The Online Geocacher
Your Free User-Created Ezine for All Things Geocaching

Wed, Aug 6, 2008

Mark set the Mountain Dew and Snickers bar on the counter and began to rifle through his pockets for change. Joe Merchant walked up behind him, tapped on his shoulder and said, "Listen."

Mark turned, "What?"

Joe pointed to a speaker hanging from the ceiling of the store and said, "The Radio. Listen to the radio."

"...the Jacksonville woman was last seen at the I-10 Truck Stop near Baldwin. The Jacksonville Sheriffs Office has named Quaintence as a person of interest in the disappearance. A source within the Sheriffs office has said that the disappearance may be connected to a body found yesterday in Jennings Forest. In other news..."

Mark dropped the handful of changed he had pulled from his pocket. The coins skittered and rolled across the floor. Everyone in the store turned toward the commotion. He bent to pick up the change, hoping to hide his face from further scrutiny.

"Stick that change in your pocket," Joe said. He stepped up to the counter with a Dr. Pepper and a package of beef jerky. He set it on the counter next to the Mark's items, handed the clerk a ten-dollar bill and added, "These are on me."

"Thanks," said Mark, as he finished picking up the last of the coins. He then turned toward the door and headed out to the vehicle. Joe followed with a bag containing the drinks and food. Once in the Jeep, Mark said, "Holy Buckets! The crap is spewing now!"

"You're definitely having a big day, aren't you?"

"No crap. I'm a wanted man."

"Well, we're in Nassau County now. You reckon you're a fugitive there too?"

"That's 'Person of interest'," Mark corrected.

"Person of interest is 'copperese' for fugitive."

Mark shook his head and tried to chuckle, "Man, I'm screwed."

The men had been to two other waypoints since leaving the Jungle Cache area. Neither spot held the drama they had encountered there. At the first location, off of Highway 17, they had found a bare spot that might have been evidence of a grave. However, having never seen a grave outside of a cemetery and being afraid to actually dig, it was hard to say for sure.

At the next spot, they had found something strange. Weird, or even creepy, might be a better description. They had followed a trail about a quarter mile into the woods. Within fifty feet of the waypoint, the trail dead-ended. Right there at the dead end was a bicycle. It was fastened with bungie cords, in an upright position on a painted piece of plywood. The two-wheeler stood like a monument in the middle of the woods. A monument to what? They had searched the area thoroughly but found nothing unusual other than the bike itself. Their first thought was that it covered a grave, but the plywood rested on several large roots. It was clear there had been no digging there. The surrounding brush was covered with vines. They could have missed a hidden Jeep in the tangle.

Now they were on their way to a remote area of Nassau County. One of the waypoints was in the middle of a vast tract of paper company land. Mile after mile of planted pine, accessible only by dirt roads. Most of it was private property and well posted with no trespassing signs. However, they hoped to find egress through the Nassau Wildlife Management Area. This was hunting land that ran along an old railroad bed in the heart of the area. The men were silent as they exited the interstate. They turned onto the secondary road that led to the northern entrance. As they pulled up to the gate Joe said, "The gate's open. That's a good sign."

"Don't you need some kind of permit to go in here?"

"Technically. I think if you go over and read the fine print on that sign it mentions something about that. But, it's not posted or anything. At the very least we have plausible deniability."

"And there's a cache in here, isn't there?"

"Sure is. 'Alien Listening Post'. I did it a few months back. That's how I knew about this entrance."

"Ah," Mark said, "Part of the Alien Conspiracy Series. Maybe we can grab that on the way,"

Joe picked up his GPS and said, "Well, the waypoint looks to be about 4 miles in. I'm guessing we follow the rail bed and find another road to the right a few miles down. We'll probably go right by the cache. It's just off the rail bed."

"Sounds good. And the gate IS open, isn't it."

"Alrighty then," Joe said, as he drove the Jeep through the gate.

The road was firm, but still comprised of the jagged limestone that made up most rail beds. The shoulders sloped steeply into ditches, which were filled with water from recent rains. It would be very difficult walking this road. Along the road they passed alternating acreage of planted pine in various stages of growth. Periodically they passed areas that had recently been logged. There were also several plots of land that were privately owned hunt clubs. Most of that land was clearly posted with "No Trespassing" signs.

About three miles in, Joe pulled the Jeep to the side of the Road and said, "Here we are."

