THE EXTINCT

a novel

Victor Methos

Copyright 2011 Victor Methos

Kindle Edition

License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Please note that this is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

As flies to wanton boys are we to the Gods;

they kill us for their sport

-William Shakespeare

The sun shines on the wicked also

-Seneca

PROLOGUE

As soon as the rain had stopped and the sun began to shine they knew they were being watched.

The group of megatherium sat in the shade of trees near what would one day become the La Brea Tar Pits. Weighing more than five tons and larger than an Indian elephant, megatherium giant sloths were one of the largest animals that ever lived. They had been feeding all morning on rotting fruit and leaves, glancing behind them at the tall grass. Armed with eighteen inch claws, they were ready to fight at the first sign of an attack; though there were few predators courageous enough to attempt an assault.

Tucked low in the grass, feline eyes waited patiently for the sloths’ apprehensiveness to ease. Smilodon, a fearsome solitary carnivore, licked its foot-long canines. Commonly known as the saber-toothed tiger, smilodon weighed as much as a small car and had the ferocity of a wolverine.

Saliva slopped from the saber-tooth’s mouth, its muscles ready to pounce at the first sign of sickness or old age among the megatherium. One lay down on its side, dozing off in the hot sun.

With a thunderous roar the cat ripped through the grass, its fourteen hundred pounds accelerating to a speed of thirty miles an hour.

The megatherium froze; this was one of the only predators they refused to fight. They turned and attempted to flee, all except one.

The lone megatherium awoke to the warning calls of the others. It saw the predator closing in, canines spread apart for a kill bite to the throat or midsection. Unable to get away quickly enough, the megatherium stood upright on its hind legs, revealing its full eighteen feet of girth.

Adrenaline coursed through smilodon; megatherium’s size and massive claws didn’t intimidate him.

The megatherium backed against a tree, urinating on itself out of fear, and waited.

But smilodon was not the only predator that had been hunting them this morning. Bellowing laughter came from the grass. Hyaenodon Gigas, the largest and most vicious mammalian predator the earth has ever seen, sprinted toward its prey. Snout to tail it was the size of a semi truck, with jaws that ate every part of a meal, including teeth and bones. With its acute senses it smelled the urine of the terrified megatherium and the saliva of the smilodon as it raced in for a kill shot.

The megatherium groaned in fear and anguish as the clan of hyaenodon darted for it, only their backs visible in the tall grass. Suddenly, the clan changed course.

The saber-tooth was focused on its prey as it leapt into the air, mouth wide, and his claws dug into the sloth’s hide. The sloth writhed in pain and slammed into the ground, the claws on its forelegs useless against the fangs that dug into its neck.

And then, as quickly as the attack had occurred, it stopped. The megatherium was released. It stood and dashed for the safety of its numbers.

Smilodon rose from the ground, its head spinning. It had tasted blood and expected to see the corpse of its prey lying before it. Instead, it saw blood gushing from a deep wound on its hind leg.

Then it saw the movement. Tightening circles; four massive bodies blocking every direction from escape. The smilodon growled and roared, feeling the tug of fear in its belly for the first time in its adult life.

There was the familiar call that sounded like maniacal laughter and panting as the hyaenodon positioned themselves.

One sprinted from behind and bit into smilodon’s hindquarters, causing the cat to turn and swipe with its giant paw. As it turned back, a large mass raced for him, the assailant’s mouth widening as it aimed for the face, clamping down and snapping one of the cat’s gigantic canines in half. Smilodon was lifted into the air by its head and smashed back into the earth; its skull crushed as another beast tore into its belly, biting through organ and muscle and bone.

There were no other predators to challenge hyaenodon for its kill except for other clans. An apex, adaptable predator, hyaenodon survived cataclysm after cataclysm for millions of years by cunning and ferocity. Hyaenodon lived on nearly every continent and ate everything that could provide nutrition. Believed to be extinct, hyaenodon would survive, in some of the most remote regions on earth . . .

CHAPTER

1

Dr. Namdi Said sat in the Ministry of Medical Services swatting flies with a plastic swatter. At this time of year Hyderabad was hot and muggy, the air a thick wall of heat making any type of physical exertion laborious.

Namdi sat with his feet up on the desk. The office he’d been given was small and dirty but there was a window facing out to the busy street. There were no stop signs or traffic signals on this block and every few hours the metallic crash of a car accident could be heard.

“Dr. Said,” Phillip Reynolds said as he walked in and sat down across from him. He pushed his glasses up onto his forehead and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Sorry I’m late. I’m new here. Still haven’t figured my way around. I thought Andhra Pradesh was mostly a more civilized part of India but it’s as wild as anything else I suppose.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

He pulled out a package of cigarettes and lit one. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Oh,” he said as he took a large drag and then put the cigarette out on his shoe, stuffing the butt back into the pack. “I’m here about an American citizen that went missing couple months back; Davis Larson. His wife’s been bugging me damn near every day.”

“If you’re missing a person you should be talking to the police. There are gangs in the city that kidnap tourists for ransom and—”

“No, it’s not a gang,” he said, twirling the cigarette package in his hand.

“How do you know?”

“They weren’t in the city; they were out in the plains near the Eastern Ghats. I think you should talk to her.”

“Mr. Phillips, I’m a doctor for—”

“I know, not your specialty. But I was told you have another specialty in animal attacks.”

Namdi stared at him. “Who told you that?”

“Not important.”

“It’s a hobby; I have no official position or even training, other than treating victims of attacks.”

“Understood. But I promised this lady I’d have her talk with an expert and you’re the nearest thing to an expert I could find that speaks English. Myself, and the U.S. State Department, would consider it a personal favor if you could talk to her. Don’t have to do anything, just hear her out.”

He slammed his swatter down on the table, smashing a large fly and causing Reynolds to jump. Namdi smiled at his reaction and said, “Very well, I’ll speak with her.”

CHAPTER

2

Looking down from 45,000 feet over New Hampshire reminded Eric Holden of a jigsaw puzzle. Green and yellow squares with small blips for the buildings and homes. At nineteen he’d already completed more than twenty jumps, all with his father James who stood in front of him now, letting him peek over his shoulder at the ground below.

“This is the highest we’ve ever jumped, Pops,” Eric yelled over the noise of engines and wind.

“With the wing-suits we should have four minutes of freefall. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

James nodded and pulled down his goggles. Eric playfully gave him a push out before James had a chance to jump. He watched his father flip backward and then even out into the traditional spread pose, his wing-suit catching the air and making him appear like some mutant bird slowly drifting down to earth.

Eric gave the pilot a nod and then vaulted from the plane.

The air was icy and stung the unprotected skin on his cheeks like needles. He spread his arms and thighs, allowing the fabric of the wing-suit to stretch and double his drag. He could see Strawberry River from here, winding through lush hillsides like a coiled snake. He remembered a fight that’d broken out on the riverbank between him and someone that claimed to be the boyfriend of the woman he’d taken camping with him. It only lasted three punches; the guy landed one squarely on Eric’s neck and Eric bashed two hooks into his jaw, knocking him unconscious. Then he helped him into a tent and waited until he came to. The guy didn’t remember what had happened and Eric didn’t have the heart to tell him. Instead, he said that he’d passed out, probably from the heat and dehydration. He bought it, or at least pretended he did.

15,000 feet. Eric decides to free-fly. He points his head downward turning his body vertical, tightens his wing-suit, and shoots toward his father. Adrenaline courses through him, his face turning white and the blood rushing to his organs and away from his extremities. The wind is screaming in his ears and crawls its way down his neck, freezing his chest and making him shiver. He races past his father who doesn’t notice him. Upon passing, Eric grabs the ripcord and pulls his father’s chute.

The parachute expands, causing a surprised James Holden to curse and instinctively reach for the cord to his emergency chute. Eric gives him a thumbs-up from below as his father slows and begins a gentle descent.

The landing is on soft grass and Eric unbuckles from the chute and waits for his father to descend; lying down on the grass with his hands behind his head. James lands fifteen feet away and unbuckles, a grin across his face as he shakes his head.

“That’s dangerous.”

“You did it first, old man. My first jump. Scared the shit outta me.”

Some aides began gathering up the chutes and James collapsed next to Eric. The sun warmed their faces and a light breeze was blowing cotton strands through the air.

“You still dating that porn star?” James said.

“She’s not a porn star, Dad. Jesus. She was in a swimsuit ad.”

James chuckled. “What was her name?”

“Wendy.”

“How’s old Wendy?”

“Good. You with anyone?”

“Nah, here and there. Nothing serious. I wanted to ask you something though; I’m going to India for a few weeks. Want to come with?”

“When?”

“A week from today. Hunting elephant.”

Eric laughed. “What the hell do you know about hunting elephants?”

“Nothing. That’s why I’ve hired a guide. It’s not exactly legal over there. You in?”

“Can’t. I’ve got finals coming up.”

“Well, next time then.”

CHAPTER

3

Though Andhra Pradesh is India’s fifth largest state by population, it has the longest coastline along the Bay of Bengal and dense jungles filled with insect species and plant life that has yet to be catalogued. Farther from the coast, the jungle recedes into the vast open plains of the Deccan Plateau that stretch for hundreds of miles. Rolling green hills and jagged mountains are split open from powerful rivers and the climate, though, bearable, makes many middle class and wealthier Indians likely to find their homes in the densely populated cities rather than the smaller, agrarian villages dotting the countryside.

The café in downtown Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh’s capital city, was crowded with tourists. Many were from Europe and even more from the Middle East who found the proximity and low cost of a trip to Andhra Pradesh appealing.

Dr. Said sat at a table in the corner, sipping Turkish coffee. Some Australian businessmen were sitting at the booth next to him. They were telling jokes about women. Namdi would bet they were cowards at home, bending to the will of wives they despised.

A tall blond walked in to the café and asked a waiter something. The waiter pointed to Namdi and the woman came over. Her eyes were rimmed red, from allergies or recent crying, and she wore no make-up, her hair pulled back and held in place with a rubberband.

“Dr. Said?” she said.

“Yes.”

She held out her hand. It was soft and lotioned. “Nancy Larson.”

“Nice to meet you. Sit down, please.”

She sat down and placed her purse on the table. Namdi noticed there was a box of tissues and, tucked away underneath, a small handgun.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Larson?”

“Phillip told me you were an expert on the animals in Andhra Pradesh. That you help governments catch animals that start attacking people.”

“I have in the past, yes.”

She pulled out a photo and slid it across the table. It was her and a thin, white male in shorts and a tank-top standing next to a jeep.

“This is my husband, Davis. He went missing thirty-six days ago.”

“Where?”

“We were near the coast. I was driving that jeep in the picture. We had come for a picture safari. Davis used to love hunting but I got him off of that. I told him it was cruel and that taking a good picture was just as hard as taking a good shot. I don’t think he ever believed me, but he did it anyway.” Nancy took out a tissue from her purse and held it in her hands, twirling the thin paper over and over again. “We saw . . . something. It was fur that went along some bushes next to the jeep. Davis wanted a photo so we stopped. He thought it might be a wildebeest or something.

“We were speaking about the World Cup that was coming up soon and he was waiting for his photo. I turned to get some water. I just looked away for a second. When I turned back . . . he was gone. No sounds. He was just gone. I yelled for him and ran around looking for him, even though the hairs on my neck were standing up. I felt like that was an evil place. I still do. But I saw these next to the jeep.”

Nancy pulled out more photos. Namdi took them and held them up. They were prints in the soft dirt. Paws. In one photo, Nancy put her hand next to the paw. Smart girl, he thought. Without perspective, no one would’ve believed it.

“These prints—” Namdi began.

“Are huge. I know. I’ve shown them to other people too. They said they had to be a hoax.”

“Are these the only photos you have?”

“No, I have a few more. But I was only there five or ten minutes before I sped to the police station. We searched for three days. We didn’t even find a shred of clothing. It’s like the earth swallowed him.”

“Mrs. Larson, I’m going to be honest with you because I do not want to give you false hope. There is little chance that he could survive for more than a month on the plains without food or water. Have you considered that maybe he ran away and he planned this?”

“Ran away? He didn’t run away. We had a good marriage. And if he wanted to leave he had better opportunities than that.”

Namdi placed the photographs down. “Mrs. Larson, what is it you’d like me to do?”

“Find out what happened to him. It’s the not knowing that’s killing me. I just need to know what happened. Could a rogue tiger or something have done this?”

“Possibly. When an animal sees how easy prey human beings are, it will only hunt human beings. These are very dangerous animals. The only way to stop them is to kill them. But I’ve never heard of a case like this. It may have been bandits or militia and the prints are distortions due to the weather.”

“Will you help me?”

Namdi saw tears in her eyes and watched as she tore the tissue to shreds in her hands, the pieces flaking down across her lap and onto the floor. He remembered a similar reaction in his mother when the army had informed them that his father would not be coming home.

“All right, Mrs. Larson. I will look into it.”

*****

As the sun set and baked the sky a soft orange and pink, Namdi Said sat at his desk and reviewed all the photos Mrs. Davis Larson had taken the day her husband went missing. The paw prints were the most interesting of course, but there was something else. On the side of the passenger seat, indented into the fabric, were punctures arched in a semi-circle. There was little fabric torn away. Namdi thought that whatever punctured them would have to be as sharp as razors to not tear anything away.

He pressed a button on his phone. “Ms. Thorpe?”

“Yes, doctor?”

“Call the police and the Department of Wildlife please. Get me the files for every missing person and potential animal attack on the plains for the last six months. Start with around Hyderabad and work your way out. Nothing in the cities, just the plains.”

“Yes, sir. It may take me some time, sir.”

“That is fine. Thank you.”

Namdi threw the photos down and leaned back in his seat. He didn’t like this case. If Nancy was telling an accurate account, her husband was taken in total silence in broad daylight with another person nearby. Tigers and panthers had killed and kidnapped before, but never so brazenly. Something was different.

He noticed for the first time that the hair on his neck was standing up.

CHAPTER

4

Blood coated Thomas’s hands.

He sat near the fire, watching the flames flicker in darkness; whiskey from a flask kept in his breast pocket. This far inland from the coast Andhra Pradesh had little light pollution; the sky blanketed in the sparkle of stars; moon a bright slit in the blackness over lush plains.

Thomas glanced at the other men around the fire; faces worn and tired, small droplets of black darkening their clothes as if it had rained blood. Robert Mason. Not a hunter. Scared and maybe a little dangerous because of his fear. James Holden sat poking a stick into the fire, watching the crimson embers dance in the flames.

The hunt had gone well. They’d followed a herd of elephants for more than four days before the bull separated himself from the rest and they could begin taking shots. The Andhra Pradeshn Park Authorities kept close tabs on all hunters, especially those with British and American passports. Not unwarranted considering the history of colonialism and abuse suffered at the hands of the crown. Rape and genocide and slavery. The people here had no trust for white men; even those that paid handsomely.

If they had killed a cow, or worse, a calf, they would have had to spend the rest of their funds bribing their way out of a prison sentence.

Mason spit in the fire and said, “I’m going to miss these nights. The grass has a sweet smell to it here I haven’t found anywhere else.”

“Like cow shit with sugar on it,” James Holden said. He looked out over a herd of Sambar deer, a dark roving mass in the pale light of the moon. “Good hunt though. Thought Thomas’d drop the rifle and run when that bull charged.”

“That’s the best time to shoot,” Thomas said. “Granted they’re more impervious to pain, but they face you squarely and you can have an excellent target if you know what to look for. Asian elephants here hold their necks at a forty five degree angle so it makes it harder. But an African elephant keeps it horizontal so when they charge, you have a direct shot into the brain. I remember—”

A noise echoed through the night. It seemed to come from the east and they turned toward it. Nothing they could see except tall grass and weeds.

Thomas was the expert of the group but also happened to be the drunkest right now and didn’t feel like chasing sounds in the dark. “There are tigers,” Thomas said, a hint of pleasure in his voice as he saw the looks of his companions. “I wouldn’t worry though; I’ve led tours through this region for thirty years and they haven’t killed a tourist in, oh, a good ten.”

More noises in the dark, closer this time. They seemingly came from the darkness itself as there was little else to hide behind.

“Sounds like laughing,” James said.

“There’s no people here,” Thomas said, putting down his flask and gulping coffee out of a tin cup before picking up his rifle. He slung it over his shoulder and began walking toward the noise, leaving his boots behind and opting to go barefoot.

The dirt and grass was warm under his feet; fire a warm glow in the distance behind him. Their kill lay like a boulder up ahead; the blood congealed in a thick gelatin around the carcass. Thomas kneeled and checked the rifle; chambered. He held it up in front of him, the shoulder rest tucked firmly against the crook between his chest and arm.

Except for the symphony of crickets that increased in volume as he came away from the fire, there was little noise. No laughing; hooves in the distance. Thomas strained to hear, exploring with his eyes like they could pick up subtle noises that his ears could not. As if his hearing needed to adjust to the darkness as much as his sight, he began to hear something. A slow, rhythmic breathing. Deep; a pant.

It was an animal.

From the depth of the breathing, large. Rifle up to firing position and looking down the sight, the barrel firmly aimed at the breathing. Coming from the carcass? Maybe the bull isn’t dead? But the moonlight illuminated the carcass enough that he could see the great belly of the elephant which would have been rising and falling if it were alive.

Light behind the carcass. Yellow orbs reflecting the moon with confident fierceness bred by constant struggle. Figure behind the orbs takes shape: thick head, robust body and short legs. A tigress.

Growling, preparing to defend her scavenged meal. Thomas takes aim, the barrel pointed squarely at her face, waiting for her to lunge. Wait until she moved; she might retreat. It’d be better if she retreated.

The beast turned its head west, toward the camp. Thomas could see the muscles bulge underneath her fur, even with the moon as his only candle. The tigress let out a soft whine and then turned away from the carcass, building to a slow gallop; disappearing into the night.

Thomas exhaled; he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath but now his lungs ached. Would he have been able to hit his target, a moving target, at night?

Thomas stood and wiped at the dirt on his knee. Fingers tingled as blood returned to them; wave of calm washed over him as he looked up to the moon, as if the light could warm his face like sunshine.

A roar.

Bassed so heavily Thomas felt it in his feet, rising from the ground. It was like the plains themselves had roared; the sound coming from all directions. It filled the air and echoed across the valley.

As he tried to reign in his thoughts, he realized there was another sound. They were screams.

Thomas sprinted through the grass toward the fire, the sounds of screams echoing in his head. Then silence. He stopped, panting. Heart pounding in his ears as adrenaline coursed through him like fire. He started running again until he was near the camp; no one there, a spilled flask of whiskey lying in the dirt, blood spattered across it. Their tents were torn to shreds; supplies smashed into the ground. Logs had been knocked out of the fire and the smoldering wood was cooling in the night air.

Thomas crept past the fire, not breeching the limit of illumination less than a few meters away. Couldn’t see anything aside from the tall grass though his senses were more attuned from fear. The fire dying. Taking a few paces back to stand next to it. Listening to his own breath as sweat rolled down his forehead.

There were eyes in the darkness. Not the circular yellow of the tigress; pinpoints of red. Small flames hanging above the ground. The eyes were affixed on him and he couldn’t move. His muscles were heavy and tight; a conscious effort to relax them.

Another roar ripped through the night followed by what sounded like laughter. He could hear the deep pant of the beast’s breathing and the slow thumping of an immense heart. Few paces back and the red eyes grow tighter, small slits nearly invisible in the night; a low growl.

Thomas knew he had two options: shoot or run. He was too close to get off more than one shot. One shot in the dark at a quick moving animal. He thought about standing still; not giving ground as sometimes worked with the big cats. Although predators could smell the sweat of fear and hear the increased beating of their prey’s heart, nothing triggered their savage instincts more than fleeing prey. They were meant to chase rather than just be fed.

His mind was blank, no thoughts able to penetrate the cloud of anxiety and fear. A bare instinct of survival bubbled up in his gut, and he ran.

The wind was against his face as he focused on keeping his balance on the uneven ground. Periphery of his vision blurred until he could only see what was in front him; a vague impression that he didn’t have a clear run ahead. He didn’t need to look behind him; he felt the enormous animal’s paws hitting the ground; sound of heavy breathing closing in on him. Thomas sprinted for the elephant carcass as he felt hot breath against the skin of his neck. He bounded over the bull’s carcass, hoping to lure the predator to the stink of meat and blood and away from him. His foot caught on the rough hide and then a white flash, his jaw absorbing most of the impact as he hit the ground.

Dazed and on his back, the blood begins to seep out of his mouth. The animal behind him slows.

A shot crackled through the air and Thomas looked toward the fire. James stood with a rifle in one arm, his clothes torn and stained black. His other arm was nearly severed at the shoulder; pouring blood into dry earth. He tossed the rifle to the ground and pulled a .45 caliber Desert Eagle handgun from his waist.

The animal turned and ran for him. As Thomas lost consciousness the last things that reached his ears were gunshots and screams, and the wet sounds of an animal feeding.

CHAPTER

5

Eric Holden looked over his dorm room and decided it wouldn’t be worth cleaning. Empty pizza boxes, beer cans, clothes, papers, and magazines were piled on the floor. Even if he did clean it his roommate Jason would just dirty it again in a matter of days; he had an uncanny ability to find something organized and mess it up. Eric didn’t even think he did it consciously. But you couldn’t blame Jason; both his parents were psychiatrists. Who knows what they filled his head with when he was a kid.

Eric ruffled through a pile of clothes, grimaced on finding a pair of used underwear Jason had left, and pulled out two socks that hadn’t started to noticeably smell yet. He slipped them on, grabbed his shoes, and headed out the door.

Wendy was waiting for him outside in her new car, a fiery red Jetta, the new rims glittering in the sunlight from a recent wash. Her sunglasses were pushed up onto her forehead and she wore a tank-top and shorts, her smooth brown skin freshly lotioned.

“Hey babe,” she said as Eric climbed in. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and pulled away from the dorms. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. I called you last night.”

“I was at some party my mom was throwing for her book club. Let me tell you how fucking boring it was.”

“Was it at your house?”

“No, the Plaza in New York. But like, I had to get all dressed up and we took this little shitty plane that I thought was going to crash any second. And then this sleazy guy who was there with his wife kept bringing me drinks and trying to ask me out and then he wanted to dance and I was like no way, I have a man.”

Eric smiled as she spoke and he looked out the window at the passing shops and gas stations and apartment buildings. He enjoyed the way she spoke; without much reflection. Too many people in college tried to act smarter than they were by making everything into a larger philosophical question. “Pull over here,” Eric said.

“What? Why?”

“I want to say hi to Charles.”

Standing on the corner with a cardboard sign was an older man with gray, dirty hair. He wore a coat though it was warm today and his sneakers were adorned with large holes, revealing his sockless feet.

“How ya been, Chuck?” Eric said as the car came to a stop.

“How you doin’ youngblood?” he said, genuinely happy to see him. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Just busy. You makin’ good money over here?”

“It’s all right, ya know. Now who’s this pretty young thing here?”

“This is my girlfriend Wendy.”

“Hi,” she said, forcing a half-smile.

“Wew boy, you hang on to her youngblood. Not many women can brighten a man’s day just by lookin’ at ‘em.”

“I will,” Eric said. He took out his wallet and held a twenty dollar bill out the window.

Charles seemed offended. “I don’t panhandle from friends my man.”

“Consider it a loan then; pay me back when you can.”

Charles thought a moment, and then grinned. He took the twenty and put it into his pant pocket. “A loan.”

“You take care of yourself, Chuck.”

“You too youngblood, you hit them books hard now cause they don’t hit back,” he said, chuckling.

Eric watched him as the car pulled away; he actually was glad to see him, more than he thought he would be. Charles would sometimes come down to the campus and smoke pot with Jason in front of the dorms, telling them stories about his days in the military and the differences between the prostitutes in the countries he’d been too. When it was snowing and the shelter was full they’d let him sleep in the hallway, eventually keeping a blanket and pillow in the closet for him.

Wendy said with a grimace, “Why do you guys have anything to do with him?”

“Chuck’s all right. There’s a lot of smart people around but they’re not wise. I think wisdom’s something else entirely. I think Chuck might be wise. Or crazy. I can’t tell. Anyway he used to be an officer in the army.”

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know; he doesn’t really talk about it.”

The restaurant was packed but a large round table had been reserved on the patio underneath a red and white striped awning. Jason sat with two girls sipping margaritas and picking at some nachos. He was cracking jokes and the girls would fake laughter.

“Well well,” Jason said as Eric walked up to the table, pulling a chair out for Wendy. “Pele decides to join us finally.” He slapped Eric’s back and then motioned for the waitress to bring two more beers.

“I don’t want alcohol,” Eric said, “I got a game tomorrow.”

“Your name’s Pele?” one of the girls said. “That’s cool.”

Jason stared at her and then pinched her cheek. “Beautiful isn’t she?” he said to Eric. “Does he look Brazilian? He plays soccer on the school’s team.”

“Oh,” the girl said, still not understanding.

“Guess who I ran into?” Eric said, taking a sip of someone’s water, “Chuck.”

“Oh yeah? What’s he up to?”

“He was begging on the street corner near the Safeway. He looked all right.”

“Why was he begging?” the other girl said in a high-pitched schoolgirl voice.

“He’s homeless,” Eric said.

“WTF, you guys hang out with homeless guys? Why?”

“That’s what I said,” Wendy chimed in.

Jason said, “He’s seen more shit than anybody I ever knew. Been all over the world, slept with all sorts of woman. It depends how you measure success I guess but I don’t think he sees his life as a failure.”

They sat drinking and laughing and eating until well past noon. Eric watched Jason charm the women he was with. It was very subtle but he was seducing them in his own way. He played a game where he’d shower them with affection and praise one second and then pull away and be completely cold the next. Whenever he pulled away, the girls would start showing him affection. He played it masterfully and for a moment, Eric was jealous.

“So where’d you learn to play soccer?” high voice asked as the waitress cleared away their plates and went to bring their check.

“My dad,” Eric said. “He taught me everything I guess. Me and my mom weren’t that close and I didn’t really have any other relatives, so, it was just me and my dad.”

“And he’s cool as shit,” Jason said.

“He is cool,” Eric agreed. “I’m goin’ to New York to see him soon. After he gets back from India.”

Wendy had been watching how the girl was drooling over Eric the entire meal and she was beginning to get fed up with it. The girl had even reached over and caressed his hand once to get his attention. Wendy checked her watch. “It’s time to go hon; I got a class at two.”

“All right,” Eric said as he stood. “Well, it was nice to meet you ladies. Why don’t you guys come with Jason tomorrow to the game?”

“Sure,” high voice said. “I’ll be there cheering you on.”

Wendy sent her a scowl and then wrapped her arm around Eric’s, watching the girl to make sure she noticed.

Eric patted Jason’s head. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, hey, and don’t forget; you were gonna help me with biology tonight.”

“Why don’t I just make two copies of everything I do for that class cause you just end up copying me anyway?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jason said, polishing off the last of a large mug of beer.

*****

The sun was at its peak by the time Eric climbed back into the Jetta. The heat felt nice for a change; this winter had been long and soaked the city in snow almost every day. There’d been a few reported deaths from the cold, one child that got lost on a hiking trail and two homeless men. One of the men had frozen to death behind a grocery store; in the middle of the city. A couple of stock boys who were tossing out empty cardboard boxes found him curled in the fetal position next to a dumpster.

“That girl’s a fucking bitch,” Wendy said, sitting down and starting the car.

“Which one?”

“I don’t know her fucking name. The one that sounded like she was twelve.”

“Really? She seemed nice,” Eric said, goading her on.

“Nice! You touch her and I’ll cut your dick off, Eric.”

Eric leaned over, chuckling, and began tickling her. “I’m just kidding.”

“Don’t tickle me.”

He pinned her arm against his chest and then began tickling her until she started to laugh. He loved the way she laughed, throwing her head back, pink lips spreading over perfect teeth. Eric leaned down and put his mouth over hers, her warm tongue with his. She began breathing heavily and hands started roaming over his body and Eric pulled away.

“I can’t,” he said.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I got the game tomorrow, it saps my strength.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I can’t Wend, sorry.” He kissed her lips. “But tomorrow night,” he whispered.

She took a deep breath. Though she wanted to be angry, this was something she’d grown accustomed to. He took competition seriously and never hid that fact from her. Wendy just started the car and began driving him back to the dorms, her hand on his lap.

CHAPTER

6

The soccer field was dry and hot, the sun burning the skin on the back of Eric’s neck. He stood in front of the goal, his hands on his knees, breathing quick shallow breaths. The stands were nearly full but he could clearly see where Jason and the two girls from yesterday were sitting, getting drunk from Gatorade bottles filled with booze. They were all wearing the same clothes from the previous day.

You dirty dog.

There was a commotion ahead on the field and Eric could see number 53, a large Puerto Rican with thick black hair coming down to his shoulders rushing at him with the ball at his feet. 53 weaved past one of the New Hampshire forwards as easily as if he were running past a child. Sweat was dripping from Eric’s forehead though he’d done very little during the game. 53 had run across the field at least two dozen times and hardly seemed phased by the heat.

Eric looked over to Wendy at the sidelines; she had her hands over her face and was peeking through the cracks in her fingers. There was only thirty seconds left in the game and New Hampshire was ahead of Brooklyn College by one goal. If this goal went in it would go to sudden death and more time out in the sun.

Eric knelt down and ripped out some strands of grass. He sniffed them, the fresh scent of dirt in his nostrils, and threw them down. It was a habit he’d picked up watching his father play soccer on a semi-pro team.

53 was only a couple dozen feet away now. He was coming in from an angle and it seemed as if the rest of Eric’s team was in slow motion; like they were running through water trying to catch up.

53 bridged the gap and was close enough to the goal that Eric could hear his panting; he was human after all. He looked Eric in the eyes as he ran toward the east side of the goal post. Eric should’ve jumped to that side but he kept his eyes glued to 53’s; the feet could lie but his eyes couldn’t. 53’s eyes said he was going for the west side.

Eric took a step to the east pretending to play into his hands. 53 took a series of short steps in preparation for the kick and Eric lunged for the west side. The ball made a whizzing sound as it zipped toward him. It was going over head.

He jumped into the air and thrust out his hands and felt the sharp sting of impact against them before he hit the ground. He wasn’t sure what happened; the ball was rolling near the goal line but it could’ve bounced out after a score. It was only when he looked over to Wendy and saw her jumping up and down that he realized he’d stopped the ball.

As the crowd starting cheering he looked to 53 and winked.

Jason was on the field before the time was up. He wrapped his arms around Eric and tried to pick him up but was too small and too drunk so he just stood with his arm around his shoulders as the other players from New Hampshire started slapping Eric’s ass and giving him high fives. High voice came up and gave Eric a hug but Wendy ran over, nudging her out of the way, and gave him a fat kiss.

“I can’t wait for tonight,” she whispered in his ear.

“You comin’ out tonight?” Jason yelled over the commotion.

“Later,” Eric said, “maybe around eleven.”

Jason nodded. “I gotta go drop the girls off. Call my cell.”

Eric nodded, took Wendy’s hand, and snuck off the field as the coach called everybody back to the locker rooms. He pressed her against the wall of the exit tunnel and began kissing her until people started to come by on their way out.

They walked back to her car, a few people yelling things to Eric on his great play, and then left the stadium. Eric felt relaxed. The team would be holding a party tomorrow and he looked forward to it. Camaraderie was something he’d had little of growing up.

“Where to?” Wendy said.

“I have to have lunch with my mom but we can meet up after.”

“It’s like three o’clock.”

“I know but she said she’d wait for me. You can just drop me off at the dorms; she likes to pick me up and drive me around.”

“Mommy’s little boy, huh?”

Eric looked over to her and leaned in, nibbling on her ear and causing her to squirm a little though she didn’t resist.

Wendy dropped him off and gave him a long kiss, promising him that she had a special treat in store for him tonight. Eric left the car aroused and happy. He sat down on the curb in front of the dorms, leaning back on his hands, the cement of the sidewalk warm underneath his fingers.

The University of New Hampshire campus was beautiful during the summer months; numerous trees and shrubbery showing off lush greens and yellows. He typically spent the summers with his father in Manhattan and enjoyed the pure energy that a large city could exude, especially the sexual energy, but he always missed the crystal blue skies and trees of campus.

He’d be leaving for New York in two weeks and was looking forward to time with his father. Though his parents divorced soon after they had him, he and his father had always stayed close; spending long summers traveling to exotic locations Eric hadn’t heard of; like Belmopan or Santa Rosa. His father loved travel. Said it kept the soul awake. There was some truth in it, Eric guessed. But almost twenty now he knew that that wasn’t the sole reason his father was always gone. Too much travel could turn one into a stranger at home, which is exactly what his father wanted.

They didn’t talk much about his job as an investment banker but it was understood that it was miserable. A lot of hours in exchange for a lot of money. The type of job where one needs to trade joy for a fat paycheck. Though Eric enjoyed the fruits of his father’s job it was exactly the kind of career he wanted to stay away from.

A black sedan pulled into the parking lot and circled around until it came to where Eric was seated. He stood up and wiped at any dirt that had clung to his shorts and walked to the passenger door. He hesitated when he saw that his mother wasn’t driving; it was his step-father, Jeff.

Eric always suspected he’d married his mother because she had a decent paying job and didn’t mind if Jeff went months or even years without work. More than once Eric had caught him smoking pot in his mother’s house and even saw him at a restaurant with another woman.

“What’re you doing here?” Eric said as he climbed in and sat down.

“Your mom couldn’t drive today kid. She’s pretty fucked up right now so I want you to take it easy on her.”

“What’d ya mean fucked up? What happened?”

Jeff glanced out the window at a group of passing girls and then pulled away from the curb, taking a quick look in his rearview before turning out of the parking lot and onto the main road. “Your father’s dead, Eric.”

Eric’s heart felt like it slumped in his chest; his stomach churned, butterflies tingling his belly and causing nausea. He thought he would vomit.

“He died in India kid. He was there on some safari or some shit.”

Tears welled up in Eric’s eyes and his throat clinched but he fought them back and managed to look out the window, his reflection absently looking back at him. “How do you know? I mean, things can get reported wron—”

“They’re bringing back his body tomorrow for burial. What’s left of it anyway.”

Eric looked over at his step-father; his face was stern but there was a glimmer of pleasure in his eyes. He’d always felt inadequate compared to his father. Whenever they’d get in a fight Eric’s mother would say she wished she’d never got divorced from James. It would cut deep since Jeff knew it was true.

“How’d he die?” Eric said.

“You don’t want to know.”

“How Jeff?”

Jeff looked at him and then back out at the road. “He was killed by an animal.”

“What animal?”

“I don’t know. A fuckin’ lion or somethin’.” Jeff noticed his soccer uniform. “What’d you have a game today?”

“Yeah,” Eric said absently, not looking at him.

“Look,” Jeff said, “he lived a crazy life your father. This type of thing was inevitable. The important thing now is that you take care of your mom. For whatever reason, she’s taking it pretty hard. And if she’s takin’ it hard it means she’s gonna annoy the fuck outta me.”

Eric felt the urge to reach over and slap his face but instead he kept staring out the window, watching the passing strip malls and fast food restaurants and pool halls as they approached his mother’s house.

It was a cold thing to say, and Jeff had said it out of spite, but there was some truth to it. His father lived like a man that wanted to die, though he always said he was afraid of it.

They parked on the street in front of the house and Eric got out, choosing to walk across the lawn rather than share the sidewalk with Jeff. The lawn was thick and shaggy from months without being cut, patches of yellow beginning its takeover of the once green grass. Eric opened the front door; the inside of the house was much cleaner than the outside. Carpets freshly washed and furniture dusted, the smell of lemon polish hanging in the air.

His mother was lying on the couch, the TV turned low. Eric sat down by her feet without saying a word and she pulled her legs up to make room, not taking her eyes off the television.

“I’ll be out in the garage,” Jeff said.

Eric watched him walk out with disgust; he remembered when his father had built that garage. He did it in one summer. Eric was eight at the time and he remembered the smell of sawdust and the taste of lemonade as he helped his father, carrying tools and helping hammer nails. James had even let him use a nail gun a couple times but the sound had scared him and his father put it away, even though it increased the work that needed to be put in.

“How you doing, Mom?” She didn’t say anything. “Are they sure?” Eric said hopefully. “I mean mistakes happen. It could be someone else, right?”

His mother watched television as if she hadn’t heard him. She took a moment and then turned to him, her eyes red and puffy. “He was a good man, Eric; I don’t want you to ever be mad at him for going on those trips. They kept him alive.”

“I know,” he said. From this close he could smell the sweet aroma of peach Schnapps emanating from her. “This is the way he would’ve wanted to go,” he lied. He knew his father would’ve rather went in a comfortable bed with a beautiful woman next to him, as any man would.

“I don’t think I ever stopped loving him,” she said, turning back to the television. “I hated him too though. I loved him and hated him. He could make me feel like the most important person in the world one day and a piece of shit the next. But I still loved him, I never stopped.”

Eric rubbed her calf; it was soft; fragile. “I know, Mom. He loved you too.” Eric could see the dining table from where he was sitting and an old photo of his father in a Navy uniform, a box with his medals open next to it.”How did you find out?”

“His sister called me.”

“Kathy?”

His mother nodded.

“Where is she now?”

“Borneo I think. She’s married to some spiritual guru or some crazy shit like that. That whole family’s fucked up.”

Eric looked at her and a flash of anger filled him and then flowed away. Leaving only pity in its place. He stood up, leaned down and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, and went off to his bedroom.

His old room had been kept the same as when he had moved out, even though Jeff wanted to put a pool table and a bar in. But his mother refused and never explained why. Jeff eventually gave up the fight when he saw she was serious. Eric thought that deep down Jeff knew his mother didn’t need or even particularly like him. He was around for convenience and because she didn’t like being alone.

Eric collapsed on his bed and found he couldn’t hold back any longer, emotion choking him. He put his face in a pillow and began to cry.

CHAPTER

7

Eric woke to the claustrophobic tightness of a dark room. It took some time for his eyes to adjust and he stared out the window at the sky, moon covered with slow moving gray-black clouds.

The alarm clock said 7:27 pm and he rose and walked out of the room. His mother was still lying on the couch, an empty bottle of Schnapps on the coffee table in front of her. Eric tip-toed out of the house and slowly shut the door behind him before making his way to the sidewalk, looking back to the house one more time before moving on.

The night air was cool, smell of fern and mountain air fresh in his nostrils. His cell phone had three messages but he turned it off without listening. After a few minutes of walking he stopped at the nearest bus stop and sat on the bench, watching the cars drive by like white-eyed demons through the night. They appeared sinister. It was funny how the most innocuous things could appear wicked when you had wickedness done to you.

There was a convenience store across the street and the clerk was eating a burrito and watching a small television behind the counter, not paying attention to the two older men that were shoving donuts into their jackets. Eventually the men bought a fountain drink and the clerk didn’t think it odd that two men had roamed the store for ten minutes and bought only one drink.

The bus approached; its engine thundering down the street until coming to a stop a little past Eric. He climbed on and nodded to the driver before taking the first seat. An old black woman sat at the back of the bus staring out the window. It didn’t look like she was focused on anything in particular. A wrinkled and worn face, lit by the passing lights of street lamps before dimming with darkness once more.

“Been on the bus damn near an hour,” the driver said.

Eric turned to him. “What?”

“That woman, she been on the bus almost an hour but she don’t talk. I asked her what stop she wanted and she just kept lookin’ out the wind’a.” The driver swore under his breath as another car didn’t let him merge and then glanced back to Eric. “They should take doze people and round ‘em up and send ‘em off.”

“Those people?”

“Yeah, you know, niggers.”

Eric stared at the man. His belly hung over his belt, concealing it from view, and though he was probably in his late fifties or early sixties he still wore a large, red high school graduation ring. Eric glanced back to the little woman looking out her little window and wondered what devils the driver must see to be afraid of that. “Let me off here,” Eric said, standing up.

“See ya,” the driver said as Eric stepped off the bus.

Eric didn’t look back at him and didn’t say anything, he just started walking. He was awhile from where he wanted to go but didn’t feel like being on the bus anymore. Besides, New Hampshire had extremely long, harsh winters so you had to soak up the summer months as much as you could.

The university campus wasn’t more than a mile away but Eric decided to stop by a local pizzeria where he thought Jason might be. The place was dimly lit and had red brick interior walls, posters of John Lennon, Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan spaced every few feet. A large jukebox was in the corner playing a Police song. The black and red checkered tables were packed with college students, nibbling on pizza and guzzling beer. The conversations were loud and every once in a while a group would erupt with laughter.

Eric took a table in the corner and ordered a large Heineken. It came back quickly, the suds overflowing from the icy glass. The beer stung as it went down his throat. He drank it like it was water and ordered another. He didn’t drink often and he didn’t even feel like it now. It just seemed appropriate somehow.

“Jesus do you look pathetic,” a voice said. “Sitting here drinking all by your lonesome.”

Eric looked up to see Jason’s smiling countenance. He was dressed in his Sunday best of shorts, a t-shirt and a Red Sox baseball cap. He sat down next to him and put his arm around Eric’s shoulders.

“I thought you’d be out with Wendy right now?” Jason said.

“My father’s dead Jason,” Eric said flatly, not in the mood for small talk.

Jason’s smiling face went solemn. “You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Jimmy?”

“He died in India. They’re bringing back his body for burial.”

“Jesus Christ. Fuck me. We were just talking about him yesterday.”

Eric sipped his beer. Jason looked out over the crowd. He never enjoyed reflection, but felt that it was required right now.

“Shit I loved him too,” Jason said. “You remember the first night at the dorms? He took us out to a bar and ended up going home with our waitress?” Jason said with a laugh. “Fucking classic your dad.” Jason squeezed Eric’s shoulder and stood up. “You gonna be all right?”

“I’ll be all right.”

The smile and glint of mischief returned to Jason’s eyes. “Look, nothin’ makes a man forget his worries like pussy.” He grabbed Eric’s beer and gulped down the rest, leaving only suds. “Not even booze.”

“I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“Come over to our table,” he said, motioning to a round table with one other guy and three girls. “We’re about to get drunk and those girls are gettin’ rowdy.”

“Not tonight, Jas.”

Jason called over the waitress, ordering another large beer for Eric. “I’ll see ya at home.”

“Yeah,” Eric said.

