Savage (Apex Predator Book 2)

by David Meyer

  A branch cracked. Dry leaves crunched.

  Snapping to attention, he shifted on the balls of his feet. A sliver of moon hung in the sky, providing a bit of light to his otherwise dark surroundings. It was nighttime, a few hours before midnight. Not that it mattered. Time had little meaning these days.

  To the west, he spotted the lumbering gait of a large creature. A woolly mammoth to be precise, one of the normal-sized ones. But that didn’t mean it could be taken lightly. The very fact it had survived this long was a testament to its strength and killing prowess.

  His gaze turned downward as the beast passed about ten feet beneath his position. Its curving tusks were chipped and cracked. Its hide was scarred in numerous places. Flakes of dried blood coated its coarse fur. Like all of Corbotch’s reborn megafauna, it was clearly driven to fight. To maul anything and everything it faced.

  He shot Mills a quick look. She gave him a tight-lipped nod. He knew what she was thinking. Woolly mammoths were dangerous, unpredictable opponents. But they were rich in meat and their hides could be used to make all sorts of things. Simply put, the beast was an opportunity that couldn’t be missed. But how to take it without guns? He touched his axes and an idea came to him.

  He flashed her a hand signal. Then he dropped to the ground, landing quietly on some grass. Stealing forward, Caplan grabbed the mammoth’s short tail with both hands. He swung his legs up, bracing them against the beast’s rear end. It jolted and twisted around. Its trunk lifted to the sky and it trumpeted out a series of angry notes.

  Gritting his teeth, Caplan fought to maintain his balance. Once he’d stabilized his footing, he removed his left hand from the tail, grabbed one of his axes, and began to chop away at the beast’s legs. The hide was stiff and tough but soon gave way to the sharp blade.

  The mammoth howled as the axe sliced through a layer of fat and nicked one of its tendons. Rearing up, it bucked wildly. Caplan went airborne and only his strong grip on the tail kept him from being thrown off completely.

  His body reversed course, thudding against the mammoth’s backside. Grunting softly, he lifted his left hand. Still holding the axe, he wrapped the tips of his fingers around the tail.

  The mammoth, sensing an opening, bucked harder and faster. Caplan fought to get his footing, but the beast’s frenzied movements made that impossible. Slowly, his sweat-drenched fingers began to slip.

  A soft thump sounded out and the mammoth froze in place. Taking advantage, Caplan kicked his feet up, replanting them on the beast’s backside. In the process, he noticed a still-quivering arrow sticking out of its forehead.

  Glancing up, he saw Mills, bow in hand, leap onto a rickety branch. She sprinted forward and leapt again, crossing to the branches of a second eastern white pine tree with graceful ease. She ran a little farther and then grabbed an arrow from her quiver. Fitting it into the bowstring, she took aim and let it fly. The projectile soared straight and true, slamming into the mammoth’s skull at top speed.

  Caplan wasted no time. Swinging low, he hacked away at the beast’s legs. The hide ripped wide open in various spots, spilling fatty tissue and blood onto the soil. The beast began to sag.

  After a few more chops, he jumped clear and the mammoth flopped onto the ground. Still defiant, it blurted out notes of fury.

  He pulled the second axe from his belt. Mills climbed down from the tree, produced a sharp arrow, and joined him. Without a word, they attacked the mammoth’s neck until it fell still.

  Afterward, they gazed upon the bloodied carcass. Caplan’s heart thumped softly against his chest as his adrenaline began to fade. With Perkins gone, he didn’t feel much like celebrating. But the mammoth, with its bounty of fresh meat, was still a major victory in a world sorely lacking in them. They could preserve the meat via drying, curing, and smoking techniques. With careful rationing, it would feed them for weeks. Of course, that didn’t solve the longer-term food problem. But it bought them time.

  Forget thriving, he sang silently. Just keep on surviving.

