The Extinct

CHAPTER

37





They followed a path around the brush and took up the trail of blood and broken stems of grass where the tracker’s body had been dragged. They drove a few minutes before Thomas stopped, and turned the engine off.

“What’s wrong?” William said.

“The trail’s stopped.” He looked around in all directions. “And I don’t see a . . . wait.” Sticking out of the brush was the bloodied stump of a human foot. Thomas jumped out of the jeep and went to look at it. He bent down and saw that it was severed from the ankle. Going into the brush a little farther he saw the remains of the tracker. He glanced around and then climbed back into the jeep, starting the engine and taking off slowly.

“What’d you see?” William asked.

“It wasn’t a lion, the bite marks were too deep in the bone. The only animal I know that can do that is a hyena. But hyena’s don’t roar.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. Eric, start pouring out the kill, would you?”

In the very back of the jeep was an icebox filled with the entrails and blood of the recently slaughtered pig. Eric’s job was to scoop out handfuls of the guts with a cup and throw them on the ground every five or ten minutes to attract the animal and have him follow the jeep.

“So you think it’s only one hyena?” William asked.



“Yes.”



“How?”



“We would have seen or heard if there was a clan around. They hunt in packs. This is a lone hyena. Probably ousted from a clan and having to go rogue. We’re easy prey and a starving hyena wouldn’t hesitate to use us for sustenance. They usually only get up to around eighty kilos. This one would have to be much larger to drag a body like that.”

“You said he drinks blood,” Eric said.

“Yes, that is . . . puzzling. Only a few man-eaters in history have done that, but they’ve all been lions. They lick the skin off with their tongues and then drink but hyenas don’t have the sandpaper tongues of lions. I don’t know how one would do it.”

They drove under the scorching sun and stopped to rest and refuel in the shade of a large gray rock formation. A herd of small deer were grazing out in front of them and they could see the gray clouds of an oncoming storm in the distance. William sat in the jeep while Thomas sat on the rocks and ate chips and fruit. Eric couldn’t bring himself to get out of the jeep yet.

“How can you be sure it’ll follow us and not just go back to the village?” William asked.

“I can’t,” Thomas said with a mouthful. “But I’m betting it will. They can’t resist the scent of blood, it’ll be far more appealing than the scent of live prey.”

“How far out are we going to go?”

“Don’t know yet. Far as it takes I suppose. There’s a village four or so hours east. We should be able to reach there and back at least.”

The conversation was broken by the high-pitched chirp of laughter coming from the grass. William and Thomas glanced at each other and then Thomas darted for his rifle in the jeep. He grabbed it and jumped in front, searching the high grass for any movement.

William took the other rifle and stood up inside the jeep, looking in the opposite direction of Thomas. The deer had sprinted away. Eventually, the plains became silent.

“That sounded close,” William said.

“No more than thirty meters,” Thomas said, squinting as the sight of his rifle swept to and fro. He lowered it and climbed up onto the hood of the jeep for a better look. “Well Will, it seems your worries are unfounded; it’s followed us.”