*****

Eric watched Jason flirt with the girls at the table. There was one in particular he seemed interested in, a brunette wearing a short skirt and denim jacket. She had beauty to her, but as Eric watched her, he noticed it was only a superficial beauty. Like something uglier underneath had been painted over. She had dark bags under her eyes and bruises on her upper arms. She drank as if the booze didn’t bother her, guzzling one beer after another. She seemed to be paying attention to Jason, nodding at his comments and laughing at his jokes. But there was a sense that any other man in the room could’ve been there and she’d be doing the exact same thing.

She looked over to Eric and smiled. Eric looked away, finished his beer, and walked out.

He left the pizzeria half-drunk. He stopped at a playground and pissed on a tree before continuing to the dorms. There was a party going on upstairs and the music boomed through the thin walls, the bass rattling the few items of furniture he and Jason shared.

He’d forgotten about that first night at the dorms, how quickly his father had picked up the waitress who was decent looking at best. James had always been in love with one woman or another; falling hard one week and growing bored the next. It was the reason his parents got divorced. In a way, Eric understood it. Man had just one life and wanted to enjoy it to the fullest. But James wasn’t around to hear his wife crying herself to sleep every night; Eric was. They said infidelity was a victimless crime but Eric didn’t believe that anymore.

One day when he was ten, he remembered walking in on his father and another woman. His father quickly covered the woman up with a white sheet and only her toes stuck out from the bottom. Eric asked who that was and his father said nobody and told him to get out. Unsure what was going on, Eric shut the door and left. His father came to him later that day and told him it was best not to tell his mother of such things. That his father hadn’t done anything wrong, but his mother liked to get mad sometimes and it wouldn’t be good to have her mad, would it? Eric agreed and never told his mother. Sometimes, when he heard his mother cry at night after the divorce, he wondered how much of it was his fault and it gave him a sick, gray feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Thoughts of his childhood and his parents swirled in his mind as he lay in the dark and before long he drifted off to sleep. The last thing he felt was remorse; the funeral would be in a few days, and it was going to be the last time he would get to see his father.

CHAPTER

8

Andhra Pradesh has often been a top destination for thrill seekers and tourists. With its diverse landscapes, masses of animals found in few other places, and breathtaking sunsets, some have found it a prime vacation spot despite it being in a second world country with little stability.

Near the city of Kavali are a string of houses owned by wealthy investors—usually European and American real estate moguls or investment firms—leased to vacationers for periods of one week to one month. The houses are far apart from one another, enough so that vacationers can enjoy their privacy but still have others nearby should they require something.

A family stepped onto the porch of one of the homes. The two boys ran into a nearby patch of jungle, yelling and laughing. Their mother was a slim woman in a white dress, straw hat pulled down to cover her eyes from the scorching sun. Her husband wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a kiss on the neck as they watched the boys run around.

“I can’t believe we actually found someplace they like,” the man said.

“I like it too,” she said. “The locals are a hassle though.”

“They’re all right, just trying to make a buck like anyone else.”

“Are you kidding? They totally crashed our picnic trying to sell us that cheap shit.”

The man shrugged. “What you feel like doing?”

“Let’s go in to town and have a drink.”

“What about the kids?”

“They don’t ID here, no one’s gonna care.”

The man kissed her neck again and nibbled on her ear, causing her to giggle and pull away.

“I’ve got to shower and change,” the man said, opening the door to the living room.

“Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.”

The woman sat down on a wooden bench and looked out over the vast expanse before her. There was a large patch of grass in front of the house with a path through it that led to the road back to Kavali on one side and into the dense jungle on the other. A tree was near the house, large with twisted, leafless branches. This was a pretty place she decided, but just too damn hot and humid.

It suddenly became apparent to her that she couldn’t hear the boys anymore. Scanning the grass, she couldn’t see any movement. “Friedrich,” she yelled, “Steven, don’t go far. You hear me boys?”

She stood up and walked off the porch onto the soft dirt. “Friedrich, Steven.” There was no reply. Just the hushed whispers of the breeze flowing through grass. She could hear birds up in the tree and there was the distant hum of a passing plane overhead. The woman walked into the grass, worry causing her heart to drop. “Boys if this is a joke you’re grounded, you hear me?”

Worry turned to panic and she began running through the grass and into the canopy of the jungle. The shrubbery and trees grew tightly packed and the sunlight was blocked by foliage. “Friedrich, Steven!” she yelled. The vegetation was thick and somewhat inflexible. It made the skin on her arms itch.

There was motion nearby. As if the shrubbery had been spread apart quickly. A shiver went down her back and the hairs on her neck stood straight but she wasn’t sure why.

There was laughter just to the right of her. She turned toward it. “Boys!”

As she took a step forward she felt a tremendous tug on her arm that threw her forward to the ground. She screamed as she hit the dirt, confusion and fear taking hold. She went to pick herself up and realized she couldn’t.

Her arm had been severed at the bicep and blood cascaded down from the ragged flesh, coloring her white dress a dark red. “Oh God!” she screamed. “Oh my God! God please help me! God!”

Another tug and the world spun; quiet a long while before the hushed breeze blew again.

*****

The husband came out of the house a while later and flipped on a pair of Tommy Hilfiger sunglasses. It was hot and he’d only worn shorts and a cotton button-up. The breeze felt nice against his bare legs and he stood and enjoyed it.

The sun was so bright he had to squint even with sunglasses. It reminded him of the Caribbean. Before he’d met his wife he was there at least four or five times a year. It was easy to pick up women at bars and nightclubs with the promise of a weekend getaway for the two of them. Some of the women genuinely liked him. Most did not. They were the type of women that spent their lives in smoke filled bars, counting down their days one drink at a time. Some of them had children or husbands at home waiting for them. One had even offered to bring her sixteen year old daughter along with her and “teach” her how to please him. Though tempted, he had to turn it down in the end. It seemed like that was a line that if he crossed, the line would disappear and he wouldn’t be the same person anymore.

He stepped off the porch and walked along the path through the grass to the rented jeep he was convinced he’d been overcharged on. His family wasn’t inside. He turned back toward the grass and looked around. “Katherine,” he yelled out. “Boys?” He walked back the way he came and went inside the house. The living room was empty. The kitchen was empty and so were the basement and the upstairs bedroom. They must’ve gone for a walk or something.

The man flopped on the couch in the living room and decided he would wait for them. He would walk outside every few minutes and look around but no one came. Finally he decided he would drive around and look for them.

As he stepped out of the house, he froze. Vultures were flying down into the jungle canopy, their bald heads held stiff in between their slim shoulders as they drifted toward the ground. They were far larger than he thought they would be. He wondered what they would be doing here before his eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat. “Katherine!”

He ran into the jungle as the vultures scattered into the air. One was on the ground near him and he kicked at it and it bit him on the shin before flapping its wings and flying off over the grass. They didn’t leave the kill, just waited nearby; they had grown patience over time and could wait for days.

The man dropped to his knees when he saw what they had been feeding on. A mass of bone and sinew with bits of ragged flesh attached, a white dress torn to pieces on the dirt. Vomit burst out of the man’s mouth and down his shirt and he stumbled back.

He sat weeping on the ground as the vultures, slowly and quietly, began their descent back to the kill.

CHAPTER

9

The funeral parlor had a splash of taste in the décor but little in the owners. They had bought the funeral home as an investment only a few years ago and it was turning out to be more work than profit. They seemed to dislike the dead and disliked grieving relatives even more. More than one family had to tell the receptionist to quit talking on the phone during a service, or tell a mortician to turn down the television, or tell the director not to let her children run around.

Eric sat in the front row next to his mother and Jeff. Jeff had chosen this place because he said his mother’s service had been here, but Eric knew it was to save money. James’ estate would be divided soon and Eric and his mom would be receiving a sizeable share; Jeff had no intention of letting his wife spend it on frivolous expenses like her ex-husband’s funeral.

Eric had dreamed last night of his father. He’d seen his broken body in some ditch in India, covered with flies and maggots, his entrails spilled out onto his lap. India appeared like a graveyard in his dreams. The sky was red and gray. The rivers were dirty and all the animals were decomposing, their slick flesh exposed underneath open sores. The dream came more than once and woke him up each time, cold sweat dampening his shirt and causing him to change it.

But his fear from last night had transformed to annoyance today. He felt generally agitated, not wanting to be around anyone or do anything. Irritation wasn’t an emotion he frequently felt and he didn’t know the mechanisms to deal with it effectively. It just sat in the pit of his stomach like jagged metal, weighing him down and clouding his thoughts.

Some of the mourners would truly miss his father. A few friends and co-workers and girlfriends. One of his girlfriends, a plump blond named Brittney that wore clothes far too tight for her larger frame, walked up and knelt down in front of him.

“How are ya darlin’?” she said in her Southern drawl.

“I’m holding up. How’ve you been?”

“Not so good since your daddy left us. I’m gonna miss him you know. He always had a way a cheerin’ me up.” She looked over at Eric’s mother giving her an icy stare and decided to cut the conversation short. “I just wanted to tell ya that if ya needed anythin’ don’t hesitate to give me a ring. Okay?”

“Okay, thanks.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand before returning to her seat.

*****

Brittney really would miss his father. But most of the people there only showed up because they thought it would look inappropriate if they didn’t. The way they were laughing and talking—trying to keep their voices to a whisper but never succeeding—it looked like they’d forgotten him already.

Though she’d been emotional yesterday, his mother seemed fine today and Eric wondered if she’d taken something. There were periods when she’d go to a psychiatrist and get the latest anti-depressants or anti-anxiety medicines. It was a cycle; every fall she would get on medication and every spring she would stop taking it. Her moods were unpredictable at either time, ranging from ecstatic happiness to near suicidal depression. Still, no matter what she went through, Eric thought she always kept at least the appearance of independence and strength. Besides her psychiatrist, she refused to ask anyone for help with anything.

His mother stood and began walking around the room, chatting with the guests. Before long she was mingling and men were flirting with her while Jeff stewed in his seat and watched her from behind sunglasses. Eric looked on with glee and could barely contain a smile.

He began searching the room, looking for familiar faces. There was one face that didn’t look familiar at all. It was old and tan, leathery almost. Like it’d had too much exposure to sun and wind. The man sat quietly in the back, not speaking with anyone.

The man saw him staring and smiled. Eric turned around, facing the casket again. The service was starting.

It was customary to wait a day between a viewing and the funeral, but the director of the parlor had urged that they take place the same day and Jeff agreed. There was no doubt in Eric’s mind that some sort of deal had been worked out.

After the service, the body was carried out to a hearse and Eric was one of the pallbearers. He drove behind the hearse with his mother and Jeff, aggravated that Jeff was listening to the radio and humming along with the melody of some old rock song from the seventies.

The wind was blowing and leaves were all over the cemetery, rattling softly in the background as a priest stood to deliver a sermon that he had memorized and repeated to the point where he spoke it with neither passion nor conviction.

Eric laid a flower on the casket which had stayed closed the whole time. He didn’t get to see his father again to say good bye. As he was walking with his mother back to the car, he noticed the man from the funeral home again. The man stood by the grave until the dirt piled high on top of it and then he said something and turned away toward the parking lot.

“I’ll meet you at the car, Mom,” Eric said. He walked back toward the man and stood in his way as he tried to get by. “Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” the man said.

“Were you a friend of my father’s?”

The man’s lips parted in a smile. “You’re Eric, ah? Your dad talked a lot about you.” He thrust out his hand. “Thomas Keets.”

Eric shook it. “Eric Holden.”

“I was with your father in India when he was taken from us.”

Eric felt his heart skip a beat. “You were with him?”

“He talked about you quite a lot. Said that you were the one thing he didn’t regret in his life.”

“How long did you know him for?”

“Well, me and your father went back a ways. But despite that, you’d be surprised how close men can get out in the jungle, away from the weight of civilization.” Thomas looked back to the grave once more and took out a pair of sunglasses, flipping them on and turning back to Eric. “I’m leaving tonight but I’d like to talk to you before I go. Can we meet somewhere?”

Thomas spoke plainly and without circumlocution. He waited patiently for an answer, not seeming particularly worried that he wouldn’t hear what he wanted.

“All right,” Eric said. “There’s a bar south of the university campus called McPaul’s. I can come by around four.”

“That’s fine,” Thomas said. He put his hand out and Eric shook it again. “It was nice to meet James’ son. I had an image of you in my head but you don’t resemble it,” he said with a smile.

Eric watched him leave. Thomas walked without any pretense, like he didn’t realize or care that others could be watching him. He didn’t look back and didn’t say good bye to anybody. Eric turned away and faced his father’s grave. Tomorrow, it would just be a slab of marble sticking out of the ground. There were people around the cemetery placing flowers on headstones and speaking to them, keeping them clean with small dusters and rags, but he couldn’t imagine doing that. That type of hanging on could drive you crazy. Besides, maybe his father was now at one giant party? Who knows? “Bye Pop,” he said, and left.

CHAPTER

10

The bar was dirty and cluttered with posters, sports memorabilia and neon signs proclaiming what type of beer was preferred. There were three pool tables taking up what little free space there was and it stunk of spills that hadn’t been cleaned. It wasn’t crowed since the night had just begun, but with few other bars nearby it would be filled with people in less than a couple hours.

Eric sat at the bar sipping a Long Island iced tea and smoking clove cigarettes. He had an amazing fake ID made almost three years ago. A friend of his had his own machinery and printed off ID’s for all their friends.

But Eric had been drinking long before the ID; usually with his dad and always in foreign countries that didn’t care who they served.

Thomas walked in and stood by the door, scanning faces in booths and tables before spotting Eric. He sat down next to him and ordered a scotch and water. “May I have one of those?” he said, motioning to the package of clove cigarettes. Eric gave him one and lit it with a lighter. Thomas took a long pull, letting the smoke whirl around him before he spoke. “Do you know how your father died?”

“A lion.”

“Tiger, actually. At least they tell me it was a tiger. Regardless, he died saving my life. I wanted you to know that.”

“That doesn’t make me feel much better.”

Thomas nodded. “I’m a guide,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard him. “Primarily just Andhra Pradesh but occasionally I’ll go farther south if there’s work, a wealthy client or whatnot. I had your father and one of his friends from London with me then. They wanted to hunt bull elephants for awhile, which is illegal, but a special license can be granted if you have the money. I suppose there’s licenses for any manner of things if you have the money.” He stopped and took a drink; chasing it with water. “You know, tribes in Kenya think the big cats are spirits of their ancestors. There to protect the land from invaders.”

“And you believe that?”

“No. We’re easy prey. Somewhere down the road the one that killed your father got a liking for us.” Thomas finished off his scotch and ordered another. He drank what remained of the water, wiping his lips with a napkin. “But I’ve never seen one like this before,” he said. He looked into Eric’s eyes. “I’m going back near the coast around Kavali with another group. I thought perhaps you would want to go.”

Eric finished his cigarette and took out another one but didn’t light it. “Why would I want to go?”

“I suppose it helps. To see where your father was and what happened. I lost my father when I was young too. He was a Captain in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy and died in South Africa. When I was old enough, I moved there . . . and, anyway, it helped.” Thomas finished his second scotch and pulled a business card out of his wallet. He put it on the bar next to the lighter and threw some cash for the drink. “Call me if you like; there’ll be little expense for you.” He patted Eric’s shoulder and gave a soft, almost melancholy, grin. “I am truly sorry about your father.”

Thomas turned and left without looking back.

Eric drank a little more and when a band started setting up to play he left. The air was lukewarm and he liked the shadows the moon cast over the streets and sidewalks.

He decided it was better not to sleep at home and rode a bus down to his mother’s house and used his own key on the front door. All the lights were off and the house was quiet as he went through the front room and into the kitchen. He took a bottle of wine from a cupboard and a glass out the dishwasher and sat at the dining table. The wine was a good red, much better quality than he thought Jeff or his mom would have. It was silky going down his throat and warmed his belly.

Footsteps coming down the stairwell and seconds later Jeff was standing in the kitchen. He was wearing a tank top and boxer shorts and stared at Eric without saying anything. He went to the fridge and took out a plate of leftovers, removing the tinfoil and shoving it into the microwave. “You’re drunk,” he said, turning to Eric and folding his arms. “I don’t like you coming to my house drunk.”

“It’s not your house, Jeff.”

They sat staring at each other, the only thing between them silence and hatred. Jeff was bigger and had seen a lot of fights since he spent some time in prison, but Eric knew he wasn’t very fast. The microwave sounded and beeped three times but they didn’t move.

“Your mom’s asleep,” Jeff said. “I know you want a piece a me, so,” he held out his arms, “here I am. Come take it.”

Eric’s fingers tightened around the glass and his stomach fluttered, but he didn’t budge from his chair. Attacking him was what Jeff wanted. And he wasn’t sure he’d come out on top.

Jeff took a couple steps toward him, a sardonic smile across his face. “You know what your dad’s problem was? He wasn’t a real man. A real man knows how to fuck his wife. That was why they got divorced, did you know that? Your dad couldn’t fuck her right. But me, hell, I fuck the shit out of her every night in your dad’s bed and she loves it. And you know what else she likes? She likes when I smack her around. I mean, sometimes, when I’m loaded, I go too far and we gotta go to the hospital, but that bitch loves takin’ a punch when it comes from me.”

Eric was on his feet. He swung at Jeff with a right and Jeff tried to duck but it caught him on the cheek. Eric threw another punch, landing on Jeff’s skull as he ducked down. Jeff came up with a punch that landed squarely on Eric’s jaw and dazed him. He took a step back as Jeff stood up straight and started jab after jab into Eric’s face, his nose and lips instantly starting to bleed and swell. Jeff grabbed him with one hand around his collar and pinned him against the counter, punching his face with his free hand. Eric felt lightheaded and knew he’d go out soon. He reached back into the sink and grabbed a dirty glass, swinging it into Jeff’s temple.

The glass shattered cutting both men as Jeff shouted “Fuck!” and covered his eye with his hand. Eric’s vision was spinning and his face throbbed; his eye was starting to swell shut. He turned to leave the house and felt an impact on the back of his head and saw a bright white light as he hit the ground.

Jeff was on top of him, punching and swearing, foamy spit spewing from his mouth. He wrapped his hands around Eric’s throat and began to squeeze. Eric’s breathing was instantly stopped and his lungs felt like they’d explode. Blood rushed to his face as he gasped and wheezed, trying to slip in air. He clawed at Jeff’s hands but he was too angry to let go. In his eyes, Eric could see he was going to kill him.

The blood was rushing and the world was going black so Eric didn’t hear the scream that echoed in the kitchen. But he did see the silhouette of his mom grabbing Jeff. She wrapped her hands softly around his face and was sobbing. She was saying, “Look at me darling, look at me Jeff, look at me” and trying to bring Jeff’s eyes up to hers. Tears were streaming down her face but she kept speaking in a soft voice and held Jeff’s face gently. His eyes, bloodshot and full of hate, came up to hers. Her almond eyes soothed him.

“Let him go,” she said softly, “let him go my darling, let him go.”

Jeff squeezed harder, gritting his teeth, nearly crushing Eric’s throat, and then let go. He stood up, knocking the table over as he stormed out. The red wine flowed over the ground as Eric felt his mother’s hands caressing his face. He began to violently cough and his throat burned as he took in a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” his mother was saying, wiping at the tears that were dropping down onto his face. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Once he was able to breathe regularly, Eric stood up, his head pounding, and walked out of the house, saying nothing to his mother who he was sure just saved his life.

CHAPTER

11

Concord New Hampshire was warm but the cool mountain breeze helped. There were few cars out; it was Sunday and people either went to church or stayed home watching sports. There were only two gyms in town and both were going bankrupt; it wasn’t a city that focused on fitness or outward appearance. Though the tourism boards liked to say so, the outdoors didn’t hold any fascination for the people that lived here. Only the tourists packed the ski slopes and the hiking trails. Most natives held some resentment for the tourists. They all stayed in areas the natives couldn’t afford, and enjoyed things natives didn’t have time for. The tourists were the elite and only interacted with locals when they were waiters or pumping gas or cleaning hotel rooms.

Eric Holden was a local but he didn’t hate the tourists. In a way, he never really felt at home here and identified more with the tourists anyway.

He sat on top of a grassy knoll outside the dorms, reading an old copy of A Farewell to Arms and sipping a vodka and orange juice. The bruises and cuts on his face were nearly healed but he was convinced they’d been slowed by the alcohol; he’d been drunk every day since his father’s death.

Wendy left messages for awhile but those had stopped. He had no intention of calling her back; suddenly, everyone seemed dull. It was like something was weighing him down, making it harder and harder to do anything. Worse he had no desire to do anything, except drink.

A car pulled into the parking lot and stopped at the curb. Wendy got out wearing her tennis outfit and walked over, casually sitting next to him.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

“Jason told me. I’m sorry Eric,” she said.

“I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”

“How much time?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel right, you know? I’m just kind of always uncomfortable.”

“My mom’s flying out to Switzerland in a couple weeks and I’m going with her. Would you want to come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I think it would help.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be here when you need. Just call me, even if it’s like three in morning.”

“Thanks.”

She kissed him once more and then rose to leave. She blew him a kiss as she pulled away and he forced a smile and turned back to his drink.

He wasn’t sure what love was but he thought maybe he loved her. She understood him in a way few others did. When he said he wanted to be left alone, she left him alone and didn’t keep urging him to talk.

The front entrance to the dorms opened and Jason came out in a sweat-suit. He sat on the grass next to Eric but didn’t say anything; just took a sip of his drink, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of a breeze against his face. “I haven’t seen you in biology for awhile,” Jason said.

“I haven’t gone to any classes for a couple weeks.”

“It’s not even 10 in the morning and you’re already drunk, I can tell by the way you talk.”

“So?”

“For me that’d be normal. Fuck Eric, I know where I’m goin’. I barely got into college and I’m barely gonna get out. I’ll work some shitty job, probably be in some shitty marriage and have a ton of affairs. That’s me. That’s what God gave me so that’s what I’m gonna do. But that’s not you man. You’re smart. You can do whatever you want.”

Eric exhaled loudly through his nose and put the drink down, raising his eyes to watch the leaves tumble on the pavement. “I have dreams about it almost every night,” he said. “I see my dad in some hole with maggots eating what’s left of him. When I drink and black out, I don’t dream.” He picked up his drink and took a long pull. “I think you and him were the only friends I had.”

“You still got me.”

“I know.”

Jason looked to some girls that were walking by and waved. One of them said, “Hi Jason.” He turned to Eric. “Come out with me tonight.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Eric said.

“So? Who feels like doing anything we do? Just come out.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jason said, happy. “I’m goin’ to Donna’s house right now but we’ll swing by around seven to pick you up.” He rose and watched his friend awhile in silence before walking out to the parking lot.

Eric finished his drink and lay down on the warm grass, squinting at the sun and bright blue sky above him. A few clouds drifted lazily by, slow moving giants that gave him a little shade now and again. He took a deep breath and got up. He had no desire to be here when Jason came to pick him up.

Most bars were closed but there was one that doubled as a grill that would be open for breakfast this early. As Eric drove down the empty streets heading toward the bar, he realized for the first time that he hated this place. He could see why his father wanted to leave it so badly. James and his mother had fought once about moving to California. James thought there was more opportunity there and no winters. He said it would give Eric more options when college time comes around. His mother refused to go, saying all her friends and social clubs were here. At the time, Eric thought his dad just wanted to be somewhere more exciting. But now, he could see that James was trying to get out. A small town could make someone feel like a noose was around their neck and the thought of moving might help them wiggle free. But the noose just gets tighter over the years, like it did with his father.

The bar was dim and filled with cigarette smoke as Eric walked in. A good place to get drunk. He ordered three beers and a Long Island iced tea, taking a table so that he wouldn’t have to talk to the bartender. The few people here were getting drunk too; after all, who eats breakfast at a bar? Their faces looked sad. Gray and lifeless. They looked like dying men, and there was silence between them.

Eric finished his drinks and stood up to leave. By now he was thoroughly drunk; right at the point between feeling outgoing and feeling sick. His face was hot and he was sweating as he stepped outside into the sunlight. There was something odd about being drunk during the day; like it just wasn’t meant to be. The body seemed to have a hard time adjusting.

He climbed into the car, fumbling a little with his keys, and drove away. He could tell he was swerving because the lines in the road kept going underneath the car, but other than that he felt like he was doing all right. Besides, the roads were nearly empty.

He got all the way to the Safeway by the dorms before he saw red and blue flashing lights in his mirrors.

CHAPTER

12

After being processed, Eric was taken to a large holding cell at the precinct the officers called the “Pit.” It was essentially a large concrete room with a toilet and sink used to pack in drunks until they sobered up. It stunk of vomit, feces, piss and sweat. The officer gave him a slight push as he walked in and the door slammed behind him. All manner of people were crammed in; Blacks, Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Whites, Asians, Indians. Some sat on the concrete benches that circled the room, some sat on the floor and still others were lying on the ground, too drunk to sit up.

Eric walked across the room and noticed a familiar face. It was Charles. He was leaning against the wall, his head back and his eyes closed.

“Chuck,” Eric said as went over to him and sat down.

Charles opened his eyes. He didn’t recognize him at first but then his eyes grew wide and he smiled.

“Youngblood,” Charles said, “what in Christ you doin’ here?”

Eric shrugged. “DUI. It’s bullshit, I was barely over the limit.”

Charles shook his head. “This ain’t no place for you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“No, I ain’t just talkin’. Young kid like you’s as good as a woman in here.”

Eric began looking around the room at the faces staring at him. They were hard, and scarred from the hardness and they were looking at him as if he wasn’t human. Charles erupted in laughter, exposing his yellowed teeth.

“Just fuckin’ with you youngblood. The guards come by every few minutes.” Charles looked through the bars to see if a guard was near and then pulled out two cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He gave one to Eric and took out some matches, lighting the cigarettes and looking through the bars again. “They let you smoke,” he said. “But you gotta pay the guards if they catch you.” He blew the gray smoke out in small rings. “So why you in here, boy? It ain’t like you to be such a fool.”

The concern in Charles’ voice disarmed Eric and he found he couldn’t put on a macho façade like he wanted to. He looked around at the dirty walls and the piss stained floors and the small dirty toilet and emotion began flowing out of him as tears started to seep from his eyes. “My dad was killed a couple weeks ago and I can’t get it out of my head. I see his face in my dreams; I see his dead body. It just won’t go away.”

Charles nodded as if he understood exactly what Eric was going through. “You said killed, not died.”

Eric didn’t respond and Charles kept talking.

“Well, you only got two choices youngblood; revenge or forgiveness. Forgiveness ain’t never worked for me. Sometimes, the pain runs so deep only revenge can reach it, you know what I’m talkin’ about?”

“Yeah.” Eric took a puff of the cigarette; it was wet and the smoke tasted like rusted metal. “How’d you get like this, Chuck?”

“Homeless?”

Eric nodded.

“Same choice as you got youngblood; revenge or forgiveness.”

“What happened?”

“I was married when I was in Nam. Beautiful girl I met at church up in Portland where my grandma was livin’. She used to make me think I could do anything. You’re too young for a woman like that, but if you’re lucky, you’ll find one in your lifetime.”

“So what happened?”

“I got leave to go home on account a my mama goin’ in for surgery. I thought I’d surprise my wife by showin’ up.” Charles began playing with his cigarette, absentmindedly twirling it in his fingers. “Came home and she was fuckin’ our neighbor.” Charles smirked. “I loaned that motherfucker my lawnmower once.” He flicked his ashes on the ground and leaned his head back against the wall. “I didn’t catch ‘em fuckin’ you know. But when she opened the door, I could tell. Somethin’ in her face. But it didn’t matter cause that cocksucker was sittin’ on the couch in my bathrobe smokin’ my cigars. You believe that?”

Charles stopped talking and stared off into space. “So,” Eric said, “what’d you do?”

Charles looked him in the eyes and blew a waft of smoke out of his nose. “What you think I did?”

Eric turned away, staring at the cold ground and the little cracks that were starting to appear in the cement. “Both?”

“Both.”

“Then you ran?”

“Then I ran,” Charles said, putting the cigarette out on the floor and stuffing the butt into his pocket. “That’s the choice you got; revenge or forgiveness. I regret my choice; but that was just who I was then. You just gotta make sure you don’t regret yours.”

Eric spent the night at the jail and was given a breakfast of cold ham and stale toast in the morning. The other inmates inhaled the food without much reservation; most of them didn’t look at what they were eating. Charles was pickier; he scraped off a layer of the ham with his fork before putting it on the toast and eating.

“You’ll be outta here today,” Charles said.

“How long do you have to be here?”

“Not much longer. Caught me sleepin’ in the Grocery Mart downtown. They’ll give me a ticket and maybe keep me here a little longer.” He finished off his toast and had a sip of some cold coffee that had been brought in. “Thinkin’ bout leavin’ the East Coast though. Winters are rough.”

“Where you gonna go?”

“California. Maybe Hawaii if I can find a ride.”

The locations seemed exciting to Eric at first, until he realized Charles would be doing the exact same thing there, probably ending up in jails just like this one. He thought it incredibly sad that no matter where he went it didn’t make a difference.

Eric was released before noon and said good bye to Charles, promising to stop and say hello if he sees him again. Eric’s mother was waiting outside in her Sedan to drive him home and she didn’t say anything as he climbed in.

They drove in silence before Eric looked over to her; she was wearing a scarf and dark sunglasses. The sun was out but it wasn’t that bright yet and it certainly wasn’t cold.

“Why’re you wearing a scarf?”

“Thought it might be cold,” she said softly.

Eric looked closely and could see the red marks and dark purple bruises poking out from underneath the scarf. He reached over and pulled it off her. She said “No” but didn’t make any movements to stop him.

There were finger marks embedded on her neck, a rainbow of colors going across her throat and just under her jaw line. Eric took off her sunglasses, revealing an eye that was swollen shut, pus glistening around it.

Eric punched at the dashboard and his mother jumped.

“I’ll fucking kill him!”

“No, Eric don’t do anything,” his mother said pleadingly. “It was my fault. I deserved it.”

“Mom—”

“No please Eric, he’ll kill us both. Please, you don’t know him like I do; he’ll kill us both,” she said as she started to sob. She pulled the car over and began to cry into her hands. “He’ll kill us both.”

Eric was filled with pity and rage, the contrasting emotions making his head pound. He wrapped his arm around his mother as she cried and brought her head to his chest, the warm tears soaking through his shirt.

“He’ll kill us both,” she cried.

“I know, Mom. I won’t do anything.” He pulled her head away and looked into her eyes. “I won’t do anything, okay? Now come on, I gotta get back to the dorms, I got a big mid-term tomorrow.”

His mother wiped the tears on her sleeve and pulled her bangs behind her ears. She took a deep breath to calm herself and sat still, watching the cars pass. She put her sunglasses back on and started driving. “It was my fault,” she said. “I told him to leave after he hit you. I said I didn’t want to be with him anymore.”

“It’s all right. I can’t worry about this now so you’ll have to tell me about it later, okay?”

“Okay. It’s just when he drinks . . .”

“I know, we’ll talk about it later.”

“I’ll be at St. Anthony’s hospital.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t supposed to leave but there was no one else to come get you. I just had some bleeding and they wanted to keep me under observation.”

“Oh.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence, Eric saying good bye as he was dropped off and promising to call her tonight. He watched her drive away and felt sorry for her. For a life that fell apart after his father left. But he had only one thought on his mind and it dominated everything else: where could he buy a gun that couldn’t be traced back to him?

CHAPTER

13

The night seemed to wrap around Eric, swallow him. He was crouched down in the bushes behind his mother’s house looking up into the kitchen window and listening to Jeff talk on the phone. A .40 caliber handgun was tucked against the small of his back. It was the first gun he’d ever bought and it’d surprised him how easy it was. He just walked the streets of downtown at night and was offered drugs but asked for a gun. A young kid, no more than fifteen or sixteen, said he’d get one for him. An hour later Eric had a stolen gun that couldn’t be traced for less than two hundred bucks. The guns were purchased with fake ID’s from gun stores and were sold on the streets to people who couldn’t purchase them legally.

It was cold out, or at least he thought so. There were gray clouds blocking the moonlight and it made the city appear darker than normal. Eric was thoroughly drunk but not to the point of staggering. He stood up and peaked inside. Jeff was shirtless, a large skull tattoo with flames around it on his shoulder, a gold crucifix around his neck dangling with his chest hair.

Eric snuck around the back porch and slowly twisted the knob to the back door, stopping with each squeak to see if Jeff was coming. He opened the door only far enough for himself to fit through and shut it behind him. All he could hear was his heart thumping in his ears and he was short of breath, butterflies twisting his stomach in knots. The TV was on and he tip-toed over and turned it up.

Jeff was still on the phone; Eric could hear him from the hallway. With each step forward, Eric felt he was losing something. Some grip he had on his life that was quickly spiraling out of control. But something was pushing him to go into the kitchen. Eric stopped by the entrance of the kitchen and leaned against the wall. He reached behind him and came out with the gun. The trigger felt smooth and the weight of it in his hand gave him confidence, moved him forward. What other choice did he have? It was only a matter of time before Jeff would kill his mother. There was no way around it. His mother would be too frightened to testify against him and the police wouldn’t do anything. There was no one else.

He turned the corner and pointed the gun.

Jeff was sitting at the dining table with his back toward him. Eric took a couple steps and could see the sheen of sweat on Jeff’s neck. He pointed the barrel at his head, his finger feeling the trigger.

Jeff stopped talking. He put the phone down and stood up. Eric realized he could see his reflection in the glass of the kitchen window. Jeff turned and looked straight at him, fear flashing across his face before disappearing. He glanced down at the gun and then back up at Eric.

Eric could feel the anger in him, the hatred. It flowed from his gut, through his arm, and into the finger pressed against the trigger. Hatred had a taste; it came up like bile and clouded his eyesight, made him deaf. It consumed him and in the end, there was only the hatred.

Eric squeezed the trigger.

The click of the empty gun echoed in the room. Eric tucked the gun away, never taking his eyes off Jeff.

“Touch my mom again, and it’ll be loaded next time.”

He turned to leave the kitchen. Feet running on the linoleum behind him. Eric reached into his pocket.

Brass knuckles bashed into Jeff’s mouth as he tried to tackle Eric from behind, cracking his front teeth. He fell back, blood pouring down his chin and onto his chest.

“Motherfucker!”

He charged at Eric again, connecting with a jab to his face before receiving a powerful right to the jaw. Jeff’s eyes glazed over and he shook his head to rid himself of the blurry vision. Eric pummeled his face and Jeff threw his hands up in a guard. His hands and forearms turned bright red from the blows. He fell back against the sink and reached for a knife behind him.

Eric smashed the brass knuckles into his face with a straight right and that sent him to the floor. He stood over him, panting, and said, “Touch her again cocksucker, and I’ll kill you.”

Eric was near the front door when the sound of a cartridge hitting the floor registered in his mind. The round had nicked his ear and been embedded into the heavy wood of the front door. His ears began to ring and it felt as if time slowed.

Jeff held a revolver with a loose grip, his other hand stopping the blood that spilled from his mouth. Eric felt the pull of fear. He dashed behind the couch as a round missed his face by inches. Another round went through the couch and embedded into the coffee table. Jeff stepped closer and fired another round into the couch, grazing his leg. Eric knew if he stayed where he was he would die. He stood and rushed at him.

A bullet slammed into Eric’s shoulder but he tackled Jeff to the floor before the next round went off. They wrestled with the gun. Eric’s arm had Jeff’s hand pinned to his chest. Jeff began to pull down, trying to fire a round into Eric’s stomach.

Eric felt a sharp pain and thought he had been shot. He screamed as the muffled blast from the gun tore through flesh.

Eric stood up, blood covering his clothes, certain that he was shot. Then he heard the sucking noise coming from Jeff’s chest and the black liquid oozing onto his mother’s floor.

“No!” Eric shouted. He grabbed a blanket off the couch and pressed it against Jeff’s chest, putting his weight behind it to stop the flow of blood that was pooling on the floor. “Jeff, I’m calling an ambulance. Hold this here. Jeff!”

But it was too late. Jeff’s eyes soon sat still, life drained from them. He no longer appeared human but as a corpse. As if someone had pulled the animating soul out of the inanimate body.

Eric grabbed the phone and dialed 911. He told them his mother’s address and then set the phone down. He sat on the couch waiting for the police to arrive. Then a thought crossed his mind and it made him feel sick: they wouldn’t believe him. He showed up with a gun and brass knuckles. They would think he did this on purpose. New Hampshire had the death penalty; he would die for this.

He sprinted to the kitchen and out the back door into the night, hopping over the neighbor’s wooden fence and into a flowerbed. He ran across their lawn and noticed a doghouse in the corner. A growl drew his attention in front of him where an Akida stood bearing his teeth. The dog was large and muscular, thick strands of drool beginning to ooze out of its mouth. Eric darted for the fence and the dog was on him. He felt a burning pain in his ankle and turned around to see the Akida biting down and shaking its head.

Eric noticed for the first time he was still holding the gun. He hit the dog over the head with the butt and it whined and loosened his grip. Eric lunged over the fence as the dog made another jump at him but missed and bit down on air.

Eric jumped two more fences and then was on the street. He walked quickly around the block as he heard sirens in the distance, coming closer. They wouldn’t believe him. He went over there with a gun and pulled the trigger. He pummeled Jeff’s face. They would think he did it on purpose.

Each street lamp was like poison as he passed underneath, glancing around to see if anybody saw him. His ears caused him a dull pain and his wrist was starting to ache, but he didn’t feel much different. He didn’t feel much of anything; just a nothingness.

Sirens were right behind him now, on the same street. Two patrol cars were speeding toward him and he threw the gun into the first trash bin he saw and started walking slower, his hands in his pockets. As the sirens came behind him, he wondered if he should run or maybe pretend to have a gun so they’d shoot him. There was no way he could survive in a cage surrounded by men like Jeff for twenty years before being executed. He’d rather die now.

He held his breath as the first car’s lights hit him, and drove past. The other one followed and they turned a corner heading toward his mother’s house. Eric exhaled and his body seemed to melt, his knees wobbling and unable to hold him. He had to stop and lean against a fence before he was able to walk again.

He waited by a bus stop, sitting on the bench and trying to catch his breath. His ankle stung but the bleeding had stopped and the stain on his sock was covered by his pant leg.

The waiting was the most frightening part. Every sound became a gunshot and every conversation became the police yelling at him not to move. When the bus came it was half-empty and Eric sat staring out the windows. It felt like everyone that looked at him knew he’d killed. Like they could hear his thoughts.

In the quiet of the bus he had time to think about what he’d done. Taken a life. It didn’t seem like much. He pictured feeling and thinking different afterward but there was nothing.

Though he had a vague sense that nothing had changed the nothingness would cause change. If taking a life didn’t mean anything, then what did life mean? A sense of pointlessness grew in him as he watched the passing convenience stores and street lamps of downtown Concord. He didn’t feel like being in motion right now, he just wanted to sit somewhere and think.

Relief poured over him when he was let off in front of the dorms. The cramped, inexpensive building never looked so good. He walked in, resisting the urge to break into a run.

The dirty little room was warm and smelled like men’s cologne. Eric turned the lights off and sat on the bed. The moon was out now and the pale light coming through the blinds appeared like bars against the wall and it made him uncomfortable. He undressed, and lay down.

Adrenaline coursed through him and he just lay staring at the ceiling and replaying the event in his mind. In his moment of anger and hatred he acted like a fool. Maybe he could’ve run out of the house? Maybe he should’ve waited for the police?

When the rush had faded, only emptiness remained. He felt agitated. A suspicion entered his mind and quickened his pulse; his mother was in the hospital because of Jeff, they would come to her first, and then him.

After rising and dressing himself, he got a gym bag out of the closet and stuffed it full with whatever he could grab; socks, underwear, two pairs of jeans and a few shirts, deodorant, toothbrush, and a couple baseball caps. When he went to take his wallet off the nightstand he saw Thomas’s card next to it with some change and condoms Jason had left out. Eric picked up the card, running his finger along the edge. He admired the simplicity of it; all it said was Thomas Keets—Hunting Guide. It had a phone number and an email address. He threw it back on the nightstand and hurried out of the room. Suddenly, a pain hit him like none he’d ever experienced and the bag dropped from his hand. Blood had soaked his sleeve and was dripping from his arm onto the floor. As the adrenaline faded, his shoulder felt as if it were tearing away from his body, muscle fiber by muscle fiber. He vomited from the pain in the hallway and then picked up his bag and hurried out. There was no choice; he had to risk a visit to a hospital.

CHAPTER

14

Eric woke to the sound of passing traffic. The sky was the color of smoke in the moments after dawn, the earthy scent of rain hanging in the air like a transparent fog and giving him the sensation of dampness in the nose. He lay in the hospital bed and enjoyed the wind that blew through the open windows.

The wound hadn’t been as serious as he had thought but the bullet had hit a tendon, causing an enormous amount of pain and limiting his movement. All gunshots in hospitals were reported to police and an overweight officer came to his room and filled out a report, hardly glancing up. Eric claimed it was a road rage incident and gave a description of his attacker, describing Jason down to the last detail. The officer stated he would contact a detective and they would be in touch with him and left the hospital room, taking all of fifteen minutes.

Eric stretched and took a Lortab without water before checking out of the ER. He walked outside. When he was on the sidewalk he pulled out a cell phone and dialed Jason’s number. He didn’t answer and Eric left a message. “I think I’m trouble Jas, I need to talk to you. Call me back as soon as you get this.”

There was a small diner nearby and he walked in and sat in a booth by the window. He ordered pancakes and coffee and added up how much money he had: fifty in cash and six hundred on a credit card. As he swallowed the last drop of a second cup of coffee, his cell phone rang. It was Jason.

“I’m glad you called,” Eric said.

“Jesus Eric the police were here.”

Eric’s heart jumped. “Why?”

“They wanted to talk to you. Said Jeff’s dead and they need to talk to you as soon as possible. Tell me you didn’t do anything stupid.”

“Of course not.” Eric was suddenly unsure whether he could trust Jason fully. He’d been a good friend the entire time he’d known him, but things like this break loyalty and Jason’s was untested so far.

“Your message said you were in trouble.”

“I got a DUI.”

“Shit, really? Well I’ll cover for you at school.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m withdrawing from this semester. I’ve already missed enough class to be kicked out.”

“If that’s what you want, I guess. So what’d ya think happened to Jeff?”