  Chapter 8

  Date: November 24, 2017, 11:18 p.m.; Location: North Maine Woods, ME

  Wrinkling his nose, Caplan went to work cleaning and harvesting the carcass. Meanwhile, Mills scaled the lower limbs of a black ash tree. She grabbed hold of their plastic sled, originally designed for ice fishing, and lowered it to the ground. She dragged it back to the carcass and they loaded it up with meat. Then they cached the rest of the dead animal in a shallow hole.

  She grabbed a rope on one side of the sled. “Nice takedown. Where’d you learn to do that?”

  He grabbed the second rope and helped her pull. The sled jerked and began to slide over dirt and dry brush. “From the history books. That’s how some African warriors used to hunt elephants.”

  The wind picked up speed until it felt like sheets of ice were slamming into his mud-covered cheeks. His strength waned and his arms started to hurt.

  Moonlight filtered through the overhanging branches, casting long shadows along the ground. Piles of decaying leaves covered the hard soil. A small brook, filled with scarce amounts of iron-gray water, weaved in and out of the sparse vegetation. Fallen trees, hollowed out and rotting away, crisscrossed the brook.

  After a long walk, they exited the forest and dragged the sled onto a paved road. Mills released her rope and hiked to the van. She hopped into the cargo area, shook out a plastic tarp, and laid it down. Then she and Caplan proceeded to load the meat into the vehicle.

  After they were finished, she studied the rope burns on her fingers. “My hands look like hamburger meat,” she complained. “Can’t we park a little closer next time?”

  He shook his head. “Too many trees.”

  “Then I say we hunt right here from now on.”

  “That sounds great.” He cracked a grin. “Now, you just have to convince the animals to cooperate.”

  “We use the roads.” She faked an annoyed look. “Why can’t they?”

  Occasionally, they’d spot a squirrel or rabbit hanging out on the side of the road. But most animals, especially the larger ones, stuck to the depths of the forest.

  They gathered up the sled and dragged it back to the carcass. For the next hour, they hauled meat to the van. Then they tossed the sled into the rear, climbed into the front seats, and began the short drive back to the cabin.

  Mills spent most of the ride lounging in the passenger seat, knee-high boots propped up on the dashboard. Her head was turned toward her window, her gaze fixed on the outside world. “The sky is nice tonight,” she remarked as they drew close to home.

  “It’s okay.”

  “That’s the one thing that hasn’t changed. Well, that and your feelings toward lima beans.”

  He laughed.

  She glanced at him. “I like when you laugh.”

  A tingling sensation ran down his spine. Say something, he thought as the seconds ticked by. Anything! “You know who had a great laugh? Derek.”

  “Yes. Yes, he did.” Shifting to the window, she resumed gazing at the sky.

  Nice one, Zach, he chided himself. But next time, just for kicks, could you make things a bit more awkward?

  A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of the cabin. The thick curtains were pulled shut. But the windows still glowed and flickered.

  “Looks like someone made a fire.” Mills kicked her boots off the dashboard and sat up. “That’s going to feel so awesome.”

  Caplan agreed. He was cold, hungry, and exhausted. A fire would help with one of those things. Maybe a second one since they could use it to smoke the meat. And maybe even the third one if he slept on the couch. He used to do that back in the early days. He’d stay awake as long as possible, waiting for Morgan to finish working. And when he could take no more, he’d curl up under a blanket on the old cushions. When had he stopped doing that anyway? Ah, well, the exact date didn’t matter. What mattered was that at some point he’d stopped waiting for her. Instead, he’d gone off to bed by himself and
she’d joined him when she was finished. And then they’d started fighting about whether to go to Danter or not and she’d stopped coming to bed altogether.

  A lot had changed over the last seventeen months. He glanced at Mills. A lot, indeed. “I think one of us can unload the meat,” he said, parking the van just outside the cabin.

  She arched an eyebrow. “You mean it?”

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “Come find me when you’re done.”

  She laughed and swatted him on the arm. Then she climbed outside and opened the rear door. “Do you want to cure this stuff? Or smoke it?”

  He preferred the flavor of smoked meat. But it was nice to have some variety. “Both,” he replied. “Half and half.”

