Predator
Big Game
Sandy Schofield
1
If asked, Enoch Nakai would say he has no brother. And he would be telling the truth. Yet I am his brother. I am Navajo, just as he is. I died in childbirth, a twin that was seldom talked about. Since that day I have remained in the world of my ancestors, watching over my brother, as I would have done if I had lived. I am Tobadjishchini, the one who distracts the monster while my brother kills it.
Enoch Nakai, my brother, is the Nayenezgani, the monster slayer. The Navajo sing songs of our deeds. They have for centuries. They sang of future events and did not know it. Often, for my people, the difference between past, present, and future is not important.
But now is the future. It has arrived with one twin alive and the other only a spirit. I stand ready, even though my brother does not yet know of his place or his duty.
This is the story of how the monster is fought. This is how it starts.
* * * * *
The scattered mesas had lonely duty over the dark New Mexico night. The slight gold in the western sky was a faint reminder of the long, hot day; the silver in the eastern sky the promise of a cold night, soon to be guarded by a full moon. But for now the rocks, the red sand, the brush stood mute as the blackness crept in over the high desert and arroyos that twisted between the scattered rock mesas. Above it all the sky was peppered with thousands of stars, casting very little light on the animals and insects that hunted in the magic time between day and night.
Near the base of one small mesa, a puma crouched on the warmth of a flat rock, its huge golden eyes watching a small group of wild boar feed among the scrub. The cat’s fur was the dusty color of the red-and-gold desert dirt, brush, and sand. When not moving, the cat was almost invisible.
Not a muscle twitched as it waited. It was a patient hunter. It wouldn’t attack the entire group. Even with its speed, strength, and razor-sharp claws, it wouldn’t stand a chance against the pointed tusks of five boar. Boar were nasty creatures, often not worth the effort it took to kill one. The cat had been injured once, a long time ago, by a wild boar. It had never forgotten the pain. Since then, it had killed dozens of boar, but always cautiously, carefully, never making the same mistake twice.
As it had done many nights before, the big cat watched for the chance that one of the boar might stray just a little too far from the rest. Then the cat would take its prize.
Until that moment came, the cat would wait.
It didn’t have to wait long.
A very faint breeze, still warm from the day’s sun, brought the odor of boar downwind. A boar was close. It was snuffling, searching for something that smelled good in the dirt. The cat watched.
Behind the cat, the first sliver of the full moon broke above a nearby mesa, casting faint silver shadows among the scrub and rock. The cat didn’t move as the boar rooted, making enough noise to attract a dozen other hunters. But in this instance, only the big cat waited.
Suddenly the stars above the desert were shoved into the background by a bright light. Then the quiet of the night was overpowered by a thunderous roar.
Not more than a few hundred feet over the boar pack, a black shape flashed past, rustling the brush and swirling up small clouds of red sand and dust. In its wake, it left a wind that smelled of metal and the tang of fuel.
The cat remained deathly still, its eyes only slits.
All of the boar squealed in fright and broke into the brush, scattering as if the shape in the sky had landed in their midst instead of just passing over. The big cat, ignoring what had happened among the stars, moved, placing itself between the stray boar and the rest of the pack, cutting off any retreat. The boar, already panicked from the light and noise, now smelled the cat. The beast ran, squealing and snorting, moving farther away from the others and the safety of numbers. If it were cornered, it would turn and fight. It would kill if it had to.
The sky above had returned to normal, and after what seemed only a moment the desert seemed to forget that anything had interrupted the normal course of the night.
But events had changed. Soon the cat would feed. The cat ran after the single boar, steadily, silently, making no mistake, remaining hidden, even as it gave chase.
On a slight ridgeline just above the big cat another figure stepped up, surveying the surrounding desert as if it owned it. This figure did not belong in the high desert. Its massive, humanlike shape was alien to everything around it. But like the cat, it too was a hunter. And now it stood silently, watching the cat follow the boar through the rocks and brush.
The moon had risen higher, gloriously full. If the cat had looked up from the desert floor, it would have seen the figure outlined against that bright circle. The moon illuminated the intruder’s shape and reflected off the armor on the knees, thighs, arms, shoulders, and head. Thick claws extended from its fingers and toes, and thick snakelike strands of hair hung from under its almost flat-topped helmet. A necklace of bones hung around its neck, draping over its chest.
But because it was downwind, the big cat missed the creature looming above it. Instead, the cat’s attention was focused completely on the boar. The boar had settled down slightly, thinking it had lost its pursuer. The boar still smelled of fear, but the scent was receding. The cat crouched, motionless. The boar was about to make its first and final mistake.
The boar glanced over its shoulder, saw and smelled no predator, and then rooted in the dirt. The cat’s muscles tensed. It was about to spring, to tear out the boar’s throat in one massive bite, when suddenly a blue bolt hissed through the air like a snake striking.
The big cat froze as the snaking energy struck the boar just under the head and exploded, killing the prey instantly.
The cat had seen animals die like that only once, when humans were present. And the cat knew that if the human saw it, the cat would die too. So the big cat turned and vanished silently into the brush and rock.
