Steve's Savage Safari

by Ross Norris

but a lingering pink stain covered his hands and forearms. They left the area and headed farther out. By late afternoon, having weaved through the maze of tattered roadways and collapsed structures, they pulled across the dead grasses outside of an old hospital. The building was beautiful in its detail; unique curves in the arches and tall ionic pillars. It seemed like a temple in the grass. Most of the windows were missing, bits of window frame hung from random openings, and a gapping hole in the facade showed where a car had, somewhere in the buildings unmentioned history, smashed through.

  “Cook County Hospital,” Steve said. “This is your best place to find the cats.”

  “In a hospital?” Agata said.

  “It’s like a cave to them.”

  “Perfect, let’s go,” Aldridge said. He stood up ready to leap out of the vehicle. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and flung his legs over the side. His feet sank into the wet soil as he hit.

  “Wait,” Steve said. “Not yet.” The guide walked over the seats to the back of the vehicle and opened another crate. He pulled out an AK-47 with a worn stock. “You’ll need something faster than your rifle.”

  “You want us to hunt with that?” Aldridge said.

  “Take what you wish, but one of us should have it at least.”

  “Fine,” Aldridge said, “I’ll take one.”

  The guide distributed an automatic rifle to each of the hunters and began to check his gear. “Stay with me and do not go off on your own,” he said. “I give you fair warning, this is a fearsome animal, we may not all make it back alive.”

  Aldridge gave Wyler a heaving smack on the shoulder. “It’s all about the theatrics, Jamie. They want us scared; it’s just what he has to say.”

  “Let’s go,” Steve said. He started them out across the lifeless lawn toward the hospital when a loud crack sounded. All of the members of the hunting party dropped to their knees. Only Steve and Aldridge kept their guns out and at the ready. Another crack sounded and the windshield of the SUV shivered into countless pieces. A hollow, twanging thud sounded as a raw looking arrow slipped into the metal side of the vehicle. All of the shots, bullets or arrows, were coming from the same direction.

  “Get behind the truck,” Steve ordered. They all obeyed without question. As they knelt, the sounds of sliced air and metallic thumps rained over them.

  “Who’s doing this?” Aldridge asked, “The savages?”

  “Yes.” Steve wasted no time with words. “I will draw them off. There is a place where I can bottle them in if they’ll follow me. You three stay with the truck and do not leave.” Steve didn’t wait for any of them to agree. He took off across the lawn, firing a few random shots for cover as he ran out of sight behind the remnant of a wall.

  The three listened to the sounds of the enemy and could distinctly hear them moving off toward the guide’s direction.

  “Idiots,” Aldridge said. “Going after one man and leaving three behind.”

  “What do we do now?” Wyler asked.

  “We wait, like he instructed,” Agata said.

  Aldridge rose to his feet, allowing his head to rise above the safe cover of the vehicle. “If we wait; we drink. I think I saw some whiskey in the truck.” No one bothered to debate him. Aldridge went up into the truck and began rummaging through one of the crates. The other two waited in stealth.

  “What’s that?” Agata asked, pointing across to the hospital. Wyler swung around to take aim at the building.

  “It’s a child,” Aldridge said. They looked to where Agata pointed to find a small boy with long hair, no shirt, and threadbare jeans standing near the hole in the side of the hospital. “It must be one of the savage’s little brats.” Aldridge dropped back out of the truck and began crossing the lawn.

  “What are you doing?”

  “They want to kill us,” Aldridge said. “I’ll show them not to mess with us. I’ll at least teach one of their little monsters a lesson.”

  “Aldridge, stay here,” Wyler called. But Aldridge kept on going. In a moment of frank decisiveness, Wyler left the safety of the truck and followed after him. Agata came not far behind.

  “What are you doing now?” she asked.

  “He’s going to get himself killed if he goes alone.”

  “Good,” the Russian said, though despite her disdain, she kept in tow with Wyler.

  They caught up to Aldridge in the building. The numerous windows provided enough dusty light to see. Water dripped from a hole in the ceiling, forming murky pools in the low spots of the floor. Old chairs, mold stained and rat eaten, lay scattered across the floor. Shadows owned too many of the corners. All three of the hunters kept their weapons high. Wyler felt the sweat return to his palms.

  “Where did he go?” Aldridge asked.

