Collins Rhōg

Sedona AZ (November 19, 2014) – The following has been taken from Collins Rhōg’s private journal, and reproduced exactly as it was written, by his own hand. The date has been omitted, at his request, but Collins view is always captivatingly honest, full of depth and color, heart and perseverance in times of struggle. Collins spills his soul and captures his feelings with vivid imagery and heart felt emotion that oozes from the pages of this historic text.

The following is but a portholes view, from across the room of “The Life and Times of Collins Rhōg“:

If you are new to the story, it all begins at this link (click here). In previous weeks, our readers were introduced to Rhōg’s story as written in his journal. Join us as we return to the Life and Times of Collins Rhōg, now 38, while he surveys the gates of Hell:

– Cambire, The Story Part 8 –

Seeing the animal’s strained advance toward my position mobilized the hairs on the back of my neck to attention. I was keenly present in that moment, observing the approaching danger from behind my Land Cruiser. Agitation, mixed with risk assessing thoughts, carpet bombed through my cerebral cortex, like an unprepared sophomore cramming for the test that decided his future. A crash study of possible scenarios resonated from the waves of enlightenment brilliantly bursting within my brain’s grey matter. I computed exit and attack strategies that rendered plausible moves, atop the canyon floor’s chess board. Holding my position, I scrutinized the K9’s captivating approach. The dog’s labored stride indicated that it was fatigued and in pain. The beast was likely alone. At roughly thirty yards out, I was certain that the hound was unaccompanied and revealed my presence.

He was a male dog, a brindled brown on fawn of Australian shepherd mixed with Staffordshire. Spotting me, the dog paused for a moment, raised his tail a bit and then continued his advance, still appearing to be in pain. A few more yards and the source of the misery within his stride was apparent. The bastard had danced with a porcupine and more than one jig by the looks of things.

“What the bloody hell did you get yourself into Mate?” The quills protruded grotesquely from the right side of his face and head, while another sortie had nailed him squarely in his hind quarters. “You’re a sorry sight, you look like a damn punk rocker.”

Cambire, The Story

The dog wasn’t amused as he came within six feet of me. “Alright then, let’s just have a look at you.” Slowly moving towards him, I reached out and gave the hound a gentle pat on the unscathed side of his face, he was frozen still.  “You know, I’ve got to remove these quills, or you’ll be in a whole mess more trouble than you are now.” Slowly reaching for a quill, the dog let out a yelp, at my slightest touch, jerking away and bolting, tail between his legs. He stopped roughly forty five feet away where he turned and looked back at me.

“Listen mate, I’m not here to hurt you, you’re buggered up pretty good and we’ve got to get those quills out of you, or they’re gonna fester.” He just stared at me, trying to establish whether I was friend or foe. I opted to hold my ground and look back at him. Within a few minutes the Shepherd had worked his way closer, bit by bit.

“You look hungry, Mate.” The dog’s rib cage showed like the corrugation on a tin roof.

“I’ll fix you up with some grub once we get those quills removed.” He was now about three feet from me and I slowly reached out my hand as he jerked and bolted yet again.

“Alright, I see how you are,” shaking my head. “I’m not going to mess around any longer.” I unraveled my rope and made a lasso on one end.

“You’re not going to like this Mate, but it’s for your own good….hopefully we’ll be friends when it’s over.” The dog was once again slowly working his way back towards me.

I brought the lasso up and began twirling it in a lazy fashion. The dog stopped and watched with intent. I twirled it a bit faster and a bit faster bringing it up over my head.

“You look like a Shugo to me,” I told the pooch, “and unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to call you Shugo.” He gave me more of that unsure look. The lasso was making full speed now.

“Alright Shugo, we’ll have you done with this in no time.” Letting go of the lasso, it launched with the speed of a snake strike, landing squarely around the dog’s neck. He jerked and fell back in a thrashing fit, turning left, then right, left then right, back and forth, bringing the rope taut around his neck. He began to try to break free.

I moved closer to take up the slack. The hound stopped and just stood there, he must have known that I had him pinned. Once I got to within three feet, he started writhing about again. He wasn’t doing his injuries any good so I opted to back away. At about four paces, knowing what I had to do, I squatted and looked him square in the eyes.

“You’re really not going to like me, Mate, but you’re just too feisty and I know that it will just make things worse if I try to wrestle you.” We held eye contact for a moment, then I stood. Looking up, I selected the largest of the few rocks jutting from the canyon walls and threw my end of the rope over its top. It landed near me. Pulling the dog toward the rock, I took up the slack while he reluctantly put the skids on, though not flailing as before.

“Don’t be afraid.” Shugo was directly beneath the rock. I started pulling and lifted him onto his hind legs. More line came my way as the weight of the rope increased when the hound raised off the ground as if being lynched. Shugo started thrashing furiously like a fish on a line. I felt terrible knowing that he was in fear. The dog was now hanging nearly a foot off the ground, still writhing a bit. Within thirty long seconds, Shugo’s eyes rolled back into his skull and his tongue hung out limply. I instantly lowered him to the ground, he was breathing fine. Pulling out the pliers that I’d used on the tire, I attacked the porcupine quills. Not knowing how long Shugo would remain passed out, I hurried. He had forty two quills in him, and I managed to get them all out cleanly.

Putting the pliers away, I removed the lasso and stroked Shugo’s side. It wasn’t long until his orange eyes opened and I gave him a scratch behind an ear. The pooch raised to his feet and shook his head slowly, as if water was in his ears.