“He was a junkie. Probably some other junkie shot him.”

There was a slight pause before Jason spoke. “How’d you know he was shot, Eric?”

Eric panicked and then said, “I didn’t, I just guessed.”

“Oh,” Jason said.

“I gotta get goin’ Jas, but, I want you to know you’ve always been a good friend to me.”

Jason chuckled. “You sound like you’re dying. You’re a good friend too. You take care of yourself, all right?”

“If you see Wendy, tell her . . . well, tell her I love her.”

“I will. Bye Eric.”

“Bye.”

Eric sat another hour in the diner, sipping coffee and watching the traffic out the window. More than anything else he wanted to see his mother and say good bye. But that was exactly the one thing he couldn’t do; the police would be waiting for him there. He thought about it and then dialed Jason’s number again.

“What’s up?”

“Did the cops leave a number for me to call?”

“Yeah, somewhere. As soon as I find it I’ll text it to you.”

“Thanks.”

The text came in and Eric dialed the number. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered. “Concord Police Department, this is Detective Pregman.”

“Yeah, Detective, my name’s Eric Holden and my roommate just informed me that you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes, we did. He actually told us you didn’t have a cell phone.”

Eric grinned. “I just use it for emergencies. What can I do for you?”

“Did your roommate tell you your stepfather’s dead?”

“Yeah, it’s crazy. I don’t know what to think.”

“Well we have a few questions for you; I was hoping you could come down to the station and give us a statement. You know, if he had any enemies or anything like that.” The detective hesitated. “Why don’t you tell me where you are and I can just have someone come pick you up?”

The hesitation was as loud as any words: he knew. “Actually I got a class in a couple hours so I’ll be around the campus all day. I’ll come up as soon as I’m done. How’s around three sound?”

“That’ll be fine. You know where the precinct is?”

“Yeah, do I just ask for you?”

“Yeah, me or my partner Detective Rodriguez.”

“Okay, I’ll see ya at three then.”

Eric hung up and threw a ten dollar bill on the table before rushing out of the diner. It had started to drizzle and a cold breeze was quickly turning into a gale as he ran to the bus stop.

*****

The hospital smelled like all hospitals; disease and floor polish. The emergency room was packed with people coughing, people crying, and people staring silently at nothing. Eric walked past them and made his way to the front desk. He asked a portly receptionist where Carol Steiner was and she said the third floor, room 305.

He took the elevator to the third floor and looked down the hall before stepping out. The hallway was nearly empty but voices were coming from the various rooms. Room 302 had an older woman in it, crying. She had her arms around a younger boy and the boy was crying too. 304 had an enormously fat man with a round potbelly protruding from his hospital gown. An IV was in his bicep and he had crusted white saliva on the corners of his mouth. A bag of chips was on the nightstand and the television was blaring a daytime talk show. Room 305 was next door and Eric glanced in; it was only his mother.

He went in and saw she was sleeping; an IV hooked up to her arm. She rustled and awoke at the sound of his footsteps and a smile crept to her face. The television was on; the volume turned low, the open window letting in the salty air of a rain brought in from the Atlantic.

“How ya doin’ mom?”

“I’m okay,” she said, reaching out and holding his hand. “The IV’s just antibiotics. The police were here.”

“Yeah, I talked to ‘em.”

She looked out the window as the wind howled outside underneath the gray sky. Some pigeons were on the sill, trying to find shelter from the coming storm. “They said it’s going to rain all week.”

“Mom,” Eric said softly, “I gotta go away for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll be comin’ back.”

His mother didn’t look at him but he saw the slight quiver in her lower lip and the tears that glossed over her eyes. She was gripping his hand tightly, her knuckles turning white. “I don’t remember if I left any of the windows open,” she said. “The one in the living room will get the couch wet if I left it open.”

Eric squeezed her hand, and let go. He kissed her cheek, wrapping his arms around her frail shoulders. “Bye, Mom.”

His mother grabbed his sleeve, tears rolling down her cheeks and onto the bruises on her neck. “There’s ten thousand dollars in my savings account. Take my driver’s license and get the money. If they won’t give it to you they can call me here.”

“I can’t take your—”

“I couldn’t stand it if I thought you were on the street somewhere. Please.”

He nodded. “All right.” Another kiss on the forehead and he pulled away from her, taking the driver’s license out of her purse. He looked back once when he was at the doorway and a deep sadness filled him and tightened his throat; he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again.

*****

Eric chose a female teller who appeared young enough to be in high school. She let him withdraw from his mother’s account and he took five thousand and left the driver’s license on the counter, knowing the teller would keep it for his mother.

The drizzle had turned into a full drenching rain and he pulled up his collar as he walked across an intersection and toward the downtown city library. The city smelled like wet dirt and salt and it disgusted him.

The library was a circular flat building across the street from a small public park. It was packed with the homeless, overflow from the only shelter in town. But the dusty book smell was pleasant as Eric waited patiently to get on a computer. It took nearly a half hour—that being the limit that each person was allowed on a computer—and he sat down and stared at the computer screen before starting to type. He Googled a world map and looked at it like it had some great secret to reveal to him if he just looked long enough. He spent nearly the entire half hour just examining maps of various countries and then looking up facts about them: cost of living, ties with the United States, cost of a one way ticket there. Mexico was cheap and the law was flexible but it was too close to the United States. Europe was too expensive for how little money he had. He thought about just going to another state but decided against it since if he was even pulled over for a traffic ticket a warrant for murder would show.

There was one place he kept coming back to: Bangkok Thailand. It was one of the most populated cities in the world and a big tourist spot; he could blend right in. He found a last minute one-way ticket for three hundred dollars out of JFK in two days and reserved a seat online, printed the ticket, and rushed out of the library.

When he was on the steps of the front entrance, he froze. His passport was at the dorms.

CHAPTER

15

Eric sat on the stone steps of the library in the pouring rain, hardly noticing that he was soaked from his hair to his shoes. Jason wasn’t answering and he couldn’t trust anyone else to bring the passport to him without alerting the police that were no doubt combing the campus for him.

He had no connections to get a phony passport; this was his only shot to leave the country. It was a risk he had to take. The water dripped from his bangs into his eyes and he wiped at them and stood up, grabbed his gym bag, and walked to the bus stop.

It took nearly twenty minutes for the bus to come and by this time Eric was shivering and unable to keep his teeth still. When he got on he changed shirts and tried to dry his hair. There wasn’t anybody on the bus and about half-way to the university campus the driver, an elderly man with a constant scowl on his face and his name printed on his belt, pulled into a side-street and unbuckled his seat belt. He walked to the nearest seats, and lay down.

“What’re you doing?” Eric said.

“Break.”

“Are you joking? I’ve gotta be somewhere.”

“You got legs asshole.”

Eric stormed off the bus back into the rain. The campus was a good mile away and he started a slow jog. The sidewalks were cracked and uneven, making running difficult and dangerous; the last thing he needed was a twisted ankle. He eventually reached the campus and waited across the street from the main parking lot, just watching the cars come in and out. He popped another Lortab and checked the bandage on his shoulder. The ten stitches felt like a zipper going up his arm but there was no blood; only swelling and tenderness.

There weren’t any squad cars around but he knew detectives wouldn’t drive those. He saw a group of people running onto campus from a nearby coffee shop and he tagged close behind them as if part of the group.

They made their way past the Field House gym and around the library. Eric left the group and sprinted into the library. He walked calmly across the linoleum floors, his soaked shoes squeaking with each step, and out another set of glass doors on the other side. The dorms were just across a small grass enclosure.

The dorms were cold but dry and Eric stood in the entryway for a minute building up his courage. He peeked down the hall; it was empty. There was music coming from somewhere, heavy bass thumping the walls. Slowly, he started his way down.

Each sound was like an alarm going off and he’d stop and listen whenever he heard something. There was an argument coming from a room up ahead, a girl on the phone yelling over some indiscretion that happened the previous weekend. Two doors down was his room.

His stomach was fluttering from adrenaline as he walked down and stopped at his door. He put his ear to it and listened, plugging up the other one with his finger. It was silent. He put in his key and unlocked it.

The room was a little messier than he’d left it but other than that it looked the same. There were no dirty shoe prints on the carpet or anything else indicating a lot of people had come through. He ran to the closet and began throwing around clothes and old books and papers. In a shoebox with letters of academic awards he found his passport and social security card. He put them in his gym bag and changed his clothes and shoes, putting on his jacket and a gray beanie with the University of New Hampshire logo on the front before walking out.

As he shut the door, relieved, he heard voices down the hall. He looked to see two men walking toward him. One was balding and older, Hispanic, wearing a cheap tan overcoat and the other was young and wearing a business suit that was wet at the shoulders.

Eric jumped away from his door. He walked down and knocked on the girl’s door that was having an argument. The men were now only a couple dozen feet away, eyeing him. The girl opened the door wearing sweats, a cell phone to her ear.

“Yeah?” she said.

“Hi,” Eric said, “I’m David Russell with the UNH Student Committee and I’m just going around today talking to people about the upcoming elections and reminding them to vote.”

She gave him a quizzical look and then said, “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna vote. When are the elections?”

The two men walked behind Eric and he felt his heart drop. They’d walked past him and were going down to his door. He glanced at them quickly. The older one smiled and was about to turn back when he looked down and noticed the dripping wet gym bag Eric was holding. He looked up and they caught each other’s eyes. For a moment, neither did anything.

Eric sprinted toward the entrance of the building at the same time the man yelled out “Police!” Eric heard the girl scream behind him as he rammed the doors open and turned toward the parking lot, the water on the ground splashing up around him as he ran through puddles formed in the small potholes, the shouts of the detectives muffled by the rain.

He ran into the library and a guy was walking toward him with books held under his arm. Eric knocked them out of his hand and they landed on the floor behind him as the guy started yelling. The officers weaved around him and kept shouting “Police!” startling everyone nearby. Eric got through the door and looked back to see them not thirty feet behind him. He darted into the rain again, the gym bag hitting his knees as he sprinted past the Field House and into the main parking lot before hitting the street. He looked back and saw the older officer far behind him but the younger one was keeping up.

There was a residential neighborhood across the street and Eric dashed for it, a black SUV having to slam on its brakes and blare the horn as Eric crossed its path. He ran down the sidewalk and saw the detective still behind him. He turned into a driveway and through the backyard, climbed a wooden fence and sprinted through another yard and past a trampoline.

Eric jumped another fence and into another yard. He heard a scream and saw a woman on her back porch, bringing inside cushioned chairs that were getting doused in rain. He ran at her as she held up her hands and screamed again. He jumped through the open sliding glass door and shut and locked it behind him before shooting through the house and out the front door.

He ran to an intersection and turned right, ran behind a McDonald’s and around the back into another residential neighborhood; cookie-cutter houses, all square two stories with small front lawns. He could hear sirens in the distance, coming from all directions. His adrenaline kept him going but he could feel the dull ache of lactic acid build up in his legs and his pace began to slow. The Lortab dulled his sensed and winded him. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to run anymore. He went to a white house with immense bushes on the front lawn by the doorway and shoved his money and wallet into the gym bag. Then he shoved the gym bag into the bushes before taking off again.

Eric zigzagged through more streets, but he’d slowed down considerably by now, having sprinted more than a mile. As he turned a corner, a patrol car skidded to a halt in front of him and two officers jumped out with their guns drawn.

“Down on the ground motherfucker!”

Eric put his hands up and lay down on his belly, the wet pavement cold against his chest. He felt the pull of hands grabbing his wrists, and the steel handcuffs against his flesh.

CHAPTER

16

Dr. Namdi Said had lived in Andhra Pradesh briefly as a child though he was originally from Somalia. He remembered only the droves of merchants lined up on the streets of Kavali, yelling and haggling with any tourist that wandered by. A sight that, still in existence, had died down with modern conveniences like the internet. He had not seen the plains—named by the locals “Gold Mines of India” because of the color of the landscape given by the tall yellow grass—until he was in his late twenties and out of medical school.

The jeep he drove in was well past its prime, rust adorning the underside and a constant clicking sound accompanying every rotation of the front wheels. The road to Saint Anthony’s Medical Outpost was bumpy and littered with old bones from animals that had happened in front of moving vehicles. It was rough terrain. More than one tourist died every month in the plains. From animal attacks, from getting lost, from disease . . . there were thousands of deaths awaiting them here.

The medical outpost had been established by a United Nations relief effort to help the outlying villages attain medical care. It was little more than a couple of operating rooms and a limited pharmacy, but it was better than nothing. In years past the various bureaucrats sapped the villages of whatever value they possessed. Sometimes it was just taking livestock and precious metals. It was rumored by the locals that other times it was pushing the villagers into forced labor. If the government here couldn’t use them they would be rented to other nations. These were people in the lowest caste of society and even their own government saw them as little more than animals. Though the thought of the Indian government selling slaves to other nations was too much even for Namdi to believe.

But Namdi had seen such brutality in the diamond mines of the Congo in his work with Doctors Without Borders. An entire village in the Congo was ransacked. The girls and women were forced into prostitution, chained up on a military base. The boys and men were taken to the jungles, a mine called N’su havu.

He remembered the stink of the mines more than anything else. Since work was never allowed to stop the laborers would have to urinate and defecate on themselves. They slept in a nearby cave and were given the barest minimum sustenance to survive. Usually some type of gruel made from animal entrails and whatever else happened to be in the vicinity of the mines. They were given a few cups of water. In the soaring heat and humidity three cups led to severe dehydration. Most of the laborers died because of the lack of water. They would fall in the mines and their bodies would remain there the rest of the day.

When the day ended the other workers would haul the bodies to the surface and throw them in a ditch or leave them out in the jungle. It was rumored that the Congolese government recycled the corpses as meat, claiming it to be beef, and mixed it with real beef to sell in foreign markets. Namdi hadn’t personally seen it, but he had no doubt it could be true. Once dehumanization occurred, anyone was capable of anything against their fellow men.

The medical outpost was off the side of the road about a hundred yards and made of gray cement with a black roof. There was a policeman’s car out front and a tall Indian in a green uniform sat on the hood smoking a cigarette. He put the cigarette out and hopped off the hood when he saw Namdi’s jeep pull in and park.

“Dr. Said?” the policeman said in broken English.

“Yes.”

“I am Inspector Singh, we spoke on the phone.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“The bodies are kept inside. There is no icebox. It is not cold.”

“I understand. Please take me to them.”

Namdi followed the policeman into the building. The reception area was one open space with a nurse sitting behind a large gray desk. There were two corridors going off in different directions and the policeman led him down the left one and into a small room tiled white from floor to ceiling.

On a metal autopsy table were the remains of a woman. The body was torn apart. The only things left were part of a leg, the ribcage, and a skull with shoulder length blond hair still attached. The face was gone.

Namdi’s heart raced at the sight. He took out a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and put them on before approaching the table. “Could you hand me those rubber gloves please?” Namdi said, pointing to a shelf loaded with supplies.

The officer didn’t move for a time, obviously not accustomed to doing favors. He took the gloves down and handed it to him without saying a word.

The rubber gloves were tight and pulled on the hair of Namdi’s wrist. He ignored it and reached into the woman’s ribcage, looking at the marks on the bone that covered the underside. All the organs were missing and part of the spine was gone.

“When did you find her?”

“Two days ago.”

“Where?”

“Outside a rented home. The rich can stay in those homes. They are for tourists. She has a husband. He said his two children are missing.” The policeman leaned back against a sink and folded his arms. “I’ve seen tigers there. I think they must have been very hungry to attack a person close to the city.”

“This was not a tiger,” Namdi said, running the tip of his finger over deep markings carved in the bone.

“How do you know?”

“Part of the spine and ribs has been eaten; tigers do not eat the bones. The bite marks are too large as well,” Namdi said, flipping off his gloves and throwing them in a nearby trash bin.

“What do you think it was?”

Namdi put his glasses back in his pocket and stepped away from the body. “I do not know. Can you take me to the husband?”

The policeman pulled out another cigarette and lit it. “Yes.”

*****

Namdi followed the police car along the bumpy road for half a mile before they turned off and began driving through the edge of the plains. There were lush green bushes and immense rock formations, boulders stacked one upon the other that looked like giants in the distance. It was a warm day and Namdi had the top of the jeep down but it wasn’t helping. His shirt still clung to him with sweat.

They pulled in front of a white house with a plaque over the porch that said “The Hemingway,” though as far as Namdi knew, Hemingway had never visited India. There was a tire attached to a rope and slung over the branch of a nearby tree.

They walked up the porch and the policeman opened the front door without knocking. The interior reeked of alcohol and vomit. The television was tuned to a show in English and a tall man in his underwear was sprawled on the couch, empty bottles of beer and vodka around him.

“Mr. Berksted,” the policeman said, “this is Dr. Namdi Said. He would like to talk with you.” He turned to Namdi. “I will wait outside.”

Namdi stood by the door, waiting for acknowledgement, but received none. He went in and moved a bottle off the couch, sitting down next to the man. “I’m very sorry,” he said.

There was no response.

“If you could tell me what happened, I think we may be able to stop this from happening to others.”

“I don’t give a shit about others,” the man said.

“Maybe we could find your children?”

The man turned and looked at him. He had thick black bags under his eyes.

“We will find them, Mr. Berksted. But I need your help.”

He wiped the tears off his cheek with the back of his hand. “I don’t know what happened. I was taking a shower and when I came out she was gone. I found her cause some vultures were around.”

“Did you hear anything in the shower?”

“No, nothing.”

“I will help the police with a search party and we will find your boys.”

The man nodded and took a drink out of a bottle. Namdi rose and walked out, stopping by the door and looking back once before leaving.

“We will need to organize a search party,” Namdi said.

“Why?” the policeman said. “Two young boys would not live out here for this long.”

Namdi gave him a cold stare. “If it were your children, would you do it?”

“My children are dead,” he said, climbing back into his car. “You want to find these boys, look yourself.”

Namdi watched as the car pulled away, kicking up puffs of dirt behind it. He turned toward the plains. Some black buck antelopes were grazing in the distance, their frames turning to black dots from this far. Namdi figured the boys could not have gone more than one or two miles.

He got into his jeep and started the engine when the door to the house opened. Berksted stood there, wobbling from drunkenness, and looked at him. Namdi leaned his head out the window.

“I could use your help,” Namdi said.

Berksted went back inside the house. Namdi was about to pull away when he saw Berksted come back out, fully dressed and loading a handgun. He tucked the gun into his waistband and got in the jeep.

CHAPTER

17

The Concord City Police Department had eighty full-time sworn members and just a few years ago celebrated its 150th year as an incorporated police department. It sat in the main government district for the city, adjacent to City Hall on the prestigious Green Street in downtown Concord.

Eric was pulled up its steps in handcuffs, a uniformed officer holding his elbow. He was taken through processing; fingerprints, photographs, questionnaire, and then stuffed into a holding cell. After an hour or so, he was taken to an interrogation room.

The room was gray from floor to ceiling; carpet and table the same color as the walls. It had a window that opened six inches and Eric sat and watched the patter of rain against the glass. There was a one-way mirror on the east wall and he kept his face away from it. They hadn’t given him anything to change in to and his wet clothes were making him shiver.

The door opened and the two detectives from earlier walked in, the older one with a stack of files and a digital voice recorder in his arms. He laid them neatly on the table and sat down.

“I’m Detective Rodriguez,” he said, “this is Detective Pregman.” The detective pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping at some spectacles he took out of his breast pocket. He put them on and began flipping through a file he’d already read half a dozen times. “Math and philosophy major with a 3.6 GPA, huh? Impressive. Let’s see . . . pre-medicine? Is that right?”

Eric glanced from one to the other and then lowered his eyes to the file. Underneath handwritten notes were colored photographs.

The detective sighed and closed his file, leaning back in the chair. “Things happen, Eric. People get mad, they do things they wouldn’t normally do.” He took off his glasses and wiped them again. “How’s your mother?”

Eric stayed silent. He wondered what his mother had told them was the cause of her injuries. “Am I under arrest?”

“Yes,” Pregman said, leaning on the table. “But we want to help you. The guy you killed, your stepfather, he wasn’t a nice guy. Drug deals, domestic violence, rape charges. Fuck him. That’s why if you help us out now and tell us exactly what happened, we’ll help you later with the DA.” He reached over to the stack of files and pulled out some glossy photos of Jeff’s corpse lying on the kitchen floor of his mother’s house. Then some photos of some cartridges with little numbers next to them. And finally photos of illuminated fingerprints over Jeff’s shorts and a towel. “You left us your prints. Shame on you,” he said gleefully.

“I understand,” Detective Rodriguez said, “my old man was a boozer. Used to come home and whoop me for no reason. I can’t tell you how many times I thought about putting a bullet in his head. Is that what happened here, Eric? Cause if that’s what happened, I totally understand and so will the DA. I think she’ll try and help you however she can.”

“I want a lawyer,” Eric said.

The detectives glanced at each other.

“We’re trying to help you,” Detective Pregman said.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to interrogate me after I’ve asked for a lawyer,” Eric said. “Or at least it won’t be admissible in court.”

Rodriguez exhaled loudly and collected the files, leaving the photos of Jeff out as long as possible. Wiping at his spectacles again, he tucked them away and frowned at Eric before leaving.

Pregman leaned down, his hands on the table, his face no more than a few inches from Eric’s. “You wanna play it hard, fine. But let me tell you somethin’; good lookin’ young kid like you—you’re not gonna have a good time inside.” He turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

Eric was taken back to a cell and given a gray jumpsuit to wear. It felt like cardboard against his skin but it was dry. The cell was cramped; no bigger than a large bathroom; the toilet next to the bed. It had the faint smell of old urine and dust and the gray and yellow paint was chipping off the walls.

The cell had no opening to put anything through. The door had to be opened for him to get his clothes. The officer that brought him down said he’d be transferred to the county jail after conferring with his lawyer.

He sat on his bed as the hours passed, thinking. The incoherent rabble of drunks and junkies coming from the few cells in the hallway disturbed him. They were like voices in a movie, not quite alive and not quite dead. Then he heard the noise of wheels on linoleum; cell doors creaking, something being set down on the floor. The sound of eating.

Eric lay down on his bunk and pretended to sleep, listening to the approaching food cart and the guard’s instructions to the inmates: on the bed or with your face turned to the wall, if you turn around you’ll get tased.

The cart was three cells away . . . two . . . one. He heard the metallic ring of a key twisting in a lock; his cell door opened and he held his breath.

“On the bed or with—” The guard stopped when he heard the snores coming from the bed. He grabbed a pink tray with a ham sandwich, chips, and a milk and placed them on the floor.

As soon as Eric heard the sound of the plastic tray placed on the floor he was on his feet and lunged at the guard. He tackled him from the waist and they went down to the ground, the manic shouts of delighted inmates filling the hall.

The guard was about the same age as Eric but with nowhere near the muscle. Eric had him pinned and went for the taser gun when he felt his face turn to fire and heard the slow hiss of mace. He screamed and loosened his grip. The guard hit him in the face and got to his knees.

The guard reached for his taser and Eric, his eyes straining to close from the chemical burn of the mace, saw the blur of his hand and wrapped his arms around the guard.

A headbutt to Eric’s nose loosened his grip. The guard went for the taser again but Eric grabbed it and pulled the whole belt down. It clunked on the floor a few feet away from them and they both lunged for it.

The guard got to the taser first. Eric grabbed his arm and ripped it away and aimed; the barrel pointed at the guard’s chest. Both were still; labored breathing as adrenaline coursed through them.

The guard turned and bolted for the door. Eric was after him and tackled him from behind. He pressed the taser into the guard’s back.

“Get in my cell,” Eric said, out of breath.

“Okay, man! Just relax a’ight.”

Eric picked him up by his collar and led him into his cell, slamming the door shut behind him. The other inmates were in a frenzy, yelling to let them out. His vision cleared but the skin on his face still burned and he could feel a sticky coat of chemicals on it. He walked past the shouting inmates and looked out the small window in the door leading to the offices of the precinct. It didn’t look like anybody else was around.

Eric went back to his cell and looked the guard up and down; they were about the same height.

“Take off your uniform and shoes,” Eric said.

“What?”

“Take off your uniform.”

The guard took off his uniform and threw everything on the ground at Eric’s feet. Eric shut the cell door and locked it before changing. It was a little tight, but passable.

He walked past the other inmates again who were now spitting and throwing things as they realized he wasn’t going to help them.

Eric walked out into the precinct. It had beige carpet and a few gray cubicles set up around the center with offices down narrow hallways. There were voices coming from a room nearby, a female’s laughter. He headed for the double-doors of the front entrance. An office door opened when he was ten feet away and Detective Pregman stepped out, looking over some papers.

Eric turned away quickly and saw he was facing some copy machines. He grabbed some paper and shoved it into a machine and pressed the copy button. The hum of the machine began as the green light flowed from the cracks in the top. Eric could hear Pregman’s voice as he walked across a hallway and into an office.

“Cindy I need copies of these four and then a copy of the tox report for the Millens case please.”

“Sure,” a female voice said.

Eric heard the sound of high-heels approaching from behind. His heart was beating so fast he couldn’t breathe. The secretary stepped to a machine next to him and glanced over. She did a double take and Eric could feel her stare.

“That machine’s broken,” he said.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, try the one next to it.”

“Thanks,” she said, uncertain.

“Um hm,” Eric said as he walked away and toward the front entrance. He glanced back once to see Pregman, with his head in some papers and turned away, look up, the detective catching a glimpse of the back of his head as he walked through the doors, and onto the rain soaked streets.

CHAPTER

18

The day was boiling and all the plastic and metal in Namdi’s jeep reached near-scalding temperatures. He gripped the bottom of the steering wheel with the edge of his shirt and tried not to let his arm inadvertently touch the metal gear shift.

Berksted hadn’t said anything since they began driving. He stared out into the grass, watching the occasional animal with a cold detachment. Namdi had seen this before. When a person is murdered, the family can blame the murderer. But how do you blame an animal for following its own nature? The family has no outlet for their anger and hatred and it turns inward into depression. Many often turn to drugs and alcohol and even attempt suicide in the weeks and months that follow.

“It was my idea to come here,” Berksted finally said. “I brought them here cause I thought it’d be fun to go on safari and see the animals but without all the bullshit of Africa. My wife wanted to go to Australia, but I brought them here.”

“It is not your fault, Mr. Berksted.”

“Isn’t it?” he said, turning toward him. “How the fuck would you know?”

Namdi didn’t say anything.

Berksted turned back to the landscape. “Sorry,” he said.

“You do not need to apologize.”

“So you’re a doctor?”

“Yes, surgeon by specialty. But out here there are no specialties.”

“You live here?”

“Sometimes. I have a house in Johannesburg in South Africa as well.”

“What the hell you doin’ here?”

“I spend half the year working for the government and then half the year in Johannesburg working at a free clinic. I would work for free the entire year if I could, but one must earn money somehow.”

Berksted took a deep breath and closed his eyes, sadness washing over him and weighing him down as surely as any weight. “The cop said it was a tiger attack.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think so.”

“What do you think it was?”

“Hyenas.”

“Why do you think that?”

“There’s some evidence for it.”

“What evidence?”

“Markings on the body. Hyenas are very different from other animals, Mr. Berksted.”

“I didn’t know there were hyenas out here.”

“Oh yes, they are found everywhere except North and South America. There is a lot of legends of them here and in Nepal.”

Berksted was silent a moment and then said, “By the way, that’s my wife, not some body. I’d appreciate you respecting that.”

“I apologize. In my work, it helps if I don’t think of them in that way.” Namdi took a sip of bottled water and continued. “It is not difficult to detect one. But I’ve never seen markings like this. They are far larger than normal hyenas. That is why I said perhaps it could be a tiger, or there are even Asiatic lions. Perhaps a lion with teeth deformity or some trauma to the teeth that caused it to have such specific bite patterns.”

Berksted looked away. There was a large tree just off to their right and a panther sat on one of the branches, cautiously eyeing the passerby. “I used to fuck around on her all the time. Blonds, brunettes, Asians . . . didn’t matter. She didn’t know, at least, I don’t think she knew. She deserved better than what she got.”

“We all do.”

They drove in silence for the rest of the morning. They circled an area of a dozen miles, going off-road through the grass a number of times and stopping midday to refuel. Namdi got out and took a plastic jug of gasoline, inserting a funnel into the gas tank and pouring the fuel in. Berksted sat in the jeep, staring off into space. He was still drunk and every once in awhile would doze off.

“We can rest if you like,” Namdi said.

“No, I want to keep looking.”

They drove for over an hour until they reached the base of a large hill far north of the house. Vultures had gathered in a circle around a kill and were fighting and nipping at each other for position.

“Wait here,” Namdi said.

He stepped out of the jeep and took a rifle from the backseat. Aiming in the air, he shot off a round and the vultures scattered as he approached. One remained, picking at whatever they had found. Namdi fired another shot and it took flight, landing on a tree a dozen yards away and watching his movements.

Namdi walked close. He lowered the rifle and put on his glasses. In front of him was a mass of rancid meat on white bones. Blood had dried into the earth and there were horns. It was the carcass of a juvenile black buck. He breathed a sigh of relief and was about to return to the jeep when he heard a growl coming from a field of grass to his right.

He turned his head and saw the gold and black fur of a tiger ducked low in the tall vegetation. Tigers had very distinctive growls, bassed and heavy. But they hunted by stealth. If she had growled, it meant she wanted him to know she was there. He could not see her head but had no doubt she was watching him carefully.

Sweat rolled down his forehead into his eyes. Slowly, he began walking back to the jeep, keeping a firm grip on the rifle. The jeep was more than a dozen yards away and Berksted looked half asleep.

The tiger moved. It was so subtle Namdi wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking directly at her. It was just a slight adjustment in her position; going from a crouch to a tense crouch position. She was getting ready to sprint.

Namdi darted for the jeep, hearing only a roar as the animal leaped out of the grass and chased him. He kept an eye on his feet to make sure he wouldn’t trip but could hear the heavy breathing of the great cat just behind him.

He turned to look. She wasn’t more than a few feet away. Her legs flexed and she pounced. As she became airborne her front claws dug into Namdi’s back. It was searing pain that caused him to scream as he toppled over. Berksted heard the scream and was out of the jeep and trying to steady his hand as he fired.

Namdi kept his arms over his face as the animal bit down, piercing the flesh of his forearm and scraping bone. She tugged at him, tossing him to the side as if he were a rag. The predator circled her prey, mouth oozing drool as she prepared for the killing bite to the neck, suffocating Namdi to death before beginning to feast.

Shots crackled through the air, kicking up dirt wherever they landed. The tiger yelped as she was struck in the shoulder. She dashed for the safety of the grass as Berksted continued firing until the dry click of the empty gun made him stop.

Namdi had the breath knocked out of him and his back burned from the wounds of the creature’s claws. His chest felt heavy, as if the weight was still on him and his arm was pouring blood. He ripped part of his shirt and wrapped it around the wound.

“Let’s go” Berksted said, helping him up.

“I am certain she broke my ribs. Can you drive?”

A colossal force and a gust of air and Berksted was ripped from Namdi’s arms. The speed at which he’d been pulled away left Namdi off balance and he fell to his side. Namdi thought Berksted had fallen. He saw him near the tall grass on his stomach, his face pale, a thick soup of saliva and black blood flowing from his mouth. Berksted screamed a wet, gurgled scream as he was dragged into the grass.

Namdi jumped to his feet and tried to run after him. He could see something moving through the grass at a quick pace, splitting apart the field like a speedboat through water. He lost sight of Berksted who was clawing at the ground to stop himself.

Berksted screamed, and then there was silence.

Namdi froze in place, listening. There was the wind rustling through the brush but nothing more. It was as if the plains held its tongue. Namdi’s breathing was labored and each inhalation shot pain through his ribs. As he wondered how he was going to go after Berksted he saw something moving toward him though the grass.

It was a gray hide, spotted black. It moved with purposefulness, trying to remain quiet. A chill went down Namdi’s back. He turned and hobbled toward the jeep. The hide followed. It turned in an arch, going up away from the jeep and then coming down toward it.

Namdi started the jeep and drove, watching in his rearview. The hide was motionless awhile, then ducked low and disappeared.

Namdi was not a religious man. There wasn’t much room for such a luxury in his work. But for a reason he didn’t understand, the sight of that hide had frightened him down to his core and he said a prayer. It didn’t move like the tiger; it seemed to move with awareness. As if it fully understood what Namdi was thinking at that moment and tried to adjust its movements because of it. It seemed almost . . . human.

CHAPTER

19

Bangkok is tightly packed on the east bank of the Chao Phraya River, its brown-green waters winding past the tenements and buildings and temples like a guardian watching his charge. It has the feeling of a modern city built over an ancient one, centuries-old Buddhist temples with crimson colored roofs and golden spirals pointing skyward nestled in between twenty-first century office buildings and hotels. The traffic was frequently congested to the point of immobility; cars, three-wheeled rickshaws with motorcycle engines, bicycles and brightly colored buses all vying for space on the narrow roads.

Being so close to the river, the city was also a green landscape of palm trees bursting forth from the ground in between the office buildings and residential tenements with finely manicured shrubs in front of the contemporary hotels and auditoriums that were found everywhere. The people were not unfriendly but were so hurried that tourists occasionally thought so. Many of them had the dark complexions of the Mongol hordes that conquered and devastated the land nearly a millennia ago.

At night, many of the temples and hotels would light up with red and purple and blue lighting, attempting to attract the swarms of tourists that were always clamoring for entertainment. It is also the home of all the major commercial enterprises and banks of Thailand and a major hub for foreign businessmen interested in Southeast Asia. The sidewalks and roads are always swarming with men and women in business suits, cell phones glued to their ears.

But above all, it’s a city meant for tourists, and tourists seek excitement and pleasure. And like any city designed for pleasure, vice is king. When night falls, the go-go clubs turn to strip joints and brothels, any dancer for sale for the right price. As the night wears on, in some of the districts where law enforcement makes no more than unskilled laborers and is easily bought, child prostitutes can be found as easily as a drink of beer. Pedophiles come from the world over to abuse children as young as they wish. Drugs are also prominent, heroin and opium easily found on any street corner or in any smoke-filled bar. At night, life is cheap.

Eric Holden knew this the second he stepped off the plane just under a year ago. He sat now on the porch of a ten dollar a week hostel, drunk though the morning had just begun. His clothes were unwashed and he hadn’t shaved in months. The hostel faced a busy street and he watched the overflowing traffic struggle to move forward, the odd businessman or police officer glancing toward him.

“Come back bed baby,” Lily said from behind him, the sheet wrapped around her nude body. She was short with long black hair but had big ruby lips that seemed disproportionate to her small face.

“Your English is terrible,” Eric said.

“I learn good. In school. And I watch A-mer-ican TV.”

Eric stood and walked back inside, Lily following him to his room. The hostel was two floors of rooms no bigger than closets with only one bathroom and shower on the first floor. There were cockroaches but they were easy to grow accustomed to. The rats were a bigger problem, their squeaks and the patter of their feet against the wood floors at night making sleep difficult.

Eric pulled a handful of cash out of a pair of pants that lay on the ground and handed it to Lily. She smiled and dropped the sheet, her sleek body curvy and soft to the touch. Eric ran his fingers along her breasts and put his mouth to hers, dragging her to the bed.

When they finished Eric watched her get dressed, putting on a miniskirt with no underwear and high-heels. She straightened her hair using the reflection in a window and came over to Eric to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“I see you night,” she said.

“Not tonight.”

“But I make very good yum yum,” she said, running her hand over his chest.

“Get out,” he said as he reached for a pack of cigarettes that lay on a small table. As she left, he lit a cigarette and sat up in the bed. The sheet was pockmarked with gray and black cigarette burns and the room smelled like mold, but he’d stopped noticing such trivial things. He had bigger problems; his money was almost gone and he couldn’t get legitimate work without a work permit that needed to be approved by the U.S. embassy.

Eric pulled a small black canvas bag out from under the bed. It held a needle, a length of cord, a spoon, and a small plastic baggie filled with the fluffy white powder of heroin. He cooked it up and tied the cord around his bicep, using his teeth to hold it tight, and injected the urine colored fluid into a vein. H was so relaxing he’d lost control of his bowels the first time he’d tried it, but not anymore. He could function on it now. A girl had gotten him to try it his first few weeks here, he remembered. What was her name? An American girl stripping here. She had dirty blond dreads and muscles that bulged underneath her clothes. They’d gotten high and tried to have sex but he’d passed out and she didn’t really have the urge to keep going. What was her name?

He itched a rash on his arms that was starting to turn red and leaned his head against the wall, the warmth of the drug spreading through his body; into his heart, down his legs, up into his head. It made his scalp tingle and his face hot, every muscle limp and motionless, his eyelids straining to remain open. He sat for four hours staring at the walls and listening to the traffic outside. Finally, his vision swirled, and he fell asleep.

CHAPTER

20

The effects of the H hadn’t worn off when Eric woke up but he felt alert enough to go out. He dressed and walked outside as the sun was going down, a red globe in the distant horizon, painting the surrounding clouds pink and purple. The hostel was close to the business district and he walked the streets, stopping every once in awhile in some alley or doorway to smoke.

He walked past a large glass and chrome hotel, golden lights shooting out from the front and giving it a sun-colored hue. Tourists in shorts and cotton shirts poured in and out, a few eating at the restaurant on top of the hotel’s roof, laughing and drinking. The sidewalks were as packed as the roads and people bumped into him every couple seconds, though he didn’t notice.

As darkness fell he walked to a public park across the street from a large stadium where Muay Thai fights were held and he could hear the roar of the crowd and the twangy high-pitched music that accompanied the fights. The park was essentially one large circle with a pond in its center. Just off center, a few dozen feet from the playground, were benches. They were covered with youth from all over the world who’d come to Thailand in search of something that they would never find.

There were at least fifty people at the park, smoking pot and getting drunk. Most of them were Americans who’d come over expecting the easy money and low cost of living that a tourist based economy could sometimes provide, only to find that the Thai people reserved the good jobs for other Thais.

Eric walked to a small group of about ten, no one noticing him. Some of the kids were rambling on about stories that may or may not have happened, meth in their veins robbing them of sleep for five or six days at a time. Seated on a bench, not really speaking with anyone, was a slim American boy with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. He was smoking and staring with green, savage eyes at the people before him.

Eric sat next to him. “I need more H, Ray.”

Ray blew smoke out of his nostrils and looked over to him, a large metal piercing through the bridge of his nose. “How much you need?”

“Just a dime bag.”

“That’s all?”

“I don’t have any more money,” Eric said, nearly nodding off, his eyes half-closed.

Ray reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vile of cocaine. He laid a line out on a small mirror and handed that and a Thai baht—the equivalent of a dollar bill— to Eric. Eric rolled up the baht and snorted the coke, his senses awakening and being overtaken with a general jitteriness.

“I got a way you can make money,” Ray said.

“No,” Eric said. He’d been approached by Ray several times before about prostituting himself, young American boys being highly prized.

“Not that,” Ray said before snorting a line. “We’re takin’ down a bank. You in?”

“How much?”

“There’ll be three of us, so three ways.”

The coke made him antsy and he couldn’t think clearly, but Eric knew he had to do something. His money would be gone and the H would be gone. Though she was a whore, he’d come to rely on Lily for companionship. He knew she only came around because he gave her money and drugs, but at night, even her icy embrace was better than sleeping alone. Once the money and H were gone, she would be too.

“When?” Eric said.

“Tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Ray put the coke away and stood up. He motioned to a young Thai boy with a shaved head. Eric had seen him around before; his name was Dak and he’d been a Thai fighter until he did some time in prison. Now, he was just a junkie like everyone else here.

“Eric’s coming,” Ray said, “go find a car for tomorrow night.”

CHAPTER

21

Eric sat with Ray awhile longer, talking about women they’ve had since coming to Thailand and the places to score the best drugs. Eric eventually grew bored and stood up to leave. Ray didn’t say anything; there were no hellos or good-byes in this place.

The coke had given him a second wind and Eric was starting to feel good. He became acutely aware that he hadn’t eaten today and his stomach was starting to growl. Across the street from the park was a little food mart, set up outdoors on the corner with stools in front of a large bar. Eric walked to it and sat down on a stool at the end of the bar.

The owner was a small Thai man probably in his mid-sixties wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap. He walked over and said something in Thai.

“English?” Eric said.

“Yes,” the man said.

“Rice and chicken with a beer, a Tsing Tao if you have it.”

The man nodded and began preparing the meal. The rice came out of a large container on the ground and the chicken was fried on the spot with green peppers, peanut sauce and onions. The man popped open a Tsing Tao and placed everything in front of Eric.

He put some cash on the counter and started eating. The food was all right. The problem with Thai food was that it was so spicy it covered up any foul tastes. It was difficult to tell if the meat you ate was fresh or a week old.

When he finished, he leaned his elbows on the bar and took out a package of cigarettes, lighting one and blowing the smoke through his nose. The man next to him noticed and turned to him.

“Can I have one of those?” the man said. He was an American, older. Wearing a green army jacket and glasses. His face appeared worn out and wrinkled, like it’d been through a washer.

“Sure,” Eric said, pulling one out of the package and handing it to him.

The man had his own lighter and he lit it and leaned forward against the bar, the cigarette held loosely between his fingers. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“What’s your name?”

“Eric.”

“I’m Bill, nice to meet you.”

“Yeah.”

“Where you from Eric?”

“Los Angeles,” Eric said.

“LA huh? I hate that damn city,” he chuckled, “though this ain’t much better.” He inhaled deeply and let the gray smoke trickle out of his mouth. “You been back to the States lately?”

“Not for a while.”

“Me neither. Too much shit there. Christians and atheists got the whole country fucked up if ya ask me.”

Eric looked over to him. “You were in the army?”

“I was. 101st Airborne.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You remember everything happened in Little Rock, don’t ya?”

“Not really.”

“First integrated school. We was there. Most disgusting thing I ever saw. Them negroes were just little girls man, just kids. The crowds was throwin’ bottles at ‘em, they had this black doll strung up on tree . . . it was disgustin’. I ain’t never seen people treated that way.” He took a long pull off the cigarette and had a sip of the beer in front of him. “Until I came here anyway.”

“Why’d you come here?”

“Good place to run away I guess. Why’d you come here?”

“Same.”

“You gotta be careful though. Places like this, they’ll eat up your soul if you let ‘em.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Oh, ten years or so. I was in Vietnam before this, and Peru before that.”

