The Huntsman

by Rafael

  A bigger knife appeared in the hand. It sliced her suit open neck to waist leaving a gash that swelled red in its wake. More slashes carved away the sleeves and leggings. Long, deep cuts that stung and burned glistened and dripped red. She dangled naked, bleeding like a butchered carcass.

  An arm shot through the leaves. Muscles bulging like steel cords rippled beneath a shoulder. Then a neck emerged followed by a face. “Kumārī Saha. Looking for me?” Nisha jerked harder as near suffocation triggered survival reflexes. Her eyes bulged. Nails dug into his wrist. Like coiled pythons, the fingers squeezed, choking off all air. Her arms slid down to the sides. The legs hung limp, feet pointing down. Janesh grabbed her hair and released the choke hold. Near lifeless, short, quick lung spasms grabbed what air they could. She had no more fight, no resistance. A passing breeze made her twirl.

  Janesh lifted until her face reached his. He slapped it. Hard. Consciousness glimmered. Eyes fluttered open, remained unfocused. Another slap. Her eyes found his. Without strength to wretch, vomit dribbled from her mouth. She urinated. Below, Duncan and Ronan rushed to sniff. “Who sent you?” A bruised and battered throat sputtered then coughed. It managed only a hoarse, raspy whisper.

  “Please. Let me go.”

  “Who sent you?” Nisha had no more will.

  “Nicholas Koh.”

  Fury seethed through Janesh and blazed from his eyes. He rose to his feet. With the woman dangling on an arm, his lungs powered a bellow that shook branches and loosened leaves. Beastly, primal, enraged, it carried through the woods. Then another, and another. A languishing tiger, huge, full in its prime, rose to the challenge. It bellowed in response then padded away to face the impudent upstart who dared invade its territory.

  Close by, bellows changed to rumbling growls. Thirty feet away its head emerged from behind a tree. Janesh flung Nisha to the ground. She thudded on impact, groaned, and rolled onto her back. The cat, wary and confused stood its ground. It had heard a tiger but could not find its scent. Nisha groaned. Aggression gave way to hunger. Cautious, alert to a trap, it lowered its body then extended a massive paw. It stalked forward, gathered itself, calculated distance. It sprang.

  Janesh let the branch slip back in place. He leaped to the next tree, then the next. Only the sound of crunching, snapping vertebrae reached his ears.

  * * *

  Miranda sat on the ground, back against the hut, eyes closed, legs stretched on the cool, early-morning grass. She had listened to the resident tiger’s territorial bellows, speculated as to the challenger’s chances, felt at peace amid nature’s natural rhythms, appreciated being a zoologist, missed doing it.

  Though glad she had left and could no longer enrage her, she wondered about Nisha Saha. Wondered if Janesh might have felt something for her. Wondered if perhaps an imagined tryst fueled her jealousy.

  Ronan and Duncan clouded her reverie. They had yet to return. If they didn’t, how could she face Janesh? What if he didn’t return? She shook her head. She had too much time on her hands. Too much time to think. She needed something to do.

  Clara walked by. She pointed to the empty hut, winked and gave her a thumbs-up. Miranda rose to help her prepare breakfast. She blinked once, twice. Across the clearing, tongues lolling out their jaws, Duncan and Ronan raced toward her. Screaming for joy and almost in tears, she rushed to meet them.

  The gigantic lion-hunters bowled her over. She laughed as the two fought one another to lick her face. Laughed harder when she tried to wrestle Ronan to the ground and he shrugged her off with an ‘are-you-crazy’ look. Movement caught her eye and she glanced toward the tree line. Time stopped. A loin-clothed man emerged from the forest.

  Miranda rose to her feet. Stood rock still. His body glistened in the morning light. With every step, powerful muscles flexed and rippled. A spear dangled from one hand, a knife hung from the waist. His hair had grown long, as wild as the primitive savage that strode toward her.

  No breath escaped her lips, no heartbeat pumped. She refused to move lest she disturb the box that proved if he was or wasn’t. He stopped before her. She gazed over his body, sensed his power, smelled the man of him. She looked into his eyes. “Hello, Miranda.”