  Nodding, she grabbed a thick slab of meat and hoisted it over her shoulder. Then she walked to the cabin and entered the front door. Within seconds, faint cheers rang out.

  Caplan grabbed a slab of bloody meat and hauled it into the cabin. The others—even Morgan—stood around Mills, looking tired but excited. “Well, you finally came through,” Toland remarked. “Maybe we’ll actually eat a real meal one of these days.”

  “The sooner, the better,” Mills replied. “But first, we have to prep this stuff.”

  “Of course.” Toland backed away. “Let me know when you’re done and—”

  “If you want to eat, you’ll get your butt out to that van right now.” Her gaze narrowed. “That goes for all of you. Everybody helps tonight. No exceptions, no excuses.”

  Toland studied her eyes and apparently, didn’t like what he saw. “Fine.” He exhaled in exacerbation. “But you owe me.”

  “Yeah,” she said, following him outside. “I owe you a punch in the face.”

  Working together, they unloaded the meat. Afterward, the group split up. Elliott filled a bucket with their supply of rainwater, grabbed a bit of liquid soap and a sponge, and scrubbed down the van. Mills and Toland went inside and prepped the meat by cutting away the fat, skin, and bone. Meanwhile, Caplan and Morgan tossed charcoal into the fire. Then they walked into the forest and harvested wood from a fallen green ash tree. By the time they returned, the fire had burnt down to a hot coal bed.

  Mills and Toland salted half of the prepped meat and began to hang it around the common room. Caplan and Morgan used sticks from the green ash tree to fashion a tripod over the smoking coal bed. Then they lashed individual sticks to the tripod and racked strips of unsalted meat on them. A few flies buzzed around at first. But the smoke and heat kept them at bay and eventually, they lost interest.

  Caplan tossed a little extra wood on the fire and then sat back. The smoke and heat repelled bugs. But it also helped dry the meat, a necessity for long-term preservation.

  “Nice job.” Morgan knelt next to him. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  “You’d figure it out.” She’d cleaned herself up a bit and as a result, smelled like lavender instead of body odor and grime. Even her hair, normally a stringy mess, looked shiny and smooth. “Say, I’ve got a question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Have you ever seen a ghost?”

  She shook her head. “Why?”

  “Because I saw one. Yesterday, before Dire showed up. On the way into the store, I had this really weird feeling of awe and unease. And then on the way out, I felt something watching me. I turned around and saw a gray mist. It hung around for a few seconds. Then it disappeared.”

  Curiosity flashed across her face. “Where was Dire?”

  “Just behind the store. Why?”

  “Because I think it explains your symptoms. You know how I didn’t want you to get rid of that audio equipment we found in the van? Well, that’s because it’s specialized ornithology equipment, designed to detect infrasound.”

  He cocked his head.

  “Infrasound is low-frequency sound outside the realm of normal human hearing. But that doesn’t mean our bodies can’t detect it. Some people experience anxiety, sorrow, or chills when exposed to it. And at the right frequency, it can cause eyeballs to vibrate, which might explain your ghost sighting.”

  “And you think Dire had something to do with this infrasound?”

  “Lots of large creatures—whales, elephants, rhinos—use it to communicate over long distances. For a while now, I’ve suspected behemoths do the same thing. Of course, I’ll need to run some tests to be sure.” She trailed off, then paused for a long moment. “But that can wait. Right now, we need to talk. About us.”

  The moment felt utterly surreal to him. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had an actual conversation about their relationship. Or much of anything else, either.

  “I’m … well, I’m leaving, Zach.”

  He stared at her.

  “Tricia and I talked it over. We’re going to Danter.”

  He blinked. A memory, long forgotten, seared its way across his brain. He recalled sitting in Ross’ shop as a kid, chowing down on delicious ice cream, surrounded by his parents, Mayor Zelton, the Pylors, a young Connie Aquila, and many other chattering folks. And just like that, the memory ended. There was no conflict, no argument. It was just him and his parents, enjoying a sunny afternoon in tiny Danter. He had lots of those memories. Happy little snippets of simpler times.

