you joke.

“Actually, yes, they are. My father likes to collect coupons and can never pass up a free meal. But as you may have already noticed, I didn’t inherit that frugal gene.”

After an outrageous meal of heavily seasoned steak and lobster and shrimp and chicken, you wonder if you’re ever going to be able to stand again. Now you’re
really
tired.

“I trust all of you have had enough time to think about the locations you’ll be hunting in and the weapons you will choose,” Count VanderVelde says.

“Well, this is a birthday gift for the old man over there,” Willie says, “so we’re gonna let him decide.”

You realize Willie must be talking about you.

“Old man?” you say. “This old man could whip you any day.”

“See?” Willie tells the count. “He’s getting feisty in his old age.”

“This is a birthday present for you too,” you remind him.

“Uh-uh. As I said, I’m hoping Korie’s gonna forget.”

“I’m not gonna let her forget.”

“There are a few ground rules,” the count breaks in. “Just so you’re aware before heading out.”

“Rules?” Willie asks.

“Yes. There is a possibility that this whole trip will be completely free of charge. You could also win the coveted Hunter’s Cup, made of pure gold.”

“How do we get that?” you ask.

“By successfully fulfilling your mission each day,” Count VanderVelde says. “And to do that, you will need to produce one

—and only one

—trophy from every day’s hunt. Any more or any less than one will be invalid.”

“You’re talking about a dead animal, right?” you ask him, just to be clear.

“I’m talking about the wild game you’ve taken,” he says with an air of mystery. This guy isn’t a big fan of calling a spade a spade.

“Seems pretty easy,” Willie says. “But what do you mean by
invali
d
? What happens if we don’t end up with this, uh, ‘wild game’ by the end of each day?”

“The hunting trip is over. The rest of the week is forfeited. All charges will go on the credit cards given.”

“How can that be?”

“That was agreed to by your wonderful wives, who signed and paid for this excursion.”

You shake your head.
Read the fine print, Missy. Always read the fine print.

“So we end up empty-handed on one of the days, and what?” you say. “It’s good-bye, good riddance? Game over?”

Count VanderVelde only smiles. “I wouldn’t put it like that. I have faith in you four. You are the Duck Commandos, right?”

“That would be Duck Commanders,” Willie says.

“So you head to your first destination, succeed there, and in theory, by the end of the week you will have managed to secure trophies from all six locations on the island.”

“Do we pick which destination we go to first?” John Luke asks hopefully.

“No. We’ve done that for you. Each day gets a bit more . . . well, how should I put it

—challenging?” Again he smiles.

“Will the animals we’re hunting be different every day?” Cole wonders.

The count doesn’t answer. Once more he simply smiles.

That smile is starting to annoy you.

“So the decision of which weapon you’ll take on your first day is up to you, Jase,” Count VanderVelde says. “What would you like?”

“Can we reuse weapons the next day?”

“Perhaps. If indeed there is another day on which you can choose.”

He gives you a wink, and for the first time since meeting him, you get this ominous sort of feeling.

It kinda spooks you out a bit.

“Decision time,” he says.

“Can you give me a
little
hint about the first place?”