  She stepped closer. Her arms encircled his waist. She turned to press a cheek against his chest. A tear filled one eye. Her voice became a whisper. “Oh, Janesh.” Strong, gentle, protective arms enveloped her. Fear, relief, anxiety washed away, drained by Mother Earth. Behind them the group smiled and waved as he led her by the hand into the forest.

  CHAPTER 43 Jungle Fever

  They walked. Neither spoke or looked at the other. They honored each moment their presence filled before absorbing the next. Primates peaked through the leaves, squeaked and squealed then scurried away. Birds sang and chirped or flapped and flittered. Butterflies dipped and whirled, soared and dove. Slanted sunbeams hung like thin rods of gold. Gentle breezes brushed the leaves and swayed the branches. The forest welcomed its own. Welcomed the Lord of Men.

  Whenever he spied a different one, he stooped and picked a flower. A multi-hued bouquet grew in her hand. “I love you, Miranda Logan.”

  “I love you, Janesh McKenzie.” They walked. Neither spoke again. Or looked at the other.

  Soon the trees began to thin and the woods’ general buzz added the gurgling rush of water. Janesh stopped, crooked an ear. He turned to her with a smile. “Are you hungry?” Long past breakfast, hunger had stepped back for the moment’s quietude. Now it returned with a vengeance.

  “I’m famished.”

  “Do you hear that?” Miranda listened. Her frown deepened.

  “Crocodiles are fishing. Come on.”

  He hurried toward the flashes of blue that had begun to pierce the foliage. They emerged under a bushy almond tree shading cool, moist grass that ten yards ahead sloped gently down to a river sixty yards across. To the left crocodiles blockaded a narrow chokepoint forcing fish to pool upstream while waiting to dart past. By twos and threes the reptiles took turns swimming into the pool to snatch slower fish. Janesh ran toward the water and dove.

  Heart pounding, throat tight, her eyes snapped to every disturbance. Swirls and splashes marked escaping fish. Crocodile tails rose, waved, then sank again. Jaws emerged parted by struggling fish before two, three gulps swallowed them whole. Mid-river Janesh surfaced. Hands flew to her mouth. He pushed a flapping fish farther down the shaft then disappeared.

  Moments later, like a deity birthed by the river, he walked out. Water cascaded from his head and shoulders. His chest heaved and expanded then heaved again, refueling his oxygen starved body. Two speared fish struggled their last.

  He stopped at the water’s edge to watch her slowly unfasten shirt buttons. Her bra fell away to release full breasts with swollen, erect nipples above a tight, taut belly. Unzipped shorts fell to the ground revealing panties strapped by spaghetti-thin cords. She pulled the front down to let him linger on her shaved, pink, engorged woman before a slow hip swivel let them drop. One foot pushed the clothes and shoes aside before a gentle head shake cleared her face of red tresses. Lips red with desire parted. Smoldering green eyes locked onto his; thrilled they confirmed her body’s magnificence.

  Janesh laid the fish out of the sun and closed the distance. He stopped when her nipples formed just the lightest touch against him. Her mocking, daring eyes still locked, Miranda undid the cords of his loincloth. Slow caresses stroked his erection. With every squeeze she felt it harden and intensify. She rubbed and fondled, felt its heat. Soft pulls and tugs strengthened it. She parted her legs to place its head against her enflamed clitoris, moved it up and down, easy then rough, rough then easy. Waves of pleasure trembled through her thighs.

  She thrust her head back and with her free hand pressed his head down demanding he kiss her exposed neck. Hs hands rose to squeeze her nipples between thumb and forefinger and fired another pleasure source. Moans escaped Miranda’s constricted throat. Stark, ravenous need continued the masturbation growing to
frenzy.

  Janesh’s mouth found hers. His tongue plunged inside. Miranda released. The little death brought violent tremors that rocked her body. She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think. They snatched her body, made it a stranger she had no control over, then left it a heaving, lifeless mass.

  She continued pressing his rock-hard erection against the diminishing quivers. She kissed his neck, then his shoulder and arm. She suckled one nipple then the other. “Since leaving Ohio”, she kissed the other arm, “I’ve learned tomorrow is an eternity.” She kissed his stomach, sank to her knees. Still holding him, her lips caressed in ways fingers could never match. Her tongue licked and flirted. Tight lips let him appear and disappear. Her passion reignited. She rose to her feet, kissed his ear, filled it with a throaty whisper. “And the next moment may never arrive. I want you now.”