“You just travel around?”

“I wouldn’t call it travel. Travel means I got a home. I ain’t got no home. I just go wherever I can be alone for a time.” He finished the cigarette and put it out in a glass ashtray in front of him. “I’m headin’ out to The Bayou, you been?”

“No.”

“It’s a bar. Nothin’ special, but it’s where old vets like me hang out sometimes. You wanna go?”

Eric polished off his beer. “Sure, I got nowhere else to go.”

*****

Bill led Eric through the busy sidewalk crowds and down an alleyway. They came out onto another street, this one with less traffic and dimly lit. They walked three blocks before turning into another alley and coming out onto another street. Before long, they made their way past what Eric guessed was a ghetto.

The building didn’t look like the ones downtown. There were no glimmering lights or golden spirals. There was only chipping concrete and wood patched with rubber or plastic. Children were running around everywhere and most of them didn’t have shoes. One boy, slim and without a shirt, approached them as they walked by.

“You come,” the boy said as he grabbed Bill’s arm and tried to lead him away. “Good yum yum. You come.”

“No,” Bill said sternly, and pulled away. The boy let go and turned to wait for the next tourists that walked by. “They’re scouts,” Bill said to Eric. “They work for pimps and got young girls in them apartments right there. Their job’s to get you in. Sometimes though, they’ll just rob you.”

They made their way past the decrepit buildings and to a wooden structure with a painted sign out front that said “Bayou.” The bar was just a mass of dirty tables with drunken men yelling. The smoke was so thick you could barely see in front of you and the floors were sticky. A few worn prostitutes were placed throughout the bar and every few minutes one would walk to a back room with one of the customers.

Bill walked over to a table filled with American men. There were five of them and he grabbed two chairs and sat in one. Eric sat in the other and looked over the men.

They were all vets. The ones that didn’t wear the faded jackets still wore their dog tags. All of ‘em except one who was in a wheelchair. He was the youngest too, Eric surmised. The man saw Eric staring and looked over to him.

“What’chya starin’ at faggot?” the man said.

“Nothing,” Eric said.

“Yeah, well keep your faggot eyes to yourself.”

“Cool it Jim,” Bill said. “He’s all right. This is Eric, from LA.”

Eric watched as Jim stared at him, and then looked away. He grabbed a shot glass full of a thin black liquid and finished it without flinching.

“Jim was hurt in Iraq,” Bill whispered to Eric as he leaned over. “Got home, and his wife had herself another man.”

“Same thing happened to a friend of mine.”

“Shit like that happens when you’s away for two years and you got a nice young wife at home.”

Eric looked over to Jim and watched him order another couple shots. He downed them as well and began laughing and joking with the man sitting next to him. Eric saw a colostomy bag on the back of his wheelchair. He looked to the other men; one was missing an arm and had his sleeve folded up to his shoulder. Another had deep scarring over his face. One, a white guy with a crewcut, appeared uninjured, but when he turned to the left, Eric saw a deformation in his skull. It made his head appear caved in, as if part of it was just missing.

“I gotta go,” Eric said, standing up.

“We just got here,” Bill said.

“I gotta go,” was all Eric managed to say as he walked outside. He left the bar and began making his way back. The young boy grabbed his arm as he walked past.

“You come,” the boy said.

Eric ripped away from his grip. “Get the fuck away from me!” he yelled. As he stormed off, the boy looked at him, puzzled at his reaction, and then began looking around for the next tourist.

CHAPTER

22

Eric spent most of the next day sleeping, getting up only once to use the bathroom. He waited until nightfall to climb out of bed and change into some clothes.

He met up with Ray at the park and they walked across the street and waited on the corner of an intersection, smoking cigarettes and watching the traffic. Every man or woman in a business suit that walked by would peak Ray’s attention and he’d ask them for change in his broken Thai.

Dak pulled up in a red Subaru, the door handle on the driver’s side missing. There was a purse on the passenger seat and Ray grabbed it and dumped the contents onto the sidewalk. There were twenty baht inside and he kept ten for himself and gave five to Dak and Eric.

Eric sat in the backseat, staring out the windows at the rainbow of lights from the restaurants and bars that were just getting into full swing for the night. The air stunk of exhaust and even at night he could see the black clouds of pollution hanging over the city like pus over a wound.

“Do you have a gun?” Ray said, not turning around as the car pulled onto a highway.

“No,” Eric said.

Ray pulled one out from a holster on his leg and handed it behind him. Eric hesitated, and then took it. It was greasy in his palm and heavy, bits of dried black residue falling out of it.

“You sure this works?” Eric asked.

“It’ll work.”

“What about you two?”

“Don’t worry about us. You just keep an eye out. Me and Dak’ll grab the money. If anyone makes a move on us you shoot.” He looked back, his eyes cold. “You ever shot anyone before?”

Eric glanced up at him, and then back down at the gun. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he said, turning back around and throwing his cigarette butt out the window.

The bank was a small brick and glass building in between a restaurant and a mechanic’s shop. They pulled the car in front and looked in through the large windows. There were three tellers; two women and a young boy. A security guard sat at a desk, reading a magazine and sipping cola.

“You get the guard,” Ray said to Eric, “we’ll handle the tellers.” He looked to Dak and then back to Eric. “Ready?”

Dak nodded and pulled a sawed-off shotgun out from underneath the seat. Ray reached into his waistband and came out with a .45.

“Let’s go,” Ray said.

They left the car engine running and the doors open while they rushed into the bank, Ray leading the way with Dak behind him and Eric in the rear. Eric ran to the guard as the tellers started screaming and Dak began yelling instructions in his gruff voice.

Eric pointed the gun at the guard’s head and the guard raised both his hands. He started trembling and speaking in Thai. Eric couldn’t understand him, but knew he was begging from the sorrowful tone of his voice.

“Don’t worry,” Eric said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Eric looked over and saw Dak forcing a teller to stuff money into a plastic bag and Ray had his gun to the back of the head of the young boy and was yelling something at him. The entire space seemed to be filled with nothing but screaming, bouncing off the walls and floors, heavy in the air like a weight.

The guard said something and went to stand.

“Don’t move!” Eric shouted. The guard held his hands higher and started mumbling, tears starting to form in his eyes. “Sit down! Sit the fuck down!” He grabbed the guard by the shoulder and forced him back down into his chair.

“Let’s go!” Ray shouted, bolting for the door.

Dak struck the male teller in the face with his elbow, knocking him cold, and ran out. Eric reached for the guard’s gun, ripped it out of its holster, and followed them out.

They dove into the car and the tires screeched as Dak tore away from the curb and onto the busy street. He turned a corner on a red light and started driving on the opposite side of the road into oncoming traffic, the cars honking and swerving to avoid him. Eric held tightly to the seat, his knuckles turning white. But Ray was hollering with excitement and banging his fist against the roof of the car in celebration.

They heard sirens but were far enough away that it didn’t matter and Ray started laughing uncontrollably. Even stoic Dak cracked a smile and chuckled. Nothing in what they’d done struck Eric as funny.

They eventually merged with traffic, disappearing into the crowds. They drove for about an hour before stopping at an upscale hotel on the west side near the river. The lobby was all Persian rugs and marble busts. There was a huge abstract painting on the wall, red and black paint spattered randomly across a canvas. It appealed to Eric. Ray paid cash and flirted with the desk staff and they got a room on the fifteenth floor with a balcony overlooking the churning water.

They ordered hamburgers and fries from room service, Dak ordering Thai pasta with spices so hot they made Eric’s eyes water even though he was sitting across from him. They finished their meal and started on beer and champagne as they sat around the dining table and counted the money.

“How much?” Eric said.

“Works out to about sixty thousand dollars,” Ray said, impressed. “So, that’s like what, twenty grand each?”

They divided up the money to the last and then proceeded to get drunk. They turned on music and the television and Ray called an escort service and had three hookers sent over. They were younger girls, in their early twenties, and Ray had them strip as the three men sat on the couch and watched. Ray, unable to control himself, tore at his clothes and jumped on the girls, slobbering kisses over them. Eric didn’t move, he just watched and drank, the alcohol dulling his senses and repressing his libido. Dak rose and walked out on the balcony to smoke.

“He’s a fag,” Ray said, caressing one of the girls as she kissed another. “I wouldn’t call him one to his face though. I’ve seen him put people in the hospital for that.”

Eric reached into Ray’s jacket and pulled out a small bag of H. One of the girls, the youngest one with alabaster skin and a blond wig, grabbed his leg and scurried next to him. She placed her mouth over his pants and bit down gently, tugging slightly to arouse him. He pushed her away softly and went into the bathroom.

There was no syringe so he snorted the H. His nose tingled and bled a little, but he felt fine.

CHAPTER

23

The room was a disaster when Eric woke up; bottles all over the floor and the only table cluttered with plates that had crusted food caked to them. His head throbbed and his nose was itchy and dry. The room smelled like vomit and sex. It sickened him as he rose and looked for Ray’s jacket.

Ray was passed out in the bedroom. Eric found his jacket next to the dresser and searched it but didn’t find anything but half a vile of coke. He walked out onto the balcony, the air hot from the noonday sun, and snorted it there as he watched the glistening waters of the river below. It made a whooshing sound, like ocean waves softly breaking on a beach. He heard someone stumble and looked back to see Ray walk out and sit on a balcony chair next to him.

Ray lit a cigarette and put his feet up on the metal railing of the balcony. A breeze was blowing and the salty air felt cool against his skin. “So where you from?”

“Miami,” Eric said, finishing a line and handing the remaining coke back to Ray.

“I’m from LA.” He snorted a small mound of coke from the back of his hand. “You like Miami?”

“It’s all right.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Trouble.”

Ray nodded, flicking ashes onto the bare stone of the balcony. “Me too. I was in college; I was gonna be a business major like my dad.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I only went a couple semesters though. Moved out here instead of finishing.”

Eric leaned back in his chair and put his feet up as well, the railing warm against his soles. “I fucking hate it here.”

“It’s not so bad. I been to worse places.”

“Like where?”

“I stayed in Mexico for a couple months. Over here, the criminals are the criminals, you know? We’re the fucking criminals and the cops are the cops. In Mexico, the fucking government’s the criminals. They’ll fuck you up for nothin’. There was this ditch by this guy’s house I was stayin’ at. This rotten smell always came from it, like burning garbage or some shit. I went and looked at it one day and it was a bunch of dead bodies. Kids, women . . . the guy I was stayin’ with told me that’s where the cops dump bodies of people. Some of ‘em are hits, but some of ‘em are just for fun. Like girls they rape and kill, shit like that. Crazy shit.”

“Jesus,” Eric said, itching at his arms.

“Yeah.”

They stayed silent and then Eric said, “So what now?”

“You mean the money? I say we take half of it and buy the biggest baddest guns we can and some fuckin’ ski masks and go out again. I mean, that was the easiest fuckin’ money I ever made.”

“You’ve never done that before?”

“No. I mean, I robbed people and shit, but never a bank. Dak just knew a girl that worked there and she told him when they was gonna start closin’ up and what day they make their deposits.” He put his cigarette out on the chair. “You in?”

Eric watched the sunlight reflect off the water below, fragments of white light on a moving current. “Yeah.”

*****

The next bank was going to be in what looked like a strip mall, five or six other stores sharing the same building. It only had two tellers and a few desks for managers and staff. There was one security guard that watched the whole strip mall as far as they could tell and he just wandered around, seemingly not paying attention to anything.

They slept most of the day and waited for nightfall, Ray providing a mountain of coke for them before they went out. Dak showed up in another car, a gray Honda, with three shotguns and ski masks in the backseat. They drove in silence, smoking and drinking beer out of a large bottle.

Eric was starting to get itchy and restless; he hadn’t shot up all day. The coke helped but it didn’t take away his craving. He felt it deep in his gut, like a hunger that he couldn’t fill not matter how much he ate.

They pulled into the strip mall and stopped the car in front of the bank, leaving it running. This time, there was no rush or panic; they casually stepped out of the car, put on their ski masks, and walked into the bank as if they owned it. One petite teller in a white blouse was counting money and she looked up, her expression frozen in confusion before she screamed. The other tellers stopped what they were doing and looked over to see Dak and Ray running over and yelling at them, shotguns pointed from their shoulders. Eric stayed by the door and kept a watch for the security guard patrolling the area.

Dak grabbed one of the girls and slammed her against the counter. He started yelling louder and the tellers started crying. Eric saw that there was some sort of problem, the teller shaking her head and Dak yelling at her.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Eric yelled.

“Bitch might’ve pushed the alarm,” Ray said.

“Fuck, let’s get outta here.”

“Fuck that.” Ray pointed the gun at the teller’s head and said something in Thai, and then pulled the trigger.

The shot was like a falling shelf hitting a bare floor, deep and resonating off the walls. Eric lost his breath when he saw the black blood cover the other tellers and the walls behind them. They stopped screaming. Their eyes went wide as they were sprayed with sticky droplets and went into shock.

Eric didn’t even notice the gun drop out of his hands. Even Dak stared at Ray as if he were from another planet. Ray motioned for him to get the money and they shoved what they could in plastic bags. Eric stood still and watched them. It felt like he couldn’t move, like every muscle had frozen with the girl’s death. She was young and pretty. She wasn’t a criminal; she hadn’t done anything to them. She was just young and pretty.

Dak and Ray ran out of the bank but Eric still couldn’t move. The other tellers were crying and watching him with primitive eyes, their minds not regarding him with the normal recognition of another human being. He realized he was not a human being; he was pure horror to them. A monster from the darkest corners of their minds. To them, he was what his stepfather had been to him.

Ray called out Eric’s name, but he still couldn’t move. All he could do was stand; his mind blank. He didn’t hear the sirens pull up and into the strip mall. He didn’t hear the officer’s shouts and the eventual gunfire; the deep bass of shotgun blasts mingled with the higher sounding pistols. All he saw was the look on the teller’s faces, as if they were magnified and in slow motion.

By the time his senses returned to him and he realized where he was and what he was doing, the gunfight had ended and Dak and Ray had been cornered behind their car. The teller had pressed the silent alarm right when they had entered the building and a patrol car was only one and half blocks away, another one four blocks away. They delayed the men long enough for an army of officers to get there, swarming over the parking lot as they opened fire without demanding surrender once they saw the sleek shotguns in the men’s hands.

Eric watched outside. Ray and Dak were ducking next to the car; easily a dozen officers beginning to position themselves in the parking lot. Eric looked again at the body of the young girl. He picked up the shotgun and stepped outside.

“Hey Ray!”

Ray turned around just as the shotgun blast tore through his stomach. He slammed against the car, his weapon flying out of his hands, and then collapsed on the warm concrete.

Eric threw his weapon down and ran back inside.

He sprinted in the direction of the tellers, their screams growing frantic and tapering off as he ran past them. There was a short hallway with doors on either side. He opened one; just an office. Another one was a storage area. Another was safety deposit boxes and a safe. At the back of the building was a bathroom and next to that an emergency exit. He slammed through the door, an alarm ringing in his ears as he found himself in the back of the building next to a dumpster and a stack of empty cardboard boxes.

Eric ran from the building and hopped a chain-link fence that led onto a barren dirt field. There was drilling equipment and a few tractors left on the field, a small trailer with a giant lock on the door. He ran on the dirt until his legs ached and he couldn’t breathe. There were shouts behind him but he didn’t look back. He hopped another fence and was in a residential neighborhood, small one story houses with tiny lawns.

His run slowed to a walk and he noticed he was still wearing his ski mask. Throwing it into some bushes, he made his way onto a main road and headed back downtown toward the hotel. He thought about Ray but didn’t feel remorse. In fact, he didn’t really feel anything. The only thought in his mind was where he was going to get his next score of H. Ray was the only dealer he knew.

As he saw the warm neon lights of downtown Bangkok, and the dark corners where silent men with wild eyes stood, he knew finding what he wanted wouldn’t be a problem.

CHAPTER

24

The nights in Andhra Pradesh were warm and dry as the child walked home to his village. He’d spent the day in Hyderabad hawking wooden key rings his family had been making from the sycamore trees near their huts. It’d been a long day and he’d had little to eat, but he’d made more than ten dollars. Enough to feed his entire family for days.

Sometimes, when they went into the cities to buy supplies, he saw things on the television at the hotel near the store that made him wonder why some people had so much and some had so little. But mostly it was fun to see all the different shows. He would sit on the couch in the lobby and watch until the staff caught on that he wasn’t with a guest and they would chase him out. But it was fun to watch people with so much food and nice clothes and cars. He wondered if everyone in America was always happy. Were there any sad people there?

The dirt road was narrow and encased in waist-high grass. The moon was only a slit in the darkness but was still enough for him to make his way without much trouble. He stopped on the side of the road to urinate. The crickets near him were chirping loudly and he giggled as he listened to their silly calls that filled the night.

Suddenly the crickets stopped.

The boy glanced around. It wasn’t unusual for crickets to stop when people were near them, but this was different. Usually crickets in a certain area would stop and those farther away would not. Right now, he couldn’t hear anything but his own breath.

A cold chill ran down his back as he stepped away from the side of the road. He could hear the breeze rustling through the grass, but there was something else as well. A muffled crunching of vegetation. The sound was soft, but it was loud enough for him to hear. He looked down the road and saw the outline of the first hut of his village.

He began walking quickly, telling himself it was only the sounds of the earth. He’d walked this same route hundreds of times and nothing had happened. The larger predators liked to stay away from people and farther into the plains. He had nothing to be afraid of. His father had walked this route and his father before him. This was their road.

There was another sound behind him. The boy couldn’t tell where it came from. It seemed to come from the wind and swirl around in the grass before going to the sky. His heart was beating faster now. He looked once toward his village and then behind him. Making his decision, he sprinted for his hut.

There was a ruckus behind him, grass and weeds being torn from their roots as something crashed through the brush in pursuit.

He was now dashing with all his might, his legs burning and his breath hot like the air around him. The sounds had grown louder, it was right behind him.

The boy was close now to the first hut. It was two stories and made of wood and straw. He burst through the wooden door and saw a man and woman sitting by a small fire. He’d seen them before, they were friends of his mother.

Before he could say anything, a roar rattled the hut. Shaking the beams and causing bits of dirt and dust to fly off the roof. The boy looked to the man whose eyes were wide. He grabbed his wife and took the boy’s arm and ran to the back of the hut where a small ladder led to the second floor. He took his wife by the hips and helped her up as she climbed and disappeared into the darkness. The man then helped the boy up. The wife held him in her arms as the man yelled not to come down.

There was another growl, then dirt being kicked up near the walls. Heavy breathing circled the hut and was followed by clawing against the wood. Whatever was outside was looking for a way in.

More dirt and more digging and then the boy heard the man gasp. There was the deafening splinter of wood and laughter as the man stood frozen.

He jumped for the ladder and started to climb. The boy could see his head poke through the second floor opening before there was laughter again and the man screamed. The wife took hold of the man but he was ripped away from her and pulled down to the first floor.

The screams and crunching of bones made the boy start to cry. Then, the noise stopped. The wife had stopped screaming and sat in shock, trembling. She let go of the boy and kicked the ladder down before scooting to a wall away from the opening. The boy began to go over to her, and froze when he looked down through the opening.

The dark black of blood stained the ground and the walls. The man’s body was not there, but bits of flesh mixed with the dirt and appeared like large insects on the dry earth. There was a growl and the boy jumped backward. As he sat in the woman’s arms, they began to scream for help, pounding against the walls, tears running down their cheeks.

The wood began to creak. Both of them listened breathlessly. The hut shook again and bent, the woman screaming as she realized the hut was collapsing. It shook only a few more seconds before a thundering sound filled the boy’s ears and he fell with the collapsing building and crashed into the ground.

The woman’s screams stopped and the boy couldn’t see what was happening with blood dripping into his eyes. His head was cut and he felt the sharp pressure of a break in his leg. Then he felt something hot against the skin on his arms; it was breath.

CHAPTER

25

The next day Eric woke up late in the afternoon. He’d scored some mediocre drugs; a few dime bags of H and an eighth pound of weed. He’d stayed up late in the morning smoking, watching the city lights from the balcony and the slow rise of the sun over distant hills.

By the time he showered and smoked a joint, it was already nightfall. The moon was half-covered with dark clouds and hovered in the sky like a glowing orb of pale light.

He left the hotel with a stack of money, his drug-hunger satiated for the moment but already tingling his belly for the next wave of warmth and comfort.

The business district was closing up and Eric walked through a few back alleys into the nearest red-light district, though they weren’t given a name here. They were just a few square blocks of bars and strip clubs and cheap hotels. Wind chimes were sounding from a nearby house as he walked down the sidewalk, running into more and more single men. This was like a playground for them, but much more sinister. Because the usual pleasure for single men was sex, and sex was always mingled with power, most of the girls in this district had plenty of mended bones and fresh bruises. Usually it would cost the tourist only a few extra American dollars to impose whatever fantasy he wanted on the girl. Their pimps—which were the owners of the bars or hotels the girls worked out of—knew they could find another girl to replace her for next to nothing.

Eric walked past a bar that stood the girls outside on the sidewalk in their underwear, if they were lucky a silk or polyester robe to cover them. Men would walk by and choose a girl, taking them to a nearby hotel that was owned by her pimps or just the back of a dark alley if the owners didn’t have a place.

He walked into a bar he hadn’t been to before, a small brick building with a neon sign in front. It was just one large room and the bar was against the wall, wooden stools set up in front of it. In the center of the large space was a circular stage with two girls dancing nude. There weren’t that many people inside, mostly laborers having a few drinks before going home or the odd businessman looking for sex. Eric sat at the bar and ordered a shot of Jagermeister, downing it quickly and ordering another. The music was some loud reggae song and it annoyed him as much as the red lighting and copious mirrors.

“You American?” a heavily accented male voice said.

Eric looked to see a small balding Thai sit next to him. He had his jacket half-way open and rings on every finger. “No,” Eric said.

The man laughed. “Yeah, you American. You shy. You no shy, I have good yum yum for you. Five dollar.”

“I don’t want any yum yum.”

“This good yum yum; five dollar.” The man grabbed Eric’s hand. “You come back, I show you.”

Eric finished another shot and stood. He wasn’t horny, but he didn’t really care where he was and it might as well be a backroom filled with women. The man walked him past the stage, Eric glancing up at the girls, their faces empty and sullen. The man opened a door and led him through it, waiting for him to walk in and then shutting it. There were couches on one side of the room next to another door, a small table in between them. The other side of the room sloped down into a pit filled with water about two feet deep. At first Eric thought the pit was filled with mud, but as he looked more closely he could make out the thin tails and rough skin of small crocodiles. They lay motionless in the water, one on top the other in the small space. The water was filthy and stunk of excrement.

The man yelled something toward the other door and it opened. A young girl stepped out with a baby in her arms. It was crying and naked and the girl brought it over to the man.

“Five dollars,” he said, pointing to the pit. “Five dollars and you watch.”

Eric could feel the acidity of vomit rise in his throat and his stomach felt like it was filled with lead. He looked at the young girl and saw bruises on her neck and her bare legs. Though young, she already had a look in her eyes that he’d seen in the older women. A look of hopelessness, and acceptance of the hopelessness. For a reason he couldn’t put into words, it was the scariest thing he’d ever seen.

“Five dollars,” the man said again.

“No,” Eric said, stepping back toward the door. He was high and half-drunk and the room was lit with red light, giving it a monstrous appearance. It made him shiver and he began searching with his hand behind him for the doorknob, though he didn’t take his eyes off the young girl.

“Yes,” the man said emphatically. “Five dollars and you watch.” He said something in Thai to the young girl and she walked to the edge of pit and held the baby over.

“No,” Eric said, choking up.

“You give, five dollars!” the man said angrily.

The baby’s crying pierced Eric. It was in long high-pitched shrieks and hurt his ears, though the man and the young girl didn’t seem to notice. The man walked closely to him and reached for Eric’s pocket. Eric pushed him off but was too confused to fight. The man grabbed at the cash in his pocket and managed to pull out a hundred and twenty-five dollars. He looked back to the girl and said something. The girl released the baby.

“No!” Eric shouted. He jumped into the pit, landing on one of the crocodiles, sending them both into a panicked frenzy. He grabbed the baby up in his arms as one of the animals clamped down on his boot. He kicked it as hard as he could and then stomped its head. The crocodile hissed and spun the other way, giving Eric long enough to climb out of the pit.

The man was yelling something. Eric grabbed him by his throat, adrenaline returning his strength. The man was small and wiry, his neck greasy with sweat. Eric pressed his fingertips into the windpipe until he heard a crunch. There was gurgled breathing and the man collapsed, choking and wheezing for breath. The woman screamed for security.

Eric opened the door and ran out of the bar as someone shouted in Thai after him. Eric felt the damp air of the street and ran down the sidewalk, the baby in his arms, unsure which direction he was running. The lights and girls and music from the bars melded into jagged fragments of vision, like they were being reflected in broken pieces of a mirror.

He stopped when his lungs burned and his legs felt like they were going to give out. Bending over some bushes, he vomited. Only a thick bile and jagermeister spewing out since he hadn’t eaten today.

When he was through he walked to a nearby hospital half a mile away. The lighting was strong florescence and it made his eyes ache. The baby was wet and screaming. He handed it over to a nurse and stuffed all the cash he had on him into the nurse’s palm.

“For the baby, understand.”

The nurse nodded quietly. She glanced to the police officer sitting on a chair by the entrance but didn’t say anything.

Eric walked out and sat on the curb, and cried.

CHAPTER

26

The hotel room smelled of rotten garbage and sweat. Eric had told the cleaning women he didn’t like them in his room when he wasn’t there and they’d eventually just stopped coming. A stack of what was left of his cash was out on the coffee table and empty bottles of various liquors and beers covered the floor. The temperature had risen in the past few months to the balmy heat of summer and the balcony door was always open. Eric lay in bed wearing boxer shorts, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body. It was difficult to get cool; the hotel kept the air-conditioning to a minimum.

He’d gotten word on Ray and Dak from a local American boy who knew Ray. Ray survived the gunshot wound and was extradited to the States for a murder charge he had pending there. He was facing the death penalty, as was Dak here. Police were searching for a third, unidentified assailant.

Eric rose out of bed and went out onto the balcony. It was morning and the sky was full of white clouds mixed with smog and airplanes carrying the next fresh batch of tourists into the city. There was a new casino downtown and he could see the massive building from here, but he’d never been there. The last time he left the room was a month ago and even that was only because the front desk required him to put the room in his name and to see identification.

Lily lay nude in the bed, asleep. Last night she’d had the smell of orange blossoms from her bodywash and a new manicure, her nails red and glossy. Eric thought she was beautiful when he’d first met her, but over the months she’d grown haggard. Her skin was marked with blemishes and acne. Her once soft, wet lips were now always dry and cracked. Eric never asked her about it, he didn’t really care that much anymore. Besides, he had no right to say anything. He’d lost more than forty pounds of hard earned muscle and was left with a sagging, pale body. His eyes had sunken in with dark circles and his hair was long and had the appearance of being greasy to the touch.

Thoughts of suicide were always in his head. They came mostly at night when he’d be trying to go to sleep and they drove him to anger. It was as if he didn’t have control over them, like his thoughts were telling him what to do. His will was wearing away. The truth was, he was in complete apathy. The hotel room was a place to stay, but he wouldn’t have cared if he’d been thrown out on the street. He didn’t care if Lily was there or not. He didn’t care whether he was alive or not.

He went inside and sat on the couch, taking up a used needle and spoon to start cooking, when he heard a knock on the door. He ignored it but they knocked again, this time louder. Slowly, he rose and answered it.

A woman stood in the doorway. She was slender and black, sapphire eyes incased in a thin face. Her hair was straight and came to her shoulders, only accentuating the beauty of her face.

A man stood behind her with shining green eyes and a slight smile on his lips. He was dressed in canvas shorts and a vest.

“What do you want?” Eric mumbled.

“You don’t remember me, boy?” the man said. “Thomas Keets, we met at your father’s funeral.”

Eric nodded, unsure if he fully remembered him. “What do you want?”

Thomas took a step forward and the woman stepped aside. Thomas looked Eric up and down, a hidden contempt and sympathy showing in his eyes. “May we come in?”

Eric looked from one to the other and then left the door open and walked back to the couch. He didn’t even hesitate before starting to cook again. Thomas sat down across from him in a high-backed chair and the woman walked to the balcony and stood outside.

“That’s Jalani,” Thomas said, taking a pipe out of his breast pocket and putting it between his lips though he didn’t light it. “She helps me on my hunts and tours. I found her when she was young in Africa. Her parents were killed by a rival tribe and she escaped and lived on the plains.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Your mother. She said you haven’t called her in over two months and she’s worried.”

“I told her not to tell anyone where I am.”

“As I said, she’s worried.”

“Why’d she call you?”

Thomas crossed his legs and looked out the sliding glass doors at the sky. With the pipe in between his lips and his eyes turned upward, Eric thought he looked like a sitting Buddha in contemplation.

“I knew your mother before your father. That’s how I and your father met actually, though, that’s a story for another time.”

Eric filled the hypodermic and stuck it in between his toes on his right foot. The drug warmed him, but, something he’d realized only recently, brought him no pleasure. It didn’t make him happy in any way but he couldn’t go more than a handful of hours without it. “What do you want?”

Thomas took the pipe out of his mouth and held it in his hand. “The truth of it is boy that I owe your father a life, and I intend to pay him back by saving yours.”

Eric chuckled softly as he fell back on the couch, warm and content. “I don’t need saving.”

“Oh? Pardon me, but I beg to differ. I’ve seen men where you are and they don’t last very long.” They watched each other and Thomas rose to his feet and walked toward the balcony, looking over the city through the open sliding glass door. He leaned against the wall with one hand and put the pipe back into his mouth. “I came to this city once before you were even born. It’s far different now; crueler. Perhaps that’s just what happens when large masses of people live together.” He turned toward Eric. “We are a malicious species boy, and I don’t normally care for us outside of those close to me, but I repay my debts.”

Jalani walked in and Eric got a good look at her. Everything about her permeated sensuality, from the way she crossed her feet in a relaxed stance, to the smell of jasmine emanating from her wrists and neck. She stared at Eric with a detached curiosity. Then, abruptly, she walked out of the hotel room. Thomas sat back down and filled his pipe with tobacco from a small cherry wood carrying case he kept in his pocket. He lit it with a silver lighter and the sweet smell of tobacco filled the air.

Eric was nodding off, his head bobbing painfully slow up and down in an effort to stay awake. He didn’t notice when Jalani walked back in carrying a length of chain and cuffs and threw Lily out of the room.

Thomas and Jalani picked Eric up and he only nominally protested.

They lay him down on the bed and shackled his right wrist and then ran the chain around the bed, locking the two ends together with a padlock. Thomas tore the phone line from the wall, tearing apart the wires and rendering them useless.

They walked out of the room together, neither looking back.

CHAPTER

27

Eric slept for six hours and woke in the afternoon. The sound of the river was in the distance, fleets of car engines beyond that. He thought he’d dreamed of Thomas coming to his room and smiled at the dream. When he went to itch his arms, he heard the rattle of chains.

He was shackled tightly with a thick metal cuff halfway up his wrist. He followed the chain with his eyes and saw that it was wrapped around the bed. Leaning down and looking underneath, he saw that it ran around the bed frame, locking him to the bed.

Eric scrambled and tried tearing at the cuff and then pulling on the chain. He reached down and tried to pull the chain off the bed-frame and then started trying to open the padlock. He stood and was almost growling as he violently yanked the chain over and over. Finally he sat down on the floor, his arms exhausted and heavy. He had enough length to reach the bathroom and halfway into the living room, but no more. The phone was disconnected.

He walked into the living room. His money was still on the coffee table, untouched, but his drugs were gone. Panic gripped him and he began pulling on the chain again, trying to break apart the bed. He was too weak for anything more than making a loud clanking sound, and gave up.

He lay on the floor until nightfall. He was starting to feel sick. It was making him jittery and he felt sharp stabs in his stomach. As he lay flat on his back staring out at the glittering lights past the balcony, the door opened and Thomas walked in. He held a small brown bag and a large jug of water and placed them next to Eric.

“There’s some turkey and plums in the bag.”

“Fuck you!” Eric screamed.

Thomas seemed not to notice and only walked into the kitchen, checking to see if anything useful was in the fridge. Finding only beer, he took the bottles out and poured the golden liquid down the sink, throwing the empty ones in the garbage and walking out the door.

Eric was on the floor all night, unable to sleep. There were waves of pain that came and went like electric shocks. Drops of sweat covered his body and formed a wet ring around him on the carpet. He tried to pull on the chains again and when he failed, he simply curled on the floor and cried.

The next few days Eric was in full withdrawal. He was vomiting constantly and had diarrhea. Stomach pains toppled him over whenever he’d try to stand and he found himself screaming for help, but no help came. His tongue bled from the multiple times his shivering caused him to bite it and he’d go between extremes of freezing cold and scalding hot.

The days slowly melted into each other; images and sounds and sensations. Thomas or Jalani would bring food and water and juice in the morning and at night, but otherwise they kept away. On several occasions Eric had screamed himself hoarse but no one from the hotel came.

He spent his days watching television or staring out the balcony doors. He woke once to find a few books next to the nightstand, some Hemingway and a dog-eared copy of The Iliad, but he was usually too sick to concentrate long enough to read. The apartment stunk like a sewer, but after a couple weeks the craving started to subside. He thought about shooting up but it wasn’t as urgent anymore. But he had a new enemy to contend with as well: boredom.

Eric got out of bed to go to the bathroom one night and saw Thomas sitting in a chair with his pipe looking out at the city. The gray smoke formed a tunnel above him and slowly made its way to the open doors of the balcony and out into the night air.

“How do you feel?” Thomas asked.

“I didn’t need to be saved.”

Thomas gave a wise grin. “You’re welcome.”

Eric urinated in the bathroom and came back out, sitting in the living room and leaning against a wall. “When you gonna let me go?”

“A couple more days. You look much better.”

“You know I’ll just use again as soon as you let me outta here. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Thomas shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I’ll at least know I did all I could.”

“I don’t suppose I could have some of that?”

Thomas looked down at the pipe, and then handed it to Eric. “It’s tobash caruit from Herat. A very special kind of tobacco.”

Eric took a puff and felt the smoke going down into his lungs, silky with almost a cherry flavor. “It’s good.”

Thomas nodded as he took the pipe back. They sat in silence, enjoying the smell of the smoke mingling with the salty air.

“You said you knew my mother,” Eric said.

“I did.”

“How?”

“We were lovers, a long time ago. Before she met your father.”

“What happened?”

Thomas handed the pipe back to Eric. “I was always away on my hunts; it’s no life for marriage. Your mother and I parted ways and she met your father. I came back to the States after a particularly long tour and wanted her back, but she was already married by then. But, she did introduce me to your father and we became friends. One of my most loyal clients as well.” Thomas put a little more tobacco into the pipe. “The animal that killed your father is becoming quite the legend.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s killed at least thirty others, mostly children from the more remote villages who wander off. I’ve been hired to kill it. I want you to come with me.”

“Taking me prisoner isn’t the best way to ask. Besides, I don’t know anything about hunting.”

“I assure you, you don’t need to; I’ll be doing the hunting. But just being out there, living on the plains and in the jungle out of a tent, it’s purifying. It cleanses you.” He took a long pull from the pipe, his emerald eyes focused on Eric. “Do you need to be cleansed?”

Eric looked away without saying anything. Thomas rose, and left.

CHAPTER

28

Jalani brought breakfast for him the next day: poached eggs and toast with orange juice. Eric ate on the floor of the living room as Jalani sat on the couch, her smooth legs neatly crossed, revealing muscular thighs.

“Do you speak English?” Eric asked, taking a bite of egg.

Jalani stared in silence, piercing Eric, looking through him rather than at him. Despite her cold behavior she had warm eyes.

“Are you married?” Eric asked. “Kids?” He guzzled some orange juice and wiped at his lips with the back of his bare arm. “I used to want kids. Lots of ‘em. Didn’t really work out that way though.”

“I do not have kids,” Jalani said, her voice metallic from disuse. “But I have brothers and sisters.”

Eric was surprised at an answer and didn’t respond immediately. He took another sip of juice and then said, “How many?”

“Twenty.”

“Really? Your mother must be a tiger.”

Jalani gave a quizzical look.

“No,” Eric said, “it’s an expression . . . just saying that she must be strong, like a tiger.”

“She was very strong. That is why my father traveled so much.”

Eric grinned. “Your English is good.”

“I studied in school. Thomas has taken me to London many times as well.”

He finished his breakfast and leaned back against the wall.

“The Bushman in my country believe,” Jalani said, “that when a lion kills a man, the lion takes the soul of the man and it corrupts him. The lion is pure until the soul of man enters him. He does not know of good and evil until he has eaten a man. When this happens, the lion becomes evil because it cannot tell the difference. It will always hunt men.”

“Are you talking about the animal that killed my father? Thomas said it’s killed thirty people.”

Jalani scoffed. “Is that what he said?”

“Why? It’s not true?”

“Thomas is a good hunter and a man of the world. But he only believes what his eyes tell him. He has no imagination so he cannot believe that an animal can become evil. He says thirty, but I have seen animals kill many more. A lion near my village killed nearly two hundred before it was shot.”

“Wow, that’s probably some sort of record.”

“Record?”

“Yeah, like the most any animal’s ever killed.”

“No, there have been others. But this one in India will soon surpass them. People that have seen it say that his eyes glow red in the night. They think it is the devil.”

“Do you think that?”

“No. Not the devil. But it is evil. And it needs to die.”

“Are you going with Thomas to kill it?”

“Yes, and so will you.”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“No,” Jalani said confidently, “you will go.” She rose and gave Eric a warm smile. “I knew your father. He was a good man. I see that goodness in you too.” She shut the door and Eric was left alone again in the ever shrinking room.

Thomas came later in the afternoon with a bag full of new clothes and some shoes. Eric was lying in bed watching television. Thomas walked to him and took a key out of his pocket, undoing the cuff chaining him to the bed.

Eric began rubbing the skin on his wrist. It was tender and moist and he could still feel the weight of the cuff clinging to him. “Thanks.”

Thomas nodded and laid the bag of clothing down on the bed. “Shower and dress, we’re leaving here today,” Thomas said as he walked off.

“The hotel?”

“No,” Thomas said from the front room, “Thailand. And I took the rest of your money and donated it to a nearby orphanage. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

Eric looked over at the clothes. He could leave right now if he wanted, some of his strength had returned to him and he could probably make it away from Thomas if he protested. But the truth was this place had been hell. He’d seen things he could never have imagined seeing, and unwittingly become a part of them. That was the most sinister aspect of evil, he decided. That it could pose as necessity and disarm you. Before you even knew what was happening, you would be fully in its embrace.

Eric took the clothes, and walked into the bathroom.

CHAPTER

29

The Indian Ocean is at some places black as tar and at some places a shining turquoise blue. The third largest body of water on earth, it has highly important sea routes connecting the Americas with the Middle East, India and Asia. The traffic is mostly used for petroleum from the Middle East though hydrocarbons in the ocean floor itself are being tapped more often.

To be over such a vast expanse of water and nothing else felt a little like tight-rope walking without a net; one slip up and it would lead to your death. But the beauty of the water wasn’t lost on Eric. There was just something about the sea that could make you forget everything else. Looking at it from high above, he felt that it’d always been a part of him. Each wave like an emotion flowing through him.

The plane ride had been long and claustrophobic. They went from luxury planes on Air Asia to rickety private planes in India that rattled and shook at high speeds. Their pilot out of Calcutta had been drunk, but flew more competently than some of the sober ones. There were only a handful of people on the plane from the port of Goa India to Andhra Pradesh, most of them laborers being sent to this or that mine to slave for little wages.

Flying over Andhra Pradesh, one could see the great gold and green plains; the thick shrubbery of the bush, and the ancient trees with leafy branches hanging down to the ground in long strands. Animals of all shapes and colors painted the landscape and the skies were ruled by the black vultures, their bald heads tucked into their shoulders. Occasionally a village would pass by. They looked much like the shantytowns of Depression-era America. Rusted Tin buildings with mud and straw filling any gaps. On the outskirts of the villages were the less developed buildings made wholly of mud or straw or wood bound together with rope or vine. The mountains ranged from small green hills to giants with cloud covered peaks.

Eric could still feel the itch of addiction calling to him, but for the most part his mind was focused on the vast expanse of colors before him. The airport was smaller with only a few runways but you could sense the international flavor of the nation from this tiny corner of it. There was an abstract architectural design of various shapes welded to one another that was donated by the Dutch. A few trucks with BMW logos hauling cargo next to Cadillac’s. A British bistro situated near one of the terminals along with a free car service to the local British owned hotels.

Thomas stepped off the plane first and Eric followed. The air was salty because of the proximity of the ocean but it was warm and comfortable. Eric walked across the tarmac, a canvas bag filled with his clothes slung over his shoulder. Jalani walked next to him, smiling.

“You’re glad you’re here?” Eric asked.

“Yes. I love being in new places. I miss home too, but I love the excitement of somewhere new.”

Eric thought of the mountains and snow filled winters of New Hampshire and the thought made him uncomfortable.

“You do not miss your home?”

“Yeah,” Eric said, “I do. I just can’t go back.”

“India can be your home. I have been here before. It is beautiful. And then when we are done, anywhere you wish to go can be your home.”

“Home is where you hang your hat.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s nothing. Just another expression.”

They walked through the main terminal. The interior was blue carpet with a dirty white ceiling and blue chairs bolted to the walls for the waiting passengers to use. Eric was impressed with how modern it looked considering the savage plains and jungles it sat in the middle of.

Out on the curb in front of the airport was a waiting car with a driver in large sunglasses chewing on a toothpick. Thomas acknowledged him as he went to the trunk and put in his bag.

Eric rode in the backseat with Jalani while Thomas was up front with the driver. They were speaking in a language Eric couldn’t understand, but every once in awhile they would laugh or tell particularly long stories. The car was zipping down a long stretch of highway near the coast and the sun was bright in a cloudless sky. Eric stared out the window in wonder. The ocean and sky surrounding them appeared a crystal blue. They drove for less than two miles before coming upon the town of Kavali. It appeared a somewhat modern looking city. Except for the tourist areas, the homes and buildings were rundown; the metal rusted and paint peeling off the wood. Some of the homes had red tile roofs and others were just cheap tin from top to bottom.