  “I don’t see him,” Wyler said.

  “Let’s go back,” Agata said.

  Aldridge began moving slowly down a dark corridor. “Quiet. He’s still here somewhere.” He waved at them, as though he could push their noise to the ground. The two others followed. The corridor slanted down as a ramp, leading deeper into the old hospital.

  Wyler felt the ground under his feet grow uneven. He could feel brittle, unidentified bits crack and crumble beneath his rubber soles. “Anyone have a light?” he asked.

  Agata clicked on a small flashlight, illuminating the manmade cavern around them. She jumped as Wyler spewed out a curse and leapt up from the ground, flinging his weapon carelessly. Bones, from all manner of creatures, were strewn irreverently across the ground.

  “Doctors these days,” Aldridge joked. He smiled at the fright on the faces of his companions. “They never clean up after themselves after surgery.”

  “Not funny,” Agata said. “I wonder if any of them are human.”

  “Best not to look and find out,” Aldridge responded. “Let’s keep moving.”

  They had turned a corner, just past the remnants of a nurse’s station when Agata heard the noise. It started soft; a faint and muted clatter; almost hollow. The distinct sound of a rattle, like that of a snake, flooded in. All three turned in different directions; the echo making it hard to find.

  “What is that?” Agata said.

  Aldridge grinned, “The rattle cat. And we found it without our guide. See what I mean; all the theatrics for something we can do ourselves.”

  “We haven’t found it yet,” Wyler said. A scraping sound from above made them all look to the ceiling. They could each feel their own heart beating in their ears as they strained to listen to the insulated creaking in the ceiling above them.

  “Here kitty, kitty,” Aldridge said.

  “Shut up,” Agata hissed.

  Before Aldridge could whip out his retort, a vent cover pushed out, taking chunks of rotted drywall with it. In a blur, a small mass of fur pounced out and pushed Aldridge to the ground. The hunter screamed as his rifle slid across the floor. He managed to shove the animal far enough away from himself for Wyler to shoot it. The flash of the muzzle lit up the gloomy hall. The animal cried out and then slumped over.

  Aldridge spit out a profanity as Wyler helped him up. He gripped his left shoulder and felt the warm stickiness of blood. “It bit me!”

  “Don’t worry, I got it,” Wyler said.

  “Good job, Jamie,” Aldridge said through clenched teeth, trying to seem more in control than he felt.

  “It’s so small,” Agata said, shining the flash light on the dead feline. “I thought it would be bigger.” The animal was no larger than a medium sized dog.

  “Bites like a big thing anyway,” said Aldridge.

  The immediate crashing sound behind them broke up the stained feeling of victory. They were separated by a large pane of thick glass, but could hear and see what was on the other side. Another cat, much larger than the first, but of the same coloring, growled like a tiger and clawed at the glass, leaving long white steaks in its smooth surface.

  “I think we found mama,” Wyler said. “Run!” The thre
e took off down the hall with only Agata’s flashlight to guide them. They jumped over fallen gurneys and littered books. They had made it around a corner when Aldridge slipped forward, his legs seizing up, and knocked into Agata.

  “Ma lugs,” Aldridge said in heavily slurred syllables. “Ma mouf.” The fear came out clearer than the words as he slid to the floor.

  “He needs the anti-venom,” Agata said. Wyler ran back and shoved a double door closed behind them and slid the legs of a chair through the bar. In the distance they could hear the mature rattle cat making its way to them. Wyler lifted the man back up and put a shoulder under his arm to steady him. Aldridge could walk, but his balance was gone.

  “We need to hurry,” Agata yelled. The metal door began to slam back and forth as the beast on the other side started to smash and claw at it. The legs of the chair were bending and the bar of the door was coming loose. Aldridge continued to hobble along, led by Wyler. “We can’t outrun this thing once it gets through. It’s too fast.” she said.

  It was only after Wyler heard the snapping sound of shorn metal that he remembered an old joke his father, an avid hunter himself, had once told him. You don’t have to run faster than a bear, just faster than the slowest person with you.

  Wyler took his arm out from under Aldridge and ran ahead to catch up with Agata. Aldridge tried to follow behind, but his twisting feet made him slow and feeble. “Jumie, ples…” he said, reaching an arm out as though he could span the distance and pull the other two back with him. He fell back to the