The Huntsman

by Rafael

  The bird folded its wings from which freakish hands protruded. It bobbed closer, spewing a string of clicks and chirps. Linda’s hands covered her face. She’d always imagined life into old age, not this. Her sobs intensified as leathery hands lifted her by the shoulders. She stared down its gullet from which a hot, fetid stench billowed. It clacked and chirped. Emotional overload collapsed Linda into a faint.

  She awoke in darkness. Except for hiking boots, cold rock pressed against naked flesh. The stygian gloom gave no hint of depth but a shapeless mass detached from the black stillness. Fear, icy as the stone beneath, again chilled her blood. Dim shadow gave way to an orange glow. Linda stared wide-eyed at the metallic, silver sphere hanging in space. She sat up, curling arms and legs against her nudity. Sounds emerged from the reflective globe. Seconds elapsed before she recognized them as short phrases in different languages. “Do you give air?”

  Dumbstruck shock silenced her. Before she recovered, it continued cycling brief expressions. “Wait, wait. I speak English.” Silence. Whirred clicks emerged. From behind it, chirps and clicks floated. The ball repeated.

  “Do you give air?”

  “Do I give what?”

  “Not do you give what. Do you give air?”

  Linda let out a breath. It wanted to communicate. If so, she could reason with it to spare her life. She became frantic for a response. “I, I don’t understand. What do you mean ‘give air’?” The silver sphere’s orange glow throbbed and pulsed.

  “Are you new?” Linda’s face scrunched in puzzlement. New? As opposed to old, perhaps?

  “I am new.”

  “Who gave you air?”

  Linda took a deep breath, forced herself to remain calm. If not to her, the question had to make sense to the creature. What was it? Until today nothing hinted such a thing existed. It dawned on her it might be an alien. She fought against a rising sense of panic. An alien wouldn’t think anything like them. She reversed tack.

  “Do you give air?”

  “No. I guard the Air Givers.”

  “What do Air Givers do?”

  “Give air to new ones.”

  Linda grew excited. The creature before her flew. In the same way water would influence a fish’s perspective, air would be central to their existence. She imagined they would not praise one another as “well-grounded”. Insight swelled. As here, the most important moment in anyone’s existence had to be their first breath.

  “By ‘give air’ do you mean give birth?” The sphere’s glow intensified.

  “Do you give birth?” Relief washed over Linda.

  “Yes! I give air.”

  She never saw the beak that speared her through the face. Linda fell back, dead before she hit the ground. Relief washed over Kreetor. She could now identify Air Givers. As Warrior Priestess she had a duty to guard them but the Council had commanded her to end everyone connected to the Gate. She needed to resolve the conflict. For now, curiosity gave way to hunger.

  CHAPTER 16 Love Lost

  Restless energy coursed through Miranda. She kicked off the covers, pounded the pillow, and threw herself on her back, wide awake. The clock beside the bunk read 1:17am. Beneath her the ship rolled gently as the engines thrummed across the Pacific. She turned to stare at the bulkhead. On the other side lay Janesh.

  She pictured him swollen and engorged. Her eyes closed as a hand slipped under her panties. She pressed two fingers and licked her lips before a soft moan escaped them. Her lady ached and throbbed. Probing, rotating fingers heightened every nerve. Her free hand fondled, caressed her breast, pinched the erect nipple hard.

  With a gasp, she sat up. Enough! Miranda knew what she wanted. She wanted sex and she wanted Janesh to give it to her: raw, savage, primal. She rose from the bunk, stepped out her panties, and padded toward the shower.

  Inside, its full-length mirror gave her pause to reflect. She turned slowly, grateful the physical rigors animal care demanded had kept her toned and fit. Unlike the detached demeanor her image had always invoked, she now allowed its shapely curves to deepen desire. She reveled in her own sensuality, embraced her woman, and understood why.

  Like every human being before them, Cross and Dawkins had not known the day or the hour. They’d awakened unaware their sun would never rise again. Whatever hopes, dreams, and ambitions they had would forever remain so. She had no idea how they had lived their lives but she had vowed to inspect every red light, stop sign, detour, and dead end in her own. Society threw up so many do’s, don’ts, maybe’s, sometime’s, it left precious little time to live. Tomorrow not today, later not now had become maturity’s signposts but offered no guidance if they never came and no refunds when they didn’t. If her tomorrow’s had run out, she would spend now with her legs wrapped around Janesh.