“You must be careful,” Jalani said. “This is a very poor area. And when people are poor, they do things they may not wish to do.”

Eric could see an old building that looked like a destroyed castle next to the shore. Jalani noticed his curiosity and said, “It is a fort. Four hundred years old and built by Muslims. It has a history of violence and death. People here say it curses its owner.”

“It doesn’t look so bad.”

Thomas answered, “Nothing on the outside tells us of what is on the inside.”

Soon they were off the highway and in downtown Kavali, a place Jalani called the old part of Kavali. The architecture was a mixture of Hindu and Arabic and many of the merchants crowding the narrow, winding streets wore traditional Hindu garb. The buildings didn’t seem to go above four or five stories and they were mostly a dull white with various colored awnings and flags from nations across the world hanging over windows.

“It has always been like this,” Jalani said. “Children come here and sell things made for the tourists.”

“What do they make?”

“Little shapes out of wood. Animal shapes. The tourists buy it for their children. Hyderabad—that is the capital—it is nice too. But it does not have the same feeling of Kavali.”

The car stopped in front of a large square building with a British flag hanging down from the roof. The driver shook Thomas’s hand and they said good bye as everyone climbed out.

The weather was a moist heat. Wet and relentless. It made it somewhat difficult to breathe and Eric regretted wearing jeans today. He grabbed his bag and followed Thomas into the building.

From the uniforms the front desk staff were wearing it was obvious it was a hotel. Bagboys promptly took their bags and Thomas tipped them. He motioned for Eric to step outside with him.

Thomas stood by the door and took out his pipe, lighting it and inhaling the tobacco deeply before speaking. “There is something about India that can penetrate the soul. It’s a mystical place, boy. Life teams here like nowhere else on earth.” He took a puff of the pipe and looked back to Jalani who was speaking with the front desk receptionist. “The national language is Telugu, but everyone speaks English. You should have no trouble getting around.”

“You leaving somewhere?”

“Um hm, I have business to attend to tonight. We’ll be traveling with three clients and I have to organize their arrival. Jalani will stay with you and show you the sites.” He pulled out some rupees and handed them to Eric. “Relax and enjoy yourself; this city can be quite fun. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, I nearly forgot.” Thomas took a crumpled envelope out of his back pant pocket. “A letter from your mother. She asked that I give it to you.”

Eric took the letter and watched as Thomas walked away. He leaned against a wall and tore open the envelope. Inside were two sheets of paper in his mother’s soft handwriting.

Dear Eric,

I’m sorry I couldn’t see you in person. The police here call me every few months or talk to one of my friends about you. Jeff’s death was a big deal after you left. It was in all the papers and Channel 5 even did a half hour thing on it. You’re only one suspect. Jeff had lots a enemies from his life. They even arrested someone. He was a drug dealer Jeff was using to get drugs. They let him go though. We all miss you here. Jason’s doing very well. He’s met a girl and they’re going to be married. I heard from Marcy at the corner grocery that the girl got pregnant and they have to get married, but I don’t know. He seems happy. He comes by and checks to make sure I’m okay now and then. He always tells me to tell you that he understands why you did what you did and that you were the best friend he ever had. He’s a nice boy. I’ve met someone too Eric. You’d really like him, his name’s Samuel and he owns a hardware store in Nashua. I’ve told him all about you and he wants to meet you someday and take you fishing. He doesn’t have any kids of his own but I think he’d be a good father.

Anyway, I really hope you’re doing well. I hope you understand why I sent Thomas to help you. He’s a good man and was a good friend of your father’s, listen to what he says. I want to see you soon. Samuel says he wants to take me to Germany, where his family’s from. Maybe my family could be there too?

Love always,

Carol

P.S. If you need any money, tell Thomas and he’ll get in touch with me.

Eric lowered the letter, tears filling his eyes. He folded it up and stuffed it in his pocket. A small boy was watching him from the street. Eric smiled and the boy smiled back before running off.

CHAPTER

30

After he’d visited his room and brushed his teeth, which he hadn’t done in almost twenty hours, Eric took to walking the streets. The roads were well paved but the sidewalks were uneven and parts were made of cobblestones which, though charming, hurt his feet and ankles. The smells of the city were amazing. A mix of Hindu spices from the open markets, sweet vegetables broiling over spits, honey-tea coming from the tea houses, and the salt of the ocean air.

There was a café not more than a block from the hotel and Eric sat on the patio in a metal chair and ordered a coffee from a slim woman with caramel skin. It was brought back with sugar, some milk, and a little powdery chocolate on a separate dish. As he drank, he watched the hordes of people moving through the street. It was as packed as Bangkok, but the people here didn’t have a sense of urgency. There were no honking car horns or angry shouting.

Many of the people had hard faces, faces that had seen much of life. But there was little sadness in them. They had a fortitude that prevented sadness. Or maybe they were so busy surviving they just didn’t have time for such a wasteful emotion?

Though the heat was boiling many of the women wore the traditional Hindu headscarves but weren’t sweating. It appeared they were working just as hard as the men, selling handmade items or carrying large jugs of water or food from here to there. In some ways they worked harder than the men because most of them had children by their sides. Some of them smiled and nodded hello to Eric, but most ignored him. He got the feeling that there was an implicit agreement between the street hawkers and the restaurants that they would not hassle the customers while they were eating.

Eric stayed at the café well into the afternoon, ordering a dish of lamb with yogurt sauce for dinner. The people were friendly and he’d struck up a conversation with some Australian tourists that sat at the table next to him. They informed him that the lamb was actually made from a vegetarian paste. There were apparently only a handful of places in the city one could get fresh cooked meat.

As the sun began its descent and the sky went pink and gold, Jalani came to the café and sat next to him. She had a glimmer in her eyes that Eric hadn’t seen in Bangkok. He had a sense that it was brought about from the feeling that one is where one belongs.

“I have a special treat for you now,” she said.

“Oh yeah? What?”

“It is a surprise. Come, I will show you.”

They left the café and made their way down a winding street, past hawkers of jewelry and gold and trinkets that crowded around Eric, trying to sell him wooden key rings and wallets and handmade flutes.

“Mahogany!” one of the merchants yelled as he held a flute in Eric’s face.

Jalani said, “It is not mahogany, it is painted.”

They walked down a few more blocks and took a right turn through a long alleyway between two old apartment buildings. A jeep was waiting for them and they climbed in and drove the two miles to the beach. Jalani gave him a bathing suit she had with her and they both changed in the bathrooms. When they emerged they were near a golden sand beach. There was a wooden pier jutting out into the sea and Jalani headed for it, not waiting for Eric. As they approached Eric could see a canoe lashed to the pier. There were two oars and some chains next to a cooler inside the canoe.

The water was stilling for the coming evening. The sunlight reflected off of it a bright orange as they walked to the end of the pier and Jalani motioned for Eric to climb into the canoe.

“Where we going?” Eric said.

“It is a surprise. But I promise, you will enjoy it.”

Eric climbed in and sat in the back as Jalani took the front. She grabbed an oar and unlashed from the pier before beginning to paddle out into the vast expanse of water. Eric took the other oar and tried to keep rhythm but found Jalani was paddling too fast and gave up the effort. For such a small frame she was incredibly strong.

When they were a few hundred yards from shore, Jalani stopped paddling and looked around at the murky water. Her eyes were slits and her brow furrowed from concentration as she stared into the depths, though Eric couldn’t see more than a few feet below the surface. Jalani opened the cooler. There was a fat chicken inside, its feathers plucked and its head cut off. She stabbed a large iron hook through it and attached the hook to a thin chain. She then tied the chain to the front of the canoe and threw the chicken overboard. Eric was about to say something but Jalani stopped him with a motion of her hand and they sat in silence nearly ten minutes.

Finally, a streak of gray breaking through the surface a dozen feet from the boat; the dorsal fin of a shark. It was swimming in a wide arch around the boat, the peak of its tailfin sticking out of the water about four feet behind its dorsal fin.

“Holy shit,” Eric said.

“Take the ropes.”

Eric looked down and saw two ropes wound in tight circles attached to the canoe with bolts. He grabbed them and held on. “What are we—”

“Keep quiet!”

The shark appeared colossal since only a flimsy piece of wood was separating Eric from him. There was splashing behind them and Eric turned to see another shark approaching, its skin gray-brown in the sunlight. It swam near the chicken and Jalani pulled up on the chain and hauled the chicken back in the canoe until the shark swam around to the other side.

“Jalani, what the hell are we doing?”

“He wasn’t big enough.”

“Big enough for what?”

There was more splashing and more fins, about five of them. They were circling the canoe and taking small bites in the cloud of blood the chicken carcass gave off. But every time one of them would come in to feed, Jalani would pull the carcass back onto the canoe.

Suddenly there was a commotion as the sharks banked away from the canoe, swimming into the depths. The water began to still and the ocean went silent. Eric glanced around. Even the smaller fish that had come by earlier to have a look at the carcass had vanished. There was nothing.

“The ocean has grown still,” Jalani said.

Eric had gone from nervousness to fear and was gripping the ropes so tightly it hurt his hands. As he let go to examine them the canoe lurched forward, throwing him back and nearly over the side. Jalani reached out and grabbed his shirt collar, bringing him into place.

The canoe stopped moving. The only sound now was Eric’s heavy breathing. Before he could say anything the canoe jerked forward and then tilted to the side, nearly submerging the two of them. Jalani was squealing with delight, laughing as the water splashed onto her face. Eric thought she sounded insane.

The canoe was spinning slowly now; whatever was underneath was circling. It began heading out farther into sea, pulling them along.

“Unhook the fucking line!” Eric shouted.

Jalani grabbed an oar and began paddling backward.

The pulling motion of the canoe slowed and then stopped. Eric could see a large mass coming up from the water. The water was parting as the creature made its way to the surface just off the port side of the canoe. He noticed the dorsal fin first, about two feet high and silver gray. The tail. Then the monstrous head with pitch-black eyes and jagged white teeth. It was a great white shark.

The shark was circling them, the hook jutting through the flesh of its mouth. It was at least as large as the canoe, about twelve feet, and Eric got the impression that the canoe would crumble if it decided to attack.

The enormous fish swam slowly, the circles gradually decreasing as it approached the canoe. It was tilted slightly to the side and its black eye was kept steady, staring. Finally the shark passed only a few feet away and Eric saw its terrible mouth as it opened, taking in the residual blood in the water. When it was near enough, to Eric’s shock, Jalani slammed the oar into the shark’s snout.

The pain made the shark thrash violently from side-to-side and then shoot away. The canoe followed as Jalani laughed. The shark was in a frenzy now. It was lashing its powerful body left and right and the canoe was being thrown one way and then the other as if caught in a storm.

The shark dove. The canoe followed, its front end completely submerging as it was being pulled down. It started going vertical and Jalani unhooked the chain, the canoe slapping back horizontally on the water.

Jalani looked back to Eric with a big smile, water dripping from her soaking hair into her eyes. Silently, she picked up an oar and began paddling back to the pier.

CHAPTER

31

Night over Kavali was starless and the air had the humid warmth that foretells a coming rainstorm. The merchants had packed up and gone home but hawkers with low quality trinkets or stolen goods still stood on street corners and in dark alleyways. Many of the hawkers were families, each child taking turns selling as the parents smoked hashish or drank in cheap bars too dangerous for tourists to go into.

There was a bar across the street from Eric’s hotel and he sat on the outdoor patio at a round wooden table, outdoor gas lamps giving a dim illumination around him. The smell of liquor called to him and he was finding it difficult to keep coming up with reasons to resist.

As he rose to leave, he saw Thomas walk out of the hotel with another man. The man was dressed in shorts and a button-down shirt with an enormous belly bulging out from underneath. He had a black beard, curly hair, and appeared Greek with his olive skin. The men walked over and came to Eric’s table, Thomas sitting down and the man walking to the bar to order drinks.

“So I believe you’ve had quite an eventful day,” Thomas said with a smirk.

“Did you know she was going to do that?”

“More or less.”

“I could’ve died.”

“You shot poison into your veins for a year and now you’re worried about a fish?” Thomas took out his pipe, lighting it with some matches. “Besides, sharks—especially the great white—don’t enjoy the taste of human flesh. They only attack us out of mistake, despite the myths surrounding them.

“But it wasn’t a joy ride you know. It was a ritual, a type of conquering of the sea. Many of the fishermen here had to do it while they were apprenticing. They do something similar where Jalani’s from. I was surprised she took you with her, she must really like you.”

The other man came back with two large drinks and sat down. He had a joyous look on his face and already appeared drunk.

“This is Douglas Patsinakis,” Thomas said. “He’ll be going on the hunt with us.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Douglas said with a wide grin. He held up his drink in salute. “Here’s to the hunt,” he said before guzzling half the glass. He finished and smacked his lips almost comically before wiping his mouth. “So how long have been hunting?” he asked Eric.

“This’ll be my first time.”

“Really? I wish I was a virgin again. The sights and smells of the plains and the Indian jungle are like nowhere else. I don’t even mind the heat when I’m out chasing a kill. You can lose yourself in it. It’s a damn good time.” He turned to Thomas. “So this monster of yours is a real man-eater, eh?”

“So it seems.”

“I killed a man-eater in Tsavo once, but it was a lion. They had those two man-eaters there, oh, more than a century ago. I would’ve loved to have been there. Together they killed about a hundred and forty people the devils.”

“If rumor is to be believed,” Thomas said, “this one’s killed more.”

“You think so?” Douglas said. “One animal?”

“Probably not. Stories do tend to get aggrandized in this part of the world rather quickly.”

“Well,” Douglas said, pausing to take a drink. “I hope the bastard’s a big one. But I was under the impression that you saw it Thomas?”

“It was dark so I can’t attest perfectly to its size, but it was certainly large.”

Douglas finished his drink and leaned back. “Damn good.” He looked to Eric. “So what’s your name my friend?”

“Eric.”

“Well Eric, let me tell you something about hunting; not everyone can do it. Everyone thinks they can but they can’t. When you’re face-to-face with a lion you have to dig down deep inside you to pull that trigger. They have a savage beauty about them and their eyes stare into you if you let them. You really see where you are on the food chain when a lion’s staring at you with those eyes.”

“He’ll do fine,” Thomas said. “Killing comes naturally to him.”

“Eh?” Douglas said. But Thomas didn’t answer. He and Eric simply looked to each other, their eyes locked a moment, and they looked away.

Douglas looked to them both and then nodded as he stood up. “Well, I’m going to get drunk.”

Eric waited until Douglas was out of earshot and then said, “You know?”

Thomas nodded.

“My mother?”

“Yes.” He took a long pull from the pipe and then put out the embers before tucking it back into his pocket. “I nearly killed a man in Venice once. The city has a history of such bloodshed I suppose, so it wasn’t so out of place. But it is such a beautiful city I regret that I may never be able to go back.”

“What happened?”

“I was in love. A woman from a little town in Sicily. She sold fruit on the side of the road near my flat and I used to buy something from her every morning. I tell you, I haven’t committed an act of courage so great as using broken Italian to ask her to dinner. She loved me too I think. But I certainly loved her.”

“You tried to kill her?”

“No,” Thomas said, looking off at the sky, “her husband.”

“Oh.”

Thomas blinked a few times and inhaled a deep breath, as if the action cleared the thoughts from his mind. “How is your rehabilitation?”

“It’s hard sometimes.”

“It will pass. You fell into it from temporary vulnerability, so you can defeat it. I had a stint myself in Myanmar but I believe we’re both just casual users; users from pain.” He looked over to Douglas who was already drunk and flirting with some older American tourists. Thomas rose and put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Get rested, tomorrow you’ll become a hunter.”

CHAPTER

32

Eric’s room was uncomfortably hot during the night and the squeaks of mammoth cockroaches were coming from the corners. The sun rose and quickly filled the room with flowing light, making it impossible to sleep. Eric was groggy but he stood up and stretched before looking out the window and seeing two green topless jeeps parked on the curb in front of the hotel. Some locals were loading them with suitcases and coolers and large plastic jugs of water.

Eric dressed and walked down to the first floor bathroom. When he was done with his toiletries, he went to the small cafeteria and saw Thomas sitting with Douglas and two new faces. One of them was a man, possibly in his late forties, wearing a corduroy jacket with sunglasses pushed up into his blond hair. The other was a woman, blond and petite wearing tight stretch pants and a black blouse revealing a little cleavage. Though the temperature caused one to constantly have a thin film of sweat on their skin, she was fully colored in rouge and lipstick and eyeliner.

Eric took a plate from a small buffet table and loaded it with eggs and toast before getting a cup of coffee and sitting down at Thomas’s table.

Thomas smiled at him and said, “How was your night?”

“Restless. It’s so hot I always feel dehydrated.”

“You have to constantly drink water and limit your sodium while here.” He turned to the couple seated across from him. “This is Eric,” he said.

“Pleased to meet you,” the man said with a warm smile, “I’m William Carthy and this is my wife Sandra.”

Eric nodded hello and she smiled at him. The familiarity with which they greeted him made him suspect Thomas had already mentioned him.

“So where are you from, Eric?” William said.

“New Hampshire,” Eric said.

“Oh really? We live in Boston now. I manage to get up to New Hampshire every autumn for the leaves. Beautiful state.”

Thomas said, “William’s a Stake President in the Mormon church. Quite a damn fine one from what I hear.”

“You’re too kind,” William said. He spoke in a soft voice; tender almost, and his eyes were friendly and unassuming.

“I didn’t know the higher ups in the Church could marry,” Douglas said with a mouthful of eggs.

“We’re not Catholics. Marriage and family are the cornerstone of our faith, of any faith really.”

“Were you always Mormon?” Douglas said.

“No, I converted in my twenties actually.”

“Why’d you convert?”

“Oh, thought I could do more good I suppose. Just had a calling.”

Douglas scoffed. “All nonsense if you ask me. I’ve seen all manner of cruelties and very little compassion in the world. Doesn’t seem to point to God.”

“Perhaps you’re not looking in the right places,” William said with a wry smile.

One of the men loading the jeeps came in and said something to Thomas. He nodded and stood up. “The jeeps are ready. If you’d care to gather your things, we’ll be leaving within the hour. And if you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to attend to before we go.” He bowed his head slightly to Sandra. “Madame.”

She smiled, looking at him just a bit longer than was proper.

“I’ll come too,” Douglas said, sopping up the last of his eggs with a croissant and shoving it into his mouth. “Haven’t really gotten to see the town yet.”

“Of course,” Thomas said, not taking his eyes of Sandra. “Have you had a chance to see the town?” he said to her.

“No, not really.”

“It wouldn’t do any harm if you’d like to accompany us. I have to go down the shore a bit and it is a beautiful drive.”

“Go ahead honey,” William said.

“You don’t want to come?” she said.

“No, you go. Have fun.”

“All right,” she said.

As they walked out William was watching his wife and had a glimmer in his eye. His deep love for her was written on his face.

“She’s quite lovely, isn’t she?” William said.

“Yeah.”

“I ask the Lord sometimes why he blessed me with her. She’s a wonderful woman, full of life.” He took a bite of eggs and washed it down with cold juice. “You ever loved a woman, Eric?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What was her name?”

“Wendy.”

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know, New Hampshire still I think. I’m sure she’s moved on though.”

“But you haven’t?”

Eric looked at him but saw no maliciousness or prying. There was only the soft voice and the kind eyes. “No, I guess not. I don’t really know.”

“Love makes up in height what it lacks in length. Frost said that somewhere I think. I’ve always thought it was true. You’re a better person for having loved a woman. And no doubt there’ll be others; you’re still a young man.”

Eric bit into his eggs; they were soft and rubbery and he put down his fork and tried to remove the taste from his mouth with coffee. “So what’s a Stake President?”

“We have different regions called Stakes. Like stakes in a tent. The tent is the Church and each Stake holds it in place. So I guess you could compare it to like a regional governor or something.”

“Really? And you’re one?”

William chuckled softly. “Don’t I look like it?”

“No actually. All Church bureaucrats I’ve ever known were dicks. No matter what Church they belonged to.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’ve known quite a few of those myself. But you can’t blame them, it’s a difficult life to follow God. It’s hard to love goodness in a world that presents you only evil. You look around and see evil being rewarded and goodness punished and you think it’s foolish not to join in.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Join in?” William shrugged and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Wants are all ephemeral. You buy a nice car and the next thing you want is a nicer car. You find a good home and you want a better one. It’s a never-ending cycle if you let it grab hold of you.” He put his elbows on the table and leaned in a little closer. “I don’t think material things are important, they just seem like they should be. And if you don’t realize that you’ll wake up with the world around you and emptiness inside you and you’ll be asking ‘why aren’t I happy?’” William leaned back in his chair and took out a package of cigars, lighting one and letting it dangle between his lips as he pulled a small plate closer to him to use as an ashtray. “But what do I know? I could be totally wrong.”

“Thought smoking cigars was a no-no?” Eric said.

“Only on vacation. My last vice from my pre-baptism days. If the Lord didn’t want me to he’d let me know.” He sat and smoked awhile, watching the sunlight flood the room from the many open windows. “I’m sorry about your father. I heard what happened.”

Eric shifted in his seat. “He deserved better.”

He ashed onto his plate and looked Eric in the eyes. “So it’s revenge you want now?”

“I guess.”

“Do you think it’ll help?”

“I don’t know. Thomas thinks it will.”

“Most of the time it doesn’t.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m human too. I’ve been wronged and I’ve sought vengeance. Look, I’m not preaching to you Eric; you’re going to do what you’re going to do. I just want to help if I can.”

Eric stood up. “I don’t need your help.”

Eric walked out of the hotel and into the muggy heat of a Kavali morning. The hawkers were back, taking up any available space on the sidewalks and streets. The street vendors were yelling at them and tourists were being accosted by five or six of them at a time.

He made his way down the street and in between the buildings Jalani had taken him down. He walked a long time and ended up on the shore. The sand was cool from the surf and he buried his feet in it and sat down, his arms wrapped around his knees. The ocean appeared a light blue closer to shore and turned to a dark green as you went farther out. The harbor just down the beach was choked with boats of various sizes; from canoes getting ready to go out and fish to yachts just floating around leisurely.

Though it was beautiful, Eric began feeling the pangs of addiction and his mind was distracted. He missed home too and now that he wasn’t using, the feeling began growing in his gut. He thought of the college campus, the leaves browning in autumn and falling to the ground, the trees twisted and naked without them. He missed his mother. He hadn’t spoken to her for months and he wondered if she was doing okay. He hoped she’d found someone that really loved her. When this was all over and he started returning to a normal life, he would want to see her again.

But he also missed Wendy. He’d called her once from Thailand; sitting on the line and listening to her voice. He wanted so bad to speak but he knew she wouldn’t understand. She wouldn’t have cared why he did what he did; she would just think it was a selfish act and he didn’t consider what it would do to her. Besides, she could never look at him the same; with those innocent eyes. She would always see him as a murderer, and that was not how he wanted to remember her.

Eric heard footsteps in the sand behind him and saw William coming. He sat down next to him and inhaled the sea air deeply; closing his eyes and leaning his head back to absorb the full warmth of the sun.

“I’m sorry about what I said, Eric. I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t mean anything.”

“You know, when my father died, I was there with him. He died in a hospital bed of cancer. He used to box for fun and when I was a kid he’d take me to his matches and I’d watch him kick the hell outta somebody. He looked like a giant to me, dancing around that ring. But when he was in that bed he wasn’t much more than a skeleton . . . and I hated him for it. I wondered why he would let me see him like that. It took me a long time to realize why. He got to hold me and say goodbye. That’s all he wanted, just to have me there and know that I cared about him. Did your father know that you cared about him?”

“Yeah,” Eric said.

“Then you gave him a gift that no one else could’ve.”

Eric looked away, the warm tears slowly rolling down his cheeks, the saltiness on his lips and tongue. William stood up and put out his hand. Eric took it and stood up.

CHAPTER

33

Eric walked around the town with William for almost an hour; haggling with the hawkers and buying little wooden trinkets for less than a dollar. They stopped at a café and had some ice cream, the scoops melting into thick syrup from the heat almost before they were served.

When they returned to the hotel the jeeps were fully packed and Thomas, Sandra and Douglas stood next to one talking. Jalani was checking everything in both jeeps, her brow heavy with sweat. She saw Eric and smiled.

“You will be riding with me today,” she said.

Jalani climbed into the second jeep as Thomas and Douglas went to the first. Sandra pointed to them, asking to join, and William nodded before climbing into the passenger seat next to Jalani. Eric stepped up into the backseat. It was cramped because of all the supplies loaded behind him but there was a cooler full of ice and bottled water next to him and he took some of the ice and slid it over his face and neck.

The jeeps rumbled to life. Douglas was driving the other one, Thomas sitting next to him smoking his pipe with his boots up on the dashboard, appearing like a nineteenth century aristocrat in his full canvas garb. They began slowly winding through the neighborhood, honking at the various crowds that gathered in the street to talk or conduct business. Soon, they were out of downtown Kavali and heading north on the highway.

The ocean quickly became a distant glimmer behind them as they moved farther inland. William and Jalani were discussing the colonial history of Andhra Pradesh and William seemed genuinely interested, aptly paying attention to anything Jalani said.

After a few hours, they steered away from the highway and onto a wide dirt road. Around them the grass, gold and dark green, became waist high and thick. The trees were growing more sparse and large boulders and rock formations were beginning to appear.

“Do you know what the animal is?” William asked Jalani.

“No, we do not know.”

“Oh?” William said. “Thomas told me it was possibly a rogue tiger.”

“I met a man who claims to have seen it. He said it was too large to be a tiger.”

“Really? So what else could it be?”

Jalani shrugged. “I do not know.”

The surroundings quickly went from a clear dirt road, to just dirt. They were miles away from any type of modern civilization. There was only sky and grass and trees. A herd of Asian elephants were slowly crossing their path and Douglas stopped in front of them, laughing at the sight of it all. He brought out a flask and took a long drink before passing it to Thomas and Sandra.

It took less than five hours for Eric to feel sunburnt and dehydrated. He guzzled water from the frosty bottles and constantly rubbed sunblock on his face and arms. Jalani hardly did anything; the heat didn’t seem to bother her at all.

“There’s a village down a few kilometers,” Jalani said. “We can eat there.”

The village was nothing more than a few huts placed around a large pit used for fires. The inhabitants were a dark black with ornate jewelry and red and yellow cloth wrapped around them for clothing. Their feet were dry and cracked with inch thick calluses from their toes to their heel. Children gathered around the jeeps as they parked a couple dozen feet away and Jalani said harsh words to scatter them and then laughed softly.

“I remember when I was here,” Jalani said, “this village had no money. Nothing from the modern world. Now they have cigarettes and liquor and rifles. They have only taken what is bad about the modern world.”

Thomas and Jalani went to greet some of the elders and Eric stayed by the jeeps with William and Sandra. He saw William wrap his arm around her and she pulled away and leaned against the jeep.

Eventually Jalani waved them over and they all sat in a circle around the pit as some of the tribal women lit a fire. They had killed a lamb recently and, in honor of their guests, were going to cook it with roots and potatoes. Eric sat next to Jalani and listened to the sing-songy language. It had beautiful upward inflections which gave a wholly different sound from any language he’d ever heard.

“The elder says he’s seen your monster,” Jalani said.

“What is it?” Thomas asked.

“He couldn’t say exactly. But it was large.”

“How did he see it?”

“They’ve lost one of their tribe two days ago in the night. A man.”

“Tell them we grieve with them and that we could use a tracker if they could spare someone.”

Jalani asked and the elder shook his head and said something harsh.

“What’s the matter?” Thomas asked.

“They’re scared. They say this animal can’t be killed.”

“Why not?”

Jalani asked. “They say he is the devil.”

“A devil?” Thomas said with a grin. “Well assure them it is only an animal and one that we intend to get rid of.”

“One of the children claims that it spoke with them.”

Thomas laughed. “Nonsense. Tell them we’re willing to pay for the services of a good tracker and that I will not stop until this beast is dead. Tell him it’s in his interest to help us so no more of his tribe should suffer.”

Jalani translated and the man thought awhile, then said something and offered his hand. Jalani took it and they held each other for a moment. “He agrees,” Jalani said, “but not for money. He says only because you are serious and he does not wish any more of his tribe to die. He also invites us to stay the night.”

“Tell him that’s very gracious and that we accept.”

*****

Eric found the people of the tribe friendly and welcoming. Anything they had, they shared. They ate fresh lamb which was greasy but had a slightly sweet taste that he found appealing. The villagers, mostly vegetarian, ate only the roots and potatoes. Afterward Thomas shared some beers with the elders and they sat around telling stories. Eric wandered off to the outskirts of the village, standing on the edge of the green shrubbery and golden fields. The wind rustled through the plains in a soft whisper, almost like it was speaking. It was enough to send a chill down his back.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” William said as he walked up and stood next to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sky so blue.”

“I like these people. They’re innocent, like children.”

“I doubt that, Eric. We all have the capacity for evil inside us. Even them.”

Eric picked a long strand of grass and twirled it in his fingers, squinting as he looked far out into the fields at the water buffalo grazing on the open plains. “Why’d you come here, Will?”

“Vacation.”

“You hunt man-eating animals for a vacation?”

William smiled. “No. My wife is friends with Thomas, I think they went to school together in London. He offered a once in a lifetime trip and she insisted we come. I don’t think she likes Boston very much. It can be really gray and cold.” William took out his cigars and handed one to Eric before lighting it and taking one for himself. “What are you gonna do after the animal’s dead?”

“I don’t know. I can’t go home.”

“Why?”

Eric didn’t answer.

“Oh,” William said.

“What?”

“You don’t need to lie to me, Eric. I can see it in you. You miss your home but can’t go there.” He took a puff and decided to change the subject. “This tiger’s supposedly killed a lot of people.”

“Yeah. I guess you think we’re doing God’s work, huh?”

“God doesn’t ask anything of us. He doesn’t even ask us to be good, not really. He just shows us both sides and has us decide. But no, I don’t think animals can be evil. But hell, I don’t know, maybe they can and we’re just too arrogant to see it.”

“Gentleman!” Thomas yelled out, “it’s very rude to be apart from the group during a feast.”

William put his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Do you have anything you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Maybe some other time.”

“Maybe.”

As they walked back to the group, Jalani handed them a large bowl filled with a rancid, fermented drink. William took a long drink and handed it to Eric as they proceeded to get drunk. The tribe lit a large bonfire, making it roar with dry timber and a type of moss. As darkness fell, they pulled out a few drums and began a dance, chanting a melody that Sandra and Thomas took up as well. Soon, they were all drunk and dancing and chanting melodies that would last well into the night.

Jalani would glance over to Eric and smile. Eventually, she came up and sat next to him.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“You saw death today. Sometimes, that can change a person’s soul.”

“I don’t know if I believe in a soul.”

“Really? I believe everything has a soul. In my tribe, we believe that the soul, at least a small part of it, leaves the body with the breath. If two people breathe into each other, they will be part of each other forever.”

Eric smiled.

“You find funny our beliefs?” Jalani said playfully.

“No, it’s just amazing the things people like to believe in.”

Jalani glanced over at the group. They were all around the fire, dancing and singing in melody to the music. “Will you dance?” she said. She stood up and motioned for him to follow.

Eric stood up and followed her close to the flames. Her slender figure appeared exotic next to the fire, her silhouette like that of goddess; darkness against flame. Her dance wasn’t like the others’ drunken movements. She was very purposeful, her hips moving in line with her legs and her muscular upper body. She took Eric’s hands and wrapped them around her hips. He ran his hands up and down her body as they danced. When they were coated in sweat and their muscles were warm and stretched from the movement, she turned to him and put her arms around his neck. She put her lips to his, and breathed in. He pulled away and saw the mischievous grin she had before she leaned in and kissed him.

CHAPTER

34

Dawn over the plains began with a smoke-gray sky. Soon, the red and orange of the sun would come over the mountains and paint the landscape with color. Then the heat would begin. The waves would come up off the ground creating mirages in every direction one looked. The smell of hot grass and dirt would overtake one’s senses and the day would officially begin.

Eric awoke in a tent next to Jalani and Douglas. Douglas snored like a bear the entire night but Eric was so tired he had fallen right to sleep. Jalani had slept against him, her body warm through the night. He woke and gently removed her hand from his chest before he climbed out of the tent into the bright day. The tribe was up and around. He noticed that the men were gone and only the women and children remained. Some of the children stared and giggled as he made a face at them.

Thomas was seated on the ground, leaning against a tree near one of the tents and sipping at some tea. He nodded hello to Eric as he walked over and sat in the shade next to him.

“Quite a sociable people, no?” Thomas said.

“I like ‘em. They have no sense of ‘mine’; they share everything. They’re not really a tribe I found out. More like a town.”

“Sleep well?”

“Not bad, but I was drunk. What was that drink anyway?”

“Milk mixed with the spit of all the tribe and then left to ferment in the sun.” Eric got a look on his face that Thomas couldn’t help but smile at. “You’ll be fine,” Thomas said. “So what do you think of Andhra Pradesh?”

“It’s beautiful. I can see why my dad came here.”

Thomas took a sip of tea. “You’re father died not far from here, maybe two or three day’s journey.”

A robin chirped in the tree above them, dancing among the branches before flapping her wings in a furious display and then darting off.

“Will asked what I’m going to do after we kill the tiger.”

“Oh? And what did you say?”

“I said I don’t know.”

“Well, if you prove yourself a useful hunter, I suppose I could use an apprentice. You could stay with me in Hyderabad until you found a place of your own. There’s a lot of money to be made in helping tourists see the sights and make a kill. You could do it a few years and save enough to go and live wherever you want.”

“I don’t know. I’m not much of a hunter.”

“That’s yet to be seen. You can only tell when you’re eye-to-eye with the beast.”

William crawled out of a tent on the far side of the village and waved hello as he stretched his back.

“How do you know Will and his wife?” Eric asked.

“I attended school with Sandra. We were, at that time, quite the item.”

Eric never even thought that Thomas was interested in women. Not that he thought he was a homosexual, but more like asexual. He seemed like he’d be perfectly content with a solitary life. “Really? What happened?”

“I moved away and she didn’t want to leave London. I couldn’t stay; it was getting a bit tight for me. I needed breathing space.”

Sandra came out of the tent after William. She was wearing shorts and the tan smoothness of her legs made Thomas stare a bit longer than he should’ve. She walked over, a smile parting her pink lips.

“Hello boys,” Sandra said playfully. “Ready for your big manly kill today?”

“Oh,” Thomas said, “I don’t believe we’ll get him so quick. He’s a couple days away by now I would figure.”

“Big Thomas,” she said, “always on the hunt. You know Eric, he was a ladykiller back when we were in college. All the girls thought he was so tough and mysterious.”

“Tough yes,” Thomas said with a grin, “though I can’t attest to how mysterious I am.” They looked at each other a moment and then Thomas said, “We should probably get moving soon, don’t want to waste any daylight.”

“Where are all the men?” Eric asked.

“Hunting and foraging. The women stay and tend to the homes and children.” He stood up and wiped some dirt off his pants. “Come, there’s much to be done yet.”

After a quick breakfast of coffee and eggs cooked over an open fire the jeeps were off again. Next to Eric in the backseat of the second jeep sat a tracker from the tribe. He was wiry and had an intense glare in his charcoal eyes. A rifle sat next to him and he didn’t remove his hand from the barrel for a second.

Eric thought it odd that Sandra only traveled with Thomas, and even odder that William didn’t mind.

“Where we going?” Eric asked Jalani.

“There was a killing yesterday near another village. If they still have the body, we’re going to see it.”

“Why?”

“We can tell if it is a tiger from the way they kill.”

The day dragged on and the driving was rough as the paved road turned into a rough path that few cars had driven down before. Grass was growing again over the path and the earth was now fine red dirt, almost like sand. Eric took inventory of the supplies while they drove; the second jeep had all the food and water and the first was loaded with the gasoline. He wasn’t sure the food could last more than a few days for this many people.

At the base of a large green hill was another village. This one was larger than the last and had some of the tin huts made from scavenged metal found in the plains. The people dressed and looked different from those of the other village even though they were only a few hours away from each other. There was a monkey tied to a post near the edge of the village and a group of children were throwing food at it, their laughter a welcome sound after hours of nothing but roaring jeep engines.

The jeeps parked near the children and one of the boys ran back to the village and into one of the huts. A few moments later a man emerged with him. He was dressed in a dirty blue button-up shirt and jeans. He smiled widely as he saw Thomas approaching.

“Namdi?” Thomas said. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

They shook hands and Namdi looked over the group. “Dangerous for tourists here, no?” he said.

“Special group this,” Thomas said.

Namdi saw Jalani and nodded. “How are you?”

“Good, Doctor. You?”

“Fine. What are you still doing with this old man?”

“He pays too much to kill him.”

Namdi laughed and slapped Thomas’s arm. Thomas turned to the rest of the group and said, “This is Doctor Namdi Said, an old friend. This is Eric, Sandra, Will and Douglas.”

Namdi bowed his head. “Pleased to meet you.”

“So,” Thomas said, “you still haven’t answered my question. I thought you’d be in South Africa?”

“I was doing some contract work for the government here when I came across the injuries. They led me here.”

“What injuries?”

Namdi gave him a puzzled look and then said, “Follow me.”

Thomas looked to Eric, “Come with me. The rest of you wait here.”

They walked through the village, Eric lagging a little behind as he watched the faces of the people that peaked out of doorways to steal a glance at him. Many of them looked frightened and the rest looked aggressive. One small boy pointed at him and said something as he walked past.

Eventually they came to a massive tent. Namdi parted the hanging flaps that were used as a door and held them open for the others.

“Actually,” Thomas said, “I was told you have a body, Namdi.”

“We have many bodies.”

“Fresh one from last night.”

Namdi nodded.

They walked from the village heading south into the brush. Thomas explained to Eric that the dead were kept away from the villagers in case their smell attracted scavengers. In the middle of a thicket of green bushes was a path cut out that led to a small tin shack. Namdi opened the door which had a padlock on it.

Inside was the corpse of a man, at least what Eric thought was a man. He had to glance away and prepare himself before looking again.

“Go and get Jalani,” Thomas said quietly.

“He needs to be buried,” Eric said.

“They don’t bury the dead here,” Namdi said. “Hyenas dig up and eat corpses. We burn the dead each night.”

Thomas spoke softly and laid his hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Go get Jalani.”

Eric walked through the village, watching the crowds of women laughing and giggling as he walked by. Some of them appeared somber and averted their eyes. He saw his group drinking water and eating beef jerky by the jeeps. He called to Jalani and they walked back together

“What is the matter?” Jalani said.

“I don’t know.”

Jalani walked into the shack and inadvertently held her breath when she saw the corpse. She looked to Thomas. Eric watched them but didn’t understand what was going on. The corpse looked like he expected someone to look like after being eaten by a tiger.

“Is this fresh?” Jalani asked.

Thomas nodded. He stood up and walked out of the shack without saying anything. Eric followed.

“I don’t understand,” Eric said.

“You didn’t notice the color of the flesh? That body had the blood drained from it before death; the animal had drunk his blood. Tigers don’t do that.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It means, young Eric, that we are dealing with a different type of animal. Are you familiar with the story of the lions of Tsavo?”

“Not really, just what Douglas said.”

“They were man-eaters that ate a hundred and forty people. They too drank the blood of their victims. They enjoyed it, as I think this animal enjoys it. If it is the same phenomena, these animals are killing for pleasure, not food.”

They walked back to the jeeps and Thomas began speaking with Douglas. Sandra and William were playing cards in one of the jeeps and the tracker was standing at the edge of the brush. Eric walked behind him. The man was squatting and in full concentration. He was staring into the tall grass unblinkingly, his muscles tense and his rifle slung over his shoulder.

The man didn’t move when Eric approached. He didn’t acknowledge him. He stood perfectly still, staring. Eric looked into the grass. It was longer than he’d seen, about chest high and a dull green-brown. The wind was whipping it back and forth and it had an eerie voice-like quality from its motion.

The man slowly raised one hand up to his rifle and began to bring it down. He froze mid-motion a few seconds, and then continued. Before it was near his chest Eric heard the grass split apart and a warm spatter of blood hit his face as a shot rang in his ears. Something knocked him on his back as the tracker screamed and was pulled into the brush. The world spun and suddenly Eric was staring at the blue sky, a puffy white cloud drifting over his vision.

The screams died down but Eric couldn’t hear anything. He didn’t hear Sandra and William standing over him and yelling or Thomas and Douglas running into the brush with their rifles ready. He didn’t hear the screams of the children as they ran for protection in their homes, or the roar that thundered through the warm air.

CHAPTER

35

Eric floated from a mound of grass to a cloud that sat next to him. The cloud moved purposefully, turning at an angle to fit perfectly between him and the grass. He moved toward the sky and the sun was bright on his face.

“Son?”

Eric was in the backseat of a car. In the passenger seat was Jeff, staring at the road before them. His father was driving and turned back to Eric. “Son?”

“Yeah, dad.”

“You have to make sure there’s no water in your shoes. You can’t get trenchfoot. Wear your boots without socks and stop every hour and dry your feet. It worked when you were in Vietnam. Your grandpa saw you there.”

“I will dad.”

“There’s the dam.”

A large dam sat in the middle of the road, water leaking from millions of little crevices.

“Looks like it’s going to burst,” his father said.

“Yeah,” Eric said. He looked to Jeff. On his head was a clear bowl of water with a scorpion floating inside.

“Son?”

“Yeah.”

“We needed to take a detour.”

“Yeah.”

Eric felt a sharp pain in his head and it spread over his face, down his neck, over his chest and legs to his feet.

He awoke in a cold sweat, Jalani sitting by his cot applying a wet rag to the wound on his head. The side of his face ached and he felt the stickiness of dried blood running down his neck.

“Don’t get up,” Jalani said. “Dr. Said gave you some antibiotics. You will be fine, it is just a scratch.”

Eric thought back and remembered motion and warmth and slight pain in his head. He couldn’t slow the image down enough to see anything more than a blur.

“Where’s the tracker?” Eric said.

“Gone.”

Eric reached up and touched his head. “What happened?”

Jalani hesitated. “You were . . . you were bit, Eric.”

Eric saw a flash in his mind’s eye. The red and brown of a tongue, and the sharp angles of yellowed teeth scraping his face.

