by Stephen Laws
And then Cath realised what Drew now understood—the simple fact of the matter that had been obscured by the fear and the dazedness.
“It’s not the cat you shot. It’s the other parent.”
The Land Rover was in sight now at the bottom of the slope.
Drew nodded, wiping blood from his chin. “The one I shot is up there somewhere sleeping it off.”
“I don’t think I’m going to apply for any big-game hunter vacancies.”
“Me neither.” Drew held up his bloodied, sleeveless arm. “Wouldn’t be able to keep up with the tailor’s bills.”
“That arm looks bad. We’re going to have to get you to a doctor before . . .”
“Christ!”
Stumbling as they reached the bottom of the slope, Cath looked back up the rise at what had so alarmed Drew. They froze at the sight that met them.
The Big Cat had emerged from the gorse bushes. Sleek and black—and still impossibly huge—it was crouched low to the ground, tail swishing. It was slowly and stealthily coming down the rise of the slope, haunches shifting from left to right as it moved with deadly intent. There was no sign of the netting or the cub—and there was no sound now—no roaring, hissing or caterwauling.
Drew stooped, grabbed up a tree branch—and shouted: a wordless, breathless yell that startled Cath.
The Big Cat was motionless. Even from that distance, they could see its jaws silently open wide in a grimace of anger that seemed not only animal, but also somehow a horribly human mask of hate.
Drew yelled again, waved the branch once more.
The Big Cat came on—still low, faster than before; sleek and gliding down that grassy slope, bunched and powerful muscles working on its shoulders as it moved.
“Damn it!” Drew pulled away from Cath, ran forward a few steps, still waving the branch. The Big Cat did not falter as it descended, gathering speed but still staying low. Drew yelled again. The animal paused only briefly, and came on again. Drew glanced back at her. “We’re not scaring it. Keep moving back to the Land Rover. If that’s a death stalk—it means the damned thing is going to come at us . . .
“Drew!”
The Big Cat was speeding up in its descent, head raised and eyes fixed in their direction. Yelling again, Drew flung the branch hard over arm. It spun end over end in a spray of old bark and moss—hit the earth at the base of the hill and flew straight at the Big Cat. The animal reared aside, let the branch shiver to pieces, raised itself from its low stoop and came at them at a full run. Drew charged back to Cath, grabbed her hand again and pulled her on as they ran to the Land Rover, fear giving them added strength. Cath could feel the animal at her back as it reached level ground and came at them in a black blur at full speed. They had gotten away with it the first time, but surely this time it was going to take one or both of them down and tear them to pieces.
Drew slammed into the Land Rover.
The nearside passenger door was locked.
“Christ!”
No animal on earth could be capable of making the scream-roar behind them. That all-enveloping, terrifying sound had slowed down time, and Cath was somehow watching herself and Drew desperately dragging themselves around the front of the vehicle—too slowly, much too slowly. And now in that dreamlike slow motion, Cath was somehow aware that as Death came down upon them, the horror-sound seemed to be shaking not only the vehicle but also the trees around them. She could feel the beast right behind her, knew that she would be the first—that the Land Rover door on the driver side was also locked, and as Drew struggled with it, those hellish jaws would fasten around the back of her neck. The impact would slam her to the ground as those yellow-curved fangs met in her throat and the immense claws would rend the flesh from her back, rip her lungs and her heart and . . .
Drew yanked open the other door as they both turned simultaneously.
The Big Cat, no more than twenty feet away on the other side of the Land Rover, leapt directly at the cab. Cath cried out as they both ducked and the animal hit the roof of the cab with a resounding BOOM! The vehicle shook on its suspension as the animal rebounded from the roof, the impetus of its charge carrying it straight over their heads. It landed twenty feet from them in a sleek black blur that was both beautiful and terrifying. Whirling in a flurry of torn grass and earth, it slid in a semi-circle and came right back at them.
It meant to rend and kill them with an intensity that was paralyzing.
