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

I have vague memories of strange sounds, distant and close. Popping like fireworks. Snapping tree limbs. The wind shifting through leaves. Screams. The sounds, perhaps distorted by my fever, sounded like ghosts haunting the endless jungle that hugged the wall on either side. Eventually, perhaps hours after beginning my delirious hike, the jungle began to encroach on the wall.

It has now entirely overtaken the structure. Tree limbs stretch over the wall from either side. Up ahead I can see where the jungle canopy envelops the wall like it’s a subway car moving underground. While it will be nice to be back in the shade, the limbs make moving more difficult as I have to climb over them. This might not normally pose a challenge, but in my current state, I find walking on even ground to be difficult, never mind an obstacle course.

I stumble and catch myself on a branch. I close my eyes for a moment, and when I open them again, the jungle is moving around me, spinning in slow circles. But within that spin, I see something wonderful.

A centipede. The foot long creature clings to a branch just a few feet ahead. Its head is twisted in my direction, its antennae twitching, and like all the other creatures from the underworld, it doesn’t flee from me, as it should. It looks identical to the underground variety of centipede, though there is a little bit of red in its shell now. Still, it must be the same species. I can use its flesh to ward off this infection. And since it’s not the giant-sized Behemoth-eating variety, I shouldn’t have any trouble catching it, that is, if I can focus on it for more than a moment.

I reach for Whipsnap, but find the weapon already in my hand. I vaguely remember using it as a walking stick. I would normally skewer the centipede through the head, ending its life quickly, but I can’t trust my aim. So I opt for a different tactic.

Moving slowly, with my eyes closed, I turn Whipsnap so the mace end is on top. I open my eyes and the world shifts from left to right. I close them again. And every time I open them, the shift begins anew. Assuming I’m seeing things right during that first fraction of a second, I open and close my eyes over and over, until I have a good sense of where the creature really is. Then I close my eyes, steady myself and strike.

The swing is fast and solid, connecting with a branch on the way down. There is a snap and then a clang as Whipsnap’s metal mace strikes the stone wall. I open my eyes to look, but I’m off balance from the strike, and I spill to the side. I drop my weapon on the wall as I careen over the side of it, but my descent is arrested by two thick branches that catch me under my armpits.

As my head clears, I push myself back onto the wall and look back at the tree whose branches saved my life. “Thank you, Ent,” I say with a delirious grin. If only I had an army of trees to help. Right now, all I have is a very dead, very squished, centipede. I kneel next to the shattered body, scooping its small amount of flesh out of its carapace and off the stone wall. When I have a handful, I rub it onto my chest wound. I can feel the rough scabbing break away as I rub the goop in, but that’s good. The centi-flesh needs to get into the wound.

The pain of the freshly opened wound is intense, but I finish the job, confident that the healing properties of the centipede’s meat will do its work. Exhausted and doubting my ability to navigate the congested path in my current state, I find a spot shaded by some large, palm-like leaves, and lay down with a branch under my head.

Hours later, more fireworks start. They’re far away, just echoes really. The finale comes with an unbelievable crescendo of pops. Am I really hearing this? I wonder. The sound is so out of place. I listen for more, lying with my face turned toward the shaded jungle, but hear nothing. Movement in my periphery—the sky—catches my attention. Without thinking, I look up. The bright blue sky makes me shout in pain and close my eyes. But in that brief look, I saw something.

A man.

Flying?

Not possible.

I replay the second-long image.

The man was dressed in beige, his arms and legs flailing.

Was he falling?

Couldn’t be. Not straight down anyway. There’s nothing to fall from. The motion was from right to left, but also downward. He was falling, but in an arc, like he was launched from a cannon.

Or thrown by something very large.

Then it hits me. The fireworks are gunshots. And if the man sailing by overhead was thrown… Modern man is meeting the Nephilim for the first time, and the results are exactly as I expected—disastrous.

I sit up, and I’m happy to find the world no longer spinning. I’m still feeling tired, and my chest is burning, but I recognize the healing pain as different from that of the infection. Thanks to the centipede’s sacrifice, I’ll be back to full health within a day. For now, I’m tired and slow, and I won’t be much good in a fight, but I need to find out who that man was. Based on his speed and direction, I’m pretty sure I can figure out where he landed.