Mark picked his GPS up from the dash and climbed out. He followed the unit a few yards off on a side road and then stepped into the woods. There, beside a log, and not very well hidden, he found a one-quart plastic jar painted black. He opened it and looked at the contents. After a moment he yelled, "Yoo Hoo! A coin!"

Joe jumped from the Jeep and walked over. "Which one?" he asked.

"It's a Federation coin," Mark said.

"You don't see those babies every day."

"And it's mine, all mine," Mark laughed.

"Maybe it's a sign your luck is changing."

The men returned to the vehicle and continued on. About another quarter mile down, they turned on a road to the right that went directly toward the waypoint. They were no longer on the rail bed. This was a dirt road that was really more of a two-track than a road. After about a mile, the road narrowed. They encountered several spots where it was under water, but the Jeep made it through without a problem.

"Are we still on a road?" Mark asked.

"Well," Joe answered, "It's 'road like'".

"I'd say it's really more 'road-ish'.

"Or 'roadesque' perhaps," Joe chuckled.

They were now in fairly thick three cover. The growth was thick enough that it was difficult to tell whether the forest was planted pine, or just woods. About a quarter mile from the waypoint, on the right side of the road, they saw a tall fence. They pulled up beside it and got out of the Jeep.

It was a small compound out in the middle of the woods. The area was about seventy-five feet across and about fifty feet deep. The fence stood about nine feet high and was topped with three strands of barbed wire. The good stuff that had both barbs and a razor edge. There would be no easy way to climb that. Inside the compound there was a twenty-eight foot travel trailer and a couple of satellite dishes. There were also several storage sheds that appeared to be of top quality. Two were constructed of concrete block. The sheds had bars and locks securing the doors. In the middle of the front gate was a large sign that read, "No Trespassing".

"What the heck is all this?" Joe asked.

"Weird," Mark responded, while shaking his head.

"No kidding. You think someone lives here?"

"Look at that parking space by the trailer. It looks like it gets some regular wear."

"Probably not daily, but regular. And recent."

"You think it's some kind of hunting lodge or something?"

"Could be, but what's up with the sheds? And look at all the solar panels."

"Yeah. The trailer has a bunch, which isn't surprising, but so do some of the sheds. What's that about?"

"I've got no idea," Joe said while also shaking his head.

"We're about a quarter mile from the waypoint. It's back in those woods," Mark said, pointing to the woods behind the compound. "Shall we bushwhack?"

"Doesn't look too thick. We should be able to go straight to it."

The men walked to the back of the compound. Joe stopped as they rounded the corner of the fence and said, "I've gotta use the facilities, I'll catch up." Mark continued on without him.

At first, it was pretty easy going. The brush wasn't too thick and the ground was level and dry. About half way in, Mark began to encounter brambles. Had he been wearing long pants, he wouldn't have had much trouble, but in shorts and sandals, he had to take measured steps and it slowed him down considerably. Enough so that Joe soon caught up with him.

"Ouch!" Mark said.

"We've only got about another five hundred feet."

"Five hundred feet? That's a lot of damn brambles."

"I know, but that's what you get for wearing shorts and sandals."

They made their way through and, eventually, the brambles gave way to tall grass and the going became easy again. About a hundred feet from the waypoint, they encountered a creek. It was only about eight feet across but an inspection with a stick revealed that it was several feet deep. Too deep to comfortably wade across. They looked downstream, then upstream and contemplated their next move.

"Think we should look for a crossing somewhere?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, my geo-sense tells me there's something that way." Mark pointed to their left.

"Well, let's give it a whirl."

They followed the bank of the creek. About a hundred feet down, there was a bend in the direction of the waypoint and beyond that bend they came to a spot where a couple of logs lay across the creek from one bank to the other. There weren't any stumps nearby and the logs appeared to have been cut, so it was clear they had been placed there with the intention of creating a makeshift bridge over the creek. The logs were large enough that the trip across wasn't too precarious. They scrambled over to the far side of the creek.

Here there was somewhat of a trail going in the direction of the waypoint. They followed it away from the creek and into the woods. Within a couple of minutes, they were at the waypoint. After a brief search they found a formation similar to the one they had seen earlier. Perhaps the surface of a grave, but their unskilled eyes couldn't be sure. They might just be seeing what they expected to see. They expanded their search a little. After several minutes, Mark pointed and said, "There's a pile of dirt over there."

"Let's check it out," Joe said, and they walked toward it.