Predator Island

by Douglas Cameron

  The television picture had come back on at this point.

  “Hah!” Esteves said. “He iz zcared. Zee how he zpinz around looking. Where did zat cat go?”

  “It left. Going for game more to its size at this point,” Issaack said. “When it’s hungrier, it will attack.”

  But what no one had thought of, except for the veterinarians, was that in the five years since Davido had hit, the native wildlife population had multiplied and there were small rodents galore, so the smaller predators could get their fill but would, in the future, have to be very wary of the bigger ones.

  Chapter 4

  When the cages had been opened, the two coyotes had bolted out and, because of the advantageous and intentional placement of the cages, found themselves face to face with each other. Foxy, the male coyote, was bigger than Moxie, the female coyote, but that wasn’t what made him superior in Moxie’s mind. It was that she was female, and he was male and for the most part, males dominate in the coyote society. Seeing one of her own kind after her long isolation was exhilarating for Moxie and she wanted to romp and play, but they were strangers and they might be enemies. But Moxie did the only thing that she could do by nature. She whimpered and lay down. Foxy then acted as he should and went to her and smelled her everywhere that a coyote should. Satisfied that she was what she seemed to be and, as she had been, lacking in company for a period of months, he licked her face. She stood and returned the favor and just like that they were a pack. Not only a pack but a hungry pack, and it was time to go hunting.

  Pacer, the spotted hyena, was hungry. He had seen nothing to satisfy his hunger. His thirst was quenched by drinking from the river, but he had spotted nothing to eat. Now Pacer wandered, looking side to side as he walked through the tall grass. One of the preparations that had been made for the animals was the planting of a special blend of tall grasses which would take hold on São Rochelle. Pacer had seen nothing large or small and needed food. There was food there, but Pacer wasn’t looking in the right place.

  The coyote pack was also looking for prey and found it. One on either side and they were keeping careful pace slinking through the tall grass and getting closer and closer. Foxy was about five feet in front of the hyena and Moxie, on the left, was about eight, willing to let the ten-pound bigger Foxy lead the attack. When Foxy was about three feet to the side and four feet in front, Pacer finally sensed something and stopped. Both coyotes mimicked him although they sunk to the earth to avoid being seen. But it was the scent that interested the hyena Pacer and it was not of either coyote. It was something else, but something that Pacer did know. Whatever it was, it was ahead and to the right, its scent being carried by the slight breeze from that direction. Pacer moved his head following the scent of the animal. This new quarry was not moving fast but was steadily proceeding on its own path.

  Foxy also sensed the presence of the other, but it was a familiar smell and the coyote knew that it was not prey for them. He knew that the hyena had smelled the other and was tracking it. As the hyena’s head followed the track of the other, the two coyotes prepared for their assault. Foxy crouched and prepared to leap and Moxie moved back toward the prey from the other side, moving quickly but silently so she would not be noticed.

  Foxy was tensed, ready to attack and when the hyena’s gaze has just passed his hiding place, not seeing the coyote because of its interest in its own prey, Foxy launched himself. Two quick leaps covering the distance between them in a flash. An attack so swift that the hyena, his attention elsewhere did not see it until too late. Foxy sank its teeth into the throat of the hyena, ripping but not deeply. Pacer staggered just briefly when hit by the weight of the coyote.

  There was an audible gasp from several members of the Billionaire Bunch who had gathered in the auditorium when being summoned by Horus. Some of them had remained in the theater watching Gerallt, but the others had left with instructions to be summoned when something interesting occurred.

  “Come on, hyena! Kill zem!” Ramiro shouted.

  Siegfried grinned happily behind Ramiro’s back.

  “The hyena and coyotes are hunting close together,” Horus’s voice had intoned through the speakers where those interested in such a confrontation could hear. “It appears that the coyotes are hunting the hyena and it is unaware of their presence.”

  That had brought both women and three of the men to the auditorium quickly.

