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

I step further inside, walking over the embers of whatever was in this building. I’m sure the heat would be burning me if I could feel it, but since that moment with Kainda, I haven’t felt any temperature beyond a comfortable ambient seventy degrees. It’s odd, but it has its benefits. While the others have been sweating in what is obviously sweltering and humid heat, I’ve been just peachy.

My search yields no results. Nothing was left behind. No messages. No markings. And nothing that couldn’t be burned to a crisp.

I hear a crunch behind me. A quick sniff reveals the scent of sweat and guns. Kat. “Find anything?”

“Just scorched earth,” she says.

“What about the radio?” I ask.

She holds the radio to her mouth, pushes the call button and says, in very non-military fashion. “This is Katherine Ferrell looking for General Kent Holloway. If anyone reads, answer now.” She lets go of the button and we listen to thirty seconds of static before she speaks again. “They either have no radios or are out of range. My best guess is that they were up to something and didn’t want to risk a chance of the enemy discovering what that was, so they bugged out and set the place on fire. Also, the smoke will draw the Nephilim here, at least in part, and they’ll still get a good taste of the mine field, which is the one and only thing they did leave behind.”

“But they knew we were coming back,” I say. “And you were just here a few days ago.”

She crouches down, picks up what looks like an artifact covered in soot, but it just crumbles in her fingers. “Things change fast in war. And as for you, there was no guarantee you would come back. No offense, but not even I thought it was a guarantee. And let’s be honest, you almost didn’t make it back.”

Well...she’s right about that. “So they just up and left without a clue?”

“Didn’t say that, but if they left something behind for us to find, it’s going to be subtle. I doubt they want to advertise where they went, but I can tell you one thing for certain.”

I wait for the big reveal in silence.

“They either went north or south.”

Of course. They wouldn’t have headed inland. They would lose the support of the Navy if they did. And there is only ocean in the other direction. “Assuming they didn’t retreat.”

“They didn’t,” she says.

“How can you be sure?”

“Holloway knows I would hunt him down and put him in a hurt locker.”

We leave the husk of a building and split up to search every inch of the camp. On my way to the outer wall, I spot Mira standing still and looking down at a patch of earth. A lump forms in my throat when I realize what she’s looking at—Xin’s grave.

I find myself walking to her, the wall a distant memory. The earth covering Xin’s body no longer looks fresh. It’s as dark and muddy as the rest of the ground inside the base. If not for the stone, still in place, there would be nothing to distinguish it as a grave.

I step up next to her, looking at the stone. A single word is inscribed on it, carved by my hand with a knife: Xin.

“The body buried here looks just like you?” Mira asks. I told her the story just once. She has a good memory. Although it’s not exactly an easy story to forget.

“We were twins,” I say.

“But not at first?”

“At first, he looked like a gatherer. White, scaly skin. Yellow eyes. Moved through the underground like a snake. Nearly killed me.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“I saved him.”

She lets out a laugh. “Seems to be the story of your life.”

“What do you mean?”

“All the people following you—” She motions to the gravestone. “—giving their lives for you. They all wanted to kill you, but in the end, your mercy and forgiveness saved them.” She motions behind us with her head despite there being nothing there. “Including your hoochie mamma wife.”

“What’s a hoochie mamma?” I ask.

“Never mind,” she says. “The point is, well, I don’t know what the point is. I guess I’m just glad to know you.”

I stand in silence for a moment, absorbing the compliment. I’m about to dismiss myself and continue my search when Mira asks, “What’s the arrow for?”

I scrunch my forehead. “What arrow?”

“On the gravestone,” she says. “Did Xin use a bow and arrow?”

I kneel down and inspect the gravestone more carefully. It’s really just a basketball size hunk of granite I pulled out of the ground. It’s smooth, but not polished. I find the arrow etched into its gray surface, near the bottom, almost covered by mud. I didn’t make this. Why would someone else? What does it mean? I look in the direction the arrow is pointing and see nothing but ruins and the ocean beyond.

Mira crouches down next to me. “Maybe you’re supposed to flip it over. You know, like it’s a piece of paper?”

My response is to lunge forward, grasp the stone and flip it over. The other side is devoid of anything interesting, but it’s also covered in mud. With a thought, I condense water from the humid air and force it beneath the mud, souring the stone clean. Two strings of numbers are revealed, each with a single decimal point.

Mira and I look at each other, eyes wide and say the same thing, “Coordinates!”





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