It was Andy. A look of surprise spread across his face. “Jesus, Sydney? Get in.”
She slipped through the door and he swiftly closed and locked it. Chang walked over from farther into the room.
“What the hell did they do to you?” Andy said.
“The pills they gave me – it was lentiviral gene therapy carrying leopard DNA.”
“The pills they gave all of us?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Just me and Brandon.”
“Where is he?”
She gulped. “Dead, I think. They gave a different strain to him and it didn’t go as well as they’d planned. He’d gone completely animalistic.”
“How’d you get out of there?” Chang asked.
“It’s complicated. Can you fly the plane?”
Chang nodded, but Sydney sensed unease in the room; both of them were clearly disturbed by her appearance. There was a mirror on the other side of the room, but she didn’t want to look at it.
“There’s still one of the hybrids out there,” she said. “We’ll never make it on foot.”
“Then we drive,” Chang said. “The SUV keys are all in the garage.”
“We have to go past the front doors to get there, though,” Sydney said. “It broke them open trying to get to me.”
Chang eyed her pistol. “Can I have the gun?”
“Sure,” Sydney said, handing her the Glock. Does she not trust me with it?
“I’ll go first,” Chang whispered, moving past her and carefully creaking the door open ever so slightly. Then she pushed the opening wider and walked forward, out of view. Sydney and Andy followed.
The lodge was quiet as they came out onto the landing. She tried not to look at Graves’s remains as Chang led them down the stairs, the barrel of the Glock always focused on the ruined entrance.
Sydney kept watch behind them as they continued down the corridor to the right. Chang checked the corner to the staff quarters, but it was clear. They finally made it into the garage and hurriedly shut the door behind them.
Andy sighed with relief. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
The space for the first Rover was empty, but the other four were plugged in and lined up in their usual formation. Sydney snatched the keys for the nearest one off the rack. “This one,” she pointed, walking towards the car.
Andy went around back and unplugged it while Chang climbed into the driver’s seat; both Sydney and Andy climbed into the back. The garage door retracted with the press of the button and the Land Rover flew out of the garage.
Chang abruptly braked and threw the wheel to the right, swerving the vehicle around. She drove around the side of the garage and sped across the back field towards the paved trail.
“Any sign of that thing?” she said, her eyes darting to her passengers in the mirror.
“No,” Andy said, looking out the back window.
“Good,” Chang noted. “We should be there in no time.”
Just as she began turning onto the walkway, Sydney heard a distant gunshot ring out and the front right tire blew. The Land Rover swerved and Chang struggled to regain control, roughly jerking the wheel in the opposite direction. But as the car swung back around and veered off the path, she was unable to turn it back again.
The SUV plowed into a nearby tree, and Sydney felt restrained by her safety belt as she heard the front of the car folding in on itself. Then she was thrown back into her seat, dazed. For about a minute, she blacked out.
Everything was blurry when she came to her senses. Her neck hurt from the whiplash, but other than that she seemed okay. Andy was starting to come to beside her.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
Before she could answer, a figure appeared in the window next to him. She opened her mouth to warn him, but it was too late. The butt of a rifle broke through the glass and hit him on the back of the head. He slumped over, suspended by the strap.
The figure was already gone, a shape moving around the back window. She fumbled with her seatbelt’s holster as they drew nearer, almost to her side. She managed to press the release and the metal hook clicked free. Then the door flung open, a hand roughly grabbing her shoulder and hauling her out of the car. She fell to the ground, rolling onto her back on the grass.
A man stood over her, dressed in safari gear. There was a deep cut on his cheek and his hair, normally combed neatly, was an unkempt mess. Parts of him were covered in dirt and a weathered hunting rifle hung in his hands. His blue eyes glared down at her but his face wasn’t contorted in anger; his expression was calm and measured.
“You have two minutes’ head-start, so get running,” Sans said, glancing at his hefty Pathfinder watch. “Then the game begins.”
HUNTED
The pain of the crash evaporated as adrenaline flooded her body. She was on her feet in an instant, scrambling up the hillside path. She was surprised by how fast she could run and soon found herself at the edge of the tarmac. This was only one end of the airstrip, and the rest of it extended barely two thousand feet to the east. There were trees everywhere but the clearing seemed to be man-made.
At this end of the runway was a hangar where the Cessna sat waiting. The communications tower was located about two hundred feet to her left. Across from her was more forest and lush green overgrowth. Without thinking, she ran across the asphalt and smashed through a bush, stumbling deeper into the woodland.
The forest wasn’t dense; rather it was an archipelago of various tree clusters that sometimes blurred together. Numerous open spaces and small clearings abounded with patches of the region’s signature beige-green grass.
Had it been two minutes yet? She knew Sans would be at the top of the plateau in a flash.
She hid behind a tree for a moment to catch her breath. Think, she told herself. Hunting wasn’t a sport of mindless shooting, it was a game of strategy where the stakes were life and death. First, Sans would try to guess where she had gone. Around here, there weren’t many options. He might check the hangar, but he’d know she’d be smarter than that. Even if she hid in the plane, there would be no escape when he opened the door.