  Miranda let the shower’s liquid needles pick and scrape across her body. Rather than dampen her ardor, the sharp pinpricks emblazed them. She would lie on his plate cleansed of uncertainty, doubt, or hesitation. Desire would seize the moment, tomorrow be damned.

  Perfumed and dry, her body tingled as she opened the bag containing a sheer, thin-strapped, silk mesh chemise she’d thought an “immediate necessity”. It hid nothing without being blatant. A light mascara and lipstick followed before she returned to the mirror and gave her hair a good fluff. Her arms snaked along her sides and straight above her head where they intertwined. She performed a slow, serpentine dance, writhing and twisting to her own rhythm then held the pose. The look matched her wild, primitive state.

  Barefoot, she grasped the doorknob, her heightened passion enflamed by anticipation. A keen and heated Miranda stepped into the passageway.

  * * *

  Janesh rose from a light slumber, alerted by the dogs’ rumbling growls. He turned in his bunk to find them staring toward the upper decks. Long hunts together had attuned him to their body postures. Danger had come to the ChangLi41 as it steamed toward Hawaii.

  Despite waiting a day for the navy destroyer to pick them up in Tacoma, the USS Ernest J. King had made short work of the freighter’s head start. At first the ship’s captain, Jake Santoyo, rejected the navy’s calls to heave to. “Ahoy Ernest J. King. This is the Captain of the ChangLi41. Be advised we sail under Chinese flag in international waters.” However right his legal position might have been, he ordered full stop when a deck gun fired three 5in shells over his bow. The CIA team, along with the Captain, two Surface Warfare Officers, and six armed Marines boarded without further incident.

  If they’d had any suspicions about Captain Santoyo’s connections to the underworld, they ended once he accepted their cover story a foreign power had smuggled a nuclear device on his ship. He ordered the crew to cooperate fully, provided access to the computer files detailing the ship’s manifest, and unhooked the crane to load the suspect cargo containers onto the deck. From there the plan called for the ChangLi41 to replace the containers with false ones in Oahu before continuing on across the Pacific with the CIA team on board. They would chaperon the dummy cargo and follow whoever picked it up in Singapore. No one raised objections to the plan. Janesh considered it a good one.

  He threw on pants, slipped his feet into deck shoes, and didn’t bother with a shirt. From a bag his foot-long hunting knife emerged before he pocketed a silent dog-whistle. With Duncan and Ronan straining to push through the door, he paused to mutter a prayer to Vishnu. Door lock released, the silent lion hunters raced for the companionway.

  Miranda’s cabin door opened as he hurried past. Startled, he jerked around and felt like he’d been slammed in the chest. Backlit against the hall light, sex oozed from her every pore and the garment which ended mid-thigh left nothing to the imagination. Her ethereal beauty left him faint, unable to push air into his lungs. A cold spasm iced across nerves while heat surged through veins that engorged him.

  Miranda stared at his bare chest then lingered on his bulging pants. A coy grin spread across her face. “Well, this is convenient.” Janesh strained to keep eye c
ontact.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I was feeling…warm. I thought you might have something cool to drink. Taking the dogs for a walk?” She shifted her gaze to his hand. “With a knife?” Before he could respond, the ship went dark. Miranda remained irrepressible. “How romantic.” A machine pistol chattered from the upper decks. “What was that?”

  “Gunfire.” Janesh shoved her back inside. “Lock the door. Stay inside until I return.”

  Janesh rushed to the companionway taking the steps two at a time. Relief escaped his held breath to find the dogs blocked by a closed hatchway. They stood little chance against bullets. So did he. His mind raced for a plan.

  Above him and rising four stories over the stern stood the bridge, with the captain’s and officers’ cabins on the third. The Marine guards occupied the second story and equipment storage compartments sat deck level. Here just below, the section housed guests and passengers while the level underneath comprised crew quarters. Three gigantic cargo holds stretching to the bow formed the ship’s remainder.

