The Daredevils, page 10
“Sor-ry,” I said.
He shoved the rest of it in his mouth. Like that was going to prove anything. I grabbed Entertainment Weekly from my nightstand and thumbed through it while he chomped away.
“I’ve decided on my rite of passage,” he informed me after swallowing.
I tossed the magazine aside and sat up straighter. “Already?” With everything else that had happened over the last few days, I’d forgotten all about rites of passage. “What is it?” I asked (even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know).
“I can’t tell you, but you’ll learn soon enough. I want to start tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?”
“The idea came to me at camp.”
“Oh, yeah. Was it the Forest Spirits or that girl who revealed it to you?”
Waylon’s eyes narrowed. I could see him trying to figure out how much I knew about “that girl.”
“Her name is Penelope,” he said.
“I don’t care. Did she put you up to this?”
“What? No!” he shouted. “Penelope isn’t even in our club.”
That was true, but I still didn’t trust her—or my brother. “Well, I don’t have my rite of passage ready yet, so you’re just gonna have to wait.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Waylon said. “We can’t attempt our tests on the same night, anyway. That’s not how this part works. A rite of passage is a significant challenge, one that represents your entry into manhood or womanhood, if you conquer it,” he explained. “I’ll go tomorrow night and you and Louie will go later.”
A significant challenge? Manhood and womanhood? What was he thinking this time?
“Tomorrow night,” Waylon repeated.
I nodded, and then he left. After he was gone, I squeezed my pillow because I didn’t have Blankie. The hurt wasn’t going away.
I was steaming mad with Waylon, but that didn’t mean I was ready to see him die. Leon Hurd was still out there. The plan to toughen my brother up was still the plan. That hadn’t changed. His rite of passage was going to be his next Mr. Miyagi training exercise—at least that was what I told myself to help round up the courage to go.
Come Friday at midnight, the two of us executed another flawless escape. And even though our arrival at Louie’s house wasn’t planned, we spotted him peering out his window, waiting for us. Waylon looked at me and grinned.
“The Forest Spirits,” he whispered.
“Whatever,” I groaned. “Let’s go.”
We gripped Dad’s ladder and dashed across the backyard. After getting Louie down, we immediately set out for the fortress. No time for small talk. This was all business. (Don’t be misled; that didn’t mean it was easy.) Even though we’d done this before, traveling through the forest at night was still super freaky. I’d seen too many movies, and this was the part where something bad happens—and something bad did happen. We weren’t attacked by the bobcat if that’s what you were thinking, but I tripped and fell and smacked my knee against a rock. We didn’t have that far left to go, so I told Louie and my brother that I was okay, but it hurt like heck.
“We’re here tonight because the Forest Spirits have revealed my rite of passage,” Waylon announced after we’d gathered inside our hideout and the medicine man had cleaned and tended to my knee. A small bandage and I was all set.
“What exactly does that mean?” Louie asked, packing up his medical kit.
“A rite of passage is a significant challenge, one that represents your entry into manhood or womanhood, if you conquer it,” Waylon explained, repeating the same thing he’d told me. “Different cultures have different rituals,” he continued, “but one thing is for certain: it needs to be daring. Young Native American boys could be challenged to go out and kill a buffalo with nothing but their knife!” he exclaimed, getting excited. “The Maasai tribe of Africa challenged their boys to go out into the savanna to hunt and kill a lion!”
Louie lost it after hearing that. “You’re out of your mind!” he shouted. “Let me guess, you want me to hunt and kill a bear with just my hands. Well, you can forget it. You can count me out this time.”
“Louie, calm down,” I ordered. “You don’t have to kill a bear.” I was putting the kibosh on that idea before Waylon actually started to entertain the possibility. “Not all challenges are as extreme as the Maasai,” I told him. (I didn’t have any good examples right then, but that had to be true.) “And besides, tonight is about Waylon’s rite of passage, not yours.”
He nodded and took a puff from his inhaler, but worry still etched his face.
I turned to my brother. “Let’s hear what you’ve got planned.”
Waylon leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “I’m not going to kill any animal,” he said. “Killing a creature for no reason would be disrespectful. You should only kill one if you’re going to use all of its various parts for survival. So instead, I plan to catch and release one.”
“This isn’t fishing,” I groaned. “That won’t count.”
“I’m not talking about fishing,” Waylon shot back. “I’m talking about a bobcat.”
“A bobcat!” Louie cried. “Ohh.”
“Yes, a bobcat,” Waylon repeated. “We know there’s one around here, and I’m going to catch it. It’s not a lion, but I think it qualifies as dangerous enough, especially since I’m going to release it after I trap it.”
“Waylon, don’t you think this might be a bit far-fetched?” I said. “You don’t want to set yourself up for failure. I mean, seriously, a bobcat?”
“You agree, then?” he countered. “Catching and releasing a bobcat would be a formidable challenge, one worthy of qualifying as my rite of passage?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. I’m going to do it.”
I went to object again but then stopped. What did I care if my brother succeeded or not? And I definitely didn’t expect him to succeed. The important thing here was the fact that what he was proposing had the makings of a huge Mr. Miyagi undertaking, just as I’d hoped. “Suit yourself,” I said. “Go for it.”
