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

It’s Em who notes the one detail that is less impressive, but perhaps the most strange. “I’ve never seen that flag before.”


She’s right. There are several flags billowing in the wind, all lit by a variety of spotlights. They’re not any of the most likely subjects: American, Russian, Chinese or any European nation. The first aberration from standard nation flags is that they’re mostly white, which normally is a sign of surrender. But there is a splotch of green at the center of the flag. The shape is hard to make out, but there is a single yellow star at the core. A stiff breeze directed by my thoughts holds the flag straight out long enough for me to discern the shape: Antarctica. “It’s an Antarctican flag.”





26



While the rest of the base is impressive, the Antarctican flag and the unity it reveals makes me beam with pride for my fellow man. It’s hard to believe that soldiers from different nations could come together under a single banner, but there it is, waving in the breeze, a symbol of our resistance against the monsters that would not just dominate us, but erase our presence from the planet.

But I don’t linger on the flag for long. The base is a beehive of activity and my eyes flash back and forth, taking in every nook and cranny. The strangest thing about the base is that it appears to be a combination of modern fortifications and ancient. It’s surrounded by tall, twenty foot walls. Some are gray stone—granite, I think, now braced with steel beams, and some are massive steel plates welded together. There are men across the top, and more halfway down, aiming their weapons through long windows. Several watchtowers overlook the base, once again a mix of old and new construction. I see snipers, so many snipers, keeping watch from the tall lookouts. Within the massive base are a group of modern buildings similar to what we saw at the FOB, but they’re surrounding what looks like a Mayan pyramid, beneath which runs a tunnel. Just beyond the buildings are two lines of artillery—howitzers, I think, all aimed toward the distance, their crews nearby and ready to fire.

Closer to the ocean, on a flat stretch of grass, is an array of attack helicopters laden with armaments. I recognize a few, but most are more modern than anything I’ve seen, and the variety suggests they belong to numerous nations. I quickly count fifty. They’re not up and running, but I assume the pairs of men waiting by the open cockpits are the pilots.

My eyes travel further to the left, out to sea, where I see the silhouettes of so many Navy vessels they look like one massive ship, covered in flashing lights. Their numbers are impossible to count in the dark, but at least a few of them are aircraft carriers. I can tell because the air roars with the sounds of patrolling jets.

Looking back to the base, I observe the front lines. Beyond the front wall, which will slow a Nephilim, but not stop it, there is something far more formidable. Tanks. Nearly a hundred of them. Lined up side by side, all aimed toward the west. And more are rumbling into place, arriving in a steady stream from transports at the coast, which gently slopes to the water. In front of the tanks are several long trenches filled with men and weapons. Before the trenches, a field of razor wire, and before that, a clearing that is no doubt laden with mines.

Perhaps the strangest thing about this force lies on the opposite side of the base from where I am now. Cresties. Maybe three hundred of the dinosaurs, lying on the ground, just waiting for the fight to begin. As creatures of violence, hunting and killing every day of their lives in an environment far harsher than this and filled with hunters and Nephilim, this is just another day. They might live. They might die. But either way, they’ll fight the Nephilim like they always have. Despite the fact that they can have a taste for human beings, these creatures have done more to reduce the ranks of the Nephilim over the past few thousand years than any man. I’m glad they’re here, and I send Zok and Grumpy off to join them.

It’s an impressive army. Enough to conquer nations. But while this powerful army of perhaps a hundred thousand, bolstered by the strength of modern weapons, can wreak havoc on a scale of Biblical proportions, they face an enemy numbering a million of genuine Biblical proportions, who can heal from any number of wounds and who enjoy the pain. If the two behemoths make it to the base, they’d just have to fall over and much of it would be destroyed beneath their girth.

Still, it’s a far better defense than the previous FOB, and our chances of survival are higher, if just by a little. Deep down, I know that the size of the base and number of tanks isn’t going to affect the outcome of this battle. That will come down to me. And Nephil.

Solomon!

The voice in my head makes me flinch.

Kainda tenses next to me. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” I say, and then smile. “Luca caught me off guard.”