NIGHTMARES I woke up screaming again. Let me rephrase that, so I dont sound like such a wuss. I actually woke up gasping for air. My dog immediately jumped off the bed then started barking and running around in circles. I was sweating profusely and almost drenched. It was a cool night and I had a tee shirt on. But it was soaked all the way thru. Sitting up in my bed it took a few moments to get a grip on myself. What the heck happened? It seemed so real. Just like the last time. But the last time I had this dream was when I was just 11 years old. I was old enough now and so pumped after joining up with the Scouts. The big excitement was all about my first camp out. I was very nervous because it was really a pre-campout. More like an initiation for all of the soon to be Tenderfoots, if we survive. This week the other ranking Scouts attending are here for only one reason. To get revenge for their first initiation camp out. More or less of an unofficial tradition. Spending the night in a tent was no big deal. But being out somewhere strange with a bunch of guys my age was a lot different. I only knew a few of the newbies. The others are a lot older and high ranking. You had to rank at least Star to even be allowed to participate this week. But us newbies gotta watch our backs around them. Not that is was hazardous, but the newest members all stuck together, for their own safety. We only traveled around in groups of three. At the Scout house, not so much of a problem. But out in the woods, especially this first pre-campout without parental supervision, the older Scouts would sometimes get carried away with things. Even going to the outhouse, um latrine, we would escort each other. The older guys did make fun of us, but it was better than getting played on. They would say stupid things like, Newbies need two buddies to go take a dump. One to wipe your butt, the other one to help pull your diaper up. Dealing with this was the lesser of two evils. They gave us newbies no mercy at all. Almost like a very traumatizing initiation, if you were weak. I had a few scares with them. But also played one on the Senior Patrol Leader. He was not all that into the hazing, but went along with the guys and did let it happen. One night late, I saw him heading towards the latrine. He was looking all around and acting just a little bit too stealthy and sneaky for no reason. When someone is acting like this, it is worth investigating. So decided to follow him. I kept a safe distance, very quietly moving in the shadows. Most of the time when warm, especially during the summer, it was customary to only wear shorts. These really looked more like boxers than anything else, minus the front access port. They did not fit well like gym shorts, but did have an inner mesh liner similar to a swim suit. The reason for wearing these was just in case we had to bail out of the tents at night for whatever reason. We would not be out there running around only wearing our skivvies. The older Scouts would usually go commando underneath, but I knew better. I had heard all about the pranks that were pulled on these pre-campouts. So I wore the smallest tightest fitting tighty whites I could find. They were not comfortable but I didnt care. So following the Senior Patrol Leader, I realized he was going for a number two inside the latrine. That gave me a moment to figure out something to avenge our prior hazing's. This old latrine had seen better days, and was not in very good condition. There were missing boards outside and gaps on the box you sit on. It was very dark, but I felt around on the ground and found a branch with plenty of small green leaves sprouted all over. It slid right thru where a board was missing on the back side of box covering the hole. When you gotta go, you gotta go. No matter how sure you are of something, you still look all around before plopping your bare butt down on those old half rotted planks with a hole in the middle. I would bring a flashlight and look all over before I even got my pants down when visiting to make a deposit. Most of the time I would manage to relieve myself out in the woods somewhere alone. During a hike, I would take a small detour with a shovel and do my business. For me this almost eliminated any chance of getting played by the older guys. The worst thing when they pull some trick on you is getting caught with your pants down. The best you can hope for is fall over, but usually end up face planting instead. I have been lucky so far. With us traveling in threes, the terror has been at a minimum so far. One thing important about this initiation is the big camp fire every night before turning in. All of the ghost stories and local legends get repeated over and over again. Even about Camp Blood at Crystal Lake. The surrounding noises around are blamed on wild animals, monsters, Jason, and dangerous predators that probably dont exist. Dont forget all of the zombies out there too. We were told from the older Scouts of their first zombie kills too. Most of the newbies there knew of the zombies, but few had encountered any except for the higher ranking members. To move up in rank, you had to take out so many of them. But at the time I had no idea how that was usually taken care of. Just recently turning eleven, I was too young and dumb, assuming everything, and knowing nothing for certain even if I had seen it with my own lying eyes. One story was told about a former Scout named Willie. When the Senior Patrol Leader began telling us