The Best American Cryptid Hunter: Part 2 - Hunting the Shadow of the Mooglon Rim

 

The Best American Cryptid Hunter: Part 2 - Hunting the Shadow of the Mooglon Rim

The Canadian wilderness was behind us, a brutal introduction to a world I never knew existed. The “Not-Deer” and the Humvee-sized nightmare that followed were just the tip of the iceberg, Smith’s cryptic words echoing in my mind. Now, our next assignment had us trading frigid forests for the arid beauty and shadowed canyons of Arizona, specifically the rugged terrain around the Mooglon Rim.

The locals were spooked, and that was putting it mildly. Livestock vanished without a trace, sometimes leaving behind bizarre, almost cauterized wounds. Hikers went missing, their trails abruptly ending. Whispers circulated in the small towns bordering the Rim – tales of a creature, swift and silent as the desert wind, with eyes that glowed in the dark. They called it the Mooglon Monster.

Our briefing this time was less theatrical, more…clinical. Smith, appearing on a secure video link, showed us grainy thermal images – a large, bipedal figure moving with unnerving speed through the broken landscape. Eyewitness sketches, shaky and inconsistent, depicted something vaguely humanoid but impossibly agile, with long limbs and a head that seemed too large, too angular.

“The Mooglon Rim,” Smith’s voice crackled over the speakers, “is a labyrinth of canyons and mesas. Perfect hiding territory. Your objective is simple: locate, identify, and neutralize the entity. Local law enforcement is…ineffective. They’re calling it a mountain lion on steroids. We know better.”

The team was the same, our camaraderie forged in the icy Canadian woods. Gary, still chewing his questionable tobacco, seemed almost bored by the desert landscape. Jack, ever the pragmatist, meticulously checked his M5, the dust already starting to cling to its surface. Charlie, back in his element in the arid terrain, pointed out potential tracking signs on the digital maps. Hugo, his eyes sharp and focused, studied the thermal images, muttering about movement patterns.

We deployed near a small ranch that had recently lost a significant number of cattle. The air was dry and hot, the silence broken only by the buzz of insects and the distant call of a hawk. Charlie, his ranger instincts kicking in, immediately began to examine the parched ground for tracks.

“Something big moved through here,” he noted, pointing to faint disturbances in the dust. “Bipedal, long stride. Not human.”

The tracks were unsettling. Too large for a man, too narrow for a bear. They possessed a strange, almost digitigrade quality, like something that walked on its toes. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues, a chill settled over the canyon, and the stories of glowing eyes felt suddenly less like folklore.

That first night, we set up a perimeter, the vastness of the desert amplifying the feeling of isolation. The silence was different here than in the woods – a vast, expectant stillness. It wasn’t long before Gary’s low whistle broke the quiet.

“Got something on thermal,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on his handheld device. “Moving fast, about a mile out, heading this way.”

We went to high alert, our weapons raised. The thermal image was a fleeting blur, confirming the creature’s speed. It moved with an unnatural grace, navigating the broken terrain as if it knew every crevice and shadow.

Then, we saw it.

It emerged from the darkness of a narrow canyon, silhouetted against the faint starlight. It was tall, easily eight feet, its limbs elongated and spindly. Its head was indeed too large, its shape angular and almost reptilian. And then we saw the eyes – two piercing points of incandescent yellow, burning in the darkness like twin coals.

The Mooglon Monster.

It moved with a fluid, almost gliding motion, closing the distance with terrifying speed. It let out a high-pitched, ululating cry that echoed off the canyon walls, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. This wasn’t just a predator; there was something else, something ancient and alien, in those glowing eyes.

“Engage!” I barked, my M4 already spitting fire.

The desert night erupted in gunfire. Jack’s M5 joined the chorus, the rounds kicking up dust around the swiftly moving creature. Hugo’s Barrett roared, the powerful rounds tearing chunks out of the rock where the monster had been moments before.

But the Mooglon Monster was fast. Unbelievably fast. It weaved through our barrage, its movements erratic and unpredictable. I caught glimpses of its long, razor-sharp claws as it darted between rock formations.

“It’s too damn quick!” Gary yelled, struggling to track it.

Charlie, drawing on his tracking expertise, pointed towards a narrow crevice in the canyon wall. “It’s trying to flank us! It’ll use the shadows!”

Hugo fired another shot, hitting the creature’s leg. It shrieked, a sound both animalistic and strangely intelligent, and stumbled momentarily. That brief hesitation gave me a clear shot. I squeezed the trigger, the rounds impacting its chest.

The monster staggered, but it didn’t go down. It turned its glowing eyes on me, and in that instant, I felt a primal fear, a sense of something truly other staring back. It lunged, its long limbs propelling it forward with surprising force.