“Ohh,” Louie moaned again.
Waylon beamed. “Okay,” he said. “One requirement in any rite of passage is that it be completed alone, in solitude. I’ll need the rest of tonight and all day tomorrow to build and set my trap. Loretta, I’ll need you to take care of Mom and Dad. You and Louie can meet me back here at midnight.”
“Fine,” I replied.
“Waylon,” Louie croaked, “suppose you do catch a bobcat. How’re you going to release it without getting killed?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out.” He pulled up his pant leg, revealing his newest tattoo, that of a rabbit which he’d positioned on his calf. “The rabbit outsmarts the bobcat,” he said, making it sound that simple.
Judging by Louie’s face, it wasn’t that simple for him. Me? I still didn’t think he stood a chance at capturing the animal, so why fret about its release?
“It’s settled, then,” I said. “We’ll see you tomorrow night. This meeting’s adjourned.”
I crawled out of the fortress and stood. Louie and Waylon followed.
“Good luck, Waylon,” Louie whispered.
My brother nodded and saluted, and then Louie and I marched off. I accompanied Louie back to his house because there was no way I was walking through the woods on my own. After dropping him off, I took the roads home.
Louie returned to his bedroom full of worry that night. I crawled under the covers feeling concerned, but not for my brother. Waylon was smart and would be fine. I was more concerned about Mom and Dad and what I was going to tell them. And a tiny part of me was also getting concerned about my own rite of passage—because my brother had just set the bar pretty high.
I huddled inside the fortress after my sister and Louie left. It would be near impossible to accomplish much in the dead of night, even with my headlamp, so I settled on reviewing my plan. I had to keep my mind busy; otherwise my imagination was likely to take over. A dark forest was spooky, but being alone in a dark forest was next-level scary. I had to put my faith in the Forest Spirits to protect me and keep me safe, and overcome my fear. That was all part of my rite of passage. Easier said than done.
I continued to jump and flinch at every noise. I had to pee as bad as a racehorse, but my will to hold it and stay safe inside the fortress was stronger than my urge to go. (I didn’t have that much faith in the Forest Spirits.) Fortunately, I managed to doze off after a while. I awoke at the first signs of dawn, when light was just beginning to break through the trees. It was time to get to work.
The first thing I needed to do was determine the optimal site for my trap. That might sound trivial, but it was one of the most important parts. You could have the best trap ever built, but if you put it in the wrong location, it would never work.
I adjusted my headlamp and began inspecting my surroundings, searching for any signs of animal activity: tracks, rubbings, claw markings, paths, dens, scat. You get the idea. I hoped to find a place not too far from the fortress, but I also needed to make sure there was a strong tree nearby. (I would need that before I got done.)
After several trips around the area, I settled on a spot past the Circle of Stones, roughly twenty feet beyond the edge of the clearing. There were two well-traveled trails leading to and from the location.
Once I’d selected the site, it was time to get building. The design I had in mind would likely be considered a drop trap, but it also had cage and snare attributes incorporated. The cage was where I needed to start.
With my hatchet, I began the hard work of making stakes, similar to what I did when building our fortress, only this time the stakes needed to be the same length and cut with one end coming to a very sharp point for stabbing into the ground—that was important. Using my survival line, I tethered the stakes to the top and bottom cross-posts. Then I added a roof and did more knotting and securing. It took me all morning, but I managed to build a solid cage that was designed to fall over the top of my bobcat, thus trapping it. I’d also succeeded in polishing off my water and the lone PB&J that I’d packed, but there wasn’t much I could do about that.
After drinking my last swallow, I decided to attach a heavy flat rock to the top of my cage, as an added measure. Without the additional weight, I worried a ticked-off bobcat might have the strength to flip the cage over and escape. I was hopeful the rock would prevent that—unless I caught a bobcat as big as a bear. Or an actual bear. How cool would that be! Anything was possible with the Forest Spirits in my corner.
I moved on to camouflaging next. Again, similar to what we did with the fortress, I weaved leafy branches in and out of the stakes. And lastly, I tied a long piece of my thickest survival line to the middle of the roof. At this point, my cage was ready to be suspended in the air, but not before I constructed the ground components of my trap.
The ground components were critical. To function properly, this element required precision. First, I cut identical notches into the sides of my last two remaining stakes, and then I drove the stakes into the ground, six inches apart from each other, notches facing inward. Next, I took a smaller but strong stick, cut exact to fit in between the two stakes, and tied the thick survival line that I’d attached to my cage around the middle of it. This short stick was called the trigger stick, and it was the key to my entire operation.
I had a batch of fresh blisters to show for my efforts, but so far, so good. It was finally time to set my trap. I took the trigger stick and tossed it up and over a solid branch that hung above me. (This was why I needed that strong tree nearby.) The idea was simple. Using the mechanism of a basic pulley, I was going to pull down on the trigger stick line, thus lifting the cage into the air. When I had the cage to a desired height, I was going to roll up the extra line like you do when flying a kite and slide the trigger stick into position between my two notched stakes. The cage would stay suspended until something knocked the trigger stick free. But what would do that? And why?
