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

“Seems like a bad idea,” I say, “Having such an obvious path across.”


“You didn’t notice it,” Kat says. “And the sniper with a direct line of sight down the path, with high caliber rounds strong enough to punch through five men, would have made a pretty good deterrent.”

There’s no doubt that Kat would have been that sniper. As I look at the straight line of trees and trace them back to a well protected bunker, it’s clear that the path across might actually be far more dangerous. But not for us. I work my way through the jungle to the first tree trunk and climb on top.

Grumpy lets out a deep, but gentle roar. I turn and find the giant’s head poking out of the jungle. He wants to come with us. “Stay here,” I say, trying to think it at the cresty as well. I’m not entirely certain how the creature seems to understand me, but it does. He grunts in complaint. “Stay. Here.”

With a sigh, the dinosaur slips back into the jungle and disappears, thanks to his camouflaged skin.

I climb atop the first trunk and work my way across. Once I’m certain the logs are securely embedded in the mud and aren’t going to roll, I run the distance. By the time I reach the end, I’m airborne, spurred by my concern for Luca, the hunters we led here, the soldiers we freed from the Nephilim prison, and all the men and women who have come here since, to fight for the human race.

The rest of the distance flashes past in a blur. I touch down in the center of the base where just days ago I stood with Merrill and Aimee, where I said goodbye to Xin, who gave his life for me and where I killed the shifter posing as Mira. But there’s no sign of any of those events or people present.

Including bodies.

For a moment, the lack of dead puts me at ease, but then I remember who our enemy is. Why leave dead when you can eat them? But there are many other clues about what happened, the first of which, Kat points out, when they catch up to me, running through the front gate.

“There’s no sign of a fight,” she says. “No shells, no blood, no remains. Even if they took the bodies there would still be...parts. The base wouldn’t have fallen without a fight. Even if it was a surprise attack.”

“No footprints, either,” Kainda says, looking at the ground. The easiest way to know a Nephilim has visited, if it’s been long enough for the stench to fade, is to look for footprints. The thirty foot goliaths tend to leave deep impressions.

“The heavy equipment is gone, too,” Kat notes. “No tanks. No artillery. This was a coordinated mobilization.”

“A retreat?” Mira asks.

Hearing the word makes me sick. This is one fight we cannot run away from, even if just the five of us have to fight alone. Kat’s silence doesn’t bode well, but I come to my own conclusion.

“General Holloway understood the stakes. As did Merrill and Aimee, and Luca, not to mention the hunters and soldiers we freed. They wouldn’t run away.”

“As much as I believe that about my parents,” Mira says, “they’re not here.”

“We just need to figure out where they went,” I said, scouring the base for any aberration. Many of the temporary buildings—tents and metal structures—are slowly burning, as is the wall built around the core of the base, and the watch towers. But there are no signs of larger, more violent destruction. “Kat, Em, Kainda, spread out and see if you can find some hint of where they went, and why some of the buildings are burning.”

“And what do you want me to do?” Mira asks, clearly not enthused that I’ve left her out of the search.

“Watch the skies,” I say. “We’re exposed and alone.”

She gives a nod, all hints of disappointment gone. I’ve given her the most important job—keeping us alive. “If you find a gun or something larger than this knife—” She pats the blade tucked into her belt.

I nod. “I’ll look for something, but you’ve done pretty well with just the knife.”

She smiles. “Yeah...” But then forces the grin away and says, deadpan, “Find me a gun.”

No matter how grim a situation, Mira has a way of making me laugh. I leave her with a smile, but it quickly fades as I set to work. My first stop is the large metal Quonset hut structure. Smoke billows from its door and windows, but the structure still looks solid. As I approach the door, the smoke parts for me.

Inside is just a cloud of black. I force the soot from the space, and snuff the fires with a thought. Beams of orange late-day sun lance through the wide open space, illuminating the destruction within. Not a thing remains. Every desk, piece of equipment and scrap of paper has been burned. I catch a trace of gasoline in the air.