CHAPTER

36

Eric sat in one of the jeeps, William sitting next to him. Douglas, Jalani and Thomas were out scowering the neighboring areas with some of the men from the village. Sandra was sitting with the children playing games and calming their nerves. It was still hot and the breeze had died down. The sun was relentless and William had to pour sunscreen over himself and applied a few dabs to Eric’s nose and neck.

“I’ve never seen anything move so fast,” Eric finally said.

“What’d you see?”

“I felt blood hit my face and then a streak of fur. Some yellow teeth.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“Well, I think we should be heading back. This is too dangerous for us.”

Thomas eventually appeared out of the brush and approached the jeep. The skin on his hands and knees were cut from the dense branches he’d made his way through and sweat glistened as it dripped down his forehead.

“Anything?” William said.

“Afraid not. It made off with the body as well, damn thing. Must be strong as an ox. I think it might’ve been a lion.”

William said, “If you have anything personal of the tracker, I’d like to perform a service before we left.”

“Left?” Thomas said in amazement. “Why would we do that?”

“Are you kidding me? This thing is dangerous. This isn’t some safari anymore.”

“It never was. You were told it was a hunting trip, were you not?” Thomas’s face softened as he saw he was only escalating things. “Look, you’re a religious man, William. You value life as much or more than anyone here. These people are dying every night. Children, women, doesn’t matter to the beast. He drinks their blood before he eats them, alive. Without bribes the government authorities don’t give a damn. How can we just leave these people as they are without helping?”

William took a deep breath. “Fine, I’ll stay. But Sandra and Eric have to go back.”

“No,” Eric said.

“What?” William said incredulously. “Eric, that thing could’ve killed you.”

“That thing killed my father. I’m not leaving.”

“I’m not leaving either,” Sandra said, walking up and standing next to Thomas.

“Sands—”

“No, Will. There’s children dying here. Thomas says he can kill it and I believe him.”

“You can stay here if you like,” Thomas said. “We’ll have to go farther out in the plains to hunt him. Some of us will have to stay here, with the women and children.”

William grew angry as he realized Thomas was mocking him. “No,” he said, “I’ll come.”

“Good. I think it only fair that Eric come as well. I’ll have Jalani and Douglas stay here with Sandra. They’ll be safe enough if they stay in good numbers in the village.”

“Fine,” William said.

“Why can’t we just stay here and wait for it?” Eric said.

“We’ll need to be out in the open so we can draw him away from the village.”

“Draw him away with what?” William said.

“With us,” Thomas said with a grin.

The first jeep was packed with gasoline and food and water, enough for three people to last five days. William said good-bye to Sandra and they hugged. Douglas handed Thomas a couple bottles of whiskey and they took a drink together before Thomas climbed into the jeep.

“I have something for you,” Jalani said before Eric got into the backseat of the jeep. She pulled a chrome handgun from a holster around her waist and handed it to him. “Keep this with you. The rifles are only good at long range, not close.”

“Thanks,” Eric said as he took it with both hands. He tucked it into his waistband, enjoying the weight of it against him. Jalani stood watching him but not saying anything.

Namdi and some of the villagers had gathered around and they waved good-bye as the jeep started along its path. Sandra stood watching awhile, and then turned away into the crowd. Only Jalani watched the entire time until they were out of sight.

CHAPTER

37

They followed a path around the brush and took up the trail of blood and broken stems of grass where the tracker’s body had been dragged. They drove a few minutes before Thomas stopped, and turned the engine off.

“What’s wrong?” William said.

“The trail’s stopped.” He looked around in all directions. “And I don’t see a . . . wait.” Sticking out of the brush was the bloodied stump of a human foot. Thomas jumped out of the jeep and went to look at it. He bent down and saw that it was severed from the ankle. Going into the brush a little farther he saw the remains of the tracker. He glanced around and then climbed back into the jeep, starting the engine and taking off slowly.

“What’d you see?” William asked.

“It wasn’t a lion, the bite marks were too deep in the bone. The only animal I know that can do that is a hyena. But hyena’s don’t roar.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. Eric, start pouring out the kill, would you?”

In the very back of the jeep was an icebox filled with the entrails and blood of the recently slaughtered pig. Eric’s job was to scoop out handfuls of the guts with a cup and throw them on the ground every five or ten minutes to attract the animal and have him follow the jeep.

“So you think it’s only one hyena?” William asked.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“We would have seen or heard if there was a clan around. They hunt in packs. This is a lone hyena. Probably ousted from a clan and having to go rogue. We’re easy prey and a starving hyena wouldn’t hesitate to use us for sustenance. They usually only get up to around eighty kilos. This one would have to be much larger to drag a body like that.”

“You said he drinks blood,” Eric said.

“Yes, that is . . . puzzling. Only a few man-eaters in history have done that, but they’ve all been lions. They lick the skin off with their tongues and then drink but hyenas don’t have the sandpaper tongues of lions. I don’t know how one would do it.”

They drove under the scorching sun and stopped to rest and refuel in the shade of a large gray rock formation. A herd of small deer were grazing out in front of them and they could see the gray clouds of an oncoming storm in the distance. William sat in the jeep while Thomas sat on the rocks and ate chips and fruit. Eric couldn’t bring himself to get out of the jeep yet.

“How can you be sure it’ll follow us and not just go back to the village?” William asked.

“I can’t,” Thomas said with a mouthful. “But I’m betting it will. They can’t resist the scent of blood, it’ll be far more appealing than the scent of live prey.”

“How far out are we going to go?”

“Don’t know yet. Far as it takes I suppose. There’s a village four or so hours east. We should be able to reach there and back at least.”

The conversation was broken by the high-pitched chirp of laughter coming from the grass. William and Thomas glanced at each other and then Thomas darted for his rifle in the jeep. He grabbed it and jumped in front, searching the high grass for any movement.

William took the other rifle and stood up inside the jeep, looking in the opposite direction of Thomas. The deer had sprinted away. Eventually, the plains became silent.

“That sounded close,” William said.

“No more than thirty meters,” Thomas said, squinting as the sight of his rifle swept to and fro. He lowered it and climbed up onto the hood of the jeep for a better look. “Well Will, it seems your worries are unfounded; it’s followed us.”

CHAPTER

38

They drove through the short yellow grass in a large valley. Wild dogs dotted the landscape, their barking occasionally breaking the monotony of the putting engine and the dirt and pebbles crunching underneath the tires. Eric was scooping out a cup of entrails every fifteen minutes now as they were running low.

“We’re almost out,” Eric yelled to Thomas.

Thomas stopped the jeep. He got out and looked around, staring up at the clouds that covered the peaks of distant mountains. “There’s a storm coming. We’ll have to set up camp soon if we can’t make it to the village.”

“What about this?” Eric said, holding up his bloodied cup.

“I’ll take care of that.”

He took his rifle and climbed up onto the hood of the jeep. Getting down on one knee, he tucked the rifle snuggly against him and took aim at a young water buffalo close to them. The air crackled with gunfire and the buffalos stampeded away, the small one limping a few paces and then collapsing.

They decided to set up camp near the kill, underneath a slim, leafless tree. Two tents were set up, one for Thomas and the other for Eric and William to share. Twilight had started to descend and the sky was a prism of orange and purple, as if it were being burned by the dwindling rays of the sun.

William got out a frying pan and began melting butter to cook their meal. Thomas, covered in blood, had cut up the buffalo and filled two coolers to the brim with blood and entrails. He placed some of the prime cuts of meat next to the fire on a cloth and William began cutting it up into bite sized pieces.

“I have to admit,” William said, “I’ve never had water buffalo before.”

“A bit gamey,” Thomas said, “but better than many other meats.”

William cooked the meat with pepper and oil and then put it onto three paper plates. As night came they ate the meat and washed it down with bottles of water, no one speaking. Eric felt tired and nauseated. He’d seen more blood today than ever in his life and it sickened him. He wasn’t sure if he could handle a life out in the plains, killing for a living.

As night fell, Thomas drank whiskey and William smoked a cigar and stared at the flames as they flickered in darkness. Though the herbivores tended to rest, the plains came alive at night with the sounds of insects and the more restless of the predators. Chirping and singing and the occasional roar or holler composing a symphony.

Eric decided he needed a drink and he let himself be tempted. He drank more than he should’ve and soon the world was spinning and his stomach felt like it was on fire. It’d been too long without a drink and he couldn’t judge if he liked it or hated it anymore. He said good night and climbed into his tent, passing out after a few minutes.

Thomas and William sat staring at the fire, neither speaking. They listened to the night and Thomas finished the bottle of whiskey and threw it on the fire. He took out his pipe, stuffed it full of tobacco, and they smoked.

“Eric’s a good kid,” William said.

“He is.”

“What’s his story?” William said.

“What do mean?”

“Come on Thomas, I’m not an idiot. He told me he can’t go home again, what’d he do?”

Thomas took a pull of the pipe and handed it off. “You’ll have to ask him.”

William smirked. “Is it the same reason you came out here?”

Thomas gave him a stern look. “I came out here for freedom from the nonsense of city life. That can kill you as surely as any of the predators out in the plains.”

“Sandra told me what you did,” William said. “She said you tried to kill someone so you could marry his wife.”

Thomas nodded and looked away. “So I did.”

“Have you asked for forgiveness?”

Thomas laughed. “Forgiveness from who? God? Why? You think he would forgive me?”

“You left the church after that I hear. The doors are always open my friend.”

Thomas leaned back on his hands. “Not to me.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t believe it anymore, Will. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You think animals are cruel, they’re amateurs compared to us. No merciful God could allow us to be his prime creation.”

“You’re wrong,” William said with a mouthful of smoke. “There is evil, but there is good too, Thomas.”

Thomas stood up. “I haven’t seen that side of it yet.” He patted William’s shoulder. “Good night Elder, sleep well.”

*****

Eric jumped up in the middle of the night, his heart clinched tight in his chest. There was laughter outside.

He climbed out of the tent into darkness and could see glowing embers; remnants of the fire in front of him. The night was moonless and a wind was blowing hard. He could feel the patter of small droplets of rain against his face and arms. Thomas was already standing outside his tent, his rifle across his chest.

“Go back to sleep Eric,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”

Eric, still drunk, climbed back into his tent where William was sound asleep. But he was unable even to close his eyes. He took out Jalani’s gun and held it tightly in his palm until morning, listening for any sounds outside. Every once in awhile, he could hear the distant echo of laughter.

CHAPTER

39

Jalani stoked the fire, keeping an eye on the rain clouds moving in. Sandra sat across from her and Douglas was already drunk and lying next to the fire warming himself. Namdi sat on a log sipping tea and watching the ashes drift on the winds and land softly on the dirt before dissipating.

“Tell me something doctor,” Douglas said, “That elder said one of the children claims the animal talked to it. I’ve heard myths that hyenas can imitate human voices. Is it true?”

“I don’t know,” Namdi said. “As a man of science I say no. But there was a time when I was traveling by myself through Tsavo. I stopped at night near a large clearing and made a fire and put up a tent. I was speaking on my cell phone and I answered it saying ‘this is Dr. Said.’ In the night before I went to sleep, I heard a noise in the bush. I came out of the tent and saw the yellow eyes of hyenas in the darkness and heard their laughs. I was getting out my rifle, when I heard a voice say, ‘this is Dr. Said.’”

“Christ,” Douglas said, “what’d you do?”

“I got into my jeep and drove away. But, one is more likely to be frightened when alone. It was probably a growl that I misheard because I was scared.”

They listened to the crash of thunder behind them and could hear the rainfall not more than a few miles away. The air now smelled of wet dirt and had a dampness to it that made breathing a little more difficult.

“How do you know Thomas?” Sandra said to Jalani, wanting to change the subject.

“We met in Kigali.”

“Rwanda?” Douglas said. “When was this?”

“During the civil war.”

“You were there during the war?” Douglas said.

“Yes,” Jalani said, obviously uncomfortable.

“Well?” Douglas said. “What happened? How’d you meet?”

“Thomas saved my life. I have stayed with him since then.”

“What was it like in the war?” Sandra asked.

“I didn’t know what people were until I saw that war. Then, I knew. When Thomas found me I was being rounded up. I was told I would be forced to leave the country, but I found out from someone else they were just going to kill me. There were four guards guarding ten of us and I decided to run. I was only eleven. I was half a kilometer away before one of their trucks came and they shot me in my legs.

“Thomas was near there for some reason. I don’t know why. He shot one of the men as he put a gun to my head. The other men were cowards, they ran.” She looked skyward. “It was the worst place in the world. There were hundreds of children without arms or legs that had been cut off. Women were raped in the streets. People were burned in large fires and when they tried to climb out men would push them back in. I have never seen Thomas cry except while we were there. I don’t know if that place has left him.”

Slowly, droplets of salty rain began to pour and the fire began to die down. Douglas looked up to the sky, feeling the water against his face. “I hope they’re all right.”

“They are fine,” Jalani said. “I think we should get to sleep however. Tomorrow, we should build some traps.”

“How long do you think we should give them before going out to look for them?” Douglas said.

“They have enough food for five days. After then we will find them. We will pay the park officials to find them.”

Douglas looked out over the storm clouds, a swirling mass of gray and black, the occasional lightning bolt brightening the sky and thunder booming through the air a few seconds later. “I hope it won’t come to that my friend.”

CHAPTER

40

The morning was already hot by the time Eric lumbered out of his sleeping bag. His head throbbed and he still had the taste of whiskey in his mouth. Guilt weighed heavily on him at his slip up, but he was also angry with Thomas for letting him drink. But in the end it wasn’t his responsibility. He’d saved Eric’s life, he couldn’t babysit him too.

As he climbed out of the tent he saw William making eggs over a low fire. The air still had the smell of fresh rain but everything was drying quickly. Eric wondered how this place managed to get enough water when it evaporated the next morning.

“Rough night?” William said.

“I guess.”

“I felt you get you up, what happened?”

“The hyena was close. Or some other hyena, I can’t tell. Where’s Thomas?”

“Walking around. You want eggs?”

“No thanks. We got any juice?”

“In the cooler in the jeep.”

The water buffalo he’d seen yesterday were gone and they were alone for miles around. Except of course for the birds and insects. They were always there, always just on the edge of your vision. Eventually it got so you’d get used to seeing something flapping out of the corner of your eye and you learned to ignore it.

Eric walked into the brush and urinated before getting a bottle of orange juice out of the cooler and taking a long swig. Glancing around, he couldn’t see Thomas. Then he saw a tan wide-brimmed hat sticking up out of the grass and he made his way down to it.

Thomas was crouching, examining some tracks on the ground. His rifle was propped next to him; hand caressing it; lost in thought.

“What’d you find?” Eric asked.

“Tracks. But not like I’ve seen before. Look at this, look how deep these are. Deeper than a male lion’s.” Thomas glanced up and around them. “It’s got to be five hundred and fifty kilos at least. Maybe six. That’s more than a thousand pounds.”

“They don’t get that big?”

“Nowhere near. The largest I’ve ever seen was about a hundred and ten kilos.” He stood up and slung the rifle around his shoulder. “This may be the kill of a lifetime,” he said excitedly.

They walked back to the camp to see William finishing off some eggs and watching a flock of birds maneuver in the sky, twisting and falling close to the ground and then swinging up high in unison.

“Pack up, Will,” Thomas said. “I don’t want to lose him.”

Soon they were traveling again and the scent of the guts Eric was scooping out was making him nauseated. It seemed to him they were traveling too far away from anyone else. Thomas had said the village was east but they were heading north. He wasn’t sure if there were any other villages north, but the landscape was getting sparser and he was seeing more predators. He’d already spotted a leopard in a tree staring down at them and heard the roars of a pride of Asiatic lions somewhere in the brush.

William called Sandra on his cell phone but couldn’t get any service. He tried a few times and finally turned the phone off and stuffed it into his backpack.

The day went on as slowly as Eric could’ve imagined it going. He’d check his watch, thinking it to be 1:00 or 2:00 and see that it was only 10:30. He had to coat the back of his neck with sunscreen and constantly drink water, though that was running a bit low and he had to slow down.

Thomas stopped the jeep to rest in the afternoon and they were near a large grassy hill. Eric could see a few animals at the top of the hill but couldn’t make out what they were. He sat down on a rock and was amazed how tired he was. The sun could drain your energy as much as movement could.

“I wonder where he is?” William said, gazing into the vast expanse of grass before him.

“Who knows?” Thomas said. “Never did understand them. You know, a lot of scientists that come out here say they’re smart. Smarter than apes I’ve heard. I don’t believe it. I think they’re random and that can get mistaken for intelligence.”

“It’s killed a lot of people and gotten away with it.”

Thomas scoffed. “A cow could kill a lot of people if it wanted to and they’re dumb as rocks. It’s just an animal, it doesn’t know anything.”

When they began driving again it was already late in the afternoon. They hadn’t seen anything of the beast, not even tracks. Worry gripped William.

“What if he’s gone back to the others?” William asked.

“I don’t think he has,” Thomas said.

“Why?”

“He couldn’t get back this fast. They can run far—their hearts are twice the size of lions’ even though they’re smaller—but they can’t run fast without resting. No, he’s still out here somewhere.”

“But what if—”

Thomas slammed the brakes and the jeep came to an abrupt halt, knocking Eric forward into the back of William’s seat. Thomas held up his hand for silence. He turned off the engine and stared into a patch of long golden grass.

“What is it?” William whispered.

“He’s here.”

“How can you tell?”

Thomas pointed to an area just next to a tree. In the grass, barely visible, was the back of something in motion. The fur was a gray color and spotted black. Every once in awhile, the top of a massive head would poke up a few inches and then back down into the grass.

“Hand me my rifle Eric,” Thomas whispered.

Eric, moving slowly so as not to make any noise, took the gun and slipped it in between the seats. Thomas took it and calmly stepped out of the jeep onto the dirt and began to take aim.

As his rifle came up, the beast ducked down, and was gone. Thomas made his way to the front of the jeep and then climbed on the hood. There was nothing. As if it had never been there. He fired a shot in the air, startling the other two men. He then took aim into the grass and fired three consecutive shots, the casings clinking as they hit the metal of the jeep on the way to the ground.

After a few moments, Thomas hopped down. “Get your rifles and come with me. We’ll try and flush him out of the grass.”

When everyone was out of the jeep, Thomas motioned for the other two to go around to the south end of the patch of grass and he would go to the north. William, Eric behind him, walked slowly, keeping his eye on the grass. The only sounds he could hear were his own breathing and the pounding of his heart in his ears.

They walked around and William nodded to Eric before they walked into the thicket of grass. It was still a little sticky from last night’s rain and made a crunching whoosh noise when split apart to allow them through. They walked slowly, each step sending a wave of adrenaline through their bodies.

Eric felt something hit his chest and he jumped. He brought his rifle up and saw the birds they’d startled taking off into the blue sky. He breathed relief. Before he had a chance to relax, what sounded like an explosion rang through the air.

“The jeep,” William said.

They ran out of the grass and down the dirt trail to the jeep. Thomas joined them a second later. The jeep was tilted to one side, both tires on the left completely flat. Thomas knelt down and examined them; there were large holes on the outside of the rubber, piercing all the way through the tube.

“He knew,” William said.

Thomas looked at him, surprise flashing across his face before disappearing. “He doesn’t know anything,” he said.

CHAPTER

41

“What’re we gonna do?” William said.

“We wouldn’t get ten feet on just a rim,” Thomas said. “We’ll have to walk.”

“Back? It’ll take us days. I’d rather call them to pick us up.”

“We’re at least a day away from them by jeep. A Marathi village is only three or four hours walk from here. Gather only what you need.”

Driving over the Andhra Pradeshn ground and walking over it were two completely different experiences. Eric found his feet sinking into the soft dirt and he’d have to really make an effort to keep an even stride. They walked for hours, stopping every thirty or forty minutes for some rest in the shade of a large tree or boulder. Water was low; only eight bottles left. Food wasn’t as much a problem as the intense heat could ward off an appetite.

“Do you think he’s following us now?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know,” Thomas said, not turning around.

“Have you killed hyenas before?”

“Plenty. When I was your age, there wasn’t an animal safe from me.”

“Why?” William said. “Why is it you take such pleasure in killing another creature?”

Thomas stopped and turned around. “I’ve seen hyenas eat a person from very close Elder, closer than you are to me now. You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d seen them. The way their bloody faces laughed as they tore . . .” Thomas hesitated, his face flushed with anger. “Nevermind,” he said, regaining his calm. “You’d have to see it.”

The sun began going down, coloring the sky blue-black as stars began to shimmer. The moon was full and any storm clouds that had been there before had moved on.

The Marathi village was a speck in the distance but as darkness fell it seemed as if it were as far as the moon itself. The sounds of animals in the night were like an actual, physical, presence. As if the air itself had been turned to roars and growls. It circled them, enveloped them, and seemed to close off the rest of the world as they slowly began their ascent up a hill that led to the village.

A roar shattered the steady noise of the plains. It was deep and echoed through the valley. The group stopped to listen, Eric gripping his gun tightly in his hands. It was silent for a minute afterward but slowly the other animals began their cacophony of bellowing again, and the valley returned to normal.

“I’ve never heard an animal make such a sound,” William said. He looked to Thomas but he was gazing in the dark, not paying attention.

The hill was bare except for short green grass and had few places for large predators to hide. Still, Eric kept his gun ready, the thought of the tracker’s death fresh in his mind.

“Keep moving,” Thomas said. “He has to attack from the base and charge. We’ll have an excellent shot at him from higher ground.”

They kept walking, each step growing more difficult as the hill grew steeper. But the moon was bright and provided enough illumination to light their surroundings. Thomas had gotten far ahead of the other two and was surveying the land in front of them. He wasn’t entirely certain this hyena wasn’t part of a clan and they were extremely clever hunters when together.

“How you holding up, Eric?” William asked.

“I’m fine.”

“You know, I noticed the way you drank last night. Like you’d never had the stuff before. Are you a recovering alcoholic?” he asked matter of factly.

Eric grew embarrassed at his perceptiveness. “I’m a recovering everything.”

“Then why did you drink?”

“I don’t know. It was like I couldn’t control it.”

“Eric, come on. That’s an excuse. We control our behavior, not the other way around. Still I didn’t know, otherwise I wouldn’t have brought that whiskey with us.”

“It’s all right. It won’t happen again.”

“We’re here,” Thomas bellowed.

A hundred yards out lay a small clearing in front of a forest and Eric could see that they were on top of a flat plateau. The ground was entirely grass and flowers dotted the surroundings. Brown conical huts were built in a line along the edge of the forest and a few fires were lit here and there. Eric could hear, and smell, masses of cattle herded next to the village.

As they approached, he could see the people huddled around the fires. They wore simple cloth wrapped around their bodies and jewelry made of bone and wood. Their faces appeared hard at first and the males grabbed various weapons and began to walk out to meet the interlopers, but one of them recognized Thomas and smiled, giving a command to the others who dispersed.

“Namaste,” Thomas yelled out.

“Namaste!” the man said. He wrapped his hand tightly around Thomas’s forearm in greeting as Thomas did the same.

They spoke for a few moments, the man glancing occasionally at Eric and William. He eventually nodded and waved for them to follow.

“We can stay the night,” Thomas said.

“I should call Sandra and have her send someone to pick us up.”

“No,” Thomas said sternly. “Not until it’s dead.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“We’ll have another jeep sent out soon enough, but we can handle this ourselves. Don’t call them yet.”

“I’ll call whoever I damn well please. You know I think you’re losing your mind Thomas, dragging two people with no experience in hunting to chase this thing. Why didn’t you ask Jalani to go with you?”

“You’re not calling them,” Thomas said softly.

William took out his cell phone. Before he’d pressed even one number Thomas grabbed it from him and threw it far down the hill.

“Are you fucking insane!” William yelled. He grabbed Thomas by the collar and pushed him backward.

Thomas slipped to the side, easily loosening William’s grasp, and tripped him, William falling hard on the dirt as a cloud of dust was kicked up around him.

“Don’t do that again,” Thomas said. He glanced at Eric. “Come on boy, you’ll like these people.”

Eric helped William up as Thomas walked away.

“I’m going to get my phone,” William said.

“Not now,” Eric said. “We’ll get it in the morning.”

William looked back to Thomas. “He’s crazy Eric, I’m afraid he’s going to get us killed.”

“He’s not so bad, he’s just stressed right now I think.”

“Why do you care for him so much?”

“He saved my life.”

“Well let’s hope he doesn’t think that makes it his.”

CHAPTER

42

They sat around a fire as an elder told stories. He told them in a way Eric had never seen before, using his whole body to weave the tale as children sat at his feet, enthralled. Eric couldn’t understand what the story was about but he knew a storm was involved from the blowing sounds and the wave-like motions of the man’s hands. Thomas sat next to the man that had greeted him, talking and drinking. William was caught up in the man’s storytelling as well.

“It’s amazing how entertaining this really is,” William said. “I wish I knew what he was saying.”

Eric nodded absently.

“What’s wrong? William asked.

“Nothing, I miss home I guess. And I’m out in the middle of the fucking jungle chasing an animal that almost killed me.”

“God puts us where he needs us.”

Eric scoffed. “I don’t think God would want to help me.”

“You know, there’s a parable I’m really fond of. A man dies and goes to heaven and he’s standing before St. Peter and Peter has his whole life written for him as footsteps on a beach. There’s two sets of footprints at the early stages of the man’s life and St. Peter explains that that’s because God was always with him. Then, in the more troubled times of the man’s life, there’s only one set of footprints. The man says ‘why did God abandon me when I needed him most?’ and St. Peter says ‘no, that’s when he carried you.’”

William always got a look in his eyes when he spoke of his religion, a type of peacefulness Eric hadn’t seen very much. The only other person he’d seen that had it was Jalani.

William put his arm around Eric’s shoulders. “Tomorrow’ll be better Eric, it always is.”

CHAPTER

43

The night wore on and Eric grew tired. The elder’s stories had ended and the children were put to bed, the women with them. The men sat around now and ate salted chicken and drank a fermented drink out of a communal bowl.

There was a commotion from something coming up the hill and the men jumped up, some grabbing their weapons. Soon, the dim glow of torches could be seen and Eric made out a group of people walking up toward the village.

It was a group of about five men with a woman walking behind them. As they approached they were greeted with cheers and what sounded like congratulatory words. When they were close enough that Eric could see them in the light of the fire, he saw that the woman was bound with rope and being pulled by the men.

“What’s going on?” Eric said.

“I don’t know,” William said, looking over to Thomas. “What is this?”

“Leave it.”

The men rose from beside the fire and encircled the woman, who was cowering and trembling with fear. Eric could see a stream of urine run down her leg. The men began to grope her, feeling her breasts and buttocks and tearing at her clothes.

“What the hell is this, Thomas?” William said.

“I said leave it.”

One of the men picked the woman up, holding her up in the air and laughing. He tossed her back to the ground and she landed with a thud on her back and began to cry.

William jumped forward and Thomas quickly stood and got in his way.

“It’s none of our business, Will.”

“What’re they gonna do with her?” William said.

Thomas didn’t respond. He just looked to the woman and then back to William.

William said loudly, “What are they gonna do with her, Thomas?”

Thomas gazed in his eyes, unwavering. He had the innate ability to look through somebody, as if they just weren’t there. “They’re going to take her in that hut and gang rape her. They may or may not kill her when they’re through.”

Anger gripped William. “Why?”

“They’re a capture from a rival tribe. It’s the way of things out here. The police leave it alone, and so will we.”

“The hell we will. We’ll stop them.”

“We’ll do no such thing. Sit down, eat your food and drink your drink. This has nothing to do with you.”

The woman began to fight as they dragged her into one of the huts, the men laughing and throwing their clothes onto the ground.

“Stop them Thomas,” William said frantically. “Stop them now!”

“I can’t.”

“In the name of God stop them!” He tried to push his way past but Thomas wrapped his arms around him and held on with an iron grip.

“If you interfere they will kill us. We’re their guests.”

“God damn you!” William yelled, pulling away. Thomas swept his feet out from under him and William landed on his back.

Thomas sat on his legs and pinned his arm to his chest. “I won’t let you kill us over this, Elder. Trust me, this not unjustified. The other tribe has done very similar wrongs to this tribe and no doubt they will want revenge for this. It will go on and on, as it probably has for centuries.”

William fought with all the strength he had but his frail physique was no match for the surly Thomas. He stopped fighting, closing his eyes and praying instead. As he heard the screams, tears began to run down his cheeks.

Soon afterward the men came out of the hut, some of them wiping bloodied hands on their bellies. Thomas sat back down near the fire as if nothing had happened.

William rose to his knees and then stood up. “Damn you,” he hissed. He stumbled off, heading down the hill and Eric rose to grab him.

“Let him be,” Thomas said, not looking up. “He’ll be fine.”

Eric looked down the hill until William was out of sight. He turned back to Thomas who was busy getting drunk and staring at the flames. Eric came and sat across from him.

“What?” Thomas said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“By the way you’re staring at me I can tell you want to. So, just say it.”

“You could’ve stopped them.”

Thomas took a long gulp of the drink and absently held the bowl in his lap, running his fingers along the edge. “I had a dream the other night. It was of a pond I used to visit with my father when I was young, I think it was called Topps Pond. It was a beautiful place, a small body of water on the top of a mountain near our home, all the plants a bright green around the water’s edge. We used to fish, though, I found out later there were no fish in the water. My father just wanted to spend time with me.

“I had my first exposure to death in that pond. It was an old dog we had, I can’t remember his name. He had a toy ball I used to throw around. One day we were at the pond and my father fell asleep in the boat. I threw the dog’s toy in the water, thinking he’d swim it back. For whatever reason, the dog couldn’t swim. I thought he was fine under the water. By the time my father woke up the dog was dead.

“I hated the pond after that. I refused to go, and soon my father stopped asking.” Thomas finished off the rest of the drink and threw the empty bowl on the ground. “In my dream, I was at that pond again as a child. I was staring into the water and I was so full of hate. But I was looking at my reflection, and there was no hate looking back at me . . . the pond just didn’t care.” Thomas stared off into the distance, unblinking. He finally took a deep breath and looked at Eric, his eyes softening. “Anyway, I’ve waxed philosophical long enough. I’m drunk and going to bed.” He rose and stumbled off into the night.

Eric stared into the flames. One of the tribe, a male who had raped the woman, walked to him and took the empty bowl off the ground. He went to a large vat across the village and filled it up again. He brought the bowl over to Eric and, smiling, offered it to him. Eric took the bowl and the man seemed pleased.

The man still had smears of blood over his skin from the woman, but it didn’t seem to bother him. For the first time Eric realized these people were not like him. Not just in appearance or culture, but in soul too. They were part of the landscape, part of the jungle itself. And like the jungle they did as they felt.

He tilted the bowl and spilled out the drink onto the dirt, watching as drops splashed into the fire. The body of the woman was brought out by two men and tossed near the forest. Eric used the empty bowl as a shovel and dug a hole near the fire, putting the body in and filling the hole. He watched the fire awhile and then kicked dirt onto the flames, extinguishing it and leaving himself in sullen darkness.

CHAPTER

44

The next day came solemnly as the tribe gathered in front of the huts. They were discussing Thomas’s request for a few men to take out on the hunt. Thomas stood with them, speaking their tongue beautifully and without an accent. He nodded and gripped forearms again with one of the men.

Thomas walked to Eric’s hut and peeked in. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah, I’m up. Where’s Will?”

“He didn’t return last night.”

“What? We gotta go find him,” Eric said, jumping up and searching for his shoes.

“We will,” Thomas said placatingly. “Relax for now, the tribe has agreed to loan us a few of their men today for the hunt.”

Eric didn’t respond. Thomas sat down in the hut, his feet sticking out of the entryway, and took out his pipe.

“You disagree with what I did last night,” Thomas stated.

“You could’ve helped the woman. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, but she would’ve. Fifteen years from now, that young woman’s son or nephew would be doing the same thing to one of the tribe. Make no mistake about this place, this is not civilized. There’s no room to be soft.”

Eric stepped past him and into the bright sunlight. “Maybe not for them, but there is for us.”

The women and children stared and whispered as Eric made his way through the village and down the hill. He could see the environment clearly now; they were up on an embankment that connected to a larger mountain. Below them was green shrubbery and short grass. Elephants were in the distance, making their way to the nearest watering hole and he could see the striped lines of Indian deer sticking out of the landscape like paint on a canvas.

Eric came to the base of the hill and looked back; no one had followed him. He took out his handgun and kept it low.

“Will,” he shouted. “William!”

He began walking past the shrubbery to a nearby rock formation. “Will!” As he made his way around the conical formation he got a better view of the tops of the lower boulders. Will was sprawled on one of them, his shirt pulled up over his head to keep out the light.

“Will,” Eric shouted as he jogged over. “Will? You okay?”

William belched and tasted whatever fermented drink he’d been served last night. He removed the shirt and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the daylight. “I couldn’t find my phone.”

“I’ll help you find it now and then we’ll get outta here.”

“You want to leave?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be here anymore. Let’s get someone to pick us up and go back to Kavali.”

William, groggy and still half-drunk, nodded and started to get up. Eric helped him to his feet.

“Where’s Thomas?” Will asked.

“He’s got some of the tribe to help him hunt.”

They made their way off the boulder and began searching the hill. It was soon made apparent how difficult this task was going to be. The dirt had been kicked up from the wind and the grass was just long enough to hide something as small as a cell phone. As they searched, they saw Thomas lead a group of four men down past them. He looked at them and smiled wryly.

“Keep looking, Eric,” William said, averting his eyes from Thomas’s.

They searched for hours, taking only a quick rest to drink water and take care of toiletries behind some trees. In the end the task was impossible. And even if they did find it it’d fallen quite far and might not be working.

“Let’s stop,” William said, his shirt sticking to him with sweat. “I don’t think we’re gonna find it.”

“Maybe we can walk to a town?”

William looked out over the brush, squinted, and rubbed at the burnt skin on his nose. “Without much food or water I don’t know how far we’d get. It could be days on foot. But I don’t think I can stay here anymore; not with these people. I’m going but don’t feel like you have to come.”

“No, I’m coming.”

William grinned, wiping the sweat on his brow with the back of his hand. “All right, get my rifle and as much food and water as you can carry. Leave a couple bottles for Thomas.”

Eric ran up the hill and gathered what William had asked. The tribe didn’t seem to notice him now. They were busy in their day-to-day activities and didn’t have time to worry about an outsider. He took what he could and ran back down the hill. William was staring in the distance.

“I think if we go west we should get there in about two days on foot.” He looked to Eric. “You afraid?”

“A little.”

“Nothing to fear Eric, we’re the righteous and God is with us.” With that, they started walking.

They walked through the thicket of bushes, past the herd of elephants, and in less than an hour were out far enough that the village was an indistinct blur in the distance. “So where’d you go when you ran away?” William asked.

“What?”

“Well I don’t think you came directly to Andhra Pradesh, did you? Where’d you go first?”

“Thailand.”

“Really? I’ve never been. What’s it like?”

“Parts of it are beautiful I guess. I was in the jungle once and it was raining really hard and the sun came up from behind some clouds but the rain didn’t let up. It looked like the whole sky was one giant rainbow.”

“What’s the culture like?”

“Interesting. They’re really proud of their culture. But life’s pretty cheap. If you have the money you can do whatever you want with people.”

“You didn’t know.”

William shook his head. “Something like that . . . you’re just not the same afterward.”

The air was thick with heat and Eric took off his shirt and rolled up his pant legs. By the afternoon he was burned a light pink and the skin on the back of his neck would sting whenever sweat rolled down from his scalp.

It became clear to him that they were absolutely in the middle of nowhere. There were large mountains to one side of them far off across the plains and instead of ending in peaks they were topped with flat plateaus. On the other side was a vast expanse of short-grassed plains, teaming with life and vegetation. Heat waves were streaming from the ground as they walked past a plethora of trees huddled together. .

“Stop,” William said. He stood perfectly still, listening. His eyes were unblinking and they grew wider as he realized what he was hearing.

He walked slowly near the trees and ducked low in the grass. He motioned for Eric to come down next to him.

“What is—” Eric stopped mid-sentence when he saw what William was looking at. In front of them, not more than twenty yards, was a pride of lions feeding on the carcass of a deer. They were swarming over the body like bees, each lion clamoring for as much meat as possible, yet keeping a rigid social order. Their faces were stained red and a few had bits of flesh hanging out of their gaping mouths. They were making primitive noises; not growls really, more like grunts.

“They look so . . . happy,” Eric whispered.

“They’re doing what comes naturally to them. But it’s temporary.”

A large lion, a male with a thick scraggly mane, roared and it sent shivers down Eric’s spine. He’d never seen anything so inspiring of awe and fear. From this close he could see their true bulk and the packed muscles contracting in their jaws and legs.

“We’ll go around,” William whispered.

Eric followed him two or three hundred meters out from the pride and they started west again. The heat was getting to the point of being unbearable and Eric was starting to feel lightheaded. In this weakened, irrational state—a state not unlike the moments of unreality before one falls asleep—looking out over the Andhra Pradeshn landscape seemed as alien to him as observing another planet. Every rock and tree and blade of grass seemed like it didn’t belong in the same world as he. Perhaps it was him that didn’t belong in their world? Either way, he felt grossly out of place and it made him uncomfortable; he felt weird in his own skin.

“Where’d you meet Sandra?” Eric said, trying to make conversation to get his mind off what he was feeling.

“Boston. Her sister was a friend of mine and she introduced us,” William said, happy to talk about his wife. The very thought of her put a smile on his face. “Eric, there’s nothing quite like finding a good woman. It affects everything else. It’s almost indescribable; you just have to go through it to see how far into your life they can reach.”

Eric felt a slight tinge of remorse. But with his mind distracted, and the added stress of being out here, his body ached for a hit of H. He would’ve been perfectly content taking a nice large hit, lying down in the shade of a tree, and sleeping until someone came to pick him up.

He wondered what it was that could make the difference between a casual drug user and a junkie. There didn’t seem to be any pattern; he came from a good family with decent money. Jason back home came from two neglectful, alcoholic parents and a neighbor that had molested him, yet he could drink everyday for a week straight and then not touch the stuff again for a year and not even miss it. In the end there didn’t seem to be any difference except deep down in some part of the soul. And how were you supposed to fix that?

“You believe in a soul, Will?”

“I do,” William said, glancing over at him.

“Prove it to me. Tell me where it is.”

“Do you have thoughts about sex sometimes, Eric?”

“Yeah.”

“Prove it. Tell me where they are.”

“Point taken, I guess.”

“Why do you ask about a soul?”

“Do you think a soul could be diseased? I mean, like permanently diseased?”

“I think a soul could be diseased, yeah. But permanently? No way. People can make great changes to themselves and the world. Some people change their values, their sense of taste, their thought process—it’s like they can change their soul. I don’t think anything is permanent when it comes to the soul except the essence of who you are. Do you think your soul’s diseased, Eric?”

“I was a junkie,” Eric said uncomfortably. The words had to be forced out and even then they left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Are you now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t use, but I always kinda want to. It’s always in my head, you know?”

“No, I guess I don’t.”

They ended the conversation at that, speaking taking up too much effort at this point. Eric decided he liked Will. In a way he was a lot like Jason; no bullshit to him.

Evening came before long and the sky was lit up crimson, the sun a yellow orb in an ocean of red. Though tired and with a growing worry of the coming darkness, they couldn’t help but stop for awhile and admire the view.

“Are you tired enough for sleep?” William asked.

“Definitely.”

“Let’s do two hours each and one person keep watch. Then we’ll keep walking throughout the night.”

Eric put his shirt back on and lay down in front of a large tree. William sat next to him, his rifle across his lap. Eric closed his eyes and could hear the chirping of birds over his breathing. The steady rhythm of large animals grazing was off in the expanse before him and he heard vultures swooping over a nearby kill as he drifted and fell into a dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER

45

Eric awoke to William’s nudging. It was dark now and the moon was only a crescent in the sky. The air was warm and had wafts of dust in it from a strong wind. Eric grudgingly rose and saw William gazing into the valley before them. A small fire was built in front of him but provided little light or warmth.

“What is it?” Eric said.

William’s gaze was unmoving, his voice steady. “It’s here.”

Eric watched the darkness, the trill chirps of thousands of crickets aggravating him and increasing his fear. There was nothing he could see and he wondered if William was just too fatigued. But gradually, as his eyes adjusted, he could see two small glowing lights. They were slits of red, and they were circling them. The lights stopped, fixated, and began a silent approach.

“Run,” William said.

Eric ran, William right behind him. The wind was loud in his ears but he could still make out the crunching of tall weeds and grass behind them. He looked back only to see the slits of red closing in.

“Up there!” William shouted.

There were large boulders piled atop one another and Eric sprinted for them. He leapt onto the first one and grabbed William’s hand and helped him up. They began to climb on the rough, dry surface of the rock and only stopped when they reached the top. Eric’s breathing was labored and his heart felt like it would explode. He took out his handgun and held it in front of him.

“Did you see it?” he said.

“No, just its eyes,” William said, crouching to one knee for better stability. “You watch behind us. Shoot for the head if it charges up the rocks.”

Only the sound of their breaths filled the awful silence; the crickets had stopped. And, somewhere out in the dark, laughter.

The laughter could’ve been human. Eric thought it was the type of laugh that someone who was insane would have; menacing and meaningless at once.

“Why isn’t it attacking?” Eric said.

“I don’t know.”

William saw the slits of red glowing like embers in the dark. He pointed the rifle, trying to steady his shaking hands. He aimed and pulled the trigger. The eyes seemed to disappear in the night. William couldn’t keep the rifle steady.

“Did you hit it?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“We should run.”

“I don’t think we’d get very far. At least from here we can see around us.”

They sat on the warm stone through the night. By morning, Eric’s legs and back were stiff and throbbed with pain. His eyes were blurry from a lack of sleep and he found it difficult to think. The sun came slowly and ignited the colors of the plains before them. There was nothing surrounding them but vegetation.

William stood up. “Stay here.” He made his way down the boulders and out to where he thought he might have hit the animal. There was trampled ground and deep paw prints, but he didn’t have enough experience to say what animal they’d come from. There wasn’t any blood that he could see.

Eric climbed down and stood behind him. “Let’s get going.”

“I’m not sure if it was . . . it.”

“Who cares? Let’s just get the fuck outta here.”

They walked back to their supplies and saw with horror that their food was scattered and mostly eaten. The remaining water bottles had been ripped open and the plastic containers were slowly tumbling in the wind across the valley. They walked off without saying a word.