  The strength of the hyena let the animal recover quickly and it slashed at its attacker with its powerful front feet, but Foxy was too quick. He had made its attack and then scurried out of reach. Pacer had not realized there was another attacker and was focusing its full attention on Foxy when Moxie raced in and nipped at the side of the hyena’s head. Immediately the hyena whirled to face Moxie giving Foxy an opening he needed and darted in and again bit at the throat area. When Pacer whirled back to face this attack, Moxie attacked the distracted hyena again. The hyena didn’t know what to do with the two animals attacking it.

  There was another gasp from the auditorium crowd who had seen something that none of combatants seemed to have sensed, except the hyena whose interest was now diverted to its attackers. “Cuidado! (Watch Out!)” Ramiro shouted.

  A bigger gray animal was rushing the hyena from behind.

  “The wolf,” Gloria screamed and applauded.

  “Now we’ve got something going!” Phil said.

  Lobo, the gray wolf, was the animal the hyena had been tracking, and had been attracted by the conflict having previously not known of the presence of the other three because he was upwind in the very slight breeze. Lobo had seen the first attacks and quickly moved to the rear of the hyena, its favored attack position. With the hyena’s attention elsewhere and Lobo, sensing that the coyotes were interested in the hyena for food just as he was, attacked and got a good bite at the hyena’s left Achilles on its first try.

  “Zat ztupid animal knowz not how to fightz!” Ramiro said dejectedly.

  The hyena tried to whirl to face this new attacker, but it was having to drag thirty-five-pound Moxie who had a good portion of the hyena’s neck in her mouth and wasn’t letting go. His ability to face the new attacker temporarily foiled, the hyena tried to get at Moxie. It was able to rake at her with a front paw and knocked Moxie loose while inflicting a good gash on her left flank. That wound brought a gasp from the two women and a couple of the men flinched.

  “Lute, seu animal estupido! (Fight, you stupid animal!)” Ramiro was half standing, beseeching the hyena to fight as though he was front row ringside at a championship boxing event and the champion was losing in the first round.

  Momentarily freed of any attacker, Pacer started to turn to face the gray wolf, which had launched a second attack and gotten a good bite at the hyena’s leg before darting away. Simultaneously Foxy attacked and got a better bite than Moxie had. For whatever reason, the one-hundred-ten-pound hyena fell when Foxy hit it and struggled to get back up. Foxy had released its grip when the two hit the ground and was several feet away dancing back and forth sideways in front of Pacer when he regained his feet. Moxie had darted in when the hyena fell and managed to bite and rip the hyena’s left ear just as the gray wolf bit deeply into the hyena’s right rear leg, partially severing the right Achilles.

  When the hyena regained its footing, he knew that he had been hurt and instinctively turned his head to look at his right rear leg. This gave the two attacking males each an opening and they took them. Foxy launched an attack at the neck from which blood was starting to pour from a lacerated jugular and Lobo at the right rear leg, site of its first attack. The bites were hunger driven since none of the animals had eaten in over a week and blood accentuated the need. Lobo tore at the leg. Once his teeth had a grip, he pulled with all his eighty-seven pounds driven by hunger. With Foxy hanging tenaciously onto the neck puncturing the aorta in another place, the gray wolf pulling at the right rear leg – the damaged left rear leg – Moxie leapt and hit the hyena’s head, her jaws clamping
on the ear and Pacer, already struggling to keep its balance, teetered and fell. The fall tore the Achilles in the right leg held in the wolf’s jaws and tore the jugular as Foxy’s hold was pulled loose. On the ground, Pacer struggled briefly as he bled out, his life fleeing from its body and he died thousands of miles from its native land, his part in a crazy human experiment over.

  “Zat ztupid hyena!. Itz cantz’t fight zee animalz!”

  The two coyotes watched as the hyena died and then started yipping to announce the kill and the gray wolf howled. The victory announcement over, the three eyed each other and then began tearing at the feast in front of them.