But the cat was wrong. There were no humans. The only two-legged being was the alien above, the alien watching the cat as it went, nearly invisible against the darkened landscape. The alien nodded with approval. One hunter always appreciates the skills of another. Then the alien moved down to the body of the boar and, with a quick slice of a hidden blade, cut its neck. It held the bloody head up in the air, as if offering the prize to some unseen god among the stars.
Then, hooking the boar’s head onto its belt, the alien started off through the rocks and desert brush, moving silently through the darkness.
The big cat also moved on, searching for new prey.
The smell of the boar’s fresh blood would bring out the desert scavengers to clean up the remains of the kill. Within three days there would be nothing remaining but scattered white bones, bleaching in the heat of the day. Thus was the way of the high desert.
The alien glanced in the cat’s direction, tempted by hunting such an experienced hunter. But in the end, the alien decided to move toward its primary target. There was an enclave of humans not far from here. They, the alien knew, were worthy prey. They would give him a challenging hunt.
2
I, Enoch’s silent brother, watched the arrival of the monster, standing on a low mesa. As a spirit I could not feel the warm breeze, or smell the blood from the boar, yet I could imagine such sensations as I watched. Just as the boar was not aware of the cat, and the cat was not aware of the monster, the monster was not aware I watched. I am no threat to the monster. Only my brother can face him, as our ancestors have decided. The stories were all true, even though they were of the future. Like the big cat, at the time of the monster’s arrival, my brother was also unaware of many things, including his desti
ny. But soon he would be forced to face his true nature.
Due east, two miles from where the cat had hunted, Cole Army Base filled a round valley, tucked under surrounding mesas and low rolling hills. The lights of the base pushed back the night, covering the nearby desert with a faint orange-and-white glow.
Corporal Enoch Nakai stood at ease in front of Sergeant Coates’s desk, listening, as the sergeant mumbled something about a duty roster and shuffled through a pile of papers on the corner of the old wooden desk. Nakai had never been in the sergeant’s office that late at night, and the room seemed even smaller than normal. The place was always about five degrees too hot, and tonight was no exception. The walls had a dingy yellow tint, and everything reeked of cigar smoke. A picture of the president hung crookedly on one wall, revealing a clean patch behind the frame, making the room’s filth even more apparent.
Nakai liked the open air and cool winds of the desert. He couldn’t imagine why any man would keep himself cooped up in such a room.
“Ah, here it is,” the sergeant said, yanking a paper out of the pile.
Nakai knew, without a doubt, what the sergeant was going to say: Nakai’s three-day leave had been cancelled. Again. There was no other reason the sergeant would have called him in this close to lights out.
“I’m afraid I’ve got to cancel your leave, Corporal,” the sergeant said, right on cue. “I need you on tank duty tomorrow morning sharp.”
Nakai remained at ease, although he could feel his muscles tense. This leave was important to him. He had made promises, promises he thought he could deliver on. He had figured that the sarge could pick on him only for so long.
Apparently, he was wrong.
“Sir,” Nakai said. “I put in for that leave three weeks ago.”
The sergeant shrugged and tossed the paper back on top of the pile. “No one ever said the army was going to be perfect, did they, Corporal?”
There was no hope, Nakai knew, of changing the sergeant’s mind. The man had no intention of letting him go.
“No, sir,” Nakai said, keeping his face calm and without a sign of emotion. He had practiced such an expression hundreds of times in front of mirrors, and he knew exactly what it looked like. He wouldn’t give the sergeant even a hint of emotion to fuel his petty game. “Permission to be excused, sir?”
The sergeant hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. “Granted.”
Nakai spun and left, moving quickly out of the command barracks. He felt as if he would suffocate in there. That tiny office stank like the sarge. Nakai inhaled a lungful of fresh desert air, just laced with the night’s chill, and then blew out the foul stench of the sarge’s office. The small ritual, usually effective, didn’t help, and Nakai knew why.
He was nervous. Alda was going to be really mad at him, even though this wasn’t his fault. She had been planning for this leave for weeks and she didn’t take a change in plans well at all. She never had. And he had made this one worse by promising. When would he learn?
Alda worked as a waitress at Ben’s Saloon in the small town of Agate, New Mexico, about forty minutes from the base. Like Nakai, she was Native, with long black hair and dark eyes that seemed to look right through a person. At best she stood no more than five feet tall and didn’t weigh more than a wet horse blanket, yet she was the strongest and most powerful woman he had ever met. No one at Ben’s messed with her.
For some reason that Nakai couldn’t fathom, she loved him, and had stuck with him through the worst of his drinking, and his first year in the service. And every time he got really down, or started dwelling on the dark memories of his early days as an orphan, she would find a way to bring him back to the present. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he knew it.
He did his best not to screw things up, and somehow that wasn’t enough. He was going to have to cancel out on yet another leave. She wasn’t going to understand.
His stomach twisted and he felt a familiar thirst. Instead, he clenched his fist, and rehearsed what he would say. He closed his eyes for a brief moment.