She began running again, thoughts swimming through her mind. He would guess that she had run off into the forest, and that’s when he would have to resort to tracking techniques: her footprints, signs of disturbed flora, etc. She didn’t know how far back the plateau extended, but she recalled there being more savanna on the other side during the flight in. The grass wouldn’t help her; Sans would leisurely pick her off from the treeline.
The trees. He’d given her these attributes to make it more of a challenge. I’ll fucking give him one, she decided.
She tilted her head back as she ran, her eyes darting between the treetops to see which would have the most foliage. One to her right looked good enough.
Without wasting a second, she leapt up and dug her claws into the bark, climbing onto the nearest sturdy branch. Then she grabbed a higher one and hauled herself up, hooking the talons of her feet into the main trunk to give her a better foothold. She made it to the highest branch that could support her and clung to it for dear life.
Through the leaves she could see that she had a much better view from here, roughly twenty feet up. Nothing moved below her that she could see. A gentle breeze drifted through the treetops, but it did little to calm her. Her heart was thumping rapidly and her stomach was twisting in on itself with hunger; she hoped the grumbling wasn’t audible at ground level.
Carefully, she tried to turn around enough to see the other direction, which was mostly obscured by leaves. Still, it seemed as if the plateau extended another hundred feet or so, then began to slope down gentler than it did on the northern side toward the open savanna.
A few more minutes passed; Sans failed to appear. Sydney wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign. Years of research and a very expensive facility had just been destroyed, plus all his staff were dead. It would be hard to find new people that unquestioningl
y devoted and loyal to him. It was possible in his rage-induced state that he wasn’t thinking clearly, and if he wasn’t at the top of his game she could use that to her advantage.
She needed a plan. There was only one of him and one of her. Could she take him? The best bet would be if he unknowingly walked right beneath her and she could drop down, slicing her talons through him with gravity’s aid.
Then it hit her: the claw marks. He’d obviously be able to see that she’d climbed this tree from the scratches in the bark. Then all he’d have to do was walk under her, aim up, and it’d be a turkey shoot.
She was toast. There was no other option: she would have to climb down.
Carefully, so as to not make too much noise, she began to lower her legs to the next branch. She dug her toes into the wood for support, then brought the rest of her body down in a crouch. After the next branch, she’d be able to jump.
A gun went off in the distance and part of the bark next to her exploded into splinters. She brought up her arm to shield her eyes in the nick of time, but lost her balance and toppled out of the tree.
It was nearly ten feet to the ground from there and somehow she managed to land on her hands and knees. Still, the impact hurt like hell and she collapsed to the ground. As she tried to pull herself back up, it felt like something was broken, or least very badly bruised.
She hovered there dazed, battered, and hungry, then gave up and collapsed into the dirt.
Fifty feet away, Sans lowered the rifle. For a moment, it’d looked like she was trying to get back up, but now it was clear to him that she was down. As he began to walk towards her, he shook his head.
After single-handedly bringing about the destruction of the labs and the emitter field, costing him millions of dollars and the lives of fifteen people – sixteen if Brandon was counted, but he’d already been dead in Sans’s eyes anyway – he’d expected the leopard girl to be the most thrilling prey of his life. And yet he’d still bagged her ten minutes in with a well-placed shot to a mobile shape amongst some leaves.
He could make out the scratched bark from here with ease, and once he thought he’d seen something moving, instinct took over. Raising, aiming, and squeezing the trigger had almost been involuntary, subconscious reflexes.
It was only just after seven o’clock and it’d already been one hell of a day.
He finally approached the form of the creature where she lay. Her body was completely unmoving. There was no doubt about it, she was dead. She lay on her stomach so he guessed the entry wound must’ve been on the chest or abdomen.
Sans bent down and grabbed her shoulder, feeling the course fur beneath his fingers as he turned the body over for a look–
And the thing suddenly sprung to life, digging her claws into his left side and tearing down to his hip. Sans screamed at the top of his lungs, his right arm swinging the butt of the rifle around to knock her off of him. It worked and he tumbled to the ground, clutching his horrific wound. Blood gushed all over his fingers.
Swiftly, he pulled out his hunting knife as she lunged for him again, and he just managed to bring it up as she swiped her crimson-covered claws downward. The blade went straight through her palm and out the other side. She howled and reeled back, taking the knife with her.
He watched as she furiously began to pull it out of her hand and he grasped for his rifle beside him. He was on his feet in a flash and swung the butt of the gun again just as she got the blade free. Upon impact, the knife tumbled away and she fell to the ground.
But she was quick, this prey, already back on her feet as he fired. She narrowly dodged the bullet and jumped towards him. He turned his back to her and she latched onto him from behind, digging her feet’s claws into his hamstrings, her fingernails cutting into his arms.
He screamed again and forced himself backwards, slamming her into the tree. She clenched harder, her mouth closing atop his left shoulder. The next thing he knew, she’d taken a chunk of flesh out and blood was running down his shirt.
Angrily, he slammed back again, this time harder. It seemed to have more of an effect and he did it a third time. She finally slipped off as he fell forward. In an instant, he found his gun and swirled around to aim for her–
Except she was gone.
