Mason Dixon & The Gowrow's Last Stand: Mason Dixon, #4

By Eric Asher

He's fought ghost dinosaurs, wrangled gowrows, drank moonshine with Sasquatch, and chased miniature flying squirrels all over a movie theatre, but nothing could have prepared Mason Dixon for what he's about to deal with in the thrilling conclusion to Mason Dixon, Monster Hunter Season One!

 

If it had just been the jackalope, that would have been simple. But nothing's ever simple for Mason, and when super-secret government agency DEMON finds out that he's created a cryptid sanctuary in the wilds of Missouri, things go from sideways to downright corkscrewed. Now Mason has to navigate an uneasy truce between multiple species of monsters that are typically…not friendly, evacuate a crowd of unruly cryptids before the government shows up and kidnaps them or worse, and negotiate with MoMo, the Missouri Monster himself, to create a new safe haven for the creatures he's spent years trying to save. It's a lot to ask of a YouTube star that most of the world thinks is a complete hoax.

 

But it's safer to pretend to be a fake than to let the world know the truth. Because monsters are real, and this time it's Mason's job to save them.

 

Mason Dixon & The Gowrow's Last Stand is the fourth book in the Mason Dixon Monster Hunter series from award-winning author Eric R. Asher (Steamborn, The Vesik Series).

 

Mason Dixon, Monster Hunter

Mason Dixon - the Wampus of Reed Springs

Mason Dixon & the Ghost Dinosaur

Mason Dixon & the Gowrow's Last Stand

• Language: English
• Publisher: Falstaff Books
• Release date: Oct 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223435938

Book preview

Chapter One

Emma poured her third cup of coffee. She ripped open a packet of powdered creamer, screwed the lid back on her mug, and gave the concoction a violent shake before checking the focus and batteries on her camera gear.

Feeling better? I asked.

Emma narrowed her eyes. Mason, we got out here while I could still see stars in the sky. That’s not even early, that’s still last night.

The beds at that B&B were pretty good though.

I don’t care how good the bed is, I’m still not falling asleep at seven at night.

Especially if you start binge watching a new series.

She blew out a breath and sipped at her coffee. One day you’ll realize the rest of the world needs sleep. You’re a damn mutant.

I leaned forward to get a better view out of our blind. I get it. But Himari found two sightings of the jackalope on that board.

My headset crackled to life, and the clacking of a mechanical keyboard sounded in the background. Make that three sightings, Mason.

I turned to look at Emma, but she was already scowling at me, having heard the same message from Himari.

I can’t believe we’re out here hunting a jackalope. How do you know some college kids didn’t just glue some antlers onto a rabbit?

Movement drew my gaze across the field. Something low to the ground zipped through the shadows.

There aren’t many creatures as wasteful as a jackalope. Except people, maybe. Jackalopes kill for sport, and I don’t exactly know why.

Mason, if this is some ridiculous practical joke you dragged me out here for, I’m just going to kill you this time.

Himari chuckled over the headset. Sounds like she figured you out.

Himari, I said, making an effort to keep my voice even. You aren’t helping.

Oh, you say that now. But as soon as you need help with any kind of tech, who are you going to call, Mason? It better not be me, because I’m going to go work for the CCD.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Emma sipped at her coffee, looking smug. I’ve seen enough weird shit with you that I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s actually a jackalope out here. But telling me it’s a murder machine? Something the size of a rabbit that kills for fun? You’re yanking my chain.

I shook my head. You saw that cow out in the field. It would take a man hours to skin something like that. And I don’t care how much you don’t like your neighbor, no one’s going to skin a cow and leave the meat to rot.

Maybe it’s a vegetarian who doesn’t like their neighbor.

What? That makes literally no sense, Emma.

You’ve never met a vegetarian hunter? And I don’t mean someone that hunts vegetarians and tries to get them to eat meat. Those people are assholes.

I didn’t respond for a moment, watching a family of possums make their way up a neighboring tree. I’ve known a few competition shooters. But I can’t say I’ve met a vegetarian hunter.

