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

“Hell,” he says. “Son, you got everyone. Well, everyone in range. The Russians found this place and set up shop early. They never intended on leaving without a fight. But once we all knew what we were facing, well, here we are. Chinese, Arab Nations, the EU, the Brits, Japan, Brazil, the Koreas and at least ten more.”


“Whose idea was the flag?” I ask, pointing to the largest of the bunch, flying from the top of the pyramid.

He motions toward Luca, “That would be your brother. Said you would like it. Also said that Antarctica was your land. And that you were the King.”

“He was right,” I say.

“About the flag?”

“About all three.”

We stare at each other for a moment and then he just shrugs. “We can talk about that if we don’t die.”

“Sounds fair,” I say. “Now about Luca.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Holloway says. “And normally I’d agree. This is no place for a child. But here’s the thing. We’ve got an army made up of folks who speak fifteen, twenty languages. A lot of them can speak English, but at least fifty percent of our force doesn’t understand a word of it beyond Coke and Pepsi. It was a real problem at first, but then he figured out that thought has no language. A Spanish speaker receives the boy’s thoughts just as clearly as an English speaker. With his ability, he can give orders and direct troops with more efficiency and clarity than the confusing mix of radiomen and translators we were going to have to use. I’m sorry, but the boy is essential.”

I look at Luca, still wrapped in Em’s arms, excitedly telling Kainda a story while she rubs his hair. “If he gets hurt...”

“He’ll be by my side the entire time.”

“Beneath the temple?”

“It’s the safest place,” Holloway says, “Which brings me to my first question. Where will you be?”

I point beyond the wall, to the battlefield. “Out there.”

“Solomon!” Aimee shouts, running up and giving me a hug.

Merrill follows her, clapping me on the back. “My boy!” He wraps an arm around me and gives me a squeeze. “We can’t thank you enough for bringing her back.”

I lean back from the both of them and say, “I just have one more promise to keep. You’re all getting off this continent alive and together.”

Aimee smiles and shakes her head. “The man you’ve become. Your parents would be proud.”

Would be proud? Does that mean... I push the concern from my mind. Being distracted by the fate of my parents, good or bad, will only distract me from what needs to be done.

Over the next ten minutes, I reunite with Luca and share a little bit about what we experienced while we were away. The Clarks and Luca, and even the general listen to our tale, but when it’s over, everyone is all business.

We retreat to the temple. A tunnel runs through the center of the structure, stopping at a chamber that has been transformed into a command center. There are thick stone walls all around and above. The tunnel is too small for a Nephilim, the structure too sound to easily destroy. Aside from a behemoth attack, the temple is the most secure location in the base. Despite the ancient surroundings, which were likely built by the same pre-flood human civilization that painted the record found in the nunatak, the space is full of modern computers, weapon racks and cables that snake across the floor before disappearing underground.

A dog barks, spinning us around. A large black Newfoundland charges toward Mira. She drops to a knee and greets the now whining dog.

“This must be Vesuvius,” I say, crouching next to the massive canine. He eyes me cautiously, but I hold my hand to his nose and let him get a good sniff. After a moment, he lowers his head and slides it under my hand: permission to pet, granted. I scratch behind his ears with both hands, saying, “You’re a good boy.” This outside world tradition of greeting friendly dogs with expressions of how good they are feels oddly normal. Feels good.

I spot the Jericho shofar atop a desk that is bolted to the stone floor. It’s wedged in a large chunk of foam and covered by a clear case that’s hinged to the back side of the desk and locked on the front, like it’s some kind of museum exhibit, which it might actually be some day.

Merrill notes my attention. “It’s the best we could do to protect it and still have it available.”

I nod. Makes sense. But what I’m confused about is the next table over. I give Vesuvius one last scratch and stand. I move to the table, which is covered in what looks like stereo equipment. Several thick cables run down to the floor and out through the hallways. “What’s this?”

“The ancient Israelites had several horns and had to sound them over several days for the impact to be significant.” Merrill grins. “We have a speaker system pillaged from an aircraft carrier.” He points out a microphone. “This is my station. My contribution to the war effort, if you will. I’ve been practicing with the shofar. It’s not pretty, but the effect should be impressive.”

“Is the effect the same through the speakers?” I ask.

“I, uh, I don’t know,” he says.

“We haven’t found a red head to try it on,” Holloway adds.

“A red head?” I ask.