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

I ignore her, as does Wright. He takes my hand with a strong shake. He motions to the woman with his head. “This is my wife, Katherine Ferrell. I’m Captain Stephen Wright, U.S. Special Forces.”


“Stephen Wright?” I ask, my mind racing backwards through time and then I ask, “Junior?”

The man squints at me. “Yes. How did you—”

“I met your father once,” I say, remembering Stephen Wright senior. He was a member of the expedition at Clark Station 2. He mentioned he had a son, who wanted to join the expedition, but his father kept him home. Said he thought his son would end up being killed on Antarctica. Looks like his father could be right.

“That’s impossible,” Wright says, letting go of my hand. “He died when I was eighteen.”

I nod. “I met him twenty-three years ago.” I raise my hand in a three finger salute, knowing he’ll recognize it. “Scout’s honor.”

Wright and Ferrell look a little bit stunned.

“He mentioned you were in the boy scouts,” I say.

The man leans against the stone wall and slides to a sitting position. He’s clearly exhausted, possibly injured and struggling to comprehend what I’m saying.

“I met him here, on Antarctica, during the expedition to Clark Sta—”

The man’s eyes light up. “What did you say your name was?”

“Solomon,” I say. “Solomon Vincent.”

“You’re the boy!” He sits up straighter. “The boy who disappeared!”

I nod. “I was kidnapped.”

“They never found you…”

“I’ve been here. Underground. With the Nephilim.”

Wright and Ferrell both tense at the word, so I know they’ve encountered them.

“You know who they are?” I ask.

The man nods. “Clark explained it.”

“You were with Merrill?” I say, feeling excited that I’ve actually met part of Dr. Clark’s group.

“Do you know what happened to them?” he asks.

His question gives me my answer. “They made it, I think. Mira killed Enki. Last I saw, they were headed down river toward the sea.”

Wright relaxes a little. “Enki… He’s the one that nearly killed us.”

“How did you get away?” I ask.

Wright nods at his wife. “Kat shot off his—I guess ‘crown’ is the best word for it—and he dropped us. If we hadn’t fallen in the river…”

I see he’s replaying the scene in his mind and I pull him back. “Captain Wright,” I say. He looks me in the eyes. “Do you understand what’s happening—the war that’s about to be fought?”

“I think I do,” he says.

“Then you know that we’ll need an army?”

“I do.”

“Can you get me one?”

“Get you one?” Ferrell says. “I’ve said it before, but no one seems to be paying attention. You’re just a kid.”

I ignore her and keep my eyes on Wright.

“I just need a way to call home,” he says.

“Steve,” Ferrell says.

He holds his hand up to her as if to say don’t worry, I can handle this. He turns back to me and says “But, even if I could make that call, I’m not going to until you give me a damn good reason.”

I point to the canteen attached to his belt. “How are you for water?”

He unclips the canteen and shakes it. Bone dry. I can tell he thinks I’m going to refill his canteen from my waterskin as some kind of peace offering, but that’s not my intention at all. Not only would it do nothing to convince him, or his wife, whose attitude matches her name, but I tend to not do things small.

I take the canteen and step up to the wall. I place my hand against the stone and reach out. I can feel the earth, hard and heavy. There are pockets of air, tiny and cavernous. And there are veins of water, flowing like blood. I focus on one of these veins and open up a small fissure. Pressure helps me draw the water up, though opening the stone takes more effort. But I keep the hole small, splitting stone until it reaches the cave.

The pair remains silent when the spring opens and fresh water pours out. I could fill the canteen right there at the wall, but decide to leave no doubt that I am uniquely qualified to handle the Nephilim. I still have doubts about my ability to lead a war against these creatures that terrify me, but I seem to have a knack for vexing the monsters and foiling their plans. I don’t like it and I don’t feel prepared, but there is no one else.

The water transforms into steam as it exits the wall, as I coax it out. The fog fills the tunnel. I can feel it, moistening my lungs with every breath. Then I bring it in closer with a swirling breeze, condensing it over the open lid of the canteen. As though being wrung from the very air itself, water trickles from the cloud as it cyclones back into a liquid. As the canteen fills, I seal the hole in the wall with a thought. The swirling cloud disappears as the last of it converts back into water and tops off the canteen.

I screw the cap back on the canteen, give it a shake so they can hear it’s full and hand the canteen back to the stunned man. Ferrell actually has her hand over her mouth.

They’ve been to Olympus.

They’ve fought the Nephilim.