I’m sure they’re out there, I muttered, rubbing at my eyes. And probably a lot more of them than jackalopes. But this isn’t some steakhouse critter, Emma. The Missouri jackalope is different than a great many you’ll find in other states.

You sound ridiculous.

I scowled at Emma. Just drink your coffee.

We sat in mutual irritation for a time, Himari occasionally breaking in with some other nugget of research she found on the jackalopes. A pair of deer and now two cows had been mutilated in the past few days.

The tabloids had already gotten a hold of it. One had twisted the story into a tale about chupacabras coming up into Missouri, and another spun a classic tale of alien saucers harvesting cows for intergalactic fuel. Lord help me. If only they knew what creatures actually lurked in the woods of rural Missouri.

Camped out on the edge of a farmer’s field in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere came with some advantages. Being halfway between Jamestown and Lupus meant we weren’t far from Jefferson City. Sometimes it was nice to actually stay at a hotel chain where you knew what you were getting, but it was hard to beat a good B&B.

That didn’t change the fact we were up and out before dawn. This was our second day watching the field, and if I was being honest with myself I was concerned we weren’t going to find anything.

It hadn’t been long before I wished we hadn’t found anything. The second cow’s head had been gnawed off, and while the conservation agents may not have recognized the teeth marks, I did. There was a Missouri jackalope in the region, and we needed to trap it, or far more animals were going to fall to the predator.

Are you fucking kidding me? Emma muttered, slowly setting down her coffee mug and raising a primed tranquilizer rifle to her shoulder.

What? I leaned closer to her, trying to get an angle and what she was looking at.

Emma flipped the safety off on the tranquilizer rifle.

But all I could see was a bobcat walking the edge of the woods before it leapt to pounce on top of some unseen prey. I don’t think we have to worry about …

Emma gagged when the bobcat all but exploded. Something squeaked like a guinea pig and shiny red antlers coated in gore caught the early sunlight. It hopped back and forth, cutting pieces off the bobcat with every movement, until all that remained was blood and fur.

Calming her gag reflex, Emma didn’t wait. She gave the trigger a steady pull. A puff of compressed CO 2 sent a titanium dart streaking across the field. I was a good shot, but Emma rarely missed. Today was no different.

The dart found its target, but instead of the jackalope preening at its wound, it charged directly at our tent.

Oh shit! Emma snapped, scampering away from the blind as the red and white ball of murder hurtled toward us.

I was afraid if I shot the jackalope again it would be too much tranquilizer, and we might kill it. But at the same time, I was worried if it got three hops closer to us, we weren’t going to survive the encounter.

But even as I leveled my tranquilizer gun at the jackalope, it went limp in mid-leap, crashing onto the grass field face first and sliding the last 10 feet into our blind, its knife-like antlers cutting through the fabric at my feet.

It went down fast. That may have been too much tranquilizer. I couldn’t hide the small tremor in my voice from the adrenaline.

That’s a fucked up circle of life. Emma toed the antlers with her boot.

My headset crackled to life and Himari started to sing.

Don’t you dare, I said.

She sighed, apparently put upon by my request not to mock us further.

I pulled the edge of the blind toward me, freeing the jackalope and giving me my first good look at the creature. Sprawled out as it was I could’ve easily mistaken it for jackrabbit, some two feet in length from nose to tail.

But the weight was wrong as I slid the critter closer. The texture of the fur wasn’t as soft, and its head was far too heavy, weighed down by thick bones and antlers and a bite strength to rival an alligator.

Pass me the pool noodle. I picked up a rag and wiped down the antlers only to look up and find Emma with the camera out, pointed at me and the jackalope.

And tell me again what you need the pool noodle for.

I narrowed my eyes at Emma before slipping into my other personality. It was the one people were used to seeing on our videos, and not the more serious side of the conservationist who’d thought they were about to be impaled by a jackalope.

So I went through my thoughts out loud, lifting the jackalope’s head up so viewers could see where the antlers met the skull, and see that there wasn’t anything like a headband holding the horns in place.

Bad taxidermy graced almost every steakhouse in the state, with only a few missing the staple of a fake jackalope. It meant we didn’t have to make this video look as fake, because people would already assume it was fake.

"And these horns are