of this one story, the other ranking members got really quiet. They all removed their Scout Garrison hats and bowed down their heads. It was a strange and somber moment. After a few seconds of silence, he continued speaking. Willie had somehow fallen in the latrine tank during a pre-campout initiation. The ranking Scouts had really made a mess of the place and Willie was assigned to clean it up. The rumor was he had drowned and turned zombie during the night. Considering how the ranking members were acting, the newbies thought there could be some truth to the story. The latrine tank was large enough for someone to fit, if there was a way to get down in there. But this was only make believe. Even if it did happen, was a long time ago and no chance of one still being in there. But we were informed the latrine was torn up like it is because of that very zombie accidentally taking an afternoon skinny dip. So using that leafy branch I broke loose off the ground, I shoved it under the opening where the Senior Patrol Leader decided to park himself. It went right thu a gap where a board was missing outside on the box. At the same time moaning, banging and scratching against the wall. I tried to imitate sounds like the stories we had been told for the last few nights at the campfire. It must have worked well enough, since I heard a very high pitched girlish sounding scream, some shuffling and a loud crash. For a moment it was dead quiet, then some stumbling around as he came out of that latrine running like a scared animal. When he entered was wearing the boxer looking shorts, now those were missing. I then realized he was one of the guys that had chosen to go commando underneath too. I was on the back side and fortunately he never saw me. I guess he was a little bit too preoccupied to even bother taking a look. I covered my tracks and very carefully made my way back to the tent. All was quiet here. Our tents were grouped together by what patrol we were in. The Senior Patrol Leader was all the way on the other side of our camp. So I was safe for now. Unfortunately the next morning right after chow, there was a new mandatory latrine duty scheduled. It would include one member of each patrol assigned to the job. This was to continue for rest of the week, so everyone could get a turn. The first group would have the worst of the job, which is the initial cleanup. I wonder who got the privilege to remove the olive drab shorts from the floor? Clean up for the following days would not be so bad to work in the latrine. I took my turn just like everyone else. But I never mentioned to anyone what I did that night to get some payback on the jokes that had been played on all of us newbies that week. About middle of the week there was a zombie hunt planned, like was the usual at that time. I already was well versed in hunting the illusive Snipe. But zombies are for real. I have seen plenty of them at the State Fair over the years. Even some passing Circuses and Carnivals there were a few. Some were set up for stunts performed by the clowns, and others were fed to the lions. There were always a few of them caged to check out up and close. But they were not much to see. These had not been fed recently or almost inert. An inert zombie was exactly that. It was no longer a serious threat to anyone. These are the ones that are out there everywhere. That is if you dont live in or around any big metropolitan areas. It is very rare for any of these to be seen close to the cities. The few times these are spotted in numbers is usually after big storms and especially tornados. Living in what is referred to as tornado alley, it is common for a few of these a year to pop up. Very rarely do any of them reach EF4 or EF5. The ones that seem to pick the zombies up are non-super cell types. Those strong lines of thunderstorms that pass thu late night and into the early mornings usually produce these less dangerous tornadoes. Most rarely exceeding EF2 ratings. But they seem to snatch up all types of stuff off the ground. That would also include the native zombies out in the wild. These may be lurking around in the back in the woods, stuck in the mud or creeks, stumbled down a ravine, or nearly inert from lack of feeding. Anywhere in the path of these lesser tornadoes they can be yanked up and thrown around like rag dolls. Since they have little control over their bodies, they dont get beat up or broken so bad. Not that is would matter since they feel no pain. Just relocated in the line of the storm. They get thrown about any which way and end up around the larger cities. The air movement is altered as the storm travels towards the city and spreads the trash it picks up everywhere. So the zombies get a free ride into town. The best time, if living in a big city, to plan zombie hunts is right after a major storm. Especially if there has been any tornadoes reported. Sometimes you get lucky and bag a few. But over the years these have been thinned way down. The majority of them are much farther away in the outlying areas. If you live far enough out in the country, it is a free for all. There is no shortage of them along the path of a storm that had recently passed thru. Back at the camp we were set up for the zombie hunt, then dispersed all over in the back woods. So we waited, and waited. Some of the newbies even fell asleep. Others just gave up and headed back to camp. I was determined to bag me one. You see I knew they were around and just hoping there was one out here