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

Not that I’m planning on dying, or losing the battle. But if it happens...the human race will still have achieved something impressive—unity. It’s too bad we couldn’t achieve unity without half-demon man-eating genocidal inspiration, but hey, we’re flawed.

I glance to my right and see Kainda atop Zok’s back as they slip through the jungle. She’s dressed in her scant black leathers, hammer clipped to her belt, black hair braided back tight. Her eyes are forward, watching for danger. Her muscles are flexed as she clings to Zok. She’s like a sleek sports car decked out with guns—dangerous curves.

This is my wife, I think. How awesome is that?

The white wedding dress. The church. The reception. All of that stuff. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that woman. She is my perfect match—strong when I’m not, always by my side, and has seen me at my worst and yet still loves me.

The way we were bonded was perfect. I didn’t know it at the time, but there was no better way, or moment, for us to be married. We’re both hunters. This is the life we live. We’re dangerous with our weapons, and with our hearts. Sometimes we have to kill suddenly, but other times we love suddenly.

Kainda senses my attention and meets my eyes.

Since neither of us is actually directing the dinosaurs, we linger. Despite the jolting ride, the vegetation and the tree trunks flashing between us, I manage to lose myself in her nearly black eyes.

I hear a sound. A voice, I think. But it barely registers.

A dopey smile forms and I feel my body morph into a kind of gelatinous mold of a human being. My parents once told me about the stages of love. Lust, romance and then solid commitment, but I suspect things are a little different for Kainda and me. The way we’re wired is a bit different than the outside world, and our notions of commitment, despite also being in what my mom called “the honeymoon stage”, is profound.

The voice returns, this time a little louder. I still don’t hear the word being spoken. I’m not listening. I’m barely present. But a sharp smack to the back of my head pulls me out of my blissful state.

“Snap out of it, Lancelot,” Kat says.

“What? Hey, Lancelot was an adulterer,” I complain at the comparison to one of King Arthur’s most infamous Knights of the Round Table.

“Whatever,” Kat says, “We’re—”

“Guinevere was condemned to burn at the stake. The Knight’s were divided and the—”

“Fine, bad analogy,” Kat says, the urgency of her words reaching my mind. “We’re almost there.”

I look back at her. She’s grim. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Kid,” she says, once again forgetting that we’re technically the same age, “I called you Lancelot because if you were thinking with your brain, you’d notice that you were about to land yourself in hot water.”

The cobwebs of love disintegrate at her warning and I suddenly feel the world around me in sharp detail. “Smoke.”

“A lot of it,” Kat says.

I lean forward and pat Grumpy on the side of the neck. “Whoa, boy. Slow down. Slow down.”

Grumpy huffs in response and our run quickly becomes a slow and careful walk. Zok follows his lead, slowing and falling in line, just behind her pack leader.

“This is close enough,” Kat says.

Em walks past us, having already leapt down from Zok’s back. She’s in a hurry. “Something is wrong.” Then she sprints ahead, no doubt concerned for Luca’s well-being.

Grumpy lowers himself toward the ground, but Kat and I are off and running before he’s all the way down. Kainda and Mira are right behind us, but Em is nowhere in sight.

“Where’d she go?” Mira asks.

“This way,” I say, following the barely perceptible trail. I shove aside a low-hanging branch, heavy with leaves that are bigger than me. Em stands ten feet ahead at the edge of the jungle. “Em, wait up.”

She turns around at the sound of my voice. Tears are in her eyes. She doesn’t have to say anything to tell us something is seriously wrong. Lacking any kind of caution, we push through the brush and fallen trees that mark the border between the jungle and the swath of ground that had been clear-cut in preparation for the final battle.

The first thing I see upon entering the clearing is a black swirling cloud blocking my view. I direct the wind to carry it away, and the air clears quickly. But as the smoke rises, my heart sinks. The forward operating base which was to be the location of humanity’s last stand, has been destroyed.





24



When Kat tries and fails to contact anyone on her small portable radio, I start to sprint across the clearing, but Kat snags my arm and stops me cold. “No!” she says. “The first hundred feet are covered with land mines.”

A quick look down reveals a mud covered mound that could be a mine...or not. I suppose not knowing one way or the other is the point. “How do we get across?” I ask. I’m about five seconds away from flying myself across the distance when Kat points to a string of tree trunks that cuts across the clearing.