And yet—suddenly—Cath was inside the cab, not understanding how she had moved; and Drew was with her now, yanking the driver door shut and flinching from the window against her as the Big Cat slammed hard into the door panel, rocking the Land Rover again. Its vast black-furred and demonic head filling the glass, its breath instantly misting it. Drew fumbled for the ignition key, found it and jammed it home. The ignition screeched, but the coughing roar that filled the air was not the engine turning over—it was the beast, now leaping up onto the hood of the Land Rover. It lunged at them, double swatting the windshield with its gigantic paws. A crack chased across the length of the shield as the engine turned over and Drew jammed the Land Rover into reverse with a lurch. The Big Cat skidded backwards on the hood, claws screeching on the paint as it regained its hold and came at them again, its jaws impacting on the glass and smearing it with saliva.
“Get in the back, Cath!”
Cath scrambled over the seat as the vehicle jounced backwards, was flung facedown across the backseats in a tangle as the Land Rover skidded in a semi-circle, the windshield suddenly clear of black nightmare as the Big Cat slid from the hood and out of sight. Cath struggled to rise, heard Drew yell: “Christ!” as another impact on the driver’s side shuddered the Land Rover. Drew fought with the steering wheel, dragging it hard over as he made for a turn. Cath pulled herself up, just in time to see—
The Big Cat leaping back onto the hood, its front claws gouging into and denting the metal with two heavy clangs! Thin shavings of paint and metal sprouted between those curved yellow claws, and now the animal was dragging itself across the hood and roaring hellishly directly into their faces as Drew threw the gear into first and gunned the engine again.
Cavernous jaws spread wide, the Big Cat lunged at the windshield again. The impact cracked the glass again and Cath screamed as Drew yelled: “The gun! Get the gun . . .”
The windshield imploded, showering the interior with glass.
Cath watched in horror as Drew tugged at the wheel, fought with the gears—and the hellish thing that covered the hood reared back again, shaking its head as if the blow had stunned it. Glass flew from its black and glistening mane as it fought to keep its purchase on the hood of the jouncing vehicle.
Cath saw its eyes refocus as Drew struggled.
She saw its head steady, even as its body slid from side to side, still anchored by its claws in the metal of the punctured hood. It roared again, a coughing scream of malevolence and anger, its jaws wide, its breath blasting them with the stink of death. When it next lunged, it would be in the cab with them.
“The gun!”
The Big Cat braced, and came at them.
And suddenly, again with no conscious effort, the tranquiliser gun from the backseat was in Cath’s hands as she too lunged forward across the passenger seat—the barrel of the rifle jamming straight into the thing’s jaws and throat. The Big Cat shrieked and gagged, an explosion of sound. Drew swatted at that great black- furred head as it twisted.
Cath pulled the trigger, the rifle jerked in her grip—and the Big Cat screamed as the Land Rover lurched into a ditch, flinging her up against the roof of the vehicle.
Brilliant white light and stars exploded in her head.
The rifle was ripped from her grasp, her hands slamming painfully into the dashboard. Cath was still dazed by the blow to her head, everything spinning before her as the Land Rover jounced and flung her from side to side. The sounds of roaring and screaming continued, but now Cath could not be sure whether it was the animal or the vehicle
. The Land Rover bucked to a halt.
“Cath, are you all right? Speak to me—are you all right?”
Cath’s vision cleared. When she moved, broken windshield glass crunched all around them. The Land Rover was canted at an angle, and now Drew was clambering into the back, hastily hunting for something as he continued to speak to her. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”
“I’m not hurt—I’m fine. Drew, where the hell is that cat?”
Still hunting, and throwing aside the detritus that littered the rear of the Land Rover, Drew hastily pointed out through the passenger window. Cath followed the sight line.