“They’re all gone, Mate. You had a slew of them, that’s for sure.” He just stood there, collecting himself.

I set about reinstalling the freestanding expedition rack. The job took roughly half an hour which found my stomach gurgling with hunger. Climbing up to the cave, I wondered about Shugo who looked up with his head tilted, “Come on ya stinky dog.” It was all he needed to leap onto the hood and into the rack basket, then up onto the cave shelf as easy as climbing a few steps.

“Hmm, what to have for dinner?” I said out loud while pulling out the last stick of dry salami. After cutting off a piece as long as my thumb, I replaced the meat and grabbed the French bread and, in doing so, I discovered the bag of M&M’s.

“Better save those for tomorrow to celebrate the new paint job,” I mused while tearing off a chunk of bread. A match, a handful of cheese puffs and the Wiliam Terzi passport fueled the fire to brew another mug of tea. Shugo had just returned from exploring the cave, “Alright then, about that grub I promised you,” and cut off a small piece for myself before dividing the remainder into three pieces.

“Here you go, Shugo.” I tossed a piece in front of his nose, which he snapped from flight. One chew, a swallow, and it was gone. “You’ve got one more after this,” and tossed out the second chunk which was again struck from the air to vanish down his gullet.

“Slow it down, Mate, we’re not in a rush!” Reaching out slowly, I held his last wedge of salami. “Gentle now…” Shugo turned his head sideways, eyebrows raised a bit while his eyes looked for permission. Ever so cautiously, he moved his head towards the meat and gingerly took the third piece of salami. Licking his lips, Shugo looked up at me as I enjoyed a bite of my portion, savoring the saltiness of the cured meat.

“Yes, I know you’re a beggar,”  I mumbled with food in my mouth. “Go ahead, have at it!” and tossed out the last piece which, like the others, disappeared in an instant.

We finished dinner just as my tea began to boil. Letting it steep, I tidied up the camp a bit and discovered a bag of dried apples in my pack and tore into them. Sipping the tea and snacking on apple rings, I noted it was just starting to get dark out. Feeling pretty tired and having finished eating, I turned in for the night.

“In two days I’ll be in Albuquerque and rid of this package,” I thought, lying in my down filled sleeping bag. I was looking forward to being done with Two Gun Johnny and his crony, Hooky Miller. I thought about making a change in careers. I was getting too old for this risky crap and I knew that I was playing the odds. Sooner or later something would go wrong. It wasn’t a question of if it would happen, it was a question of when.

Deciding it best to get out while ahead, I sunk deep into the mummy bag after blowing out the candle lantern. It wasn’t long until the sound of Shugo turning circles, atop my sleeping bag, pierced the darkness as he laid down to sleep. I was a bit uncomfortable, but rather liked him at my feet so ignored the fact that he forced me to sleep slightly contorted. I let him be, and drifted off myself.

The next morning I had breakfast, the usual, and headed down to paint the Cruiser. After removing the empty Jerry can holders, it was time to paint the old girl. The trick to using a rattle can to paint a vehicle is it absolutely has got to be a flat color. If it’s glossy of semi-gloss paint, it will look like crap as it’s impossible to get an even coat with a rattle can, you’ll end up with wet and dry blotches all over the vehicle. But if you’re shooting with a flat color, it’s all the same and comes out beautifully smooth. So, by 1100 hours, I had completely finished painting the Toyota and it looked quite keen in khaki. She had gone from a white hard top rig with Jerry cans mounted on either side to a khaki topless truck with the windscreen folded down, void of Jerry cans. There was still one bullet hole in her tailgate, so I put a piece of tape over that and sprayed it khaki as well.

I had been at the moonshiner’s cave for two days, getting the truck ready for the remainder of the trip, using my shoulder a bit more than I should have been. I thought it might be time to punch out the following morning but opted to stick to my plan, and lay low yet another day. That afternoon, I peeled off the masking tape and reinstalled the lenses and emblems. Instead of putting the old California license plate back on the truck, I mounted the Oregon plates that were stashed beneath the passenger seat. The old 4X4 had a whole new identity. I gave the engine a quick inspection, everything looked tip top.

It was 1500 hours when I finished tinkering on the Cruiser and stole a moment to stop and appreciate the surroundings. I brought the bag of M&M’s to the truck to celebrate the unmasking of the paint job. Climbing up into its expedition rack, I laid down to rest and stare up at the sky. Hearing me tear open the candy, Shugo sprung onto the hood and into the basket. Lying there, eating M&M’s and blocking Shugo’s begging muzzle from stealing any, I could see the intensely bright blue sky with the occasional bird flying overhead. Every once in a while, a swift breeze would make its way down the canyon filling it with warm fresh air. The bottom of the Canyon, with its muted light, was tranquil and clean, almost sterile. I had been so busy this time at the cave that I hadn’t stopped to fully take in the mysterious beauty this place offered. It’s a timeless sanctuary that cannot be described, only felt. If you are lucky enough to experience a place like that, you are truly blessed.

I thought of nothing and I thought of everything as I let my mind wander. What was the product  that I was smuggling? What lay inside the thick hard plastic military case? I never wanted to know what I was carrying but, this time, I was uneasily curious. Something inside me questioned the means to the end.

– Collins Rhōg

Cambire, The Story continues in the SedonaEye.com. Some SedonaEye.com scenes have been edited due to content. Look for the unedited Cambire, The Story, available at booksellers and retailers in the spring of 2015.

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