The battle for the shadows of the Mooglon Rim had begun. This wasn't just about killing a monster; it felt like confronting something that belonged to a forgotten age, a creature that had haunted the legends of this land for centuries. And we were all that stood in its way.

The Mooglon Monster was upon us in a heartbeat. Its long, clawed hand swiped at me, the razor-sharp talons missing my face by inches. I stumbled back, the acrid scent of dust and something else, something musky and unsettling, filling my nostrils.

Jack laid down a steady stream of fire, forcing the creature to momentarily recoil. Hugo, ever the sniper, was trying to get another clean shot amidst the chaotic movement, the muzzle flash of his Barrett illuminating the creature’s grotesque features in brief, stark flashes.

“Fall back! Form a tighter perimeter!” I yelled, scrambling for better cover behind a cluster of jagged rocks. The creature was too fast, too agile to engage in a spread-out formation.

Charlie, his movements fluid and practiced in the desert terrain, positioned himself on a higher rock outcropping, providing overwatch with his M4. “It’s circling! Trying to pick us off!”

The Mooglon Monster moved with an unnerving intelligence. It used the shadows and the broken landscape to its advantage, its glowing eyes the only consistent markers of its position. It would dart in, claws flashing, then disappear back into the darkness, its ululating cries echoing from different parts of the canyon.

“We need to slow it down!” Gary roared, firing a burst that chipped rock inches from the creature’s head. “Something to ground it!”

That’s when I remembered the Benelli M4. Close quarters were a death sentence against this thing, but maybe a concentrated blast of buckshot could disrupt its movement. I waited until the creature lunged again, a blur of motion aimed at Jack. As it came within ten yards, I stepped out from behind my cover and unleashed a point-blank blast into its leg.

The effect was immediate and visceral. The creature shrieked, a sound of pure agony, and its leg buckled. It crashed to the ground, its long body contorting in pain.

“Now!” I yelled.

Hugo seized the opportunity, his Barrett booming once more. The massive round slammed into the creature’s shoulder, tearing through muscle and bone. The Mooglon Monster thrashed wildly, its claws scrabbling against the rock, its glowing eyes fixated on Hugo with primal fury.

But it wasn’t down yet. Even crippled, it was dangerous. It let out another piercing cry and began to drag itself towards the shadows of a deeper canyon crevice.

“Don’t let it get away!” I shouted, leading the charge. We advanced cautiously, our weapons trained on the wounded creature.

As we closed in, I noticed something strange. The wounds we had inflicted weren’t bleeding as much as I expected. Instead, the edges seemed… cauterized, blackened as if burned. The musky odor was stronger now, mixed with a faint, metallic tang.

The Mooglon Monster reached the edge of the crevice, its glowing eyes still burning with malevolent intent. It gathered its remaining strength and lunged one last time, a desperate, furious attack aimed at Charlie on the higher ground.

Charlie reacted instantly, firing a controlled burst into the creature’s chest. The rounds ripped through its hide, and this time, the effect was final. The Mooglon Monster let out a final, shuddering gasp, its long limbs twitching before going still. The intense yellow glow faded from its eyes, leaving them dull and lifeless.

Silence descended upon the Mooglon Rim once more, broken only by our ragged breathing. We approached the fallen creature cautiously, our lights illuminating its bizarre form. It was even stranger up close. Its skin was tough and leathery, almost chitinous in places. Its claws were wickedly sharp, and its head, now still, revealed a set of serrated teeth that looked capable of tearing through bone.

The cauterized edges of its wounds were perplexing. It was as if its own biology was trying to seal the damage with intense heat.

“What the hell was that thing?” Gary muttered, circling the corpse with a wary eye.

“Something not natural,” Jack replied grimly, examining one of the creature’s long claws. “Something… adapted to this environment in a way we can’t even comprehend.”

I radioed Smith, my voice hoarse. “Smith, we neutralized the target. The Mooglon Monster. It’s down.”

“Copy that, Captain Hedges,” Smith’s voice came back, devoid of emotion. “Describe the entity.”

I gave him a detailed description, focusing on its size, speed, the glowing eyes, and the strange cauterized wounds. There was a long pause on the other end.

“Cauterized wounds, you say?” Smith finally asked, a hint of something new in his tone – perhaps curiosity, perhaps concern. “Interesting. Cantonment unit is en route. Secure the area and await extraction. And Captain Hedges… good work. It seems you’re adapting to the local fauna.”

We secured the area, the vast silence of the desert pressing in on us. As we waited for the familiar thrum of the cantonment unit’s transport, I looked out at the shadowed canyons of the Mooglon Rim. The darkness still felt alive, the whispers of the locals suddenly carrying a weight of truth. We had faced one shadow, but I had a sinking feeling that in this hidden corner of Arizona, there were many more lurking just beyond the reach of our lights. The hunt for the unnatural was far from over.