  From below, hastily dressed and thick-eyed, Ben Wolford and two field agents clambered up. Forefingers spanned the trigger guards of cocked automatics. The sounds of a fierce fusillade drifted through the closed hatch. Wolford’s expression turned sardonic. “Someone must have found the Marines. What’s going on?” Janesh shrugged.

  “Just got here myself. We don’t know enough to charge out this door. I’m thinking of heading starboard. There’s a passageway that runs below deck the length of the ship to the bow. From there maybe we can see what’s what and who’s who.”

  Ben glanced at Janesh’s hand. “You can’t go to a gunfight with a knife—or dogs. I’ll tag along.” He turned toward the agents. “Stay here. No one comes through the hatch.” The two followed Ben’s lead and put on their head pieces. “I’ll signal you if we need support.” He turned back to Janesh. “Maybe you should leave the dogs here.”

  “We’re a team. You’d be surprised what we can do.” Ben nodded.

  “Lead the way, Mr. McKenzie.”

  “Come.”

  Flanked by the dogs, Janesh ran toward the passageway’s junction sixty yards away. With Wolford right behind, the three turned left and continued toward the bow. Boat designers had installed the narrow walkway to permit access along the ship’s length during high seas when monster waves crashed over the deck. Now it hid their movement.

  Janesh reached the corridor’s end where a short ramp led to a sealed hatchway. He waited for Wolford to catch his breath while keeping an eye on the dogs. Eager and alert, their body postures indicated no nearby threat. In between pants, Wolford waved him on. Janesh wheeled the lock and eased the hatch open. Through the inch-wide gap, sporadic gunfire sounded. Threatening clouds deepened a murky night. On a calm sea, the ChangLi floated dead in the water. No lights shone along its hundred fifty yard length and the bridge stood dark against the gloom. At its base, black-clad figures scurried about. Janesh eased the hatch shut and filled Ben in.

  “Any sign of the Captain and crew?” Janesh shook his head, Ben continued. “I’m sure the Marines have to be low on ammo if not out already. We have to help them. They’ll come for us next. Any ideas?”

  “We’ll have to play it by ear. Our biggest advantage is surprise. Everyone out there has their backs turned. Stay behind us and provide cover. Once you shoot they’ll know we’re here so don’t unless you have to.”

  “What about you?” Janesh gave a cold smile.

  “Knives don’t make noise.”

  Janesh slipped outside flanked by the dogs. Underneath, he noted the deck’s rubberized flooring, meant to keep traction on a rolling sea, would silence footfalls. Six hold covers sealed by hydraulic doors rose four feet above the deck fore to aft and formed intersecting paths and aisles. Bent low, Janesh crept behind Duncan and Ronan toward the midships. Nearing the row between the third and fourth hold covers, their ridge hairs stiffened. Janesh whistled a stop and sidled past for a look. Along with tarpaulin and scattered ropes, two Marines lay sprawled on the deck beside five ski-masked invaders. Janesh muttered a curse and eased back toward Wolford.

  “The science equipment is gone. The Marines are down at least two men but took five with them. No telling how many are left of either.” Together they peeked over a hold cover. Three ski-masked guards patrolled the deck area at the base of the bridge structure.

  “The rest must be inside. The Marines may still be holding out or your own men have them blocked.” Before Ben could flip his transmit switch a tremendous explosion blew out the windows on the Marines’ second story quarters. Shattered glass and debris rained everywhere forcing them to duck lower. It didn’t make sense they’d blow up an empty floor. Nothing could have lived through that.

  Wolford moved the thin microphone stem to his lips. “Fogarty, Barnes, you copy?”

  “What’s up, Chief?” Another explosion, more muffled, rolled up from belowdecks. The open channel hissed static.

  “Fogarty, Barnes, you read me? Fogarty, Barnes?” Cold dread descended on Janesh. Miranda’s defensive line had just disappeared.

  “I’m going to present myself to these three. Don’t shoot. You’re my hole card.”

  “They might shoot you on the spot.”

  “Maybe, but I’m confident they won’t shoot until they’re sure I’m a nobody or have nothing important. By then it’ll be too late.” Janesh braced the knife in the small of his back, placed the whistle between his teeth, pointed the dogs toward the port side, and gave a short blow. Duncan and Ronan trotted off. When they reached the far railing, he blew short and long. Wolford watched wide-eyed as the two turned left.