The Land Rover had run up the side of a small mound and was tilted precariously in a stand of trees. As if the sudden violence had affected their surroundings, the trees were now shaking furiously in the wind, as nature itself seemed to be venting its anger at what had happened. Even over the sound of that wind, Cath could hear a coughing roar. Fifty feet from where they had ended up, the thing making that sound was walking in an erratic circle, just on the fringe of the trees. The Big Cat was lurching from side to side, swatting at its jaws with both forepaws, now dragging its great head on the ground as if trying to dislodge something—the dart. There was no sign of the rifle, either in the Land Rover cab or lying outside on the ground. The animal was in clear distress, now rearing back as if it had trod on live coals, leaping into the air with incredible agility despite its size, emitting that shuddering, coughing roar.
Drew found more of the boarding that he had used to shore up the rear exit of the cave, slammed it into place against the shattered windshield. There was not enough of it to cover the gap.
“Hopeless!” he spat. “If that thing comes back at us, we’ve had it.”
“Then let’s get the hell out of here!”
Drew lunged back into the strewn rear of the vehicle, throwing boxes and plastic containers to one side. “Got it!” He clambered back into the driving seat, thrusting his discovery into Cath’s hands—now twisting the ignition key and revving the engine. The noise was not that of a healthy engine. As he twisted and revved, Cath looked at what he’d given her. A thin metal cylinder, rounded at one end and with a drawstring threaded into a screw around its circumference.
Drew cursed and kept revving. The Land Rover began to jerk backwards, rear wheels spewing back clods of earth and soil.
“That’s a flare,” he shouted above the noise of the engine. “If that cat does make another run at us, I want you to pull the string there and stick it through the windshield. Keep it well out when you do, or we’ll burn. That should deter it.”
The Land Rover screeched from the mound, the chassis protesting. The engine growled and shuddered. Cath looked back at the Big Cat, still immersed in its own agonies and paying no attention to the vehicle as it finally reversed until it faced the animal.
Drew struggled to get the vehicle into first gear.
“Damn gear box is shot!”
Cath stared ahead, watched the animal walking in circles; waited for it to suddenly focus its attention back on them again and make another horrifying dash to the vehicle. She held up the flare, grabbed the drawstring and waited as Drew finally got into first gear, and the Land Rover began to trundle forward.
The Big Cat keeled to one side, went down on one foreleg.
“Look!” cried Cath.
The creature tried to rise, but its haunches seemed to give way. Its massive head bowed and went facedown to the ground. In the next moment, it keeled over to one side and lay very still.
Drew wrenched the wheel to the left, began to drive—and then stopped.
“We can’t leave it like that, Cath.”
“What?”
“We can’t leave it,” he repeated.
“Why not?”
“Cath—that’s not the other parent. That’s the one that I shot with the tranquiliser dart. The other one is still out there somewhere.”
“What do you mean—it wasn’t the other parent? How could you know that?”
“Because when it came at us, I saw that first dart still stuck in its hide.” Drew pointed out through the shattered windshield, pulling aside and discarding the ineffective boarding. “Can you see? There—on the left side of its belly. A small flash of yellow? That’s the dart.”
Cath could see it now. Despite everything that had happened, the dart had not dislodged.
Drew continued: “I don’t know how it managed to stay on its feet for such a long time, because I’d worked out the body weight ratio and quantity of the drug I used in the dart really carefully. I didn’t make any mistake. But somehow, this animal’s much more resistant to the drug taking effect than any other Big Cat I’ve learned about. I don’t understand it.”
“I shot it. In the mouth . . .”
“I think the shock of that was what threw the thing off. But Cath—that second shot of the drug’s topped up the first, instantly. And the drug could kill it—or it could choke to death if that dart is still in its mouth. I’ve got to do something, or it may die.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I’ve got stuff in the house. And I know about animals. But damn it—I’m not a vet . . .”
Cath saw a change come over Drew, watched as thought and emotion registered on his face as he quickly considered the options.
“I’ve got an idea.”
Quickly, he headed back to the Land Rover, flung open the rear doors and climbed in. When he emerged, it was with a sheet of tarpaulin. The wind had begun to gust now, making the sheet flap and flurry as he walked on past her toward where the Big Cat lay. Cath grabbed an end, pulling tight to stop it flying loose in the wind. It snapped and cracked as they walked.
