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

The rows of tanks lined up in front of the base, unable to fire at such close range targets without injuring our own forces, roll forward. The soldiers duck down as the sixty-seven ton armored vehicles drive over the trenches. One row at a time, the tanks park above the trenches in tight formation, sealing off the men below from the rushing hunters, who swarm over the tanks like army ants over beetles. Some of the hunters whack at the tanks with their weapons, but they have no effect. The men beneath them are now retreating into the base through a tunnel I formed.

With the men beneath them protected, and no friendly forces in front of them, I give the order to fire. Just once. Thunder rises from below as I cross over the tanks. The hunters on top of the vehicles stumble and fall, clutching their ears in pain. Others, unlucky enough to be in the line of fire, simply cease to exist. Most of the tanks aimed for behemoth and the Nephilim still holding the beast open. The giants are quickly reduced to pieces from which they cannot heal. The mammoth body folds in on itself again, trapping thousands of hunters that had yet to vacate the hollowed cavity.

Still airborne, I look up. A Nephilim warrior attacks a helicopter, striking out with its sword. The massive blade cuts through the chopper like it was a flying tomato. The attack sends the rotor blades flying and one of them returns the favor, severing the giant’s wings. Helicopter and Nephilim both fall, toward the base. Inside the base.

But Merrill is still blowing the shofar and the base is full of fighters who have been trained to kill Nephilim. I’ll have to trust that they can handle it. I have to take care of this hunter swarm first. Because I’m sure there will be no delay in what comes next.

To prove me right, a horn sounds in the distance, and I catch a glimpse of Nephilim warriors charging into the bottleneck. Just before landing, I direct the tanks, artillery and Navy vessels to focus their efforts on the bottleneck, while the Air Force jets continue their assault on the forces still out of sight and the helicopters clear the cliffs.

My entire flight, everything I saw and every command given takes just ten seconds. Then I’m approaching the ground on the far side of the tanks, dropping down toward a throng of several thousand hunters all working their way toward the base. And they will have no trouble scaling the walls. Just before landing, I see bullets tear through some of the hunters. Men on the wall are still firing.

Hold your fire, I think, directing my thoughts to anyone firing from the walls. Then I land and put all of my anger and desperation into it. The earth buckles beneath me. A shockwave bursts away from me, moving through air and land. Every hunter for a hundred feet in every direction is knocked down. Those within twenty feet don’t get back up.

With every human death, on either side, my anger rises, tenfold when I am the one responsible for their deaths. But the hunters leave me no time to mourn the deaths of their brothers. They rush me from all sides, and I charge to meet them.

As they close in, I spin, swiping Whipsnap around, focusing a burst of wind from its tip. Men fly away from me, cast hundreds of feet in the air. At least I won’t see them die. An arrow whistles past my head, and I quickly form a protecting swirl of wind around me, deflecting several more projectiles being launched in my direction.

They’ve practiced this, I think. By making me focus on defending against arrows, knives and darts, they’re keeping me from attacking. Any lapse in my defense could mean a quick death.

Unfortunately for them, I’ve been practicing too.

The hunters come at me again with little regard for their own dead, stepping around and on their bodies. As they close the distance, I wait, deflecting the steady stream of projectiles. And then, when the closest attackers are just fifteen feet away, I will the ground around me to rise up. A wall of stone forms around me. It does an even better job of protecting me, but that’s not its purpose.

It’s a weapon.

For a moment, secluded in my dome of earth, I close my eyes and say a prayer for the men and women I’m about to kill. At one time, they weren’t hunters. They were teachers, photographers, scientists and explorers. They had lives, and loved ones. Some, like Ninnis, were married, or had children. They were good people once. And somewhere, deep inside them, they still are.

But not right now.

And I’ve done everything I can to prevent this. Right?

My doubt disappears when Holloway’s words come back to me and my perfect memory remembers the expression on his dying face. Fight!

“To the last man,” I say and then, with a focused burst of air, the stone around me shatters explosively. Fragments of stone shoot in every direction, cutting through the horde of hunters flooding toward me.

Men and women fall, clutching their wounded bodies and dropping their cherished weapons. They have known hatred and violence for as long as they can remember, but now...they’re free. Really free. And unlike a Nephilim, they have souls that will live on. This gives me some consolation. If I can’t free them in life, I can free them in death.

As I survey the battlefield, I find myself growing tired. The combination of strong emotions and exertion are taking their toll. I’m not yet useless, but I still need to watch how frequently I use my abilities, especially in unnatural ways, like turning the earth into a big grenade.

A battle cry spins me around.