This was where being clever came into play. All I had to do was slather the trigger stick with the world’s best-known bait—peanut butter. I’d brought two travel packets with me to do the job. There wasn’t an animal alive that didn’t love the taste of peanut butter. Mr. Bobcat wouldn’t be able to resist. He’d begin licking the bait, carefully at first, and then more and more aggressively after being overcome with its delicious flavor. It wouldn’t take long before he knocked the trigger stick free, causing the cage to drop over the top of him, and wa-la. Trapped!
My design was textbook and my plan bulletproof—in theory. Unfortunately, putting theory into action isn’t always so easy or straightforward. The pulley concept was a good one, but I wasn’t near strong enough to make it work. After all the hatchet swinging and building that I’d done, I couldn’t hoist the cage off the ground. Tie more line to it and maximize the number of pulleys? Not a bad idea, except I was out of line. Sneaking home to get more would be considered cheating, and besides that, there wasn’t any at home.
I slumped against the tree. There wasn’t anything I could do. I’d have to wait until Loretta and Louie joined me, which meant my trap wouldn’t be ready. That was it. I’d already failed my rite of passage.
“I’m sorry I let you down, Forest Spirits,” I whispered. “I tried.”
I hung my head in shame and closed my eyes. I was exhausted, but more than anything I felt dejected.
A minute, maybe two, passed in silence, and then I heard the unmistakable sound of something approaching. I sat up and listened. There it was again.
I scrambled to my backpack and quickly loaded my slingshot. Were the spirits delivering the beast to me early?
“I wasn’t going to kill you, Mr. Bobcat, but if you step into view, I’ll have no choice but to shoot your eye out,” I whispered in warning.
I steadied my breathing and pulled back my stone. I waited. And then the last thing I ever expected to see stepped into view.
“Dad? What’re you doing here?” I said, lowering my weapon.
“Hi there,” he said. “I thought you might need a little nourishment. You’ve been out here for quite a while.” He handed me a paper bag with a sandwich, granola bar, apple, and water bottle inside.
“Thanks. I am hungry,” I admitted.
“You should be. It’s almost four o’clock.”
“Did Loretta put you up to this?” I asked after guzzling the water and biting into the sandwich.
“No. Nope. She didn’t say much actually, only that you left the house real early, that you were determined to spend a full day and night out here because you wanted to be like Sam Gribley in My Side of the Mountain. I had a sneaky suspicion you were tackling your next task but didn’t ask. It took a fair amount of coaxing to get Mom to accept the overnight part as it was. She’s the one who insisted I check on you.”
Good thing neither of you knows I’ve already been out here for one night, I thought, and grinned. “Thanks.”
“Wow! That’s quite the cage,” he remarked, eyeing my creation. “You built that from scratch?”
“Yeah. Just me and my trusty hatchet.”
“Impressive. You’ve really become a skilled builder.”
I shrugged. “Too bad it won’t do me any good.”
“Why? What’s wrong with it?”
I shoved the last of granola bar into my mouth and explained my design to Dad and what I was trying to accomplish.
“Well, I’m here now. I can help you get it set,” he said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. C’mon.”
I lifted my chin and looked to the sky. The Forest Spirits hadn’t delivered the bobcat, but they’d brought me help. Dad grabbed the line with me, and together we pulled. Even with two of us it was a struggle. My cage was legit. But we got it hoisted and my trigger stick into position.
“Phew,” Dad said, wiping his brow. “What do you hope to catch anyway?”
“Bobcat,” I answered.
“Oh.” He gave me a look but didn’t say anything more.
It was fine if he was skeptical. I was confident. The spirits wouldn’t have bothered sending me help if my trap wasn’t going to work.
“Well, I guess I can head back home now,” Dad said. “Good luck. And don’t worry, I won’t mention that I gave you a hand to anyone. That’s between you and the Forest Spirits.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Dad. And thanks for the food.”
“Be safe. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said.
I shook my head, still smiling. “See you later.”
I watched as he walked off, vanishing behind the trees. Then I looked at my trap and took a deep breath, filling my lungs and letting it out slowly. I was ready. I had a few hours to rest, but come darkness, I was going to catch that bobcat.
Louie and I joined Waylon at midnight, exactly as planned. Wasting no time, my brother led us to his trap. He was excited to show it off; plus, he needed to check on it. In a low whisper, Waylon explained the concepts behind his creation and how it was supposed to work. I speak for Louie and myself when I say we were amazed. It was the stuff of a true mastermind, but we were also relieved to find the trap empty. Waylon, on the other hand, was disappointed—but only slightly; the night was still young.
It was unlikely anything would venture into the area with us around, so we made our way back to the fortress. Waylon planned to continue checking on his trap every hour, on the hour. Needless to say, it was going to be a long night, so it was a good thing I came prepared. I pulled out a box of crackers and a deck of cards. The three of us huddled inside the safety of our hideout, playing Uno and enjoying the snacks, until it was time to investigate again.
The trap remained empty at one o’clock. It was still untouched at two o’clock. And three o’clock. But come four o’clock, when the three of us wore heavy eyes and weren’t as sure-footed, it was a different story.