somewhere tonight. I walked all over most of the night. Stopping plenty of times to stand quietly and just listening. We were not so far out in the boonies for any really dangerous predator animals, so I was not too concerned about being eaten alive. But that thought was persistent in my head. I wont lie, there were plenty of times I got scared. An armadillo sure can make a lot of racket. I would hear something then sneak up hoping to get a chance to bag my first zombie. Nothing more spooky than something you cant see running right between your legs during the darkest part of the night. Especially when squatting down trying to locate where any noise is coming from. Even with as much noise an armadillo can make when eating, it can be just as silent when walking or running away from something it thinks is a threat. I was almost ready to call it quits for the night, since I was getting too jumpy at most any noise around. The last thing I needed to happen is having a zombie walk right up behind, then reach out and touch me. Holy crap, that would have done it. Your mind plays tricks and anything you are not expecting will cause you to totally freak out. There was one thing I remember reading up on about sightings. On a few occasions when people were hunting, they often ran upon a zombie after smelling a skunk. Assumption, coincidence or a real reason for it, I dont know. But later when I caught the very stench of a skunk, I located the direction and headed that way. When the smell was pronounced enough I started making careful circular movements around the area. Sure enough I saw one. No, not a skunk. But up ahead there was one shabby looking outline of a less than healthy has been person shuffling away from me way back in the brush. I had managed to sneak up behind it and now I was almost hyperventilating from the adrenaline rush. Before we were sent out to hunt, it was tradition and customary to build up your weapon to use for the kill. Oops, there is that word, not PC. I will use the term sanitation for this one because this is one messed up zombie and in serious need of a clean up. For the weapons, we usually had a folding shovel, Bowie knife attached to a long handle with paracord, or if you were really brave enough, just your Scout pocket knife. My choice has always been since the first time thinking about a real zombie hunt, a very small hand held pick ax. No, I am not a south paw. Just holding it to take this picture. I used it mostly for digging a fire pit and to bury number twos. It was sharp enough to shear off smaller branches and clear out a camping spot to set up a tent. My hands were tingling and all sweaty, but I was determined to follow thru with this kill. I had practiced this maneuver hundreds of times and another hundred times after that until thinking I had it down to a science. But at the time was only make believe practice. This is the real world now. Not quite a do or die situation, since this zombie is close to being inert, but still a high scare factor. Especially since I have never followed thru with something like this yet. Only hearing stories of others that have managed their first kill shot. Oops, sorry, that is a sanitation removal. I tried my best to sneak up behind my intended target without making any noise. But pumped as I was, everything that snapped crackled or popped was magnified 100 times in my ears. I could even hear this zombie breathing, except they dont do that. Wait a second, that is my breathing I was hearing. Of crap, slow down and take a moment to focus. OK, I can do this. My zombie slaying tool is held high as I walk up to the back of the intended target. Ready Aim Fire. Dang it, I missed. I thought I was surely closer than that. At night when really dark you loose depth perception. Just like now. All the time practicing, it was during the daytime. OK consider that a practice shot to make ready for the real thing. Crap, once again, slow down, take a breath. I take another step towards the target, my first zombie then WAM, SPLOOSH, direct hit. That was one solid hit when my small pick ax made contact. Almost like hitting hard ground. I felt it all up my arms. But the zombie never moved. I made direct contact at the base of its skull. There was a nice big gouge in the right place to sever its spine at the base of the brain stem. But why did nothing happen? As the adrenaline rush subsided I was now depressed and disappointed in my hunt. That was it. Nothing happened. For all that time, working towards perfection and practicing, then nothing happened. I found a big long stick, approaching carefully then began prodding the zombie. It did nothing. Not even move. But it was dead, why should it move? I walked around to the front and finally figured out what was going on. There was a broken off branch sticking up from a tree trunk and had been rammed right thru the zombies neck. Well dang it this thing is already dead again, I think. This totally sucks. I just sat down and started feeling all sorry for myself. What am I going to tell the guys? They would not stop laughing at me for the rest of this week. I mean this counts as a kill regardless, but sort of disappointing for sure. I pry my re-dead again friend off the branch that has almost detached its head. The weight of his body against the tree trunk is the only thing keeping him/it upright. The thing finally fell over face planting down with a dull thumpish sound. Now more or less conforming to the uneven surface of the ground as its final