The black fur of the creature that lay before them ruffled in the wind. Its tongue protruded from its mouth, between those savage yellow fangs. Its opal eyes were half closed, glazed and unseeing—but its ribcage was moving as it breathed in short, sporadic gasps. For a moment, they were both transfixed as they stood looking at this incredible, dangerous and beautiful creature. From its snout to the tip of its tail, the cat seemed enormous. She felt dwarfed in its presence; small and weak and utterly diminished by the sight of this sleek, wild and immensely powerful engine of destruction that had no place in the English countryside.
“It’s a male,” Drew said.
“Obviously,” said Cath. “But there’s something . . .” She struggled to find the words, raising her voice as the wind snatched them away. “Something . . .”
“Something about its face,” Drew said, now having to raise his voice as the wind buffeted the valley side. “Something that makes it look . . .”
“More than a panther or a puma. God, Drew, it looks—demonic.”
The word was inadequate, but the only word that she could find to describe that savage and primal mask of a face; with its slitted opal eyes, the curvature of its jaw and protruding fangs, the angle of those jet black pointed ears. Cath looked at the cruel and massive claws on one of its forepaws and felt colder than the gathering wind. She looked at Drew and knew that he was feeling something similar. He flapped the canvas on the grass next to the animal, and looked at her. Cath understood, moved to stand on one end to stop it flying away in the wind and watched as Drew braced another end with one foot, grabbed the beast by its rear legs—and hauled its bulk over onto the canvas. It was not an easy job, and when he had managed to completely pin an edge of the canvas with the Big Cat’s weight, Drew quickly moved around it, braced himself and knelt down next to the sedated animal. Cath felt a thrill of anxiety then, staring at the animal’s dulled eyes. Drew knew what she was thinking.
“It’s not going to wake up. Hell, Cath, it might not wake up at all.”
In the next moment, Drew had braced himself against the animal’s side and with enormous effort, rolled the great beast over onto the canvas. The smell of animal musk and urine was overpowering. Its bladder had emptied. They both recoiled, but the wind had quickly snatched away the worst of i
t, and when Drew rejoined Cath, he grabbed a free edge of the canvas and looked first to the Land Rover—then back to the farmhouse, two hundred yards away at the bottom of the dirt track.
“We’ll never get it in the Land Rover. Too heavy, too awkward—and I’m worried about its breathing.”
“We’re taking it to the house?”
“The cellar. See there—the double doors, like storm doors—at the side of the farmhouse? They lead down to the cellar. There’s a cage in there.”
Cath just looked at him.
“I know, I know. In my less enlightened days—I was intent on catching one of these things. So I built a cage, it’s on a track so that it can be moved. I was going to catch one, keep it in the cage. Study it and take pictures. Then I was going to get in touch with the so-called experts who’ve ridiculed the whole idea of Big Cats being loose in the wilds of the UK. I was even more of an arrogant bastard then than I am now. This was going to be me showing the whole world that they were wrong, and I wasn’t just some stupid bloody obsessive who was chasing shadows after his wife had . . . Well, I was wrong. What I told you back there was true. All I wanted to do was take the pictures, maybe some blood samples—and let the thing go. But now . . .”
“But now I’ve given it a double dose of that drug and might have killed it.”
“You saved us, Cath. I was shouting at you to get the gun. It nearly killed us both.” Drew looked back down to the farmhouse, then up to the darkening sky and the ever-building wind. “I don’t like the look of that sky . . .”
“So let’s get kitty here back down into your cellar. Then you can call a vet, and we can take your pictures—and you can tell everyone that you’ve caught the shadow you’ve been chasing out here on the Fell.”
Drew looked at her for what seemed a long time, the wind plucking at his ragged clothes and hair.
He kissed her then.
And when they moved apart again, both took an end of the tarpaulin and began dragging it down the dirt track to the farmhouse.
TWENTY
News Night: BBC 18.00 hrs