  She leaned back to let him carry her to the ground. Soft, dewy grass cushioned her spine. Thighs bent back to the sides, opened her for entry. She groaned, near delirious when his head eased in. His cheek pressed against hers. “I love you, Miranda Logan.” He plunged deep and hard. A long gasp emptied her lungs. He rose and plunged again, rose and plunged again. She writhed beneath him relishing the sensations her vagina radiated. His thrusts intensified. Her hips rolled in synchronized, feverish rhythm. She descended into madness. Animal moans timed every stroke. He rode her. He drove her. He owned her.

  Her hips notched upward to take him deeper. The simmering volcano within began to rumble. Power flowed to her arms, wrapped him tight. The rumbles strengthened. They thrust against one another. Harder and harder and harder still. Miranda screamed then erupted. Janesh let go.

  The two became an entangled, quivering mass as aftershocks roiled their bodies. Miranda locked her legs at the ankles holding him inside. She trembled and shook. They panted and heaved, awareness flickered in and out. Time did not move past the moment.

  Janesh rose up on an elbow, pushed a hair away from her face. Eyes closed, a dreamy, contented expression flushed her face. “I’ll always remember this.” He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her brow, her chin, her ears, her lips.

  “If we’re going to do this again we have to eat.”

  “Oh how romantic. Who said we’re going to do this again?”

  “I did.” She opened an eye and smiled.

  “Okay. But I can’t feel my legs. Are they still attached?” Janesh stood up.

  “You’d better hurry. They’re walking away.”

  She raised and arm and he pulled her up. “I have to wash.” He flashed a frown.

  “Sure.”

  Janesh waded in and watched but needn’t have worried. The crocodiles had eaten their fill and basked on the sunlit opposite bank. When they waded out, Miranda stopped to stare at the fish. “Are we going to eat them raw?”

  “Dr. Logan. I’m a savage not a barbarian. But get dressed. I’ll need your help.”

  He donned the loin-cloth then waded along the shore picking out large sized rocks. He returned to strip out grass from a small area then arranged the stones to form a somewhat flattened roof over the dirt patch. Underneath he stuffed twigs, branches, and dry undergrowth. He reached into his pouch and from a smaller one retrieved a matchbox.

  “You mean the Mahān Śikārī uses matches?” she derided with feigned shock.

  “In a waterproof pouch no less. The whole stick rubbing thing is so overwrought.”

  Dispelling any thought they might be voyeurs, Duncan and Ronan trotted in to engage in brief greeting behavior then endure Janesh’s stern warning not to touch the fish he lay near the ready-made hot plate. Their pained expressions they might do such a thing made Miranda rush to hug them. “Look. You hurt their feelings. You wouldn’t do that would you?”

  “Oh please. Don’t let these two con artists fool you.”

  Janesh scrounged about for deadwood and a few fresh branches to stuff into the now burning kindling. “That should last long enough until we return. The fresh wood will serve to smoke off any river scents as well as keep away any curious critters. By the time we get back the rocks will be good and hot. Let’s go.”

  They stepped into the woods with the dogs racing ahead to take up their usual duties as point scouts. “This way.” Janesh said. “If I remember right, we’ll find a Peepal tree not too far away. On the way he stopped under a coconut palm tree to gauge its fruit. He nodded approval. “We’ll return on the way back.”

  Minutes later he stopped before a large-leafed tree. “This is a deciduous tree. Its leaves are water-logged and contain oils that are both phyto-nutritious and flame-retardant. There are trees with larger leaves but this one’s closest and serves the purpose.”

  Janesh stripped away two handfuls and returned to the palm tree. He cut free a vine, sliced off the leaves and tied an ankle bind making it easier to shimmy up the tree. Forty feet up he took a moment to inspect the coconuts then knocked three off. Despite stopping for extra wood along the way, the fire still smoked and burned.

  He looked at her, concerned. “You’re really hungry aren’t you?” She nodded.

  “Starved.”

  “We’re beneath an almond tree. If you could just pick some for us we’ll almost be there. The ones with brown or purplish husks. I prefer the purplish ones for cooking. They’re a little riper and softer. Two handfuls will be enough.”