It would sound like he was making excuses. She hadn’t believed him the last time. She had exacted the promise then. And like an idiot, he had made it.
I won’t plan anything with you if it’s not for sure, Alda. I promise that my next leave will happen. We’11 do anything you want.
Yeah. Anything. Except be together.
He cursed the sergeant silently. Army life could be so good under the right commander. Nakai had seen it. He had seen how a well-run unit behaved.
But the sarge was not the right leader for him. The man delighted in making Nakai miserable. And even when Nakai didn’t show his misery, the sarge somehow knew.
Nakai glanced at his watch. He had fifteen minutes until lights-out, time for one quick call.
The evening air swirled around him as he cut across the open ground in the center of the camp and into the mess. Inside, the heat of the day lingered, and the place actually felt humid. It smelled of grease and onions, with a faint stench of the abomination that the base called tacos. The tables were clean, but no one had washed the floor yet. Bits of meat and lettuce mixed with the dirt from unpolished boots.
Only two other soldiers were at the bank of phones along the mess wall. Nakai headed for the phone farthest on the left and dialed the saloon.
Ben answered. Nakai greeted him, and Ben didn’t respond. Instead, he banged the receiver on a nearby surface and shouted over the muttered bar sounds, “It’s your soldier boy.”
Nakai leaned against the pay phone’s sturdy metal frame. He heard faint laughter through the phone line, then the blare of an old Elvis tune from the jukebox. The receiver clattered.
“Enoch?” Alda said, worry in her voice. “Is everything all right?”
“No,” Nakai said, the anger coming out a little more and a little louder than he would have liked. “My leave is canceled.”
There was a moment of silence. He braced himself.
“Oh, no,” Alda said faintly. “Not again.”
“Again,” Nakai said.
“It’s been almost two months,” Alda said. “I was really looking forward to seeing you.”
“Look,” Nakai said, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Don’t be mad. There was—”
“I’m not mad,” Alda said. “Just disappointed.”
Her response surprised him. She usually didn’t react to change so well. But she had known of his struggles here, and she had been supporting him in all he did.
His anger at the sarge grew. It wasn’t fair. He could almost hear the sarge’s voice in his head: Whoever said army life would be fair?
No one. But a man deserved leave every once in a while.
“I’m disappointed too,” Nakai said through clenched teeth. “And I’m angry.”
“Don’t be,” Alda said. “We’ll be together our entire lives. We can get through this.”
Nakai didn’t know what to say to that. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the pay phone’s cool metal. He had braced himself for the worst, and it hadn’t happened. He had to stop misjudging Alda. She was the most amazing woman in the world, and he had to be the luckiest guy in the world to have her.
“Enoch?” she asked. “Are you all right?”
He opened his eyes and stood up. “I’m better now.”
“Good.”
He glanced at his watch. There was still a little time before he had to get back to the barracks. If he concentrated, he could pretend he was talking to Alda in person, instead of on the phone.
He asked her how her day had gone, and as she told him, he listened to the warmth in her voice, the warmth she always had when she spoke to him, the warmth he never wanted to lose.
They talked as long as they could. Nakai timed the conversation to the second to get the most out of it. Then, at a quick run, he made it back to his barracks with a full minute before lights-out.
3
It has started
. The monster has come. My brother will face him today for the first time, just after sunrise, as the legends say. But today I can do nothing to help him. My time is not yet. I must wait, and watch. My brother must fight the monster alone. It is the way it was foretold by our ancestors.
The sun was just shoving the last of the night back into the cracks in the red rocks. A faint chill covered everything, and thin layers of moisture glistened on the nearby yucca bushes. Within an hour the sun would bake the moisture from the air and the wind would pick up, cutting at everything with fine dust and sand. But for the moment, as the sun cleared the distant mountains, the night hunters were gone, the air was still cool and clear, and the desert felt almost comfortable.
At least, Nakai thought it comfortable. He loved the desert at sunrise. Every smell, every sensation seemed to be intensified by the simple clarity of the air. He had lost his three-day pass, but at least he got morning tank duty. Sitting out here at this time of the morning almost made up for the loss of leave. Almost.
He leaned back against the turret of the camouflaged tank, letting the faint sun warm his face. The tank’s metal was cool; in a few hours it would be too hot to touch. Nakai liked that too. He liked the predictability of the desert’s weather, and its extremes. He felt as if he had been born to be in this place, at this time. He felt that way every time he had morning tank duty. Somehow, the desert called to him, reached him, was part of his soul.
Private Dietl moaned beside him. Dietl was a short, scrappy man whose crewcut made his blond hair look white. Usually the hair stood out in sharp contrast to his dark tan, but this morning Dietl’s skin was paler than his hair. His eyes were red-rimmed and he shaded them as if the morning light were too much for him.
From the story Nakai had managed to get on the hike out from the base, the private had spent most of the night drinking. Where he had gotten the liquor on the base was anyone’s guess, but the kid from California had a way of finding things. Last night he must have had enough booze to get himself and the others in his barracks fairly drunk. Nakai hadn’t seen Dietl this hungover in the six months he had known him.
Predator - Big Game Page 1