It had the makings of being another scorching, dry, day and Eric feared what it would feel like in a few hours without any water. He surveyed his surroundings in detail and came to the conclusion that none of it looked familiar.

“I don’t think we’re going in the right direction, Will.”

“Me neither. But there’s got to be people somewhere around here.”

“We could go back to the village.”

William hesitated. “No, those people have Satan in their souls.”

“You don’t really believe that do you?”

“Of course I do. They have no regard for human life.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re possessed by Satan. I’ve done evil things, am I possessed?”

“No, you’re confused. But they’re evil.”

Eric had never seen this side of William and he didn’t like it. He didn’t really want to go back to the village either, but to think they were possessed by the devil was madness. In a way, Eric could see Thomas’s point; they did what they had to to survive. An uneasy feeling came over him and he wasn’t sure why.

CHAPTER

46

It had started pouring rain. It was rain unlike Eric had ever seen, as if the sky were bleeding water. It poured in thick, heavy sheets and stung the skin on his face when it spattered against him. Off in the distance he could see lightening brighten the sky and thunder would crackle a few seconds later. The ground turned to mud and eventually large puddles formed. They kept walking, stopping only when evening fell.

They approached a large ravine. There was a small stream running across the bottom and the sides were coated in long green weeds. They sat down under a large tree and William took his boots off. His socks were wet and he stripped them off, revealing white blistered feet.

“Damn it,” he said. “Who would’ve thought you’d have to worry about trench-foot in a hundred and ten degree weather.” He stripped off his socks and threw them over the edge of the ravine, slipping his boots back on over his feet. “Little tactic I picked up from a Vietnam vet,” William said. “You stop every hour and air your feet out . . . Eric? You okay?”

“Fine. Who’d you know that was in Vietnam?”

“One of the homeless men that came to the church for the free Sunday dinner. A lotta homeless were in that war.” He shook his head. “Damn fine waste of good men.”

“You don’t believe in stopping communism?”

“Communism was nothing. People jumped to conclusions but there was nothing behind it, no substance. They never could’ve taken over the world, never. They’re only justification for existing was our fear. Our fear gave them strength. Without it, they would’ve collapsed.” William scooted back underneath a large branch, trying to keep the downpour off his head. “So what was your father like, Eric? You never talk about him.”

“He was a good man. I don’t think he was ever happy but he always treated me good. What about yours?”

“I don’t remember my father. My mother said he was in World War II, but I don’t even know if that’s true. One of my uncles got drunk one night and told me she had a one night stand and never saw the guy again.” William looked off into the ravine. “Weird feeling, to hate your father though you’ve never met him.” He leaned forward, over the edge. “Hey, look at this.”

Eric leaned over the edge. Two small balls of fur were bouncing around on a ledge. They were a golden color with black spots; leopards. They couldn’t have been more than a few months old.

“Cute little bastards,” William said.

There was a barking coming from across the ravine and Eric’s heart jumped. He looked over, his eyes trying to focus while rain poured over him. A troop of baboons were making their way toward the ravine. The large males were in the front and back with the females and young in the center. A particularly large male stopped at the edge of the ravine and looked in.

“Duck low,” William said. “I don’t want to have to shoot them.”

But the baboon wasn’t looking at them. He was glancing down about twenty meters at the leopard cubs. The baboon began looking for a way down. He saw a small trail that led to the bottom of the ravine and started making his way; the troop staying behind.

The cubs’ instinct kicked in and they began looking for a place to hide. Their bellies stayed low to the ground, almost rubbing against it, and they found a small hole to climb into.

The baboon came directly to where the cubs were. He stopped a few feet from the hole and stood staring in. Finally, he came closer and began sticking his hand in to get the cubs.

Eric began to ask William to hand him the rifle—

But it was too late. The cubs made no noise as life was crushed out of them. The baboon began to make his way back up to the troop, two little limp bodies in its hands. The male kept one of the cubs for himself and gave the other one to the troop to share.

A roar thundered as the mother leopard sprinted for the troop. A cacophony of barks and howls rose up from the troop as the females and young retreated and the males held their ground.

Two young males circled around the leopard, barking and hollering loudly to draw its attention. The leopard roared and showed her teeth, spinning around every time a young male would nip at her or pull her tail. The large male baboon stood in front of her, staring into her eyes. Animals always stare in the eyes to fight.

The leopard lunged and the baboon darted to the side as the leopard’s teeth clamped down on its hind leg. The baboon let out a scream and the younger males jumped on the leopard, biting her legs and belly and coming away with bloody chunks of fur and tissue.

The leopard wouldn’t let go, even as the two younger males began tearing at her open belly. She shook her head violently and managed to snap off the older male’s leg. The two males tore open her belly further and her organs were exposed. She refused to die. She spun around and bit down onto one of the baboons’ arm. The other younger male, his two compatriots injured, decided to retreat and ran off through the grass.

The leopard did not let go of the baboon, even as the blood loss began to make life leave her. The baboon was still alive but wasn’t able to remove the vicious jaws from its arm. It lay screaming on the ground as the leopard died on top of it. The older baboon collapsed without a leg and stopped moving as the younger one screamed for help. The troop simply began to move on.

“My God,” William gasped. He looked to Eric who was staring unblinkingly at the sight of the leopard, frozen with death on top of the writhing ape. “Let’s get going,” William said.

CHAPTER

47

The rain cleared up as quickly as it had come and the clouds seemed to vanish. The sun began pounding the earth again and within hours the plains were dry once more. It was odd how quickly the weather changed out here and it was something Eric was certain he could never have gotten used to. Life was unstable and unpredictable enough without the environment being the same way.

They walked through a particularly thick patch of grass and came out the other side onto a narrow dirt road. William looked one way, and then the other.

“It’s gotta lead somewhere,” Eric said.

“Yeah, but which way?”

The road went on in both directions well past the limits of vision. Eric examined it more carefully. It wasn’t a road built intentionally; it was a path that had been beaten down through the grass.

“Why would so many people come through here?”

“Tourists probably. Maybe there’s a government facility here somewhere, who knows?” William looked both ways again and then said, “Well, what do you think?”

Laughter behind them.

They both turned and looked into the grass, unable to see anything. There was some movement far off and William raised his rifle, but didn’t fire.

“Either one is as good as the other,” William said.

“Yeah,” Eric said, not taking his eyes off the grass.

Neither of them could concentrate as they walked, each glancing over their shoulder. Whenever they’d hear the slightest noise they would stop and raise their guns. They’d wait half a minute before walking again.

“Eric, I want you to know something. I think there’s a good chance we could die out here.”

“I know,” he said.

“If you got anything you want to get off your chest, anything you want to tell me, you should say it now.”

“I don’t, Will.”

They saw something in the distance as they walked. It was a dark speck at first but as they approached they saw the square outline of a building. It was made of dark red brick and was about the size of a large house. The front door was open.

William walked up some steps to the door and peeked in. It was a reception area. There was garbage strewn all over the floor and a single desk took up half the space of the room. The place looked like it’d just been ransacked. “Hello?” he said. He looked back to Eric and shrugged before walking in.

The air was stale even though the door had been open. A slight breeze was blowing and causing some of the papers to rustle. Eric could see a half-eaten lunch on the desk. William walked to the desk and flipped through some of the papers.

“It’s a medical facility,” William said.

“Then where is everyone?”

“I don’t know.” There were some metal drawers against the wall and William opened each one, examining the contents before closing the drawer he was on and going to the next one. “Some of this stuff’s in English.” He stood up and looked around. “They’ve got to have a bathroom somewhere, which means they have to have water.”

Eric followed William down a narrow hallway and into the first room on the right. It looked like an office, but there was no furniture; only garbage thrown around everywhere. One of the windows was broken and sunlight reflected off the little pieces of glass on the floor.

They walked to the next room. It was a medical examining room. William found some band-aids and antiseptic in one of the cupboards and he stuffed as many as he could into his pockets.

Eric searched the room but found neither food nor water. There were tongue depressors, thermometers, stethoscopes and even an X-ray machine, but no food or water. They walked out of the room and to the last door at the end of the hallway. William checked that his rifle was chambered.

The room smelled of feces. They looked in and could see black spatters of blood all over the walls, baked into the paint from the heat. Two bodies were on the floor, a male and female. Stab wounds covered her flesh and her head had a large fracture. The man had been decapitated, his head placed on a desk against the wall. The woman had lost control of her bowels.

“God almighty,” William said. He said a silent prayer and covered his nose with his shirt to keep out the stench.

Eric had to get out of the room. He leaned against the wall in the hallway and looked out a window on the far side of the reception area. He tried snorting a few times to try and get the stink out of his nostrils. He felt the acid in his throat and couldn’t swallow in time to keep the vomit down. What little hydration he had spewed out of him and over the wall.

William walked out to him and leaned against the opposite wall. “Thuggees,” he said. “They have roving gangs all over this valley that do things like this.”

“Why would they do this? There’s nothing here for them to steal.”

“That woman’s been severely abused. They probably did it just for that. The doctor just happened to be here.” William stood up straight. “I need your help Eric, we need to bury them.”

“Why? The animals’ll just get to ‘em either way.”

“Please, it won’t take long.”

Eric had to breathe out of his mouth from the stench. They tore down some curtains and rolled the corpses onto them, dragging them outside and leaving large smears of blood on the floor. A small ditch was dug in the soft dirt using the metal drawers from a filing cabinet. They dragged the bodies to the edge of the ditch and rolled them in, then covered them back up with dirt. William said a prayer.

“I hate this fucking place,” Eric said, tears welling up in his eyes. He was beginning to shake. “I fucking hate it.”

William grabbed his shoulders. “Calm down Eric,” he said softly.

“No! There’s nothing here but fucking death. Everything’s dying. This is hell, Will! We’re in fucking hell!”

“Eric,” William said sternly, “keep it together.”

“I fucking hate it,” Eric said, sobbing. “Everything’s black.” He burst into tears, his body convulsing. He collapsed on to the ground on his knees.

William wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. “It’s okay, I’m here for you, Eric. God’s here for you,” he whispered. “We’ll survive. We’ll live to see another day; you just need to hang on.”

Eric wiped at his tears, pulling away from William. He looked and saw William’s soft eyes and it comforted him. “I’m sorry,” he said, regaining control.

“No need,” William said. “God won’t abandon you Eric, even in a place like this.” He looked over to the structure. “I think we should stay the night here. Would you be okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Eric said. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

*****

Night came quickly as they sat in the reception room, staring out the windows. William tried to pass the time by reading some of the medical documents he’d found and cleaning his rifle. Eric just sat silently, unmoving. They’d found some candles and had them set up around the room, providing a warm glow in the darkness.

“These people suffered so much,” William said, flipping through some papers. “It seems like everyone was dying of things that could be cured in the states with a prescription.”

There was barking outside. William looked to Eric and dropped the papers. He picked up his rifle and made his way to the door. Eric didn’t want to move, but he forced himself up. He walked behind William and stared out into the darkness.

The moon provided some illumination and they could make out the shapes of animals running around in front of the building. They were hyenas, about six or seven of them. They were no bigger than dogs but they struck a fearsome shape in the dark.

They were digging up the corpses. Two of the larger animals were fighting over what looked like a leg. Another one held the woman’s corpse by the head and was dragging it up out of the ground.

Eric took out his handgun and fired, the bullet whizzing by William’s ear. He fired again and hit one of the larger hyenas in the leg. The pack, hollering with fear and anger, scattered.

William grabbed Eric’s arm and forced it down. “Don’t waste your ammunition. These aren’t the ones hunting us. They’re too small.”

William shut the front door and sat down against the wall. He watched Eric awhile. He’d known many boys like him. Confused and angry at their confusion. Hell, he had been like that most of his life. He wondered if there were certain principles that helped one overcome ruts like the one Eric was in? Or was all psychology just random and subjective? No, he decided. That’s too simple, and life is anything but simple.

As the hours passed the air grew so humid William was constantly damp and it was too uncomfortable to sleep, but he thought he would try anyway. “We’ll leave here in the morning,” he said.

Eric stared out the window at the moon. Outside he could hear barking again, and the sound of something being dragged away. Soon, there was just the darkness, distant laugher echoing through the valley.

CHAPTER

48

Morning came and they began their trek again. As they left the building they noticed the empty ditch where they’d buried the corpses and the drag marks leading into the nearby brush.

Though it was morning the heat had already reached into the hundreds and without water walking was becoming more difficult.

The first thing Eric noticed about severe dehydration was the numbness in his lips. They began to crack and sting whenever he licked them. Soon his legs began to feel sore and he couldn’t think clearly. After a few hours in the heat, the last of his body’s hydration leaked out onto his skin to try and offset the intense heat. His muscles began to cramp and he realized that he wouldn’t be able to walk for much longer.

A rustling behind some nearby trees.

William stopped and lifted his rifle. Eric took a step back and pulled out his gun, holding it low rather than waste the strength to point it.

There was a patch of gray fur spotted black in the thick shrubbery.

William pointed his rifle and fired, a swarm of birds leaping from the grass and taking flight. The crackle echoing across the valley.

The fur ducked low and was gone.

“What the hell was that?” Eric said.

William tried to spit on the ground and it spattered onto his boot. Dust and dirt were constantly swarming with the wind and it gave him a taste in his mouth like he had been sucking on sand all day. “It’s him,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

Another streak of fur, this time farther away and heading in the opposite direction. William took aim and fired and the fur ducked low again.

An icy chill went down Eric’s back. “Stop,” he said.

“What?”

“Don’t shoot anymore.”

“Why?”

“He’s doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“Making us waste our bullets.”

William stared at him a long while and then back out over the grass. The wind had died down and a breeze was rustling through the trees, an invisible hand stroking the leaves as gently as a mother running her fingers through the hair of her child.

“Let’s get moving,” William said solemnly.

Walking soon became torture and Eric had to break down his goals into smaller chunks. Finding civilization was reduced to finding a good road and then walking a hundred feet and then fifty, twenty . . . and then all he could do to keep his body in motion was to focus on the next step. One step, and then muster strength for one more. He kept his eyes on the tall grass surrounding him, his ears attuned to every sound. But he couldn’t help his eyes from falling to his feet, concentrating on each step so as not to fall. If he fell, he wasn’t sure he could get back up.

After two hours of scorching heat, pain and blistering skin, they reached a clearing. There was nothing to hide behind, no bushes or trees and all the life had to be out in the open, each animal sizing up the others. There was a carcass of a deer on the dirt road and William looked it over as they passed by. There were no signs of it being attacked.

“I think it died of heat,” William said.

“I need to rest,” Eric said.

They sat down on the dirt road as there was nowhere in sight that provided shade. William lay flat on his back with his arms and legs wide, trying to cool down. Eric began fanning himself with his shirt but the small amount of breeze created was hot and moist so he stopped and just wrapped the shirt around the top of his head to keep the sun off.

In the distance were a series of glimmers, like sunlight reflecting off water or metal. They watched the glimmers get larger for some time before they realized it was people moving toward them.

William stood up and began waving his arms to attract their attention. Eric sat motionless, too fatigued to move. William found he couldn’t wave his arms for long and eventually just sat down, exhausted. The people were moving toward them.

“Let’s hope they speak English,” William said.

As the group approached Eric could see they were two women and probably six or seven men. The glimmers they’d seen was sunlight reflecting off their weapons.

The men carried long staffs and a couple of them had older rifles. Their faces were tattooed with dark blue ink and their earlobes had been stretched down to the base of their necks. One of them had a necklace made from some big animal’s teeth. William guessed they were a small band of gypsies. Though rare in India, they did exist and led agrarian, almost hunter-gatherer lives. Moving from town to town and village to village.

William stood up, smiling, and nodded hello. The group watched him with curiosity but William didn’t detect any fear. He couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

“We need water,” William said. He motioned up to his lips like he held an invisible glass. “Water,” he said again. They remained silent. William wiped at the small amount of sweat that had gathered on his brow and showed it to them before licking it. “Water.”

One of the men said something in a harsh, abrupt language and one of the women stepped forward. She took out a little leather pouch and laid it on the ground. William approached the pouch cautiously and picked it up; the contents swished. He took a sip; warm water.

William handed the water to Eric and let him drink before finishing it. He was surprised; he never imagined that water could taste so good. He laid the pouch on the ground and nodded again. “Thank you,” he said. He put his hand on his heart and bowed low. “Thank you.”

The group watched them a moment longer and then began moving away. The man that had allowed them water stayed behind and watched them a bit longer.

He patted his hand against his chest. “Tuu’.”

“Tuu’,” William said. He tapped his fist against his own chest. “Will.”

The man nodded. He waited a second and then spoke some words. Seeing that the men didn’t understand, Tuu’ motioned with his large spear in the universal gesture to follow and began walking away.

William looked around. “I wasn’t sure if bushmen like this existed in India. I can’t tell if they’re genuinely good people or just trying to get us to trust them, but there’s nothing out here. My vote is to follow them.”

Eric stood up, his legs burning and nearly buckling underneath him. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER

49

Eric walked next to William as they followed the group. They didn’t appear like the other tribe. They didn’t speak to each other, or sing, or look around at their surroundings. They were focused and serious. So much so that the intense heat didn’t seem to bother them.

The women were in the center of an oval with the men taking up the spaces outside. Eric noticed they had feet like leather, thick skin with thin sandals.

They navigated through the plains well. It was amazing that they knew where they were going at all, considering they barely glanced up from the ground. They seemed to have an innate sense of where they were.

“What tribe are they?” Eric whispered.

“I don’t know. I have a book on the different indigenous people and I don’t remember seeing a group like this other than gypsies. There is a Chenchu tribe out here that still hunts for subsistence and it could be them. But there’s apparently over a hundred languages spoken in India so I’m sure they’re from somewhere here.”

They walked until dusk and then stopped on a patch of lush green grass. The group sat down in a circle and Eric and William sat on the outside. The group made a space and Tuu’ motioned for them to sit. They moved up and sat next to him.

Some of the women took out a black liquid from little leather pouches and began applying it to the tips of the spears. The men sat cross-legged and closed their eyes. They began humming at first, a low rhythmic sound varying in pitch from high to low. They kept it up a few minutes then stood and began clapping their hands in rhythm. One of them let out a shout and a few others followed.

One of the men walked to the center of the circle and began speaking, describing a story with animated movements and facial expressions.

Each man took their turn in the center of the circle as the sun began to go down. They passed around a small bottle, each taking a sip before giving it to the man next to them. The climax of the ritual was prolonged yelling, nearly to the point of going hoarse. The women rose and walked next to them, kissing each one on both cheeks before stepping away and sitting back down. Some rifles were brought out and it looked like the men were given a choice between them and the spear. Each man chose the spear.

The men turned and began a slow jog to the north. Tuu’ motioned for them to follow again. They rose slowly and tried to keep pace.

“I can’t run,” Eric said.

“Just walk as fast as you can.”

The men galloped far ahead of Eric and William but because the land was so bare they never lost sight of each other. Eventually they came across a herd of deer and the men stopped and ducked low. By the time Eric and William had caught up, two of them were already crawling on their bellies toward the animals, spears held tightly in their left hands.

Tuu’ held his hand flat in the air with his palm facing down and lowered it until it touched the ground. The rest of the men silently got to their bellies and Eric and William followed.

The deer didn’t seem agitated though it’d be hard for Eric to tell. They grazed and let their young wander around without adults near them. A couple were neighing and butting their necks against each other, nipping at their bodies with dull teeth. Tuu’ pointed to one of them and the men rose and began going in that direction.

“Should we stay here?” Eric said.

“He didn’t ask us to follow. I think they only wanted us to come so we would be away from the women.”

The two men who had gone off on their own crawled in the opposite direction of the rest of the group. Eric could see that they were heading toward a young doe that was grazing by himself. The rest of the group slowly made their way across to the fighting males. The males were too distracted to notice the approaching hunters.

The two lone hunters slowly rose to their knees, both holding their spears over their shoulders. They looked over to the rest of the group and waited until they had done the same.

It seemed almost in unison when they threw their spears. They moved too fast to be anything but a blur and the animals reacted too slowly to move out of the way of the oncoming projectiles.

A high pitched squeal rang through the air as panic gripped the deer. The doe was wounded but was still running faster than the men who’d begun chasing him. One of the spears of the larger group had struck a full size buck, but the wound was superficial and the spear quickly dropped from its flesh as it sprinted away.

Eric watched as the doe became sluggish. It seemed disoriented and began running in a wide circle. The men were walking casually a few dozen yards behind it. The doe neighed and shook its head vigorously as it spun around, bucking and kicking. It stopped abruptly, watching the two men, and then fell to the ground with a loud squeal. The men approached and one took out a long blade. He grabbed the animal by the head and slit its throat. The blade was too dull to do it in one or two motions so he had to saw at the animal’s neck until blood began to pour into the dry earth.

The rest of the men gathered around the dying creature. Tuu’ brought out a small bowl from a pouch and held it underneath the stream of blood. He brought the bowl to his lips and tilted his head back, guzzling with obvious pleasure. He refilled the bowl and passed it around to the other men.

They drank their fill until the animal had died and then sat around him. Tuu’ closed his eyes and began a chant that Eric thought sounded like a prayer. The men appeared serene as they joined in, their faces calm with blood stained lips. Tuu’ began rocking back and forth as if in a trance. He opened his eyes suddenly and was looking directly at Eric. His eyes were distant and unwavering, like two gems set in his skull. He turned around as the other men chanted louder and slit the creature’s belly, thrusting the bowl into the wound and filling it once more with dark blood. He rose and walked over to Eric and William.

Tuu’ offered up the bowl to William first. William looked to Eric and then to the bowl. The blood wasn’t as thin as it was right after the kill. It was syrupy and almost a dark purple. William took the bowl with both hands, and put it to his lips. He lowered it after a second and handed it to Tuu’.

It was Eric’s turn next. He took the blood and looked down into the bowl. He could see his reflection, wavy and indistinct in the daylight. Bringing the bowl up, he took two deep swallows.

The blood was warm, almost hot. It tasted like rancid meat and had a thick, slimy texture. It had already congealed a bit and he had to chew the last portion and swallow.

Eric tried to hand the bowl back to Tuu’ as vomit spewed forth and over his shirt. Eric kneeled down and started puking bile and deer blood. The smell of the concoction made him doubly sick and he dry-heaved; his stomach empty.

William’s eyes widened and his hand reached for the rifle that was slung across his shoulder. He couldn’t be sure that such an insult wasn’t an executable offense. But Tuu’ just stared, and eventually his eyes softened. He smiled and began to laugh. His laugh was deep and took over his whole body. Leaning his head back, he exposed small white teeth and a light pink tongue. The other men saw what was happening and they too began to laugh.

“I don’t think they find you very manly,” William said.

“How the fuck did you drink that?” Eric said, gagging.

“I didn’t, I just put it to my lips.”

Eric looked at him banefully and then dry-heaved again.

CHAPTER

50

The kill was hauled back to a small encampment near a hill. As night fell, the bushman lit an enormous fire in a pit the women had dug out with their hands. They stabbed sharpened sticks through the meat and cooked it over the pit until it was crisp. Tuu’ gave their guests the biggest portions of meat.

The food was good, a bit like sweet spicy beef. Eric ate two large slabs quickly and felt sick afterward.

The bushman were kind to the point of being flawed. There was enough meat to go around this time but Eric had a feeling that even if there wasn’t they still would’ve given the biggest portions to them.

After the meal the group sat around in a circle in front of Tuu’ as he spoke. His speech was peppered with noises and hand motions and the group was fully entertained. Their attention never wavered from him. Not to the bright glowing moon or the shimmering stars blanketing the sky. They seemed to have an ability to focus completely on what they were doing at any particular moment.

Eric watched Tuu’ with a sense of wonder. The way he moved and spoke reminded him of some ancient shaman, sitting around a cave telling his tribe about the wonders of the world outside.

Just behind Tuu’, in Eric’s peripheral vision, he saw movement.

It wasn’t much at first; just a blurry streak. Then Eric made out a moving shape. It looked like it was moving slowly but as his eyes adjusted he saw that it was traveling from a great distance through the grass and barreling toward them at incredible speed.

“No!” Eric shouted as he jumped to his feet.

Before the tribe could respond the beast bit down on Tuu’. The flesh on his shoulder and back tore as he let out a scream and was dragged backward into the night. It was hard to make out much more than the head of the creature, but it was massive. Its eyes glowing a faint red in the darkness. Tuu’ flew backward into the bush as easily as a leaf being blown by the wind. He was dragged fifty feet in a couple of seconds and disappeared. His screaming didn’t stop but slowly dimmed to nothing, like a passing ship in the night sea.

William was running past the fire and into the bush. He leapt over some thick shrubbery and continued sprinting, the thorny vegetation tearing at his clothes and skin. There was a trail in the dirt where Tuu’ had been dragged. It went into the tall grass about a hundred feet and then stopped near a dark circle. William bent down and touched the circle; it was wet and had a coppery smell. There was no sign of the man other than one of his small leather pouches. William picked it up.

He searched for paw prints to follow but could find none. Before long, he realized it was hopeless and began walking back.

A thought struck him as he made his way back to the fire; the tribesman didn’t help. Some of it was the speed and surprise of the attack of course, but even after that, they didn’t do anything. He approached them now and they still sat in the same positions, looks of terror across their faces. The only ones that had moved were the women who had encircled one of their younger members that was weeping. Perhaps Tuu’s’ wife, William thought. He handed her the small pouch, and walked over to Eric.

“We need to leave,” William said.

“What? Now?”

“We’re a danger to these people, Eric.”

“How? That thing could’ve attacked—”

“That animal’s following us. These people aren’t safe while we’re with them. They’re clearly brave but none of them ran after that thing. They’re either scared to death of it or think it’s some deity or something. Either way, we need to get outta here.”

CHAPTER

51

Eric and William had walked through the night and well into the day. They’d made their way past the valley, over a small hill, and into another valley.

Quick moving gazelles darted around in front of them, the small animals stopping to graze every so often. Roars of the big cats were constantly echoing in the distance and the trumpeting of elephants sometimes followed. There was a small river along their path and they rested for what seemed like hours, dousing themselves in the brown water. William made a fire and they boiled the water in William’s flask before drinking. It was warm and tasted like mud, but they drank two full flasks each before they felt sick and bloated from the dirt that was mixed with it.

Eric took off his shirt and lay in the wet dirt of the riverbank. His head was spinning and he wasn’t able to think clearly. His thirst satisfied, he now turned his attention to hunger. “Can we get anything to eat?”

William sat on the bank. “I saw some berries on a tree but I can’t be sure they’re not poisonous. I guess we could try and hunt something.”

“What? Like a gazelle?”

“They’re fast, but not impossibly fast.” He stood up, walking to the river and dousing himself with as much water as he could. He slicked his hair back with his hand and grabbed his rifle. “I’ll be back soon.”

Eric felt as if he should follow, but he couldn’t move. His muscles were so fatigued they had started to spasm and his back had seized up, causing him to lean to the side in pain. He covered his eyes with his hands, trying to keep out the blazing sun but it still slipped through his fingers in a glowing red.

Soon, he was alone with the sun above him, the wet dirt underneath him, and the flowing river in front of him. The rushing waters sounded hypnotic; making him doze off and fall into a dreamless sleep.

A low grumble woke Eric. It sounded like a diesel engine starting in water. Eric looked up and saw the cracked gray-green scales of a large crocodile.

The croc was watching him patiently from the water, slowly drifting his tail back and forth as he made his way to the riverbank. His eyes were sticking out above the surface but the rest of the animal was submerged.

Eric tried to stand, fighting the resistance of his back. The croc kept a slow pace. Eric was about to turn and run when he heard a loud hiss. Behind him was another croc, though smaller than the one in the river. It had soundlessly come out farther down the bank and crept behind him. It was standing motionless except for its open mouth.

Eric ran and the croc charged. The larger croc was now out of the water and giving chase. The smaller one lunged and bit down on Eric’s calf. He screamed and collapsed on the ground. His calf felt like it was being crushed, the pressure sending waves of pain up his leg. The larger croc was nearly to him, moving in a purposely lazy stride.

The smaller croc began to pull with a ferocious strength, trying to get his meal back into the water. Eric tried to hold himself steady by clawing at the sand but the croc was too strong and soon he was waist deep in water. The croc began to twist his body and Eric was violently spun in the water, slamming his head into the riverbank as the croc tried to tear off his leg. He screamed as the larger croc moved in, its jaws open as it now lunged at his head.

The larger croc snarled and then retreated quickly into the water behind him.

The smaller croc let out a screech. Blood sprayed over Eric and the pressure on his leg went slack.

Eric only saw darkness at first. He thought the croc had bit him in the face but when he didn’t feel pain, he recognized that the darkness was a shadow cast over him.

The creature was colossal. Muscles rippling under gray fur. It stood as large as a horse but twice as thick and with large, powerful legs. The animal had its head in the organs of the smaller croc, which had been bitten in half, and swallowed the entrails. It picked up half the creature in its mouth and trotted a few feet away before dropping it on the ground and beginning to feed again.

Eric watched it eat. It lapped at the blood first, staining its face a dark red. It didn’t seem to chew, just tear and swallow. Within seconds, that part of the croc was almost gone.

Eric moved as silently as he could, holding his breath. He pulled apart the limp jaws of the croc around his leg and slid up the soft dirt of the riverbank. Getting to his hands and knees, he began to crawl away from the creature and into the grass.

He froze. A growl had come from behind him. He slowly turned his head. The creature had finished half the croc and was eating the other half. The large croc was now on the other side of the river, silently watching the creature.

Eric got to his feet and ran. The grass whipped the bare skin on his torso and face and each step shot a surge of pain up his back. He ran until his lungs burned and he was out of breath, pain in his side making him nearly double over. The grass was thick and he didn’t feel like his arms had the strength to keep pushing it away from him. Eventually he just barreled his way through, the vegetation scratching and scraping his tender flesh.

Something grabbed him and he yelled and turned, hitting his foot on a rock and collapsing onto his back. William stood above him, surprise on his face as he leaned down to calm him.

“What is it?” William said. “What’s going on?”

Eric was out of breath and couldn’t speak. He just pointed to the riverbank and William glanced back toward it and stood up. He checked the chamber on his rifle.

“Stay put,” he said.

Eric grabbed his pant leg. “Guns won’t do anything.”

CHAPTER

52

Night came again over India and the darkness was always accompanied by a new wave of sounds. Insects and animals that slept during the day were now coming out and into the fresh night air in search of food. Life itself seemed to grow louder on the Andhra Pradeshn plains when the sun went down. As if some creatures served only the moon.

Jalani sat next to a small fire she’d made from dried bark and twigs, sharpening her hunting knife with a smooth stone. Another fire was built a couple yards away and Douglas lay in front of it, drunk as he was every night, Sandra sitting next to him. They were laughing and telling stories and Sandra would put her hand on his shoulder when he said something particularly witty. Eventually, she began rubbing his arm as he told a long story of his time in New Zealand whale hunting.

Jalani didn’t like it. Sandra’s husband was out risking his life; it was disrespectful. But it was not her place to say anything. In her culture, a woman could be executed for adultery. But she knew that in Western cultures it was quite common.

She thought of Eric and worry began to gnaw at her. It was not her intention to like or even get to know him. But he had innocence about him that she found intriguing. It felt like she wanted to throw her arms around him and protect him from the world.

Dr. Namdi came and sat down next to Jalani, two cups of tea in his hands. He handed one to her and stretched out his legs before the fire.

“You look sad,” Jalani said.

“I could not save a boy tonight. His infection spread too fast. I just told his mother he was dead.”

“Nothing is easy.”

“No, nothing is.” Namdi looked over to Sandra and Douglas. “You know, her husband is a holy man but I think he will still kill the fat one when he returns.”

Jalani smiled. “If he returns.”

“You do not think Thomas will kill this animal?” Namdi asked.

“He will.”

“It is not like other animals I have seen.”

“Thomas is not like other hunters.”

Namdi took a sip of his tea, letting it trickle down the back of his throat before speaking. “He has a reputation for being stubborn.”

“He is stubborn. Especially with hunting.”

“Why?”

“Did you know he was married once?”

“No, I did not.”

“A girl from Johannesburg. They were married in Tsavo by a bushman priest.”

“Were you there?” Namdi said.

“No, he told me one night as we were traveling by ship to Cyprus and he was drunk. It was the same date as his marriage.”

Namdi smiled. “Do mean anniversary?”

“Yes, it was their anniversary. He told me about his wife.”

“What happened to her?”

“They were camping with many people in Nyanza and she went out to gather wood for the fire with another woman. They came too close to a pride and a lioness attacked them and she was injured. The other woman ran back to Thomas. When he found her body, the hyenas were feeding on it.”

“He has never remarried?”

“No, I do not think he ever will again.” Jalani chuckled. “He says now that love is an illusion created by merchants.”

Namdi laughed and shook his head, staring into the warm glow of the fire. Jalani sipped her tea and placed the cup down on the ground as she leaned her elbows against her knees.

“Let me ask you something doctor; why are you still here? You could go to Johannesburg or Cairo. Make lots of money and find a beautiful wife.”

“I could,” he said matter of factly, “but that is not what I want. When I see these people suffer, I suffer with them. No one, even their own government, cares about them. They are seen as parasites because they live on the land and do not give taxes to the cities. But they are not parasites. They live with the land, not off of it. In harmony. They respect this place.”

Jalani felt admiration. To turn down money was not something most men could do. She thought it was to fight against our very nature.

“Let me ask you something,” Namdi said. “You are a very beautiful girl. I’m certain any man would take you to wife. Why have you not married yet?”

“I do not know. I have not met anyone of worth.”

“Except Eric?”

Jalani looked to him, surprised at his perception.

“It is all right,” Namdi said with a smile. “I will not tell Thomas if that is what worries you.” He took a sip of tea. “He seems like a decent man.”

“He is. But he has much darkness in his soul.”

“Hm, we all do. It is part of who we are. Be careful in trying to heal him, Jalani. You may end up destroying the best part of him.”

She took her tea and finished it in one gulp before standing up. “I must go to bed now doctor, but I enjoyed our talk.”

“As did I. Tell me something Jalani, have you ever seen an animal do this? Kill so many people?”

“No doctor.” Jalani looked out into the darkness. “But I do not think this is an animal.”

CHAPTER

53

William and Eric did not stop to rest in the night. The sky was clear and the air was cool—a rarity during this time of year. To stop and wait for the heat of the morning would be foolish.

They made their way past the large valley and started to climb farther up into the lush highlands. The highlands were more a dense forest than what one would think of as Indian plains. The trees were thickly branched and the leaves ranged in colors from bright green to brown. Layers of cricket chirps and hoots from monkeys high up in the branches reverberated in the night.

“If I wasn’t so damn scared,” William said, “I might really be in awe of how beautiful this is.” He looked to Eric. He hadn’t spoken since the incident at the river. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You know, you haven’t told me exactly what you saw.”

“I wouldn’t know how to describe it.”

“Well, for starters, how big was it?”

“Maybe five or six feet high, ten feet long.”

“That’d be bigger than a bull.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t a bull.”

The forest grew dense and they had to push their way past thick foliage and bushes with long narrow thorns on every stem. Eric’s legs began to itch from the dozens of small cuts and scrapes he’d accumulated.

“You know,” Eric said, “when I was kid, I wasn’t that great with girls. I was awkward and shy and they never paid attention to me or were usually just mean to me. My dad used to take me to baseball games. We didn’t have a professional team, so we used to go to the college games. There was this girl there that worked at the food stand. She was blond and kinda skinny but had these gorgeous green eyes. I mean I was only like twelve at the time but I had a full out crush on her. I could never bring myself to talk to her, but she’d smile when she saw me and I’d smile back. I think she was the only girl at that time of my life that was nice to me.

“One of the games we went to she wasn’t there. She wasn’t at the next one either. She went to junior high school with one of my friends and I asked if he knew her and what happened. He said she was dead. Her father had come home drunk one night and thrown her down the stairs.” Eric glanced at William who was staring at the ground. “I never got to tell her how much those smiles meant to me. I still think about her sometimes but I don’t know why.”

“Regret’s a hard thing to deal with. They say it’s better to regret something you have done rather than something you haven’t, but I don’t know. I have so many regrets myself Eric, so many missed opportunities. I thank God I found Sandra but she wasn’t the first. There were others that I treated poorly and it went nowhere. But we’re learning creatures. We can’t expect to get things right the first time.”

A few minutes of silence passed, the crunching of vegetation underfoot filling the empty space.

“I killed someone,” Eric said, not looking at him.

William stopped in his tracks and Eric walked a few paces ahead but didn’t turn around. He stood motionless, watching the trees sway in the cool wind.

William stood silently watching.

Eric swallowed, his throat dry. “I killed my stepfather. I shot him in the chest.”

“Do you regret doing it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to kill anybody, but at that time . . . I don’t know.”

“Why did you kill him?”

“He hurt my mother. I just wanted to scare him but it didn’t turn out that way.”

“And you thought you could protect her by taking his life?”

“No . . . I don’t know. I went over there to scare him but I think part of me knew it would end like it did.”

“You’ve committed a crime against God Eric, but your heart was in the thought of protecting your mother. God can forgive you; do you want to be forgiven?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must make up for the life you took, do you understand? You have to take a life with no hope and give it hope.” William got on his knees and forced Eric down with him.

“Repeat: O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all of my sins because of Your just punishments. Mostly because they offend You my God, who art all good and deserving of all my love. I will, with the help of Thy grace, sin no more. And I say these things, father, in the name of thy beloved son Jesus who is the Christ. Amen.”

Eric closed his eyes and repeated after him. William placed his hand on Eric’s shoulder. He embraced him before they began walking again.

*****

The sun seeped through the branches of the canopy above them at dawn. They’d walked the entire night without stopping. Now they were tired and hungry, thirst making their stomachs twist in pain.

They stopped near a large boulder in a clearing and sat down, their backs against the stone. A blanket of bird calls filled the forest and a colony of ants were busy at work on a tree stump in front of them.

Eric leaned back and closed his eyes. The heat felt wet in the forest and it soaked him in humidity and perspiration. He hardly noticed when a glob of drool spattered on his chest. Another strand leaked down over his face and he opened his eyes.

Above him on the boulder was a face from his nightmares. The creature’s eyes were drawn tight and its teeth were exposed. Eric couldn’t move. He stared into the creature’s eyes, watching its pupils dilate as its muscles tensed.

The creature lunged and Eric spun away on the ground, the horrible mouth snapping into air and missing his shoulder by a few inches. William jumped and grabbed the rifle but the creature spun around too quickly and knocked him off his feet. It turned back to Eric and let out an earsplitting roar. Eric took off into the forest and the creature went after him.

The forest was thick. Eric couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him at a time. The branches were scratching his face as he dashed past them and the ground was uneven.

The creature pursued, adeptly moving through the density of the forest as if it were a bird. It ducked underneath low hanging branches and kept pace with its prey. Eric tried to zigzag but ended up losing ground. He glanced back once at the creature; it was certainly a hyena. It had the long forelegs and thick muscular build with the human-like eyes, but the size was unlike anything Eric had ever seen.

There was a tall tree with low branches in front of him and Eric leapt for the nearest branch, wrapping his arms around it and swinging his legs up. The beast flew into the air, its jaws wide, and snapped at Eric’s legs but missed and bit into the branch, tearing half of it down with a loud crunch. Eric climbed to his knees and then up another branch, and then another. He looked down to see the creature eyeing him. It had intelligent eyes that sent a chill up Eric’s back. You could tell it was thinking as it watched you.

The beast crouched and then vaulted onto the tree, its claws catching the bark as it climbed to the first branch. Eric watched in horror as it began climbing to the next branch.

Eric climbed higher, the bark cutting his hands. When he neared the top he looked down to see the beast’s face staring back at him. The tree was leaning to the side under its weight but still the creature climbed.

Eric got to the top and the hyena was right behind him. He pulled the handgun Jalani had given him and took aim. He fired once and missed but the second shot hit the animal right above its right shoulder blade. The beast was caught off balance and fell on the branch underneath him.

A thunderous crackling echoed in the air as the tree nearly splintered in half. The creature crashed through the branches and onto the ground. The violent swaying of the tree made Eric lose his grip and he hit the ground hard. He was next to the creature as it lay dazed. He stood up and pain shot through his ankle but he began to limp away as the hyena stood, a deep growl contorting its face with anger.

Eric came into a clearing and he darted for a precipice a couple dozen yards away. The beast was behind him, gaining on him with every second.

It was snarling wildly and drool sopped from its mouth. It almost had its prey now. The smell of its sweat was intoxicating and it opened its mouth, anticipating the warm flow of blood down its throat.

Eric flew off the edge of the small cliff and rolled down the steep side of the plateau. The gun flew out of his hand in the tumble and slid down a dozen feet before coming to a stop. As he rolled, his body absorbed the impact of rocks and stray logs but he saw the creature chasing after him, carefully managing its descent down the hill.

Eric crashed into the ground at the base of the hill, battered and in pain. He tried to rise, but his ankle gave out; it was strained and had already started to swell. He collapsed onto his stomach as the massive hyena stood over him, its mouth clamping down on his ribcage like a vice.

A shot tore through the air and the beast yelped as a bullet from William’s rifle pierced its back leg. Another shot missed and hit the dirt ahead. The beast turned and let out a deep roar, anger and hatred filling its eyes. Another round struck its paw and it roared violently before sprinting into some nearby grass.

William ran down the hill, sliding on his backside most of the way. He got down to where Eric was and bent over him. He put his hand on Eric and he screamed and batted it away, unsure what it was.

“It’s all right,” William said. “He’s—”

A roar and trembling in the ground as the hyena raced out of a thicket of long grass and leapt at William. He held up his rifle and the beast bit down, crunching the wood and steel as if it were biting through a twig.

Another gunshot, this one more heavily bassed. Then another and another. William flew off his feet and landed on his back, a gaping hole in his chest draining his body of blood. The hyena roared and lunged, but a series of shots filled the air and it collapsed on the ground not far from Eric.

Thomas walked toward the beast, four tribesmen with rifles behind him. He held the barrel of the rifle over the beast’s heart and pulled the trigger. Watching the blood flow into the dirt and stain it black. Eric saw William vomiting blood. He stood up and limped over to him, sharp pain shooting through his ankle and ribs.