  She needed only minutes to pick the low-hanging nuts then sat to watch Janesh deftly manipulate the river-soaked Peepal leaves into two funnels with the bottoms crimped closed, serving utensils, an interlocked skillet-like shape and a few holding plates. He pressed a finger to his tongue then the slab top. It sizzled. “Perfect.” he declared.

  With practiced ease his fingers cracked the almonds from their husks and with his flattened blade crushed them against a heated rock he pulled away from the fire. He placed the pulped mass onto a Peepal leaf before turning to the fish. The razor-sharp knife lopped off a head and skinned the scales. Dexterous cuts carved away deboned portions that dropped sliced chunks onto the almond pulp before the other fish followed suit. The knife next sliced off a coconut top which Janesh held in one hand while the other placed the leaf skillet on the rocks. It began to smoke but he quickly poured the coconut milk inside followed by the almond and fish mix. Stirred lightly, the knife also cut the fish chunks already falling apart in the high heat.

  “When the coconut milk begins to sizzle it’s done. Peepal leaves are flame-resistant but not fireproof. Any longer and your meal will run out. Hold out your funnel.” Janesh lifted the mixture off the rock top, folded an end, poured it into her funnel, then his own. “It didn’t cook long enough to be really hot but give it a minute. It tastes just as good warm. Bon appétit.”

  “Bon appétit? That’s not Hindi.”

  “Kripy bhojan shuru kij yai.”

  “I see. Bon appétit.” He laughed.

  “Okay, watch me. Don’t squeeze with this hand. It’s just to keep it from unraveling. Straighten the crimp. When you have a mouthful, close it again. Like this.” He took a mouthful and made it look simple. With an abundance of caution, Miranda managed to do the same. She tasted, chewed, and swallowed. Her eyes beamed.

  “Wow. This is really, really good.” Again he laughed.

  “The secret to good cooking is to make sure your guest is very hungry.”

  “No, I mean it. This is delicious.”

  Miranda finished her funnel in ten minutes, unraveled it, begged Janesh to excuse her table manners, and proceeded to lick the remnants. He laughed and in a show of support did the same. He lopped off the two remaining coconuts and handed one over. She emptied it in three gulps and began to giggle. He smiled at her. “What?” She belched.

  “What does Chatur think of your cooking?” Mock seriousness took over his face.

  “This must remain our secret. How do you Americans say, triple-pinky-swear?” She grinned and nodded. “Say it. Triple-pinky-swear.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Okay, triple-pinky-sw
ear.”

  “If he finds out, he’ll be sticking me in the kitchen every time he’s in a pinch.” He stood up. “Relax, don’t move. I’ll do the cleanup.” She watched him move with competence and grace as he scraped off the coconut husks, folded the chunked meat inside Peepal leaves for convenient snacks, tossed the fish heads, bones and scales into the river, buried the used leaves, then stretched out alongside Miranda. Fed, content, and happy they let the afternoon’s shadows lengthen.

  “Janesh.”

  “Oh, oh.” She gave him a jab.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because whenever I hear that tone I know to answer very carefully.”

  “You don’t have to answer carefully, just truthfully.”

  “I repeat. I better answer very carefully.” She frowned and let a minute pass.

  “Do you know Nisha Saha?”

  “Not before a week ago.”

  “You didn’t know Nisha Saha before last week?”

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Are you being careful or truthful?” He rose up on one elbow and turned to her.

  “Look at me. I did not know a Nisha Saha before last week.” Miranda looked away and remained silent. Janesh lay back down.

  “She came into the camp yesterday and stayed overnight.”

  “I know.”

  “You know? How did you know?”

  “I reached the camp yesterday afternoon. I saw her sitting among you.”

  “Why didn’t you come in?”

  “She was there to kill me. She would have cut me down before I crossed the clearing. She might have killed you all to eliminate witnesses.” Miranda rose up on her elbow and turned to Janesh.”

  “What?” He nodded.

  “She killed two men in Chandrapur on a contract. Killed an intelligence agent in Chatur’s restaurant. Nicholas Koh sent her to kill me. To settle old scores and make it easier to gain control of the device.” Miranda lay down.