  “That’s awful,” Monica said. “They’re actually eating the hyena.”

  “It’s kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten,” Phil remarked almost callously. “They haven’t been fed in over a week. They’re hungry. There is no food source that they are used to, so they have to make do with what’s available.”

  “Well, I can watch the fighting but not the feasting,” Monica said and got up and left, followed by Gloria and Waldo, whose stomach felt queasy. Ramiro sat quietly, head in his hands almost as though he were crying.

  “That’s too bad, Ramiro,” Siegfried said. “One of your favorites is the first one out.”

  The feasting went on for about ten minutes. Issaack’s attention had been drawn to the jaguar’s screen and he had seen it creeping up on something. The drone went up and changed altitude and he could see that the El Tigre was approaching the feast.

  “Attack alert by the jaguar,” Issaack announced just as the jaguar pounced.

  Something had alerted the three feasters and as the jaguar attacked they ran from an unknown assailant. They stopped about fifty feet away not far from each other, Moxie pausing to lick her wound which had started bleeding again. The wolf started walking away, then stopped, looked back, barked, and started walking again. Foxy yipped in reply and started following Lobo, Moxie right behind. And a new pack was formed.

  Chapter 5

  As though in answer from the gods, the clouds started to break up and the moon appeared. Although in third quarter stage, it gave enough light for Gerallt to get his bearings. The hill he was aiming for was more to his right now, so he adjusted his direction, and set off in a steady lope, paying no heed to stones and small shrubs that brushed his feet and legs and cut the soles of his feet leaving blood for a hungry animal to easily track. When he arrived at the base of Colina da Rocha, Gerallt didn’t hesitate and started up. It wasn’t too bad for the first third but then the climb steepened, and he found himself having to pull up to get on a ledge and then try to find a way from that ledge on up. He wasn’t a rock climber and unless there was a place to put the knife, each pull up to a higher level meant he only had full use of one hand. It wasn’t a big knife, the blade was only six inches long, but it was all that he had and there was no way in hell he was going to let it go.

  The way wasn’t difficult for a big physically qualified person like him despite his weeks of inactivity and the effect of the drugs. Half an hour later he was at the top. He found himself on a mesa, for lack of a better word. It was effectively a flat circular surface with a radius of about twenty to thirty feet. He walked around looking in every direction and could see water on three sides and to the north (judging by where the moon was in the sky) a tall mountain. To the left of the mountain was a dark area and in its upper right a white spot. He had no idea what it was but would wait for morning. When he was on the north side (at least what he judged to be north) he had heard a sound that he thought to be water splashing into a pool of water. He couldn’t see anything but thought that in the light of day he might get a better look.

  He was tired from his efforts as well as hungry and thirsty, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere by bumbling around in the dark. So he chose a spot in the approximate center of the mesa and lay down. He was almost asleep when a scratching awakened him. He was on his feet quickly and looking around the best he could. As he turned, he tried to hone in on the sound and did. It was coming from the side where he had climbed up. As he looked, two paws appeared over the edge and seemed to get a grip on the rough surface and suddenly there was the head of a cat and just as suddenly the entire cat was on the mesa and it was a big cat. A short run and it was in the air straight at him. He crouched, putting his left arm up as a defense and holding the knife in his right low so that he could strike upward into the cat’s body.

  The cat hit him with a force stronger than he expected and he was knocked backward, his right hand striking upward. As he hit the stone surface with the cat on top of him, there was a sharp crack and he felt the surface break under him and he and the cat were falling, the cat trying to rip and bite at his right hand which had driven the knife deep into its stomach and was trying to cut a slice in the abdomen. The fall wasn’t long – he was in no position to judge being in a fight for his life – and was broken by water. He and the cat crashed into water with Gerallt still slicing with the knife and continued down with the cat now trying to get loose and away. Gerallt let the cat go and worried about himself. He quit fighting and tried to conserve what breath he had, waiting until the momentum of his fall dissipated and he started to surface. At this point he was surprised that the water was warm, not cool as are most mountain pools.

