The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

Rather than tempting fate, I shake my head, no, and say, “Antarctican.”


He seems to understand what I’m saying. Antarctica is Antarctica in any language. But as expected, the claim makes no sense to the man. With no way to elaborate verbally, I motion to my lack of clothing and repeat, “Antarctican.” I point to the earth beneath my feet. “Underground.”

Again, I think he understands because his face screws up like he’s just stepped in cresty dung.

He shouts a long string of words I can’t understand. I don’t know if he’s telling me to do something, telling me I’m an idiot or performing last rites before shooting me in the head. When I don’t react, he takes a step closer and waggles the gun angrily in my face. “Knees!” he says.

That, I understand. He wants me on my knees. And as fast as I am, I can’t outrun a bullet. With no powers to assist me, I have no choice but to comply. I drop to my knees, hands still raised.

He puts a hand to the back of his head, pantomiming what he wants me to do and shouts, “Hands!”

I place my hands behind my head and lock my fingers together. I’m not sure if I’m being taken prisoner, or if I’m about to be executed. I’m not even sure what this man is doing here. His presence is an enigma. If twenty more years had passed, and the outside world had been dominated, then there would be no way this man could be here. And he can’t be part of any kind of resistance, not with those weapons. Given his surprise by my appearance, I’d guess that he, and the world at large, has yet to encounter the Nephilim or even a single hunter.

There’s still time, I think. The sudden growth of this rainforest is a mystery, but no more strange than the half-human, half-demon monsters aiming to wipe humanity from the globe. If only I had a way to explain all this to the man. We’re on the same side. He just doesn’t know it yet!

With the gun aimed at my face, he steps closer. I feel uncomfortable staring into the barrel of the weapon. I cast my eyes downward. That’s when I see what the man was doing by the tree. There’s a grenade tied to the tree. The pin keeping it from detonating is attached to a taut wire stretched across the ground, and it’s tied to a second tree. The wire is only partially covered with leaf litter. The man must have been covering it when I showed up.

He shouts something at me, drawing my eyes back up. He’s leaning down, reaching out for Whipsnap. The gun is just inches from my face. He takes hold of the weapon—and tugs. He’s totally unprepared when Whipsnap detaches from my belt and springs to life in his hand. He stumbles backward and squeezes off a shot. The round zips over my head, but I don’t give it a second thought. Once the man recovers from his surprise, I have no doubt he’s going to shoot me.

I charge forward as the man brings the gun back down. When the barrel comes level with my face, I take hold of his hand and push up while ducking my head to the side. The second shot misses, but the violent report in my ear stuns me for a moment. The man takes advantage of my disorientation and whacks me in the side with Whipsnap.

Thankfully, the man has no idea how to wield the weapon of my creation properly and the blow is nothing more than a gentle thump. I keep the gun at bay with my left hand and take hold of Whipsnap’s shaft with my right. This might normally become a contest of strength, but I know my weapon, and despite the man’s tight grasp, I’m able to use it against him. With a quick twist and pull, the top end of Whipsnap bends. Careful not to use crushing force, I bring the mace down on the man’s head.

His grip on Whipsnap falls away. The gun falls to the ground, followed by the man. He’s not unconscious, but he’s stunned. He shakes his head and blinks his eyes. When blood trickles over his forehead, he reaches up and feels the wound, wincing as he touches it. His confusion melts to rage as he screams at me.

“Please!” I shout back, raising a single open hand to the man. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

But the man is beyond reason, even if he could understand what I’m saying. He reaches over his shoulder and starts to pull around his automatic weapon. If I allow him to do that, I’m a dead man. But what can I do? I don’t want to kill a human being. I don’t know if I could live with myself. A harder strike with either end of Whipsnap would kill the man. Then I remember my other weapons, ones I rarely have a need for when I’ve got Whipsnap.

I jump forward and punch the man hard in his face. Pain radiates up my arm, but the effect on him is much worse. He slumps to the ground, unmoving. I stand over him breathing heavily.

Why? I think. Why would this man want to kill me? He didn’t know who I am. Didn’t recognize me personally, or as anything that could be explained by his worldview. But here he is, armed for war, laying traps and ready to murder a perfect stranger. It’s just as twisted as anything I encountered during my time underground, but it makes less sense.