  He blinked again. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “I’ve taken my research as far as I can go by myself. Frankly, I’m stumped. I need other sets of eyeballs studying the logbook and looking at my work.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said this morning? Danter’s dealing with blackmailers right now.”

  “That’s part of the reason I’m going. They need help.”

  “You could die.”

  “And if I don’t go, other people could die. Including your friend, Mike.”

  His gazed tightened an imperceptible amount. He didn’t want Mayor Zelton to die. He didn’t want anyone to die. But facts were facts. If he wanted to protect his friends, he needed to stay away from Danter. Forget thriving, he sang silently. Just keep on surviving. “The town’s a good twenty miles from here. How are you going to get there?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll drive us.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then we’ll walk. But one way or another, we’re leaving tomorrow.”

  Competing urges tugged at Caplan’s brain. If he let Morgan and Elliott leave, he wouldn’t be able to protect them. But leaving the cabin on foot meant entering the open world. A world of behemoths, reborn megafauna, and soldiers. And he couldn’t protect anyone in that world.

  He sighed. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

  “No.”

  “Why does Tricia want to leave?”

  “I’m not sure. But she’s adamant about it.”

  He stared at the embers for a long time. “I really hope you reconsider this. But if you don’t, I’ll drive you to the edge of Danter sometime tomorrow.”

  Her face brightened. “Really?”

  “Yes. But you’ll have to walk from there. I’m not leaving the tree cover under any circumstances. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” She sighed. “Look, I know you probably think I’m crazy. But I have to do this.”

  “Do what? It’s too late to stop HA-78. And no one is going to stop the behemoths.”

  “But we can still stop the Holocene extinction.”

  He focused his gaze on a single chunk of reddish, smoking charcoal. “And you think working with other people can change that?”

  “I do. The solution’s in there.” She glanced at the charred, leather logbook. “I just need help digging it out.”

  Seventeen months ago, Mills had gotten her hands on the logbook while holed up deep within the Vallerio Forest. Bronze-colored text upon the cover read, Apex Predator. While the interior was heavily damaged, it still possessed tantalizing information about the Apex Predator project.

  Apex Predator was James Corbotch’s multi-stage plan to defeat the Holocene extinction. The logbook,
which contained hundreds of memorandums, letters, notes, drawings, and diagrams, was part history book, part scientific manual. It detailed the project’s origins, its various stages, its breakthroughs, and more.

  Caplan had tried to read it a few times. More than a few times, actually. But much of the material, prepared by a vast array of brilliant scientists, went way over his head.

  However, it seemed to make sense to Morgan. She spent every single day poring over the book, adding little notes in the margins.

  “How do you know the solution’s in there?” he asked.

  “Because everything is in there. I’ve learned so much, Zach.”

  “Like what?”

  “For one thing, I can now say for sure that the behemoths aren’t some kind of mistake. They’re essential to ending the extinction.”

  His ears perked. “How so?”

  Mills and Toland finished hanging meat strips and walked over to join the conversation.

  “The secret lies deep in history.” Morgan paused. “We all know something happened ten to eleven thousand years ago. Something strange.”

  Caplan nodded. “You’re talking about the Quaternary extinction event.”

  “Yes. Simply put, entire genera of large mammals went extinct in the blink of a geological eyeball. And it didn’t just happen in one small corner of the world. No, it happened almost everywhere. North America, South America, Australia, Europe. Only Africa and parts of Asia were spared.”

  “So, they died at the same time.” Mills shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is we can tie dinosaur extinctions to historical events. The same can’t be said of the Pleistocene megafauna. Until recently, nobody knew why so many of them died out at the exact same time.”

  Caplan’s eyes widened. “You figured it out?”

  “Not me. James’ scientists deserve the credit.” She glanced at the logbook. “He told us the truth in the Vallerio, but it was only a partial truth.”

  “So, what caused the Quaternary extinction event?” Caplan asked. “Was it hunting?”