  Bent low, Janesh headed for the starboard side and turned right, counting off an estimate for the dogs reaching the hold cover’s end. He gave two short blasts. Duncan and Ronan stopped. Removing the whistle, Janesh called out to the black-clad guards. “Hey, you over there. Don’t shoot, I’m coming out. I give up.”

  The three whirled around leveling their weapons. They shouted in Chinese until one tried accented English. “Hands up. Walk here.” Janesh placed the whistle between his teeth and slowly stood. He stepped toward the men then blew short and long. Behind the guards, Duncan and Ronan turned left. Heads low, eyes focused, they stalked forward step by slow, cautious step.

  “We intend you no harm. Take what you want and leave us.” The one who spoke English stepped closer while his buddies covered him. He waved his weapon for Janesh to move up. Silent wraiths crept nearer. “Don’t shoot, I’m unarmed. Who are you? What do you want?”

  “No talk. On knees.”

  “What? You want me to get on my knees?”

  The Rhodesian Ridgebacks stiffened, tendons rippled along coiled legs. Janesh blew a long whistle. Lion hunters sprang from their crouch, legs blurred in a death charge. Instinct turned two heads before they could brace for impact. Down they went in a flurry of arms and legs. Weapons clattered away now useless as matchsticks. Screams born in their throats died on their tongues when steel jaws clamped around necks. The powerful dogs shook them like rag dolls. The third Chinaman watched in horror as his comrades’ eyes rolled up in their sockets. Frozen by the attack’s ferocity, he looked down to see a knife point protruding from his chest. His ruptured heart stopped pumping. A last thought and breath ended before he hit the ground.

  Janesh pulled hard on the blade before wiping it on the Chinaman’s shirt. He turned his back to the still snarling dogs worrying their lifeless victims. The Mahān Śikārī shuddered but let them vent their instincts. “Release.” They obeyed and trotted up each to a side. He bent on one knee to hug both. Once again they had cheated death and the three reaffirmed their bonds and renewed life grip.

  Wolford rushed over. “Jesus, Jesus. I never seen anything like it.” Janesh stood. The dogs’ head-rubbing had smeared their victims’ blood across his torso. The wild look and bloodied frame evoked a bygone, more primal age.

  “Come. This isn�
�t over yet.”

  From the bridge structure’s wide open entrance indistinct shouts and voices floated up from belowdecks. Janesh could just make the cries of those pleading not to shoot. Staccato machine pistols replied. He turned to Ben. “They’re massacring the crew.” The next sound froze them in place and stopped their breaths. A woman’s scream pierced the air then cut off.

  Ben rose, automatic cocked. A powerful arm reached out to hold him in place. He turned to see an agonized Janesh. Anguish laced every word. “No, my friend. It is time to retreat. We are outgunned and outmanned and will suffer the crew’s fate if we descend. If she’s alive, it won’t matter. If she’s dead, we can’t avenge her if we are too.”

  Ben tried to shake off the arm but a steel clamp held him fast. Janesh’s eyes shone in sympathy. “You know I’m right. We have to move back. Now.” Wolford relented. The four headed toward the prow and ducked behind a hold cover where the darkened ship and dense cloud cover enveloped them.

  Eleven figures emerged, one with an unconscious, near-naked Miranda draped over a shoulder. They gathered around their dead comrades babbling among themselves. The pirates looked up to scan the deck, trying to pierce the shadows. Three leveled their weapons and made to move off before another barked in Chinese. Alert and cautious, the group moved to the port side where ropes dangled from hooks to the ship waiting below. After lashing a line to Miranda’s ankles, they lowered her head first with the undergarment sliding down over shoulders and arms. To snickers and titters, the carrier gave her bare butt a parting squeeze and rub.

  Janesh burned, frustrated by the ski masks. No matter. He knew who knew them. They’d clashed many times and the first had broken his heart. Now he had returned with more heartache in tow. Janesh shook his head. What twist of fate had brought his nemesis to Miranda? He would meet Nicholas Koh, the Lord of Men vowed, and never clash again.