resting place. It was approaching sunrise, as I noticed the sky was just starting to lighten up thru the canopied growth overhead. There was now dark shadows starting to form all around. I was in an area fairly dense with foliage. A small trail leading out of this well covered spot. Then I heard off in the distance some people yelling my name. Oh cool, a search party coming to find me. How nice of them to be so thoughtful. I had my kill even tho to me was not really justified to count, but there were no specifics to taking one out. The brain stem had been severed and that at least was obvious. Condition of zombie is not a factor. Oh well, I will take it either way. Just not what I had envisioned at all. But next time I will be more prepared and know exactly what to expect. That is one thing for certain. I walked back out of this little naturally grown hut, headed toward the voices that were calling my name. I yelled back, then heard some running in my direction. A few minutes later everyone else was standing around now out of breath that had attended the camp out. I mean even the high ranking members were here. Seems they were worried something bad had happened. I thought we were out for a zombie hunt tonight? I planned to bag mine. Well it is nearly morning. Everyone else gave up and came back a long time ago. If there was a zombie out here, I was going to find it. The thing is back there. It is deader than dead. I can guarantee that. Everyone fell silent and just stared at me. Whats the deal? I got my zombie. The ranking members were in disbelief, so I escorted them to my hallowed killing zone and pointed to them. In there, it is in there. One by one they followed single file and managed their way thru the brush all around the narrow animal trail leading into a covering. HOLY SH... Eventually all of the newbies got their chance to check out my reward. Now just to mention, in years past, it was customary for the hunter to scalp its kill as confirmation. These days this is considered so barbaric and unsanitary. But it still was an option and I opted out of it. The one good thing about today, even disappointing as it was... Wait a minute. I saw that zombies feet shuffling earlier. Did I, or was it the wind blowing some brush on the ground? No, I heard the shuffling, or something. Was there even any air movement back in there? One more question I will never find an answer to. Was my zombie already re-dead or did I actually do the final kill for real? Does not matter either way. Today I am no longer a newbie. I will leave here a full fledged and Pledged Tenderfoot of the Boy Scouts of America. Today I move up in rank with all of the other fellow ranking members here overseeing the camp out this week. "On my honor I will do my best To do my duty to God and my Country and to obey the Scout law; To help other people at all times; To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight." Oh yea, next time to "Be Prepared" because I failed miserably this time around. By the end of our camping week, my right hand had become infected from something. There were red lines raised up all around my thumb and fingers. Very tiny blisters were forming on those lines. This was starting to itch like crazy too. So much that I went to see the camp infirmary for some relief. It took only a moment for the nurse to inform me I was allergic to poison ivy. Well tell me something I didnt know. It itches, I need something to stop that. The nurse gave me two choices. You can use Calamine lotion and paint your hand all pink... Then she just stopped talking for a second with a smirk. Or if you dont mind putting forth the effort, boil up some water and soak your hand in it. The hotter you can tolerate, the better it will work. But dont burn yourself. That will cause a lot more trouble than the poison ivy. Are you serious? I a supposed to cook my hand? No, I did not say that. But to work, it needs to be very hot. Start with warm water, then when your hand is used to it, slowly pour in some hotter water. The infected spots will feel like they itch like crazy, but a few seconds later everything will be good. It should last you most of the day. Repeat before going to bed, if you tend to scratch in your sleep. Here I will show you. Put your hand under the faucet. Then increase the hot water very slowly. When the infected spots starts really itching, the water is hot enough, but keep it under the there for a while longer. When the itching stops, you are good to go. Then it is up to you later when the rash starts itching again. Can you handle that? Yes mam, thank you. What I could not figure out is where I had made contact with the vine. I am very careful and can easily identify the stuff growing anywhere. Normally it would infect my legs, most of the time from walking in the woods barefoot or wearing short pants. By the end of most summers I had usually built up a resistance to it. Then the nurse told me I was not the only person suffering this week. She said one of the other Scouts had a much worse case of it in a more sensitive area. He will be relying on the Calamine lotion. So my camp out was mostly a success. I wrangled a zombie, advanced to the official rank of Tenderfoot, and got some payback. But feeling some major guilt about that right now on the way home. Because I did figure out when my hand got infected with poison ivy. I also kept my hand covered over like carrying a sweat towel around for remainder of that week. Between you and me, mums the word.