“Will, come on. We’re gonna get you help,” He went to move him and William let out a scream of pain. “Come on Will,” Eric said, tears filling his eyes, “come on, you’re gonna be okay.”

William looked at him, a smile parting his bloodied lips. He reached up, touching Eric’s cheek and leaving a smear of blood before life drained from his eyes, and his gurgled breathing stopped.

“No!” Eric shouted. He went to pick him up but the weight was too much and he collapsed on the ground next to him. “No! Will, come on. You’re not gonna die, come on!”

“Let him go boy,” Thomas said.

Eric looked up to him, his eyes lit with rage. “You fucking killed him!”

“We were trying to shoot the beast.”

“You don’t miss, you fucking killed him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He knelt down and picked Eric up by the arm, placing it over his neck to bear his weight. “People die here, Eric.” Thomas closed his eyes and said a quick prayer. He told the tribesmen to bury William and then said, “Come on, we’ll get you to a doctor.”

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Jalani had driven Douglas and Sandra to the village after one of the tribesman fetched them and told them the news. They came onto a village in celebration, the men that had hunted with Thomas being hailed as warriors.

Fires were lit and mountains of flesh were being cooked as a feast was anticipated, though many of the villagers would refuse to eat the meat. The hide of the beast hung on a vine tied between two trees and appeared as large as a tent. Its head was mounted on a post and children were throwing stones at it. The primitive music of the tribe—little more than plucked strings on handmade sitars and leather-bound tablas—was wailing in the late afternoon sun.

Eric sat with a primitive brace made of wood and rope around his ankle. The pain was soothed with a type of leaf the medicine man had given him to chew. It was dizzying and obviously a narcotic but it felt pleasant and made him feel warm in his gut. He watched Thomas tell Sandra, and her cold distant reaction. He watched Douglas sit next to a fire and pull out a bottle of liquor and begin passing it around to the hunters that had killed the great beast.

Jalani walked to him and smiled. “They now consider you a man,” she said.

He didn’t feel like a man. He didn’t feel like much of anything. Just a cold, gray weight in his belly and dizziness in his head. William was a good man; he didn’t deserve to die like that. Eric understood it was a mistake but he didn’t deserve that. He’d saved Eric’s life and now he was gone. “I didn’t kill it.”

“No, but you showed courage in the hunt. That is what is important. To have courage in the face of death. That is what a warrior is.” Jalani awaited a response but Eric gave none so she leaned down and gently kissed his cheek. “I am glad you are safe.” She walked back to the celebration.

The feast got underway and the meat was skewered on smooth sticks and passed around. Though vegetarian, the elders of the village had made an exception for this animal as they believed they would absorb its power. There was a boiling pot in which the beast’s heart was taken out and carefully cut as the medicine man of the village chanted a prayer. Pieces of the heart were given to all the hunters, the largest portion going to Thomas. He ate the heart with his eyes closed, blood dripping down his chin like one of his savage ancestors. Afterwards he rose and walked to where Eric was seated.

“He was a good man, but bad things often happen out here,” Thomas said, sitting down next to him.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t kill him on purpose.”

Surprise splashed across Thomas’s face, but only for a moment. He looked Eric in the eyes and said, “I did not mean to kill that man. He was my friend, Eric. And what possible reason would I have for doing so? He was a paying customer, a good paying customer.

“The truth is the tribesmen are not as well trained on rifles as we are. It’s a new technology to them and they take it too lightly. But I take full responsibility. I should not have told them to fire when you two were in harm’s way. I’m sorry I caused you this pain.”

Eric wasn’t sure what he could see. Still, he needed to hear those words come out of his mouth. “Where was he buried?”

“Out here. I don’t think there’s any Mormons I know of that could give him a proper send off, but we found a nice piece of land underneath the shade of a tree.”

“Sandra doesn’t seem very pissed off at you.”

“She will grieve in her own way. But what now for you? Where will you go?”

“I can’t stay here.”

“Oh?” Thomas said, a slight twinge of sadness in his voice.

“There’s nothing but death.”

“Death and beauty,” Thomas said, staring off at the sky. “When you’re older, I think you’ll see that death is everywhere. It must be. In the end, that’s all there is.” Thomas rose, taking something out of his pocket and handing it to Eric. “I wanted you to have this.”

It was a one of the creature’s teeth fastened on a piece of leather to make a necklace. “Thanks.”

Thomas nodded, and walked away. Some of the children ran up to him and began yelling requests. He lamented and picked up a stone. Taking aim at about twenty yards away, he threw the stone and hit the creature’s head on the post. The children erupted in awe and laughter.

You never miss, Eric thought.

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The celebration lasted well into the night. The meat that wasn’t eaten was hung over thick vine and smoked dry. The hide was cut up and would be used as clothing and the bones would be made into weapons and tools. Nothing was wasted.

Eric woke in the middle of the night and sat up. An image ran through his mind: William lying on the ground, blood leaking into the earth. It didn’t let him sleep. The whole incident replayed in his head over and over. The smell of gunpowder and blood, the bassed sound of large rifles, William’s last breaths.

Eric stood using a wooden crutch the villagers had carved out of a log for him. He walked outside the tent and stood in the night. The moon was high and lit the valley before him in pale light. There were swarms of gazelle and deer grazing in the tall grass. He looked around the village; it was empty and the fires were all out except for one at the end. He hoped Jalani was still awake.

Eric began slowly limping over, the bare wood of the crutch digging into the flesh of his underarm. A breeze was blowing and it felt cool against the burnt skin on his face. Snoring was coming from some of the tents he passed, a few groans of pleasure coming from others. He made his way to the last fire and looked into the tent.

Sandra’s nude body lay on a bed of fur. Thomas was on top of her, kissing her passionately, his hands caressing her soft skin. Eric moved away from the tent, but stood nearby. What kind of woman would . . .?

An epiphany screamed in his head and he had to sit down on a nearby stone to quiet it down. He looked toward the tent, disgust and guilt going through him in waves. He finally stood up and wobbled back to his tent.

The next morning came quietly, most of the village sleeping off their drunkenness well into midday. Douglas woke Eric and told him they would be leaving soon. Another jeep had been brought from Kavali and they would be going back there.

Eric hadn’t slept more than a few hours. His dreams were filled with blood and laughter and screams. He saw William’s torn body. It was standing upright and speaking to him, trying to say something but no sound was coming out. The flesh was so badly ripped on his face Eric didn’t recognize him at first. He said something and then collapsed.

Eric rose and limped out of the tent. His ankle felt better though the swelling hadn’t gone down. He was pretty certain it wasn’t broken.

The sun was already bright and the cool breeze of last night was replaced with a wall of boiling heat. He looked out before the valley before him, observing the contrast between the sapphire blue sky and the golden grass below. A leopard stood over a gazelle, carefully glancing around every few seconds to make sure nothing was trying to spirit away her kill. She looked up once and saw Eric on top of the plateau.

“Come on, Eric,” Douglas said, “we’re riding with Thomas.”

They loaded everything in their jeep and Eric sat in the back, Thomas and Douglas sitting up front. Jalani had left with Sandra and Dr. Namdi an hour before and her jeep was already well out of sight.

Thomas walked into a few tents, presumably to say good bye, and then hopped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. They pulled away from the village and slowly made their way down the side of the plateau, Thomas carefully applying the brakes to keep from gaining too much speed. Occasionally they would slide and he would turn the wheel sharply left or right, causing the jeep to twist to its side and come to a halt. But they made their way down and the jeep chugged along the dirt path.

Eric pulled out the handgun Jalani had given him. He aimed it at the back of Thomas’s head.

His hand began to shake and a familiar choking sensation came over him. It was hard to breathe. He felt the weight of the gun in his palm and was taken back to his mother’s kitchen, standing over a bloody corpse. Thomas’s gray hair ended above his neck and sweat was starting to form on the skin below it. Eric watched a drop roll down over the skin and absorb into the collar of his shirt.

Eric threw the gun over the side of the jeep.

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They rode in silence for a couple of hours, just absorbing the scenery. They had to stop and wait for a herd of kiang, a type of Asian ass, to cross their path, the large females circling the younger ones to protect them from the strange mechanical beast in their midst. Douglas climbed out and walked a few paces before urinating on a bush.

“Did she come to you to kill him or did you go to her?” Eric said, looking off in the distance at a glimmering river.

“Pardon?”

“When you killed William, was it more for you or her?”

“Stop talking nonsense boy. I’m sorry, he was a good man. But I had—”

“I saw you together in the tent last night.”

Thomas looked back at him in the rearview and then turned forward again. “They had a loveless marriage. She’s wasn’t that heartbroken and she didn’t need to be.”

Douglas came back and they started off. A red Volkswagen bus crossed their path and Thomas stopped and chatted awhile. They were Canadian tourists looking to film a pride of Asian lions and he recommended the best spots.

Another hour into the drive and Douglas was already drunk, telling longwinded stories about his adventures. Eric surmised that he had him figured out. He didn’t actually care about adventure; he cared about telling others about his adventures. He lived through what others saw of him. He lived only in their eyes. At that moment, Douglas made him sick.

The grass became taller—at least chest high—and the path turned into a decent dirt road and became narrower. Eric should have felt some trepidation but he didn’t. He didn’t feel anything.

There was an object ahead in the road but it was too far off to make out exactly what it was. It looked like a large animal but it wasn’t moving. As they approached, Eric made out the sharp contours of the other jeep. It was flipped upside down.

Thomas pulled to the side. There were blood stains across the wheels and on the dirt around the vehicle. The engine was smoking and supplies were scattered across the road.

Eric felt sick. Jalani.

Eric jumped out of the jeep and ran over, getting on his hands and knees and looking into the wreckage. Douglas and Thomas were out and tried to help. They managed to tip the jeep to one side and saw that there was nothing underneath.

“Sandra!” Thomas yelled out over the grass. “Sandra!”

Douglas went back to the jeep and started blaring the horn. They stopped a few seconds to listen and then started again. Thomas took out his rifle.

“Where are you going?” Douglas said.

“To find them.”

“This is fresh,” Douglas said. “Those tourists we passed didn’t say anything so this must have just recently happened. Maybe they’ve walked up the road a bit?”

Thomas hung the rifle strap over his shoulder. “Take the boy and look up the road a few kilometers. Then come back here and wait for me.”

Eric climbed into the jeep and rode with Douglas up the road. Douglas would honk the horn every half a minute and then wait to see if he could hear a response. They managed to attract the attention of a pride of lions that stood under the shade of a tree watching the curious visitors, but nothing else.

“They probably had an accident,” Douglas said, more to himself than Eric. “Jalani must’ve been drunk.”

They drove for five kilometers and spotted nothing. Just animals and grass and trees and the blue open sky. Douglas turned around and headed back.

“What’s the matter?” Douglas said. “You used to be quite talkative . . .I’m sure they’re fine, we’ll find them. I suppose you’re still upset about Will’s death too, eh? It was an honest mistake, Eric. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“Suppose so,” Eric said flatly.

They came back to the sight of the overturned jeep and Douglas shut off the engine. Birds were high up in a nearby tree singing but there was no breeze and the heat sat on you and cooked.

“You know, that creature,” Douglas said. “I think I know what it was.”

“It wasn’t a hyena?”

“No, it was. But it was obviously far too large to be the spotted hyena it appeared. I’d read about something once called Hyaenodon. It’s the ancestor of the hyena only much larger. I wonder if it could still exist out here?”

“The villagers think it’s punishment from God.”

“Yes.” Douglas pulled out a flask and took a drink, “that it might be.”

Douglas pressed the horn but no one came so he stopped. Noon turned into afternoon and afternoon into evening as they sat in the jeep, drinking water and eating snack chips and dried meat. The sun went down and darkness descended, sparkling stars covering the tar-black sky.

“How long do you think we should wait?” Douglas said, obviously losing his nerve. “I don’t like sitting out here in the dark.”

“You want to leave?” Eric said, amused. “I thought Thomas was your friend?”

“He is, of course,” Douglas said, offended. “I’m just saying there’s not much we can do just sitting out here like bait.”

Their heads turned simultaneously. Out past a small tree came a sound that had burned itself into Eric’s mind. Something that would appear in his sleep like a ghost; the sound of maniacal laughter.

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Darkness covered Thomas and his only light was the moon, but he pressed forward. He searched the tall grass with his rifle held in front of him, his palms sweaty. The roar of one of the big cats was in the distance; a leopard probably. Sometimes he’d hear the hollering of baboons but they were rare.

“Sandra!” he yelled out against his better judgment. He wasn’t exactly certain that he expected a response.

Thomas stopped underneath a large tree and sat down, exhaustion weakening his legs and making his feet ache. The moon was full and shone brightly in the night sky. It reminded him of his drunken days in Africa. Watching the full moon through the jungle canopy, unsure what day it was and not really caring.

He rose and continued his search.

There was little in the Indian night that could surprise him any longer. He knew the calls of every animal out here. But truth be told, he was taken aback by the creature he’d killed yesterday. He’d heard rumors from the tribesmen for years about giant hyenas that stole children in the night, but how could one believe in such stories?

As he made his way through the grass he became acutely aware that something else was in here with him. Whenever he’d move forward, he’d hear the grass behind him parting.

He took a few steps forward and heard the sound again. Thomas took a deep breath and dropped to one knee, spinning around with the rifle held in front of him. But the grass was empty. The wind rustling through a few of the taller strands.

He lowered his rifle and stood up, feeling foolish. Glancing around, he could see that he hadn’t been following any sort of trail for quite some time. He was just wandering aimlessly, breaking the first rule of searching the plains.

Walking back through the grass, watching the moon and the stars, he saw movement in the periphery of his vision. A roving mass just to the left a few yards away. He could tell by the width of the part in the grass that it was something large.

Thomas raised his rifle and took aim. The mass was moving closer, crawling slowly along the ground.

It was stalking him.

His finger lightly pressed on the trigger, not pulling it the entire way until he had a clear shot and knew what he was hitting. The movement slowed, and then stopped. The part in the grass stayed in one place.

Thomas watched it. It must’ve spotted him. He steadied the rifle and fired. A whine sounded as a leopard jumped into the air, its body twisting as it howled in pain. The lithe body of the cat landed in the grass and limped away, a large wound adorning its shoulder.

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief, and walked toward where the leopard had been. They were ferocious creatures; he’d seen one take on a wildebeest by itself. There were even stories of them killing adult gorillas. Injured, they were downright unpredictable. He saw the leopard hobbling to a nearby tree and he raised his rifle and took a step forward.

As he did, he felt something soft giving way underfoot. Glancing down, he saw a cylindrical shape underneath his boot. He bent down and picked it up, bringing it into the moonlight. It felt rubbery and wet; it was a severed arm.

Thomas dropped the arm and stumbled backward; it was the arm of a Caucasian female, the nails painted red. The flesh looked gray and was flaking off the bone.

He looked at it a moment longer and then turned away, choking back his emotion. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, he started making his way back to the jeep.

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Eric sat still in the jeep, his heart beating quickly and pounding in his ears. The laughter they’d heard had stopped and was replaced with silence. Not even the crickets made a noise. It was terrible silence; unnatural.

“Maybe we should drive off for awhile,” Douglas said. “Then we’ll circle back and try and find Thomas.”

Eric nodded, not taking his eyes off the tall grass and forest that was in the distance. Douglas started the engine and instantly there was a roar and cacophony of laughter. A massive hyena lunged out of the grass.

Eric jumped and fell over Douglas as the beast rammed its head into the jeep, causing two of its tires to lift off the ground. He rammed it again and the metal creaked as the jeep flipped over onto its side.

Douglas screamed as his leg was crushed under the weight of the vehicle. Eric was thrown out and landed on the dirt. The beast circled around the vehicle, drool pouring out of its mouth in long strands as it spotted Douglas on the ground. It approached; Douglas’ screams piercing the night air as the animal put its mouth over his head and bit down. The loud crunch of his skull caused bile to rise in Eric’s throat and he stood and began to run.

He ran along the dirt road, his ankle throbbing with pain, and could see shapes in the grass chasing him. They would run ahead of him and then stop and let him pass just to run ahead again. The laughter was at a fever pitch, saturating the air. It was coming from both sides of the road.

Another hyena dove out of the grass in front of him and Eric nearly ran into him. He avoided the beast’s mouth and ran behind him into the grass. The animal turned and ran after him.

Eric let the grass whip his body as he dashed through it, not looking back. The laughter was circling him, running ahead of him and closing in from behind. He sharply turned to the right and then up, trying to place where the animals were by their laughter. But they followed his movements and ran ahead of him again.

He could see light up ahead and gradually saw the shape of a house outside the patch of grass he was in. Calling on the last of his strength, he dug deep and sprinted.

Eric burst out of the patch of grass and onto a flat clearing. Ten yards away was a white house with a large porch. He darted for it, hearing the snarls of the animals behind him. The porch light was on and it seemed like a beacon in the darkness. His legs were failing him and he was slowing down but he felt the hard wood of the steps as he ran up the porch and to the front door. It was locked.

A living room window was near the door and Eric covered his face and jumped through. The glass shattered and scraped his body and he felt the sting of cuts from his face down to his shins. He stood and ran as he heard a roar in the darkness behind him.

The house was elegantly designed; obviously a vacation house. Eric ran past a small kitchen and saw a closet door in the hallway. He opened it and ran inside, shutting it behind him.

The closet was small and smelled like clean linen and dust. His back was against some shelves and it gave him only enough room so that his body wasn’t pressed against the wood of the door.

His breathing was too loud and he tried to slow it. He put his ear to the door and listened. It was silent at first and then he heard glass from the broken window crunching under the weight of something. Slowly, the sound of deep pants approached him. He could hear the beast snorting, trying to pick up a scent.

Eric looked down to the crack between the hardwood floors and the closet; some light was coming through and he saw a shadow coming close. The panting grew loud as the animal stood in front of the door. It stopped and took in a deep breath through its nostrils. The snout leaned down and sniffed at the floor. Eric held his breath.

Suddenly the sniffing stopped and the beast moved on, and was gone. Eric exhaled and every muscle inside him relaxed. As he took a deep breath the thunderous sound of splintering wood tore through the night and the beast’s head rammed through the closet door, missing Eric’s stomach by a few inches.

Eric was pinned against the wall. He shoved his thumb into the animal’s eye, causing it to howl in pain. The hyena withdrew its head far enough for Eric to open the door and slip out. There was a staircase in the hallway and he ran up as the hyena’s roar echoed through the house. He got to the top of the stairwell and looked back; the beast was at the base staring up at him.

He dashed through the hallway and felt something grip his shoulder.

“Eric!”

He saw Jalani and she grabbed him and pulled him into a room. They ran to the back and Jalani led him up a ladder that went to the attic. They climbed and Jalani pulled the ladder up when they were in the attic, shutting off the entrance with a small wooden door and latch.

The beast crashed through the bedroom door and rummaged through the room, howling in frustration and bloodlust at its escaped prey. It tore the bed apart and smashed in the closets before stopping and staring up at the latch leading to the attic.

Eric stumbled and then wrapped his arms around her. She smelled of dirt and grass but he thought it was the most beautiful smell he’d ever experienced. “I thought you were dead,” he said out of breath.

“I lived,” Jalani said, “but I don’t where anyone else is. Where is Thomas?”

“I don’t know, we got separated. Douglas is . . . Douglas is dead.”

Jalani looked out the only window in the attic, a small hexagonal shape with a thin pane of glass. “We have no food or water. I fear we may soon be joining him.”

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Thomas walked along the dirt road, listening to the crickets. He saw a dark shape up ahead and as he neared he saw it was the jeep. And behind it was the other one, both tipped on their sides.

He froze in his tracks and began looking around as he brought his rifle up. It was quiet except for the nightlife of the plains and he cautiously made his way to the jeeps. He could see the remains of Douglas’ corpse, little more than legs caught under the jeep and some bloodstained rags that had been his clothes.

He knelt down and picked up the torn shirt, observing the large claw marks across the chest before dropping it. Thomas sighed and stood up. Off in the distance he heard laughter. It was over a large patch of grass. He took Douglas’ rifle and slung it across his chest before beginning to walk toward the sounds.

The grass hid him well if he crouched low. He kept his breathing to a whisper and stopped every few paces to make sure nothing was following him. When he reached the edge of the patch he could see a house with the porch light on. In front of it were three colossal hyenas.

They were snapping at each other and rolling around in the dirt. One bit the other’s leg and it let out a whelp before nipping at the other’s ear.

The animals rolled and nipped and eventually grew bored. They sat on the ground surveying their surroundings and staring up at the small window of the attic. One finally rose and walked inside the house. The other two promptly lie on their sides and fell asleep.

Thomas began to slowly step backward into the grass, keeping his eye on the two hyenas sprawled out on the ground. They were obviously juveniles. The one they killed the other night was large and male. That meant a matriarch was still out there. If these were like normal spotted hyenas, the matriarch would be the largest and most aggressive of the pack.

Another step and a crunch. He looked down and saw he’d stepped on a piece of dry bark. One of the hyenas looked up, straining its neck and moving its ears to pick up any more sound. Thomas stood entirely still, not even breathing. He could feel sweat roll down his back and tickle his skin.

The hyena lay its head back down, ignoring the sound. Thomas breathed and slowly turned, moving as quickly as he could in a crouching position.

A growl sounded from behind him. He stopped, hearing the deep breathing of the creature behind him just a couple yards. He turned his head and saw the two juveniles on the edge of the grass, glaring at him with their red eyes, a low snarl escaping their lips.

Thomas raised his gun in a slow purposeful motion, aiming at the juvenile closest to him. The hyenas took a step forward, and then hesitated. They let out mournful whines and ducked their heads low. Then they backed away from the patch and sat down on the ground.

Thomas’s brow furrowed and he lowered the rifle. The hyenas were unmoving. They kept their eyes low, as if frightened.

He felt the breath first.

It was hot and wet against the skin on his neck. Drool fell down his back and he heard rumbling coming deep from a great belly. He didn’t turn around at first, he just closed his eyes, and thought of the wife he had lost so long ago.

Thomas took a deep breath and looked up to the moon, enjoying its icy glow.

He turned.

The beast’s mouth stood a few feet higher than his head and its eyes were savage and bare. Its mouth opened with a growl as it tore into Thomas’s neck, lifting him off his feet. He aimed the gun at the creature’s chest but his hands went limp as the hyena crushed his throat, severing the head, and dropped him to the ground.

The beast howled to its clan and they strutted over, and began to feed.

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Eric sat with his back against a wall of the attic, Jalani asleep in his arms. She had smears of dirt on her face and clothes but her beauty still shined through like an emerald gleaming through water. He had no watch but could guess that it was probably three or four in the morning. He’d been hearing howls and laughter all night. The hyenas weren’t leaving; they would circle the house, sometimes coming inside and occasionally coming into the room below them.

Eric forewent sleep and stayed up until sunrise. The sun came through the window and filled the attic with streams of warm light. Swirls of dust were in every beam and it had the smell of mildew.

The attic was small and dirty, cluttered with old papers and clothes from vacationers not terribly worried about leaving behind personal items. There was some lingerie in a corner coated with a thick layer of dust and cardboard boxes filled with old paperback novels, brushes, matchbooks, toiletries, and a few office supplies. In the north corner was a stool and a three gallon plastic container of gasoline.

Jalani awoke and smiled when she saw him. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, a grave expression coming over her face when the realities of her circumstances dawned on her and she realized it wasn’t a dream.

“Did you not sleep?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“You can sleep now if you like.”

“No, I’m okay.” He glanced around his surroundings. “We should empty those boxes and see if we can find anything useful.”

They went about the task of dumping the contents of all the boxes onto the bare floor. Soon, hardly any portion of the floor was visible. A hunting knife was in one box and Eric tucked it into his waistband. They found an old pack of gum and each had a piece, the gum stale and tasting like dust.

Eventually everything was emptied on to the floor and examined. There was little they could use.

“We’ll need to leave here soon,” Eric said, walking to the window and glaring out. “I think they’ve already left.”

“They won’t leave.”

He turned to her. “How do you know?”

“We’ve killed one of their clan. They will not leave until we are dead.”

Eric turned back to the window. He noticed something out near the grass: a white shirt and boots. They were Thomas’s boots.

“Stay here,” Eric said, running to the latch. He opened the latch and went to climb down.

Jalani grabbed him and screamed, “No!” She pulled him up just as massive jaws snapped shut below his feet. It jumped again, the snout coming up through the latch and pushing his leg but not getting hold of it.

Eric grabbed the latch and locked it. They crawled to the other side of the room and listened as the hyena thumped his snout against the wood, growling and biting at the latch.

Jalani wrapped her arms around him and they sat in silence, listening to the growls fade and the patter of the creature’s footsteps as it exited the room and left the house.

“What the hell is that thing,” Eric said.

“I told you,” she said, leaning her head against him, “they are demons.”

CHAPTER

61

They sat in the corner most of the day, talking about what America was like, Jalani telling him that it was her dream to one day live there. Eric told her about the foliage of New England and its changing colors over the seasons, how the mountain by his home looked like someone had spilled brown and yellow paint over it. He told her about school and his mother. And he told her about his stepfather and the reason he fled the country.

Jalani accepted it without reaction. Eric figured she’d seen so much death in her life, something that could be justifiable wasn’t a big deal. The only thing she said was, “Was it really an accident?”

“Yes,” Eric said, “I think it was.”

She seemed satisfied with his answer and they spoke of other things.

Soon their bellies ached with hunger and their lips were cracking from lack of water. Out here, even indoors, dehydration could occur after hours, not days. Eric stood up and looked out the window. Asleep on the ground was one of the hyenas. It lay on its side, its belly moving up and down in shallow breaths.

“We need to get out of here,” Eric said.

“How?”

“This window. We can climb out onto the roof and maybe sneak away.”

“They would hear us.”

“It’s better than staying here to die.”

Eric grabbed the stool that sat in the corner and slammed it against the window, shattering the glass.

“Stay here,” Eric said.

He climbed out of the small window, cutting his hands on the shards of glass that had scattered on the pane. The roof was tiled with shingles and was clean, no debris and little dirt. He walked carefully along the side, going up to the middle of the roof which ended in a point and surveyed the land around him.

The jeeps were off about a hundred yards, through a thick patch of grass. Only the sides had been damaged. If they could get to one and tip it over it should still be in running condition.

One of the hyenas stepped out of the house and looked up to the roof. It roared at the sight of Eric and Eric stumbled backward and nearly fell. He made his way to the window and climbed in as the hyena began to pace back and forth in front of the house.

“I found a way out,” Eric said as he climbed in. “If we can make it to the jeeps they should still be running.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“I don’t know yet,” Eric said.

He stared at the animals in the front yard. There were two of them there now. The heat was getting to them as well. They were panting heavily and their mouths were dry. One of them went and laid in the shade of the tree, glancing up occasionally at the house and then putting his head back on the ground.

The other sat in front of the house, and stared at the window.

CHAPTER

62

Eric scavenged the items in the attic once more and didn’t find much that was useful. Jalani lay on her side and watched him, her slim figure a perfect outline of the feminine shape. Eric was reminded again of just how exotically beautiful she was. It was amazing to him that she was a hunter for a living. When he thought of a hunter, he thought of Thomas, or the tough-as-leather fisherman off the coast of Mexico. Not a small, frail young woman that could’ve just as easily been on a runway as in the plains of India.

“Maybe there is food in the basement?” she said.

Eric froze. “These houses have basements?”

“Yes.”

He glanced around; everything was made of wood. “Are the stairs leading down to the basement made of wood?”

“I do not know.”

Eric ran to the window and looked down. The sun was still high and they had hours of light left. The hyenas were both under the shade of the tree, watching a flock of birds in the sky.

“You have to climb out there and draw their attention,” he said.

“What?”

“Just yell and throw stuff at ‘em.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to the basement.”

“Are you crazy?”

“I’m not letting us die in this dirty little room, Jalani.” He put his arm around her and pressed his lips to hers. “Please,” he said.

Jalani climbed out the window and Eric handed her armfuls of things to throw. He leaned out the window and kissed her again and as he turned away she grabbed him.

“Be careful,” she said.

“I will. Just keep them off me a few minutes.”

Jalani began yelling and the hyenas growled and approached. They stood watching, mouths agape with yellow, jagged teeth. Jalani took a brush and threw it, missing. One hyena walked to the brush and sniffed it, turning back to Jalani.

She took a paperback novel and hit him in the head. The animal let out a ferocious roar that drew another hyena out of the house.

Eric watched from the window and as soon as all three were in front of the house he ran back and grabbed the container of gas and as many matchbooks as he could find. He opened the latch leading to the bedroom and climbed down.

Claw marks had scraped most of the glossy finish off the floors and the bed was destroyed, lying in pieces around the room and in the hallway. The walls had large holes the animals had torn out of fury.

He walked carefully, each creak in the floor sending a shot of adrenaline through his body. The sounds of the animals outside echoed through the house. He made his way into the hall and past a bathroom, stopping and debating whether to get a drink of water, but deciding against it and moving on.

The first floor kitchen had beige floor tiling and white walls. There was a calendar up on the fridge and it had some writing on it. On the far side of the room was a door. He walked to it, ducking below a window over the sink, and opened it. There were wooden stairs leading down to a basement.

Eric softly closed the door behind him. It was dark but there was some light coming through a ground level window. He opened the plastic container of gasoline and began pouring it over the steps, one at a time as he made his way down. He coated every step twice until it was dripping with gasoline and poured the last of it on the beams that supported the stairs.

The basement was just as cluttered as the attic but had larger items. There was an old lawnmower, tools, iron shelves filled with electrical replacement parts and . . . and a rifle hanging up over a workbench. He ran to it and checked the chamber. It was empty and he searched the shelves until he found a box of ammunition. The rifle was just a .22 caliber, hardly enough to pierce the flesh of those things but enough to get their attention.

Eric ran up the steps and into the kitchen. He looked out the window over the sink and saw the hyenas worked up to a frenzy, the debris Jalani had thrown dotting the ground around them. He smashed the butt of his rifle through the glass and the animals stopped their display and turned toward the sound. Eric took aim and fired a shot into the chest of the largest one, causing him to roar with anger. The other two sprinted for the house and Eric ran in front of the basement door.

The two animals ran through the living room and stood in the hallway, watching Eric. The hyena he’d shot came in and spotted him, its mouth opening and revealing steak knife-sized fangs. It darted for him.

Eric got off two shots, one missing and one hitting its mark in the snout. The hyena roared and fell into a wall, causing a large hole as the other two hopped over him.

Eric ran into the basement and shut the door. He jumped down the stairs and sprinted to the back of the large space, behind a metal shelf packed with tools. The door burst open; raining splinters on the floor below. The three hyenas leapt down the stairs. Their anger had caused them to go into a fury and they would nip at each other and bare their teeth. They stood sniffing the air and then began searching the basement.

Two began rummaging through a stack of cardboard boxes but the large one stood in the center of the room, looking from one item to the next. It held its head up, the muscles in its neck straining, and inhaled deeply through its nostrils. It walked to the side of the room Eric was on.

The hyena carefully scanned the space in front of it. It searched from top to bottom and took a few paces back. A chill went up Eric’s back as its eyes scanned over where he was, and kept going. The hyena smelled the air again and turned away.

Suddenly it spun and dashed for the shelf. Its head thrust in between two shelves and into Eric’s ribs, scraping the flesh as its teeth clamped down and tore through his shirt. The other two hyenas pounced and began tearing at the shelf, trying to bite through the metal.

Eric saw that the shelf was attached to the wall by two metal bars bolted to each side. He kicked at one and it bent. He kicked again and it broke away, the bolt clinking as it hit the gray cement of the basement floor. He broke the other one and began to push.

The hyenas had almost forced their way through now, one of their heads snapping at Eric’s leg. Eric put his legs up against the shelf and pushed. The shelf tipped and fell on two of the animals with a thunderous crash.

Eric ran for the stairs as the hyenas shook off the pain and started for him. The large one leapt at him with its jaws wide and he ducked, causing it to hit the wall snout first and land hard on the floor.

Eric climbed the steps and took out a matchbook. He struck one, and it didn’t light.

The hyena was climbing to its feet.

Eric struck again and again and finally it lit. He threw it on the stairs—still wet with gasoline—and they burst in a high flame. The fire was spreading quickly and Eric had to bolt for the kitchen as the heat burned his feet and caught his clothes on fire.

The hyena ran at him just as the fire began and flames caught its face, singeing its sensitive eyes and snout. The hyena howled and jumped backward, blinded by the fire. The other two ran over, staying clear of the heat. One looked up and saw Eric running out the door. It leapt at him in an act of rage and desperation, crashing into the center of the stairs. It’d soaked up the gasoline in its fur and the fire spread over its soft belly and eventually its face, causing it to fall from the stairs and dart around the room, crashing into everything in its path from pain.

Eric slammed the door behind him and stood against it, out of breath, his legs starting to sting from the flames. He looked down to his ribs and saw blood. Taking off his shirt, he wrapped it around the wound tightly and walked to the bedroom upstairs.

CHAPTER

63

Eric and Jalani sat at the dining room table and gorged themselves on what food they could find and water from the kitchen faucet. The groceries in the fridge had rotted but the cupboards had plenty of dry cereal and crackers and other packaged goods. White clouds were scattered across the blue Indian sky with the sun bright at its apex.

They could hear the hyenas howling in the basement below, the occasional thud as one of their bodies fell back to the cement floor from a failed jump. The window downstairs was shattered at some point but it wasn’t large enough for any of them to crawl through. Eric had checked on them and saw that the stairs had been burnt to a crisp. They were little more than plywood and most of them had already collapsed. The house was filled with smoke and they had to open every window and door to keep from suffocating.

The hyenas were trapped, and in the days ahead, after the strongest killed and ate the other two, it would die of starvation.

“What are we going to do now?” Jalani said.

“I’m leaving Andhra Pradesh.” She looked away, sadness in her eyes as she stared at the sky. “I want you to come with me,” Eric added.

Her face brightened, white teeth underneath caramel lips in a small smile. “Where would we go?”

“Anywhere I guess. I’ve always liked France.”

She reached across the table and caressed his hand. He took her hand in his. At this moment, there was no one else in the world he could imagine being with.

“I think Thomas . . . is gone. He had money,” she said. “Very much money. In accounts in Hyderabad. I think I can get it out.”

Eric nodded, looking out the window. “I’ll be right back,” he said. He’d forgotten completely about Thomas.

He walked outside, nervously glancing around before walking out to Thomas’s clothing. They were torn and stained with dark blood. There was no chance he could be alive.

Eric walked out onto a soft patch of earth in the grass and got on his knees. He dug a hole with his hands, deep enough to fit the shirt and boots. He placed them inside and covered the hole. Standing up, he wiped at the dirt on himself, looking down at the makeshift grave. Whatever else he may have done, Thomas saved his life. He deserved something for that.

Eric stood for some time, watching the grass sway in a light breeze around the grave, and then walked back inside. Jalani was lying on the couch, half-asleep. Her body would jolt whenever one of the hyenas roared and she would wake.

Eric sat next to her, running his hands through her hair. He leaned down and kissed her passionately, their lips still wet from the water they’d drunk.

Eventually, Eric pulled away, caressing her cheek, and said, “We need to go.”

“I know.”

They took the rifle and all the food they could find, dumped out a rotten gallon of milk and filled the container with water, and headed out to the jeeps.

The breeze was cool and flocks of birds chirped their songs in the trees. A jet flew high overhead, leaving a white streak across the sky. The plains were alive with sound and motion.

There wasn’t much left in the jeeps. All the food had been taken by whatever animals had crossed its path and the water jugs were either torn apart or gone. Eric walked to the jeep where Douglas’ corpse had been. The animals had left little of that too.

With Eric on the end and Jalani pushing on the hood, the metal of the jeep groaned as it was forced back to a horizontal position, landing hard on its tires and kicking up clouds of dirt. Eric examined the tires and they all looked okay. The keys were in the ignition and the jeep started on the second try. Jalani climbed into the passenger seat and leaned back.

The matriarch hyena vaulted out of the grass and landed next to the jeep, her colossal weight making the vehicle tremble. Jalani screamed and twisted her body away as the creature snapped at her and its teeth dug into the seat, tearing out a chunk as it pulled back.

The massive jaws lunged and bit into the metal frame of the jeep which groaned as her teeth bent the metal and tore a piece away.

Eric grabbed the rifle and shoved the barrel into the creature’s mouth as it came in for another bite. The hyena bit down on the barrel as he pulled the trigger inside its mouth and the hyena stumbled backward, the gun still in its teeth.

The tires dug into the earth as Eric floored the accelerator. The hyena bit through the gun, shattering it into pieces, and started after them.

Clouds of dirt were kicking up behind the jeep, making it difficult to see, but the outline of the massive creature was still visible. It was larger than anything Eric could’ve imagined. The size of an elephant with thick musculature and fangs the size of kitchen knives.

Eric glanced down and saw he only had an eighth of a tank of gas. There were no more jugs of fuel left. Thomas had told him about hyenas. Their hearts were twice the size of a lion’s. They couldn’t run fast, but they could run for miles and miles. The gas would eventually run out.

He pressed down on the accelerator as far as it would go, the jeep thrashing about on the uneven road. It got far enough away from the beast that he had some time. “When I stop the jeep you need to run.”

“No,” Jalani said.

“Just run when I tell you to!” He waited another minute, and then slammed on the brakes. “Run!”

Jalani hesitated, and then jumped out. She ran to the jungle and waited for him.

“Go! Don’t wait for me.”

Jalani, unsure, ran.

Eric climbed out of the jeep and took off his shirt, tearing it into pieces. He went to the back of the jeep and unscrewed the gas cap. He rolled up the shirt and pushed it down as far as it would go. Pulling it back out he saw it had a little bit of gasoline on the tip.

The hyena was almost on him, only a few dozen feet away. It didn’t stop to consider its prey; it just charged.

Eric took out some matches and lit the shirt, the tip lighting immediately and beginning to work its way down the cloth. He shoved the shirt as far into the gas tank as it would go. He climbed up onto the hood, taking out his hunting knife.

The beast was enormous as its girth barreled down on him. It stood nearly as tall as a basketball rim and was thickly muscled, its jaws bulging underneath thin gray fur. It galloped like a horse but because of its size its gait was awkward and slow. Eric crouched low on the hood of the jeep, sweat rolling down his scalp and stinging his eyes.

The great beast leapt into the air and slammed into the jeep, knocking Eric onto his back and flattening two of the tires of the vehicle. It pressed its face down on Eric and he shoved the knife into its mouth vertically, keeping it from being able to close. The animal pulled away, the knife jabbing into its tongue and upper jaw, and bit down. The blade bent and the handle shattered.

Eric looked at the cloth; it was burned down past where he could see. The hyena lunged for him and he rolled off the jeep and onto the ground. He managed to get to his feet as the hyena bent low to spring.

The explosion threw Eric forward and his back screamed as the skin was charred. The animal howled in pain, its soft skin burning in flames and melting off its body. It fell off the jeep and roared, blinded from the blast, its eyes liquefied. It snapped wildly at the air, trying to bite down on anything, and then darted in one direction, smashing into a tree and knocking it to the ground. It went in another direction, dazed, and collapsed with a groan.

Eric crawled away and lay on the dirt, the pain in his back and legs nearly making him pass out. He watched as the creature’s immense body burned like an inferno in the dirt, black smoke rising into the air and whirling into the breeze. The creature was spasming and violently thrashing from side-to-side. It slowed as the fire burned. It moved one last time, a paw gently scratching in the ground, its savagery having been eaten away in the fire. Its breathing stopped as the flames suffocated it, and consumed what was left.

After a few minutes he heard a rustle behind him and turned to see Jalani.

As she helped him up, he felt the softness of her skin and could feel her heart beating against him. The sun had painted the sky a glowing crimson in its retreat, and lions were roaring somewhere. Beauty and death, like Thomas had said. But Eric realized that Thomas had been mistaken about something. He didn’t realize that the difference wasn’t in the plains; it was in us.

The plains were indifferent.

EPILOGUE

Six year old Marie Darrelle packed her small suitcase with the few clothes she had. The suitcase sat on her bed and she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach it. When she was finished, she looked at the room once more and walked outside into the hallway where Sister Adele waited for her. She took the Sister’s hand and they began walking down the hallway to the reception area.

The world outside of Saint Madeline’s held little comfort for Marie. She remembered vaguely her mother dropping her off into Sister Adele’s arms when she was young but little else of the things outside. Her life had been spent in here, within these narrow hallways and small crowded rooms. Her best memories were of Mousier Beau, the cook. Whenever the building filled with the smells of his meats and sauces, Marie would run down to the kitchen and Mousier Beau would let her stand on a chair and stir the food or cut lettuce for salads. Sometimes Sister Adele read to her at night, but other than that, she was alone. Too young to play with the older children and too old to play with the younger.

The reception area was a large room with wood paneling and glossy hardwood floors. There were two people standing in front of a painting of a boat on the water. One was a man. He looked young and handsome and smiled a lot. The other was a black woman with eyes that looked like they shined. She was very beautiful, Marie decided.

Sister Adele bent down and kissed Marie’s cheek. She stood up and walked away down the corridor, wiping at the tears in her eyes. Marie looked to the floor; she would miss Sister Adele.

The man walked over and knelt down in front of her. “Hello Marie,” he said with a smile.

“Bonjour Mousier,” she said shyly.

“Sister Adele said you speak English as well as French. You’re a very smart girl to speak two languages already, Marie.”

Marie looked up at him; he had very nice eyes and she wasn’t as scared anymore.

“My name is Eric, Marie,” he looked to the woman and then back to Marie, “I’m fulfilling a promise to a good friend of mine, Marie. And just like I promised him, I’m promising you that we will love you and take care of you for as long as you’ll have us. We’re your family now.”

The man held out his hand and waited patiently until Marie took it. The woman took the suitcase in one hand and Marie’s hand in the other. Marie looked to the man and smiled before they walked out of Saint Madeline’s and onto the ancient streets of downtown Paris. She would like this family, she decided.

END

About the Author

Victor Methos began his writing career with short fiction and poetry dealing with the issues of crime he saw in his time as a prosecutor and trial attorney. His fiction has appeared in literary journals and science fiction and fantasy magazines across the United States and United Kingdom. He is currently on a quest to conquer the “Seven Summits,” the seven highest peaks on each continent. The Extinct is his second novel.

*Cover photo courtesy of the Cleveland Museum of Natural History