  When he felt himself start to rise, he looked in that direction and could see a dimness, so he started kicking for the surface. He rose three feet into the air when he breached the surface, gasping for air and then returned to the depths but was quickly back on the surface, treading water. He could hear sounds of something else splashing and knew it to be the cat. As he listened he heard the splashing grow slower and fainter and then finally stop.

  As he treaded water he looked around. All he could see was blackness except above him where he saw a small section of sky with fourteen to twenty stars twinkling through a jagged hole. Then a dark shadow appeared in the center of the hole and appeared to get bigger and there was a humming or buzzing sound. He tried to follow the dark shadow, but in the pitch black of wherever he was, it was impossible.

  “This is a fine mess you have gotten yourself into,” said a voice sounding remarkably like Oliver Hardy.

  “Who are you?” Gerallt asked.

  “A friend,” came the answer. “But I am not there. What is there is one of my drones.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Elsewhere. I can get you out if you can stay afloat for half an hour.”

  “Half an hour?”

  “Yes.” And with that the drone, which was the shadow, flew up through the jagged hole above him and disappeared.

  Gerallt was a good swimmer and normally would not have had any trouble floating and/or treading water for half an hour. But he was tired and wounded by the claws of the cat which had attacked him. So by the time Horus’s drone came back, he was on the verge of exhaustion. He had sought handholds along the walls of the apparent well he found himself in, but the surface was smooth. He hadn’t found the body of the cat and assumed it had sunk. He was startled by a splash and whirled around looking for whatever was making the noise, but nothing was there. Then the buzzing of the drone announced its reappearance as it came down through the hole.

  “Come under the hole. I have a rope securely fastened on the surface,” the voice from the drone told him. Gerallt swam over and found the rope hanging down through the hole.

  “I cannot pull you up. You have to do that yourself,” the voice announced and then the drone was gone.

  Gerallt would have preferred the kind of rope used in gym classes to climb but the rope he found turned out to be quarter inch nylon. So putting the knife once again into his mouth in his best imitation of a pirate, he climbed up the rope until he could grab the surface of the mesa. Hanging with his left hand, he fashioned a loop in the rope with his right. Then grabbing the hole’s edge with both hands, he pulled himself up until he could get his left foot in the loop. Then he was able to lower himself by bending
his left knee and then propel himself upward using his left leg and fall forward with his torso on the mesa. From there it was easy to get his legs up and he was once again, at least in his mind, on top of the world. He heard the buzzing of the drone and saw it in front of him.

  “Untie the rope, coil it, tie it and hang it on the hook on my underside,” said the voice of the drone.

  While Gerallt was following his directions, the voice was telling him the situation. “The important thing for you is to get armed. There is one of Esteves’s men dead in the trees of the rainforest. He’s in a tree near the top right. You can see the parachute from here and use it as a marker. He has arms including some explosives which may be useful. You have a tracker in the back of your neck. I don’t think you can get it out. I cannot deactivate it without alarming Esteves. So we will be tracking you and watching you. In the rainforest on the side toward the water there is a big kapok. This rope will be there. That is the best we can do. You have a knife. You’ll have a rope. Get armed and we can beat these idiots.”

  At this point the rope was hanging under the drone which buzzed off leaving Gerallt once again King of the Mountain. In the dim light of the moon he examined himself and found that his wounds were superficial and not bleeding. It was almost as though something in the water was a healing agent. But that’s the stuff that legends are made of.

  Chapter 6

  While most of the felines and the canines were having some difficulty getting food to eat, the rest of the predators weren’t.

  The black bear’s cage was placed on the edge of the rainforest and when the cage door opened, he wandered in amongst the trees and foliage and found water to drink and vegetation to eat and was quite happy because he was an omnivore and for the most part ate vegetation.