Slowly and on edge, he got to his feet. Where the fuck did she go? he thought. She still had to be nearby.
But all around him was quiet save for the morning caw of birds. He aimed the barrel up into the tree; he swept it all around him.
Gone.
Clearly, he had scared her off for a moment. His hunting knife was still lying on the ground, which meant she hadn’t taken it. He took a moment to examine himself: his khaki fatigues were shredded and bloodied. The gash on his side was the worst; she’d gotten him deep there and the blood was still flowing freely.
He started to feel dizzy, then shook it off. You haven’t lost nearly enough yet, he told himself. The average man of his weight had over one and a half gallons of vascular fluid. He just needed to get back to the lodge and patch himself up. It was bright enough that all the other hybrids should’ve retreated by now.
Doing one final check to make sure the leopard girl wasn’t around, he began to stumble back the way he came with the rifle at his side. One hand was pressed tightly against as much of the four-clawed tear as he could, but it extended from his lower ribs to his hip bone. Blood was trickling down his leg. He tried not think about that, or the sting, or anything other than keeping alert.
There was a noise from the bushes off to his left, and Sans spun and fired. Nothing. The chamber was empty and he quickly worked to reload it, his eyes glancing up and around to make sure nothing lurked in his peripheral.
Then he continued. Something was watching him, he was sure of it. He could feel its predatory gaze like a sixth sense. He contemplated running, but his side hurt too much for that to be effective. How far was the bloody airstrip? There had to be a first-aid kit in the hanger, and certainly in the plane if nowhere else.
Leaves rustled above and he brought the barrel upward, firing through the branches. Nothing fell save for his hopes as he continued backing through the underbrush. Sans came out into another small clearing area, where at least he knew he’d be safe from her pouncing out of a tree.
He was starting to feel woozy; his left leg was caked in blood that ran all the way to his white socks, staining them a dark red. Sans was too busy staring back the way he came to care. He knew she was out there. He could feel her watching him. And yet he had no idea where the hell she was.
Gradually, he kept retreating slowly back towards the runway. He knew it had to be close. His gun was at the ready and he felt his skin cool slightly as he entered the shade of a tree behind him. All was quiet before him, but he had a better view of his surroundings from here.
Then, procedurally, he turned around and checked his six. Nothing moved.
There was a crack in a branch above him.
Sans brought the rifle up but she was already falling towards him, teeth bared and claws outstretched. She didn’t land on his back, but came down behind him as her talons raked along his spine.
Immediately, the rifle slipped from his grasp and he tumbled into the tall grass, his body racked in too much pain to move. He lay just beyond the threshold of the shade at the edge of the clearing, and watched as she swiftly got out of her catlike crouch and prepared to pounce.
There was nothing human-like about her mannerisms, he thought to himself almost with a smile. That, at least, had gone perfectly. For a moment, he took her in, the dimmed light around her highlighting the soft glow of the yellow eyes and the blood dripping from her chin – his blood. Her open mouth revealed terrifyingly pointed teeth.
For a brief instant, Sans felt a sensation he’d almost forgotten – the frosty chill of fear.
All he managed was a brief, sharp cry. Then the leopard girl landed on top of him, her claws digging through his flesh for purchase as she plunged her teeth into his throa
t.
A small flock of birds scattered towards the morning sun above the treetops.
For Billy Sans, one of eastern Africa’s most experienced big-game hunters, the last safari was over.
TAKEOFF
Chang slowly blinked into consciousness. There was blood in her eyes and she had a moment of panic, then realized it was just from a cut on her forehead. She was leaning against the deployed steering wheel airbag and didn’t appear to be badly injured. The left rear door was open and Sydney was gone; Andy was unconscious and held relatively upright by his seatbelt. She saw that his window had been smashed.
Sans.
Undoing her seatbelt, she felt around on the floor in front of the passenger seat for the Glock. She found it under the glove box, then opened the door and stumbled outside. The temperature was rising with the sun as she made her way around the back of the car and threw Andy’s door open.
“Are you alright?” she said, gently shaking his shoulder.
Slowly, he came around. “What happened?” he asked, putting his hand to the back of his head. His fingers came away with blood; he’d clearly been hit.
“We’re getting out of here.” She helped him undo his seatbelt and slung his arm over her shoulder. Then they walked back onto the paved trail and continued up the hill.
“Where’s Sydney?” he mumbled.
“We’re going to find her,” Chang said. Her eyes were alert for any movement in the trees on either side of them, just in case there were still any hybrids afoot.
Finally, they reached the top of the hill and found themselves at the edge of the plateau’s airstrip. She looked towards the hangar. “There’s gotta be a first aid kit in there,” she said.
Andy shook his head. “I’ll be fine. We need to find Sydney.”
Chang looked around, but there was no sign of her or Sans. She assumed he’d chased Sydney off into the woods somewhere and figured it would be best to wait until one of them came back. If it was Sans who emerged from the trees battered and bruised, she was prepared to put a bullet in him immediately. He’d become a dog that needed to be put down.
Safari: A Technothriller Page 17
